If she kept rolling her eyes this much, they’d eventually get stuck in the back of her head. She had no idea why he was lying, and she really didn’t care. But if the locket meant that much to him, then perhaps she could use it as leverage for some of the things she’d left behind—that is, if he’d kept any of it. “You can have the locket, but in return, I want my Christmas decorations.”
“Which ones?” he asked. “Some of them are mine.”
Fiona glared at the phone. “What are you talking about? You didn’t buy any of them.”
“Yeah, but some of them were bought while we were together. I want half.”
“Are you even using them?” She’d bet twenty dollars the answer was no. He’d never helped decorate for the holidays, and then he’d complained about how they cluttered the house until she’d packed them back up the day after Christmas. Personally, she preferred to keep the decorations out until New Year’s Eve, but he’d pitched enough of a fit that she’d given in to his demands.
“Whether I’m using them at the moment is irrelevant.”
That was a no.
“If you want, you can come over with the locket, and we can go through the Christmas shit together.”
And that was ahardno. She had no intentions of ever setting foot in that house again. Too many bad memories she’d rather forget. “Most of the decorations are things I bought before we even started dating. Why don’t you just bring them over here when you come to pick up the locket? Then we can go through what’s in the bins and see which items you want.”
“Are you nuts? I’m not hauling all of that shit over there.”
She expected as much, though she still felt a sharp stab of disappointment. And resentment. There was no logical reason for him to be this difficult. More likely than not, she’d never see her Christmas treasures again. “Then there’s nothing left for us to discuss.”
“Fiona…”
He said her name in the voice he used when he was at the end of his patience.Good.Maybe now he’d finally come to accept that there would be no reconciliation. Then he could lick his wounds, move on with his life, and forget she ever existed.
“I mean it, Dennis. There’s nothing you can do or say that is going to change my mind. I’ll mail you the locket when I have time, but it probably won’t be until after the holidays. Don’t call me again.” She ended the call before he could toss out another objection and switched off her phone.
Chapter 9
Withhiseyeandear protection in place, Pinto watched from his spot behind a wall of Plexiglass as the trainees took turns going through what had become known as the Grinder. Personally, he thought the name made it sound far worse than it was. Back when he’d been a new recruit, he’d actually enjoyed the experience.
A harsh buzz pierced the air, marking an abrupt end to the exercise. The fluorescent overhead lights flickered on, illuminating a plywood cutout of a young boy riddled with bright-red paintball splotches.
Pinto walked toward the cutout, his bootsteps echoing in the cavernous warehouse as he noted the tightly packed grouping at the center of mass. It would have been impressive, had the trainee not just shot the shit out of the wrong target. “Would you care to explain why Johnny deserved to die?”
The simulation was designed to evaluate skill, reflexes, and judgment. There were several scenarios to keep things interesting, such as clearing a building of hostiles, rescuing hostages from a terrorist compound, and retrieving an injured soldier from behind enemy lines. Trainees were tasked with identifying potential threats, determining whether they actually posed any sort of imminent danger, and, if they did, taking appropriate measures to neutralize them without incurring casualties. A number of those potential threats were played by employees of Six Points, while others—like little Johnny—were spring-loaded cutouts that popped out from behind walls and corners to add to the level of difficulty.
Some security companies preferred to use computer programs for these types of exercises, but Six Points preferred a more realistic simulation that engaged all the senses and didn’t feel so much like a video game. Overall, it gave a much better indication of how a recruit would act in a real-life situation.
“Aw, cut him some slack,” his partner Hatch said. “We all know Johnny looks shady.”
Pinto shot him a glare to make it clear that now wasn’t the time for them to play good cop, bad cop. “That’s all well and good, but I don’t remember you icing any kids when you went through this.”
To the contrary, Hatch had aced the course on his first attempt with zero incidents of friendly fire and zero hesitation at killing the bad guys. And he’d done it all with startling efficiency. It was as if he’d been gifted with a sixth sense that told him what the threats would be a few seconds before they appeared.
In his usual cocky fashion, Hatch flashed a hundred-watt smile. “What can I say? Words fail to describe the full scope of how awesome I am.”
Pinto shook his head and returned his gaze to Troy, the trainee who’d just gunned down a hypothetical five-year-old. “Care to provide any insight?”
Troy ran a hand over his closely cropped hair, his deep-sunk eyes scrunched together under thick, heavy brows. According to his file, the Army veteran recently turned twenty-eight, but he probably still got carded whenever he went out for a few beers. “I don’t know, man. I guess I got carried away.”
“Getting carried away is fine when you’re playingWorld of Warcraft. The real world isn’t as forgiving.” Not only could the guy face felony charges, but Six Points could lose its business license and get sued into oblivion. Liability insurance only covered so much. No way would the Flint family risk their reputations and livelihoods for a guy with an itchy trigger finger.
Lucky for Troy, he’d get two more chances to make it through the course without misidentifying any of the targets. Failure wouldn’t get him fired, but he wouldn’t be eligible to work any jobs that required the use of deadly weapons. It would also limit his paths to advancement, because nobody wanted to be on a team with the guy who had a nasty habit of putting holes in the wrong fucking people.
“You need to give yourself enough time to evaluate the situation,” Pinto told the recruit. “Going with your gut doesn’t always work in a high-stress environment.”
Troy made a sound that said exactly what he thought of Pinto’s advice. “By the time I’m done evaluating, the hostile will have put a bullet in my brain.”
