“What the heck do you think you were doing?!” Mitch yelled as soon as he entered the office.
“My job, Sir,” Micah replied wearily. He was bone tired from the surveillance work he had been doing. And he had just watched a young man get shot, without being able to do anything about it. He had been close enough to see the outcome, but he had been trailing at a distance and wasn’t able to intervene. While the victim had made some bad decisions in life, he didn’t deserve to die splattered all over an alley that reeked of dumpsters and dubious restaurant choices.
“Your job, Special Agent, is to follow orders. You were ordered to bring in a low-level dealer for questioning. NOT arrest Senator Patterson’s son,” Mitch continued, to Micah’s shock. He had ridiculously expected his commanding officer would have his back on this one.
White hot anger flashed through him, erasing the exhaustion in a tidal fury. The dealer he had been watching was a decent kid, just stuck in a bad place in life. The waste of breath that was the Senator’s son had decided to eliminate everything that tied him to the lucrative drug distribution ring. Sadly for him, he had taken out the dealer when Micah had been hugging the shadows.
“I witnessed the suspect shooting the dealer I was attempting to apprehend. What else was I supposed to do? Pat him on the back and send him on his way?” he retorted sarcastically, not even trying to be placating. His career was over; making nice at this point was a wasted effort. “What I want to know is how Reginald Patterson knew that we were moving on that particular dealer. Somehow he had a warning to get rid of the guy.”
“That’s not your concern any more.” Mitch said flatly, a dangerous gleam in his eye. “Now get out of my office. I have to deal with the fallout from this disaster. Oh, and Special Agent Barnham? Go home and pack a bag. Your next assignment will be out of town.”