Chapter 15
“Y’know, I’m sorry, babe.”
“Not at all.”
“No, not about this.” Mark indicated his crutch. He had groused about it the entire way to the airport. Someone at the Division—he was fairly sure he knew who it was—had put Hello Kitty stickers all over his crutch, along with smiley face stickers in green, purple, and yellow. The backing was so sticky he’d been unable to remove any of them. “And the only reason why I didn’t tear off Babineaux’s head was because they needed a diversion.”
“You’re so sure it was him?”
“Yeah, the little geek.” He hobbled down the aisle of the jet Wallace had arranged to have waiting to take us home. He had a crutch under one arm and my shoulder under the other to spare putting pressure on the wound in his right arm. I stepped aside, and he settled into
