Honoring Freedom (Cowboys of Sagebrush Rose #3)

Chapter Fifteen

Kent slammed his fists into the desk, upsetting a cup of pens and sending papers floating to the floor. “When I send a man to do a job, I expect it to be done the right way.”

Pok stretched his legs and adjusted his frame in the suddenly uncomfortable chair. “You asked for me to keep an eye on things. That’s what I’m doing. You asked for me to put a hurdle up at Sagebrush Rose and that’s what I did.”

“I never said to kill a horse, did I?” Downs fumed. “I distinctly instructed to just make them ill.”

“How the hell did I know how much of the toxic plant I was supposed to give them?” Pok didn’t feel a bit of guilt over the situation. He saw what he did as retribution.

Downs rubbed the tension out of his face. “This might be a difficult discussion to have with someone who’s trapped in immature thinking, but you were supposed to lay low. Your panty-stealing fetish and a dead and sick horse has brought the attention on me. Nowhere in our agreement did I tell you to break into a cabin and steal panties. You fucking sick, bastard.” With a shake of his head, he looked over at his “muscle”, Tribe. “Get a load of this guy. Think he sniffs the panties too?”

Pok’s face turned red with frustration, and he jetted back to that scrawny, miserable, shy boy that he was before he transformed into a lion. He disliked being mocked. Opening his mouth, ready to supply Downs with a smartass remark, he didn’t get a word out because Downs’ cutting glare warned Pok to remain silent. He would have been a lot braver had he not known that Downs and the knucklehead, Tribe, were carrying guns.

“You said you could do the job, but I fear you’re jacking off to a slight wind change or when Freedom feels sorry for you and looks your direction.” Downs sniffed and looked Pok up and down in revulsion.

Rage poured through Pok and he balled his hands into fists. “I did what you asked me to do. Next time, you should be more specific.”

Before Downs could respond, the beefy guy stepped forward and placed his hand on Pok’s shoulder, squeezing hard enough to get his attention. “Boss, want me to handle him?”

Downs hesitated as if carefully assessing the situation, then he took a deep breath. “No problem, right Pok? I’m just making sure our friend here understands the importance of following rules. You’re not a pervert, are you?”

Pok shook his head, muttering under his breath. "This is getting out of hand."

Downs frowned then turned his attention back to the papers on his desk, the tension in the room palpable and lingering like a storm about to break. “Listen to me, Pipsqueak. I need to make things happen quickly and I don’t need someone like you fucking things up. Panties, dude? Go to a strip club like normal men do if you want to get your rocks off.”

Pok unfurled his fists and stretched his fingers, wiggling them with restless energy. “I can do the job.”

“Is that so?” Downs stepped closer, his presence commanding. “I don’t like to waste my time.” His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable authority.

Pok glared at the man. “I followed orders.”

“I followed orders,” Downs mocked in a whiny voice. “Pok, you need to understand that in this business, there’s no margin for error. We rely on precise actions, not approximations.”

Pok clenched his jaw, frustration evident. “Fine. Next time, give me a damn manual.”

Downs sighed, shaking his head. "No manuals, Pok. Just clear orders and you’re understanding that we don’t have time for middle school antics.” Everything meant money to Downs. Either making it or losing it, and he never stood for the latter. “You have one more chance. Break his goddamn neck if you must.”

“Whose?”

“You come up with your own conclusion.”

The room grew silent as the tension simmered down, both men unwilling to break the uneasy truce but aware that there was still a job to be completed.

“I thought you wanted me to remain low key?”

“It’s a bit too late for that now, isn’t it?” Downs snorted.

Pok stood, knocking off Tribe’s hand, then slammed his hands into his front pockets. “I’ll make it happen.”

But what Pok kept private, he wasn’t going to break Sam Rose’s neck. Pok had no use to fight Downs’ personal war. There was a bigger fish to fry for Pok and that was the doc who couldn’t keep his paws off Freedom. If there was any neck that was going to get broken, it’d be Keller Abbott’s neck.