Accessory: The Scarab Beetle Series: #4 (The Academy) by C. L. Stone Page B

in particular,” he said. “I didn’t even get an apology.”
    “I’m sorry about the spiders,” I said, making a face.
    “And the hobos,” he said.
    “I’m sorry about the hobos.”
    “And the kidnapping.”
    “I didn’t kidnap you.”
    He grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and stamped it out on the paper plate. “I don’t think you take me seriously at all. Do you know how many hours I put in just so you can run around and pretend you’re doing something useful while getting everyone else in trouble?”
    “Is this the negotiation part?” I asked. This was going to get frustrating quickly. How was I supposed to work with someone who fought me constantly and took forever to relay even the tiniest bit of information? I’d rather deal with Corey. “Do I have to bring you a puppy next?”
    He waved his hand at Avery. “Take her away. I can’t work under these conditions.”
    “Can you talk to me?” Avery asked. “You do have to put up with her eventually, you know.”
    “Dear, dear Avery.” He waved his hand as he talked. “Don’t let yourself be bewitched by her. Sure she has hair and eyes and lips and other girl things, but you have to remember, there’s a devil in there mixed under all that.”
    “I just want some names,” I said.
    “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you anymore.” Doyle picked up a packet and pulled out a single cigarette. He put it to his lips but didn’t light it. “I don’t speak crazy.”
    “Avery,” I said, turning to him, “can you go fetch Blake? He’s the only one who can make him do anything.”
    Avery moved to the doorway. “Wait here. I’ll go find him.”
    Once Avery was gone, I stood near the door, trying to breathe in cleaner air from the hallway. I stood my ground, staring down Doyle.
    He folded his arms over his chest, cigarette hanging from his lips, not blinking. It turned into something of a staring contest, each of us glaring at the other. My eyes were burning from the smoke, but there was no way I was giving in to him. It wasn’t pretty.
    A few minutes later, there were footsteps in the hallway. Doyle didn’t flinch. I didn’t either.
    “What’s going on in here?” Blake’s voice came to us before he entered. When he stepped into the room, he got between me and Doyle, turning on Doyle. “Can you tell me why I had to come up from the bottom of this ship to tell you to behave?”
    “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m not the one who shot you.” He leaned over enough so he could look around Blake and stare at me accusingly. “You do know that’s a sin, right? You’re going to hell.”
    “Will you cut that out?” Blake asked. He shuffled until he was between me and Doyle again, blocking my view this time. “Just give me whatever she was asking for.”
    “You don’t want to get in the middle of this. I was about to win. She was about to cry like a two year old when you stomp on its foot hard enough.”
    “Why do you joke about things like that?” Blake asked. I leaned over so I could see what was going on. Blake pointed at Doyle, who was frowning. “You’re acting like a two year old. This is going to get tiresome if I have to come up here every time she needs to talk to you.”
    “There’s an easy way to handle this,” Doyle said. “Fire her.”
    “Doyle, don’t start. You knew she might come along.”
    “And you’re in charge, not her.”
    “She’s a co-lead now,” Blake said. “You’re going to have to listen to her. Get over it.”
    “Tell me one good reason why I have to?”
    “Do it or there won’t be any more cigarettes or Coke or pizza or...”
    “The kitchen is full of those things,” Doyle said. “I’ve already checked.”
    Blake planted his hands on the table, leaning in on Doyle and glaring at him. “Or you may find they’ve magically been thrown overboard unless a certain Doyle learns to get along.”
    “You mean me, don’t you?” Doyle asked. “I’m that Doyle?”
    Blake stood up again,