for his time? He was like an inch below average.”
“Still below.”
“That whole thing about him being Troll size comes from a political cartoonist.”
“Is there anything you don’t know, brainy-mainy?”
His personal nickname for me results in a glare immediately thrown in his direction. “Why you still call me that.”
“Because you still say shit worthy of the label.”
I fold my arms across my chest in irritation.
“And now you’re pouting, which means I win.”
His smug smirk has me contemplating the idea of using him for one of my test subjects.
Perhaps adding a non-lethal drug to the ink pen that doubles as a syringe.
Prick him with it and then draw a villainous mustache on his arrogant face to match his attitude.
“Single. No attachments. And over six feet since I know we become the same height when you’re in heels – something you will wear at least once over the next three months. Anything else?”
A shake of the head is given.
“Your terms are acceptable. He’ll be on your doorstep by morning.”
“Have him meet me here,” I counter at the same time I dip my hand into my shirt to retrieve the flash drive I always keep securely within my literal reach. “Chances are I’ll be crashing on the very couch you’re too good to actually sit on.”
Brandon glances at the gray piece of furniture he’s barely occupying. “It doesn’t look comfortable.”
“You mean it doesn’t look expensive.”
“I mean…,” he shoots me a smirk as he rises to his feet, “I need to be going. I have an operative to find.”
“And I have test results to review.”
Brandon empties the remaining contents of his glass into his mouth, abandons the glass next to the crystal decanter, and exits the room on a warm, dismal nod.
While I should be rattled or at the very least bothered that there’s an actual plot to kidnap me, I’m not. Every job has its hazards. This just so happens to be one of mine.
I personally think it’s worth it. Not because I want to keep my bank account filled with more money than I could ever spend, but because I love what I do.
And loving what I do makes all the other bullshit I have to deal with worth it.
Chapter 3
Bronx
“Is it true?” Nick Wu, questions, Doctenn accent heavier than normal, something that always happens after he’s taken a job in his home country. “Did you actually put a pickaxe through a man’s brain?”
“It was a pitchfork,” I casually correct at the same time I lift my to-go coffee cup to my lips. “And it was through his chest.”
“That’s some sacrifice to the ancient gods, ritual killing type of shit,” Craig “Tank” Jordan chuckles prior to folding his dark chocolate arms against his linebacker-sized chest. “What’s wrong with an old fashion slit to the throat?”
“Availability.”
The comment causes them both to laugh under their breath.
After a beat, Wu stretches his arms along the back of the black leather couch in employee lounge A – the room reserved for operatives who are waiting for a meeting with one of the higher-ups – and resumes his interrogation. “That was, what? Two days ago?”
My nodding only deepens his confusion.
“Assignments with that sort of outcome typically require an agent to wait for at least four and pass an eval before being allowed to take a new contract.”
“Do you just enjoy reciting company policies or is the sound of your own accent some sort of fuckin’ turn-on for you, man?” Tank taunts from the corner opposite of me. “It better be the goddamn former because I’m a happily married asshole not looking to put my dick in any other asshole.”
“You do realize you just told the two of us your wife does not mind a bit of arse play, yes?”
Tank plucks another macadamia nut out of the crystal bowl beside him and chucks it into his mouth.
His response causes me to snicker, shake my head, and have another sip.
We don’t cross paths often, yet whenever we do his attitude is always the same. It’s “I don’t give a fuck” mashed together with “I dare you to try to make me give a fuck”. The combination pretty much seeps from his pores like a bad cologne you can’t deny smelling. I don’t know much about him besides the fact that he’s ex-military, has a small distaste for those who work here but never served – like me and Wu –, and is always willing and ready to gush about his daughter, which is exactly what he was doing prior to