commercial flight, which made even less sense. So I closed my eyes and let both my mind and body rest.
By the time the plane touched down in D.C., I was alert and wide awake. I’d slept for three hours, which was more than I needed in a situation like this. I grabbed my bag and went through customs, heading out to get a cab. It was just after nine in the evening and I was about to call my boss when I saw my name on a white card held by a limo driver.
What the fuck was this? Either I was in bigger trouble than I thought or someone was playing a joke on me. I approached the man with a frown.
“I’m Mr. Ross.”
“Welcome, sir.” He led me to a waiting vehicle and opened the door. When I got in, Director Dickhead was sitting there with a shit-eating grin on his face that made me want to grab him by the throat and throw him into the street.
“Good evening. Hope your flight was good.”
“It was fine. Thanks.” I looked around. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Wanted to have a little chat and I figured you’d be more comfortable here than in a cab.”
“It’s almost Christmas and I want to get to my family. Can we cut to the chase?”
“You’re up for a promotion, Ace.” He grinned as though he was giving me the key to the city.
I arched a brow. “You want me to be a suit sitting behind a desk?”
“Some of the time. You’ll still be out in the field, but you’ve done excellent work the last few years, and the benefits of your connection to the Limaji royal family are immeasurable. As a deputy director, you’ll be the main liaison to all the eastern European operations with hands-on directives for anything that has to do with Limaj.”
I stared at him with a combination of awe and disbelief. This guy didn’t like me, and the feeling was mutual, so it didn’t make sense he would put me up for a promotion. Of course, he wasn’t the only person who made those decisions, but I wasn’t the type of agent who would be good behind a desk and everyone knew that.
“Sir, I’m flattered, but this doesn’t feel right. You and I have butted heads since the day you took over our department, so it makes no sense that you would put me in for a promotion.”
“I put you up for a promotion that makes you someone else’s problem,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “Win-win. Not to mention the pay raise, extra vacation days, and travel perks.”
“I don’t need the money, I have plenty of vacation days, and I already travel three hundred days of the year. What’s actually in it for me?”
The older man’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “You can’t let anything go, can you, son?”
“I’m not your son.” We engaged in a steely staredown until he finally sighed and looked away.
“I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them. You’re up for a promotion. I didn’t put you in for it and don’t know who did. It’s above my pay grade and I don’t really give a shit as long as I don’t have to deal with you anymore.”
“Good to know.” I stared out the window. “Where are we going?”
“You don’t have a place to live here, do you?”
“I have places to crash. It’s not a problem.”
“Does this mean you’re turning it down?”
“It means I have to think about it. I don’t have any details so it’s hard to say yes to something so vague.”
“Paperwork is in your email.”
“I’ll read it and let you know.”
“I need an answer by tomorrow.”
“Why? It’s the holidays. Short of an international terror threat, the suits have all checked out for the year.”
“Like I said, above my pay grade.”
There was nothing to say to that, so I knocked on the partition separating us from the driver and gave him an address.
I got out of the limo and pulled out my keys, something I rarely did. I didn’t have a home or apartment here in the D.C. area, but my parents did. They’d bought it because they worried about me and wanted me to have a place to lay my head, even if I didn’t go there often. They used it on occasion, when they traveled or came to visit friends, and the best part was that it was in my stepmother’s maiden name. Not that the CIA couldn’t find it if they