backs of his knees, sending him spiraling and finally skidding along the ground. I tossed the broom and then grabbed my gun. “Don’t even think of moving!” I shouted as I pointed it at his head.
Chuck held up his shaking hands in surrender. I didn’t bother alerting the team of my location, since they had me on GPS. After what seemed like only a few seconds, police sirens wailed down the street and screeched to a halt beside us.
At the sight of Greenburg, I said, “You can haul him in.”
He gave a sheepish nod before beginning to work on Chuck. I was putting my gun back in my holster when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?” Gavin asked, his deep blue eyes filled with concern for me.
“Fucking fine and dandy now that I took out that douche bag.”
With a shake of his head, Gavin asked, “Nothing really rattles you for long, does it?”
“Nope. Just dumb-asses pissing in my Cheerios,” I replied, glaring at Greenburg.
“You mean people trying to steal your thunder,” Gavin countered.
“Watch it, McTavish, or I’ll take you out at the knees with a broom, too.”
Gavin slipped an arm around my shoulder as we started to head back to the car. Pretending to be a prostitute in the scorching Atlanta heat was just one of the many masks I wore as an agent with the ATF—or Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. When my father was gunned down over the long-standing war on drugs between the feds and bikers, I lost all interest in following in his footsteps to the DEA. After I’d earned a criminal justice degree at FSU, my interest in the FBI eventually led me to the ATF, where I had spent the last four years as an agent. With the ATF, I was able to fulfill my childhood dream of putting away the bad guys, as well as feeding my need for a job that kept me on my toes.
When we reached the car, our superior, Grant Peterson, was leaned against it.
“Good evening,” he said, with a smile.
“Evening,” Gavin replied.
“Did you feel like slumming a bit tonight? I mean, you’re used to your cushy office with its air-conditioning,” I said. Although Peterson was my boss, we had a comfortable rapport with each other.
Peterson laughed. “A good general always stays in the trenches.”
“I see.”
“As always, nice work, Vargas.”
“Thanks, sir,” I said as I balanced on one leg to take off my heels. I groaned in ecstasy once my feet were freed from their stiletto prison.
Glancing between the two of us, Peterson asked, “You guys got anything else tonight?”
Gavin shook his head. “We were planning on working on the debriefing first thing tomorrow morning—if that’s okay with you.”
Peterson nodded in agreement. “Since you’re free, why don’t you two let me buy you some dinner?”
Gavin’s and my eyebrows rose in unison. “Hmm, sounds like you’ve got something pretty heavy to talk to us about if you’re offering dinner,” I replied.
With a chuckle, Peterson said, “You know me too well.”
I might’ve been exhausted, with my bed calling my name, but my stomach growled in approval of Peterson’s offer. “Sounds good to me.”
Gavin chuckled. “You think I’m ever going to pass up a meal on the bureau?”
“Don’t hold your breath that it’s going to be a fine dining experience. I see a Waffle House in our future,” I teased.
“Oh, I’m way classier than that,” Peterson argued.
“IHOP?”
He grinned. “Yep. How about the one off Exit 243 in ten?”
“Okay. We’ll be there.”
Peterson eyed my attire with a grimace. Before he could say anything, I held up a hand. “I have a change of clothes in the car. Okay?”
“Good. I didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to us.”
I batted my eyelashes at him. “Are you saying I’m a distraction dressed like this?”
He grinned. “Let’s just say I don’t think with you dressed like that, I could sit across from you and be able to hold a serious conversation without letting my mind wander.”
Smacking his arm playfully, I replied, “You old perv.”
“You know me too well. See ya in ten,” he said before heading off down the street.
I followed Gavin across the street to the car. After we slipped inside, I asked, “What do you think is going on?”
Gavin appeared thoughtful as he cranked up. “Must be something pretty big, considering he’s wanting to discuss this over dinner rather than waiting to do it in the morning at the office.”
“That’s what I was thinking. I don’t think we’ve ever been