Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Gross. Is this really Carson’s friend? He must be. Why else would the guy be here? Carson doesn’t work for the FBI anymore, so there’s no reason he has to rub elbows with this slimy guy. You can tell a lot about someone based on who they associate with. It’s a reminder that I really might not know Carson at all. Dread settles in my stomach.
“Pffft, hard to get.” I snort a laugh at Mousey. “Knew he smelled of dog cause he is one. Now you, on the other hand, just smell like a hussy.”
“Mousey!”
“Not saying it's a bad thing. We all got itches to scratch.” She plops her butt down and starts licking her paw.
“Oh my God.”
“Is she talking to the cat?” Lennie asks, one of his brows high.
“Lennie, I’m in the middle of something here. We’re going to have to catch up later,” Carson says, not answering his question. I’m embarrassing him.
I’m the weird girl. It’s nothing new. I’ve dealt with this stigma my entire life. This time it hurts more.
“It’s fine.” I pick up Mousey. “I’m actually going to make some calls. You two do whatever it is that men do.” I head for the hallway.
“May,” Carson calls after me.
I ignore him, making my escape to the bedroom and right into the bathroom, where I can lock the door. I sit Mousey down on the counter. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes.
“Get it together,” I tell myself in the mirror. I don’t need to turn into some emotional mess because we had sex. It’s just sex.
“Now you’re talking to yourself.” I give Mousey a glare. She trots over to me, giving a few headbutts.
Cats can be jerks sometimes, but they are always there when it really counts.
23
CARSON
“Time to go.” I take the package from Lennie. I don’t know how the fuck he got up to this floor, but given Lennie’s specialties in infiltration and electronics, I’m betting he hacked my system. Motherfucker. That’s a feat only he or Squirrel could perform–I keep my shit tight. But professional worms can burrow through anything.
“No time for your old pal?” he wheedles.
“We aren’t pals.”
“Who’s the chick?” He gives a lascivious grin. “She looks like she knows how to treat a man with–”
Before I even think, I have my forearm on his windpipe as I shove him against the wall. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
His eyes go wide, and he sputters. “C-carson, what the–”
“I don’t want you to even think in her direction, motherfucker. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes!” He gasps and tries to wrench my arm away. He doesn’t move me. If I wanted to snap this weasel’s neck, I could do it. If he says another word about May, I will.
“Go easy, man!” His face is turning red.
I shove off him and stare him down, rage still simmering in my blood. I’m not a hothead, at least not historically. If anything, I’m cold. Methodical. I don’t take risks, and I don’t rush into anything unprepared. But when it comes to May, something in the logical part of my brain seems to have shut down completely, because I want to hurt anyone who even so much as hints at disrespecting her.
He tries to adopt a casual air as he rubs his throat. “What case are you working?” He glances down the hall.
“Don’t.” I grit my teeth.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t look for her.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re one wrong move away from a vagrant finding pieces of your body along the Jersey turnpike.”
He swallows hard. “So it’s like that, is it?”
“Out.” I step up to him. “You don’t want a replay of what happened in Buenos Aires, do you?”
He holds his hands up, palms out. “No violence necessary. I was just stopping by to give you a tip.”
There’s no way Lennie the Skeez has come to my place to help me. That’s not in his nature. There’s a reason I beat the ever-living shit out of him on our last assignment where we crossed paths. His loyalty goes to whomever pays him, not to any code or country.
“That cat–you should look at the maids. One of them has a gambling problem. Got into some trouble.”
I slam the elevator button. The doors open, and I shove him backwards. He stumbles, then rights himself.
“Jeez, Carson. So touchy.” He shrugs his shoulders to straighten his suit coat. “I was just trying to be a buddy.”
“If I see you here again, you’re dead. Understand?” I don’t think I can make it any clearer.
“The maid,” he says as the doors close, and I lose sight of his shit-eating grin.
I check the bag. There’s no way for me to tell if it’s been tampered with beyond Lennie’s greasy hands on it. I open it and pull out a box of perfume, Have the Affair written across it in swooping script.
Returning to the bedroom, I have to wonder who put Lennie up to coming to my place. Whoever it was must’ve paid him a mint, because like I said, the last time we met, I almost ended him. He’d betrayed another one of our operatives, claimed it was part of his mission, and the top brass believed his bullshit. I didn’t.