Page 48 of Tattletale

“Yeah, the bathrooms have wax warmers and four-ply toilet paper. Very nice touch,” I reply, distractedly.

“She’s supposed to be working on personnel files, but Vesper’s not recruiting. The whole point of keeping this ridiculous bunker was to build a bigger team. But it’s been months, and nothing.”

“So? It’s not like Vesper can post a job for a killer on Indeed. These things take time.”

There’s a loud beep, indicating Linc’s coffee is done. He grabs the mug and takes a small, testing sip. He must decide the temperature is endurable because he slams back the entire thing. He nudges my shoulder. “Make another.”

I turn down my lips and nod. “Sure, Linc.” I hover my finger over the single shot button, then the double. “You want a full-on heart attack, or just a mini one?”

He glares at me as he sets his empty mug back under the nozzle. I obediently press the single shot, unwilling to further test his patience. “You know, I thought having a girlfriend would make you a little less of a dick on the day-to-day.”

He runs his fingers over his face. “It stresses me out more, actually. I worry sick about her nonstop. Vesper’s not recruiting because we’re not running a lot of missions. Either the world is suddenly at peace, and all the gangsters and terrorists have all magically reformed or…” He gestures to his tie.

We’re both here today in button-downs, ties, slacks, and dress loafers. Vesper hasn’t mandated that we get dressed up for work since we were working under the FBI. “You think this special guest we dressed up for today means we’re about to get absolved again.”

Linc nods. “All this time, Vesper still doesn’t trust her better judgment. She won’t even tell Callen what’s going on. I’m worried she’s running right back to the badge. In the past, I didn’t give a fuck. I’d go where Vesper went. That was my life purpose. But now—”

“Your life purpose is protecting Eden.”

Linc nods, eyes fixed on his mug. “No one gets to jeopardize that. Not even Vesper. She’s making secret decisions that affect more than just us. Our family is more than just killers, now.”

I honestly never took a moment to think about it. Linc is right. Vesper is lost. Putting Eden on harebrained missions like getting PALADIN merch and making our bunker intothe fucking penthouse of the Ritz-Carlton. She’s been burying herself in paperwork and research. It’s clear Vesper is keeping herself busy. I never stopped to consider why. I’ve been too caught up on Cricket.

There’s a pang of discomfort thumping in my chest as my thoughts go to the woman who abandoned me last night. She walked away completely naked. Cricket took what she wanted and didn’t even stop to look me in the eye.

“Canyoukeep a secret?” I ask Linc this time.

“Yes.”

“Even from Eden?”

Linc grabs his mug when the machine beeps again. This time, he sips slowly. “Don’t tell me anything she’d need to know,” he murmurs into his cup.

I decide to risk the embarrassment. “Cricket mixed a superhero pill with half a bottle of vodka last night.”

Linc shuts his eyes, and his fists close so tightly over his mug, it looks like he could crumple it. “Where the fuck is she?”

“She’s fine. Some scumbag cornered her behind Martinis, thinking she was drunk and an easy target.”

“Wasn’t she?” Linc holds my stare with a menacing look. As much as I care about Cricket, so does he. She’s a baby sister to him, not a lover. But our protective instincts are similar.

“Cricket? An easy target? You must’ve fallen and bumped your head.”

Linc shrugs one shoulder. “Fair point. So, you convinced her to spare him?”

“Knocked the fucker out so he didn’t end up with his heart cut out,” I say.

“I’m surprised she left with you.” Linc rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “Eden mentioned you two might be in an um…lover’s quarrel.” He hides his smirk in his cup.

“Entertained, are you?”

“I always told you not to shit where you eat, Lancelot. Fooling around with Cricket is not a good idea—”

“Linc.” There’s enough sternness in my tone to catch his attention.

He stares me right in the eye. “Oh.”

I nod, confirming the conclusion he drew that he has yet to say. “I love her,” I admit. “I asked her to marry me.”

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