Page 5 of Crocodile Tears
“Good morning to you, too, sunshine.I’ve got a job—”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard the details.”
I stand and walk to the window, automatically checking sight lines to the street below.I’m supposedly trying to break the habit, though old training is hard to suppress.“I told you I’m getting out of this business.I meant it.”
Ellis snorts.“Cal, this is easy money.You’re already in the area, sort of, and it’s just three days in Venezuela doing basic surveillance on a pharmaceutical executive.No shooting or explosions.Just watching and reporting.”
“I said no.This was my last assignment.”I’m doing a background check on a diplomat’s daughter’s new boyfriend, and he wanted to ensure the boy being from Colombia wouldn’t affect the diplomat’s reputation.He might have had some concerns about his daughter’s safety, but I wouldn’t swear to it.Fortunately, the boy grew up dirt poor but honest, so he has nothing to worry about.
Ellis pauses, and I can practically hear him strategizing through the phone.“This is about that civilian integration bullshit your therapist has you doing.Isn’t it?”
I sigh heavily.“It’s about wanting a life that doesn’t involve dodging bullets for a living.”
“You’ve been dodging bullets since you were eighteen.What else are you going to do?Sell insurance?”
The question stings because I don’t have a good answer.Military service transitioned seamlessly into private security work, which morphed into the gray areas of mercenary contracts.I’m thirty-six years old, and I’ve never held a job that didn’t involve the potential for violence.“I’ll figure it out.”
“Cal—”
“Ellis, I’ve got an appointment this morning.I need to go.”
He sounds suspicious.“An appointment?What kind of appointment?”
I consider lying, but he has an annoying ability to detect deception.“A dating service.”
The silence stretches so long I wonder if the call dropped.
“A dating service,” Ellis repeats slowly.
“Yes.”
“Calvin Hargrove, who once spent seventy-two hours in a sniper’s nest eating nothing but energy bars and rainwater, is going to a dating service?”
I scowl at the phone.“Your point?”
“My point is that you’re losing your damn mind.What happens when some nice civilian woman finds out you’ve killed more people than a small plague?”
The question hits harder than I want to admit.“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Ellis sighs, the sound of a man who’s watched too many good soldiers struggle with peace.“Be careful, Cal.The civilian world isn’t as forgiving as you think.”
After he hangs up, I finish packing my gear.By 0700, I’m checked out and driving the rental car through morning traffic toward the airport.The job netted enough to cover my expenses for the next few months, which should give me time to figure out what I’m supposed to do with a normal life.
The flight back to the States is unremarkable, which in my business is the highest compliment you can give air travel.No suspicious passengers, no unusual flight patterns, and no one trying to kill anyone.Just commercial aviation at its most mundane.
I land with three hours to spare before my appointment at Romance Expected.The dating service was a former teammate’s suggestion.Apparently, Nikolai’s cousin met her husband through them, and they specialize in “unique individuals with complex professional circumstances.”When I pointed out that in our case, “complex professional circumstances” was a euphemism for “people who kill for money,” Nikolai shrugged and said love was love.
The address leads me to a narrow building wedged between a nail salon and a ramen shop.I arrive forty-five minutes early, partly out of habit and partly because I want to assess the security situation before committing to anything.The neighborhood seems safe enough, with good foot traffic, multiple exit routes, and no obvious surveillance positions.
I’m circling the block for the third time when I realize what I’m doing.Dr.Martinez would call this “avoidance behavior masquerading as tactical preparation.”She’d probably be right.
I park and head inside, taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time.The door to Romance Expected is painted a cheerful red with gold lettering, which seems aggressively optimistic for a business that deals with people’s romantic failures.
Inside, the waiting room looks like someone’s grandmother decorated it after winning the lottery.Red walls, floral patterns, and enough framed photos of happy couples to stock a small museum.The photos show an impressive variety of shifter types—wolves with rabbits, bears with deer, and even what looks like a hawk paired with a hedgehog.
“Hello,” calls a voice from behind the front desk.“You must be Calvin.I’m Red.”
