Page 6 of The Pretenders of Copper County
Janissey’s words had struck a spot in my chest that had been sore for weeks. “I didn’tfail. I know the guysupstairs think so, but I thoughtyouunderstood I was trying to do the right thing?—”
“Yeah, I read the report,” Janissey had said wearily. “But nobody gives a shit what you think is right, any more than they give a shit what I think. You went rogue and disobeyed a direct order. You wanna get up in front of the review board next month and explain that your conscience told you to do it, and blah blah? You think that’ll fix this? Or do you wanna keep quiet, take the golden ticket you’ve been handed, and show everyone you’re the excellent agent they thought you were?”
I’d fumed at this response… but silently. Because when it came down to it, I fucking lived for my job. I loved protecting people. Loved that I was always in motion—new people, new places, sometimes even new identities. It was the big, wild life I’d always wanted, and I loved the thrill of it. It was never, ever dull.
Janissey had snorted. “Smart man. I’ve got eleven—eleven—cases that have all gone hot at once, Sunday, and only nine agents who aren’t on leave or already assigned. I asked the director to pull in folks from other agencies and got a giant ‘hell no,’ so I’ve been forced to assign myownass to fieldwork for the first time in ten years. This whole situation is my nightmare—I’m missing my daughter’s ballet recital, my wife’s probably going to withhold sex until the next millennium, and someone far above my pay grade has decided that Margot from Accounts is qualified to handle asset coordination while I’m out, which, yes, is likely to cause a series of epic and far-reaching clusterfucks I’m gonna have to un-fuck one by one later on, thanks for asking. But for you, this situation is a ticket to redemption. Your way back into the Division’s good graces. So don’t fuck it up. Donotlisten to whatever sob story your protectee’sgonna give you. Donotquestion your orders. Donotlet him out of your sight. Do your job.”
“I will.” I’d clenched my teeth, burning with the need to prove myself. “Send me the files on the nephew. Arrest warrants, mug shots, whatever you’ve got.”
Another snort. “Yeah, I’ve got none of that.”
“What?” How was that possible?
“Kid looks squeaky clean. No arrests, no investigations, no unpaid parking tickets. Of course, when you’re dealing with a family like that…”
“There’s no such thing as innocent,” I’d finished.
“You know it. I’ll send you over what we have—a driver’s license photo and some bank records. Margot’ll be arranging your safe house. No time for new IDs or elaborate cover stories, and you shouldn’t need them anyway since this is temporary and whatever happens to the guy after trial isn’t up to us. Unfortunately, you’re on this twenty-four seven for the duration. If you need support, call—Eloise, I’m right in the middle of… Yeah, I know. Jesus. One more minute.Sunday, you still there?”
“I’m here. I need some more information?—”
“Gotta go. Margot will send you safe house coordinates. I expect you to send her regular reports.”
“Wait! Which agent briefed my protectee? I’ll need to follow up with them and get the protectee’s contact info so I can arrange a meet. I’m gonna need to arrange a plane ticket and a rental car?—”
“Not sure who Margot tasked with that. Hawley, maybe, but she’s already in Texas on a different assignment to cover Shane, who’s down with a broken leg.” He made an impatient noise. “But you’re not gonna need a plane ticket. Can’t believe I forgot to mention where the kid’s been staying. You’re gonna lovethis?—”
I had not, in fact, loved hearing that the potential heir to a crime syndicate was hiding in the Hollow, right down the street from my family.Lividhad been closer to accurate. But Janissey had stopped taking my calls once he left on his own assignment, and no one else seemed to have had a clue how this had happened… especially not Margot, who might or might not be amazing at Accounts but was comprehensively shitty in her temporary role of asset coordination.
“Uh-oh,” a gentle voice said. “Muscle spasm?”
“What?” Startled out of my thoughts, I glanced over at the man I’d been assigned to protect.
I’d avoided looking at the guy since he’d climbed in, even though every time he fidgeted in his seat, a burst of cologne—subtle, musky vanilla weirdly overlaid with the strong scent of lime soda—floated across the car.
Christ, he was a tiny thing. Maybe five seven, a hundred and twenty pounds, all slender muscles beneath an oversized yellow-and-blue-striped sweater, with fine-boned features and big, dark eyes poorly concealed by enormous, thick-rimmed glasses.
I had to admit, his getup did the job of making Dante’s nephew look innocent as fuck, but if he was trying to make himself ugly or unnoticeable, it was working about as well as Clark Kent slapping on a pair of nerdy Ray-Bans and trying to pretend he wasn’t the hottest thing in Metropolis. Whoever had approved his “disguise” should be fired immediately. The man didn’t just look sweet; he looked downrightedible. Any human with even the slightest potential attraction to adorably goofy men would be drawn to him like a bee to honey.
“Do you, you know, rub it?” The man slow-blinked at me with doe eyes that would put Bambi to shame.
Unfortunately, I had more than apotentialattraction tomen like him. Sweet, pretty twinks were my catnip. Even knowing this was most likely all an act—a part of the legend that went along with whatever cover the man had been living under in my hometown—it was having an effect on me.
“What?” I asked again, trying to remember what the fuck he’d been saying.
“Oh, um, it’s just that y-you were clenching your jaw a second ago. You looked a little bit… disgruntled? So I figured maybe you were having a muscle spasm. I don’t get them myself. I’m not a clenchy sort of person, even thoughtechnicallyI’m a Virgo, and Virgos are supposed to be very meticulous. Sometimes I wish I could ask my mom if I’m really a laid-back Libra who was born a couple weeks early, but she died, so I guess it’ll remain a mystery.”
“What?” I spoke three languages fluently, but none of them were… whatever nonsense he was speaking.
“My nonna, though, she was a slave to the spasms,” he continued, undaunted. “Capricorn through and through. And when her jaw got tight, she did this thing like… Here, it’s better if I show you.” He turned toward me, opened his jaw, and ran his finger back and forth along the inside of his mouth until his finger was spit-shiny and his cheek bulged obscenely. “Mmmnnnghkuh?”
I made a garbled, high-pitched noise of my own.
His face crumpled with sympathy. “Aw. You poor thing. It sounds so painful. Let me do it for you. Sometimes it’s better when someone else rubs it.” He leaned toward me with one hand outstretched.
“No!” I said firmly, leaning away so abruptly my head almost smacked the window. “I’m… I’m fine.”
Ihadbeen fine until that unexpectedly erotic display.
