Page 34 of The Pretenders of Copper County
So much for professionalism. So much for doing whatever it took to keep my job. I kicked a rock and watched it ping off a tree on the opposite side of the lot.
And what the fuck was I supposed to do now?
I should take myself off the job immediately. But then what? There was literally no qualified Division agent to hand this job off to. Which meant Chris would… what? Get passed on to Margot from Accounts? Get transferred to a different agency altogether? Wouldtheykeep him safe?
No. Not like I would.
I thunked my head back against the motel room door and made a phone call.
Seconds later, a deep, perpetually amused, and perpetually wide-awake voice answered. “Reed Sunday, as I live and breathe! You never call, you never write…”
Despite everything, I found myself giving a reasonable facsimile of a chuckle.
Oak Bartlett was a security expert and former colleague who now did private protection work, but he was also a friend… and I didn’t have many of those.
“Oak,” I said roughly. “I need your help.”
Hewas instantly all business. “Talk to me, boo. What do you need?”
“My ass kicked, to start with,” I muttered. “Look, I’ve got a situation…”
Leaning against a tree a few feet away, staring at the motel room door, I gave Oak a rundown of Chris’s case, from my first contact with Janissey—God, was it really only yesterday?—through the mistaken pickup, the not-so-safe house, and the minor, low-key bar altercation.
By the end, I could tell Oak was trying—mostly unsuccessfully—not to laugh.
This wasnotthe reaction I’d expected.
“Can it, Oak. There’s nothing funny here,” I growled.
“No? Hypervigilant, ultra-dedicated, always professional Division agent Reed Sunday, fleeing a flamingo house, only to insult his protectee, who then flounced off and started a fight with a biker gang?” Oak laughed so hard I worried he might sprain something. “Bet they won’t be inviting you to do the new recruit trainings anymore.”
Actually, fuck that, Ihopedhe sprained something.
“I didn’t call to provide you with comedic relief,” I said testily. Before thinking better of it, I added, “And I apologized to my protectee, I’ll have you know.”
“Oh, well, as long as you apologized.” He laughed harder. “And did he accept?”
“He did, I think. At least until I, ah… kissed him,” I mumbled.
Oak stopped laughing. “You… Wait, sorry, this connection is shitty. It sounded like you said you kissed him.”
I said nothing.
He whistled. “Well,shit, Sunday.”
“Yes, thank you, I know. I’m an ass. An unprofessional ass?—”
“Is he cute?” Oak asked slyly.
I sputtered for a moment before finally deflecting. “Also not the reason for my call. I need a safe house. Someplace I can take this guy for a little while, where trouble can’t find him and he can’t find trouble. I know that’s not your gig, and I know it’s a lot to ask on short notice, but I don’t have any way to pay for a house that’s untraceable, and?—”
“Chill, Sunday, I’ve got this. Gimme two minutes to check something.”
I exhaled and stretched my neck from side to side. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I owe you about twenty favors by now. Not to mention, we’refriends,” he added pointedly. “Not that you keep in touch.”
“I keep in touch!” I protested. “Sort of.”
