Page 31 of Beta Team-The Saviors: Part One
“No. You didn’t,” Ari assures me. “He knew we would be coming. Let’s get out of here.”
“This isn’t good, man,” Keon says.
“No fucking shit.”
I follow them from the house, and Ari fumes the whole way back to the truck.
Coming up against a CIA agent is never good. Coming up against one that’s better than us?
We’re fucked.
11
TYLER
It’s the first day of our protection detail, and we have found nothing about this CIA agent. Nolan has dug into him non-stop for days, but all his files are sealed, so it’s taking him longer than it normally does.
I pull into the parking lot of Kira’s dorm with Gavin and shove the car into park. “This is going to suck ass,” I say, watching the people walk around. School was never my thing, and now I have to pretend to be a college student.
Gavin laughs and slips a black ball cap on backward. “At least Kira seems cool. It could be worse.”
“Whatever,” I grumble, shoving my door open. He follows me up to Kira’s door, and I unlock it. We want to make sure it’s secure before she gets here. All her stuff has already been delivered, and she’s due to arrive soon. “Did you like school?”
“I went to a private school in Rose Hills. No, I didn’t like school.”
“I always forget you were a precious princess.”
“Fuck off. All clear back here.”
“Same,” I answer, pulling back the lid on a box in the living room.
“Stop snooping through her shit,” Gavin says, walking up behind me.
“What if there’s something hidden in there?”
“I hope whatever it is bites the shit out of you.”
“Oh!” I exclaim. “Maybe it’s a radioactive spider, and I’ll turn into Spiderman.” I hold up my hands like I’m throwing a web, and he shakes his head. “You can be my sidekick.”
“I truly regret ever joining the Saviors.”
I noisily kiss his cheek. “No, you don’t. You wouldn’t have met me.”
“I wouldn’t have gotten shot either if I hadn’t met any of you assholes.” He subtly rubs the wound on his chest and walks to the other side of the living room. He’s been acting weird for days, and I can’t put my finger on it.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You’re being weird as hell. Like weirder than normal.”
“I’m not weird, first of all. And I’m fine.”
“How are you sleeping?” I ask, even though I already know he still sleeps like shit.
“Fine. Will you stop trying to be Dr. Phil?”
“Do I look like an old, bald guy to you? I’m just making sure you’re good.”
