Page 65 of Agency
“What do you guys think?” Andrew asked.
“Better than the last safe house I had to use when I went on the run,” I said.
“Glad we could surpass your standards,” Jericho said. “Come on.”
We all climbed out of the Lexus, and Jericho gestured for me to present my hands to him.
Sighing in relief, I did. He might have been full of a snark, and been being a complete asshole–which I certainly deserved–but I really was desperate to get these cuffs off, if only to let my wrists get a moment’s reprieve.
But, as soon as the first bracelet was off, he was spinning me around and wrenching both my arms behind my back.
“Hey!” I cried, failing to yank my hand away as he snapped the cuff back over my wrist. “What the fuck, Jericho?”
“What the fuck?” he asked, grabbing my bracelets and pulling me back towards him. Not rough enough to hurt me, but certainly enough to command and control my movement. He leaned so close I could feel his words on my ear: “What the fuck, Ambyr? You’re seriously telling me I should… What exactly? Use the honor system with the woman who knocked out two of my men and would have killed our client if she hadn’t suddenly grown a streak of morality?”
“Fuck you, Jericho,” I breathed. “I didn’t suddenly grow it. I keep fucking tell you, I’m not that kind of person. I was just doing a job, and taking bad people off the map. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh, you’re not? Why should I fucking believe that?”
“You think I stand a chance out there?” He was so close as he towered over me, all I had to do was look back and up over my shoulder to be eye-to-eye with him. “You saw who they sent after me. And last time I checked, the bomb was going to be waiting in my car no matter what choice I made in that penthouse. So, yeah, running off into the woods of Bum-Fuck-Nowhere, Missouri and trying to dodge a multinational organization full of mercenaries and contract killers all by my lonesome isn’t exactly at the top of my to-do list.”
A moment’s pause between the two of us, then, where neither of us blinked, flinched, or even breathed.
The worst part? Goddamn was he hot when he was all riled up and pissed like this. Just like when he’d been getting all butt hurt over the game the night before.
“Hey boss,” Andrew said from behind us.
“Hey what?” Jericho growled back without breaking the absolute eye-fucking he was giving me.
“Why don’t you lay off, huh?”
Jericho didn’t reply. But, he did let go of my cuffs. Stepping past, he went straight for the cabin as Andrew and I watched his back.
“You okay?” Andrew asked after a moment, his voice more subdued.
I nodded. After all, Jericho might be acting like a dick, but with my hands cuffed behind my back like this I could at least scratch that annoying itch on my scar.
“Got your bag, by the way,” he said, holding the satchel up for me to see. “Sorry, but I had to remove the extra burner phone, cash, fake identity, and pistol.”
“Oh.” I sighed, letting him think that was all the cash I’d squirreled away. “Well, guess I still have my clothes, right?”
“Yeah,” he said with a ghost of a smile. Then, quickly: “Thanks, by the way.”
“For what? Getting you into all this?”
He shook his head. “You saved my life, Ambyr.”
I went to snap something back, but stopped myself.
“Remember?”
“Yeah. I…” Trailing off, I tried to think of what to say. Sure, I’d saved other people’s lives before. If you’re in any combat capacity within a unit, you’re bound to eventually save your battle-buddy, or someone else in your unit. That’s just the way things are when violence is always on the day’s activity list.
But, I’d never saved the life of anyone who was ostensibly my enemy, or my former lover.
“…I remember.”
“Good,” he said. “I owe you one.”
