Which is why I felt like I was in some sort of warped version of chicken. She wanted me to look, but she also wanted me to get embarrassed.
I didn’t do embarrassed.
So she was going to have to do a hell of a lot better than trying to flash me in nothing but a smile.
Hands shaking, I braced myself against the dresser and tried to wipe my memory of her naked body.
And when that didn’t work…
I focused in on every delicious curve that had teased and taunted me. She was gorgeous. A petite little thing with curves in all the right places.
I white-knuckled the dresser a bit longer than necessary, nearly breaking the damn thing in half, then pulled out clothes and shakily put them on.
It was going to be a long day — and something told me it was going to get worse if she was in one of her taunting little moods.
With a sigh, I took one last look in the mirror then reached for the door. My cell phone went off.
Not my usual cell — the one the guys used — but the one given to me by the agency.
Cursing, I went over to my nightstand and slid my finger across the screen. “Yes?”
“Agent…” The voice was low, mechanical. “…we’ve come to a decision.”
“Fine.”
“The report states you had no direct involvement in Director Smith’s death.”
“No shit.” I rolled my eyes and stared at the ceiling. “What? Did you guys think I was a double agent? Working for the mafia while still working for you?” I added in a laugh because, hell, that’s exactly what I’d been doing, but I’d learned the hard way. Always beat them to the punch. Say the truth to their face, and they would take it as truth; they had no choice. Guilty people tended to cover up with a lie. Instead, I stated exactly what they were thinking and made them feel stupid for even coming up with the thought in the first place.
“No. Of course not.” He cleared his throat. “But it doesn’t change our decision.”
I’d known it before he’d even said the words. Bracing myself for impact, I simply waited while the line cracked.
“Your services are no longer needed, Agent.”
“My services are no longer needed,” I repeated. “Should I expect a visit from another agent, or are you guys simply cutting me off without trying to kill me this time?”
No response.
I sighed. “Fine. I understand.”
“No need to clean out your desk. It’s been done for you. Someone will be by to collect your badge and security clearance.”
“And by someone, do you mean someone with a gun?”
“Goodbye, Agent.”
The line went dead.
What else had I expected? I ran my hands through my hair and quickly reached for my badge, gun, and clearance. I didn’t want to take any chances that they were going to send someone to eliminate me.
So I called the only person that I figured wouldn’t want me dead — at least not yet.
“Nixon?” I hissed into the phone.
“What?” he barked back, sounding less than pleased that I was calling him at seven in the morning.
“The agency’s sending a guy over to collect my things.”
“Ha.” Nixon let out a snort. “So they’re going to try to kill you?”
“It’s the FBI not the CIA.” I sighed. “But I don’t want to take any chances, not with Andi here.”
He was silent and then, “Are you asking for a favor?”
“Damn straight, I’m asking for a favor. I need men. ASAP.”
“Fine.” He sighed heavily into the phone. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
“Wait…” I held up my hand even though he couldn’t see me. “…I need men. You don’t have to make it personal.”
“You made it freaking personal the minute you signed on with a government agency, cousin. Therefore, as your boss, I’m going to drive my ass over to your house with enough men to cover, and I’ll wait until we see the taillights from the bastard’s car. Got it?”
“Yeah.” I wanted to add in a thank you but figured it would only get me cussed out, and, considering I was already at my limit for emotional stress for the day, I kept my mouth shut.
The phone went dead.
What the hell was with people hanging up on me lately?
“Shit,” I muttered and smashed the phone against the ground. It spread into three pieces. Knees cracked as I bent down to retrieve the battery and sim card. It had been a cheap phone. Most agency phones were, because — newsflash — they aren’t as easy to hack as an iPhone or any other phone that was basically like a computer.
Listening devices, my ass.
They couldn’t do shit with crap track phones.
To be safe, I separated the pieces then put them in my burn pile just in case.
My life, or the life I’d led for so many years, was over. There had to be some poetic justice in that. I was married, and now I was turning over a new leaf, one that included taking care of a Russian lunatic.
As if on cue, I heard Andi singing “Barbie Girl” at the top of her lungs. Damn, I already missed the agency.
Slowly, I made my way out of the room and down into the kitchen.
Andi was wearing the outfit I’d thrown at her. In my haste, I hadn’t really paid attention to the clothes I’d chosen.
I really should have paid attention.
The white T-shirt rose just above her hips.