Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“My bed was against the same wall as yours. Besides, I did tell you about my family. You tuned me out.”
“If I listened to everything you said, I’d be a raving lunatic. Do you have one of those siren things for the top of the car? GPS says twenty minutes. I bet I can make it in seven,” Mitch asked the driver as their eyes met in the rearview mirror.
“Just get us there alive,” Connors cautioned at the same time the driver started to buckle himself in.
“No, sir, we’re a private car service. I own this car,” the driver said, sounding a little unnerved. Mitch looked into the rearview mirror again and swore he saw the sweat beading on the guy’s forehead.
“But the government’s liable, right? Means they have to take responsibility if I crash.” Mitch hit the gas and chuckled when the tires squealed as he took the ramp to the highway. He got them to the hospital in about fifteen minutes, and pulled up to the rotunda of the hospital to let him out. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
That stopped Connors in his tracks. He immediately swiveled on his feet and stuck his head back in the car. “No, go back to the office.”
“Nah, man, your kid’s going into surgery. Even temporary partners should be there for one another.” Mitch looked back at the driver. “Can you wait?”
“No. Really, just no. My wife’s already too distressed. Just go back to the office.”
“I’ll distract her. I can be charming,” Mitch said cockily, more as a joke, but gave the sexy grin he used to lure the guys in. Mitch could see Connors was clearly becoming frustrated because he wanted inside that hospital.
“No. Please, she doesn’t do chaos. That’s complete chaos.” Connors pointed to Mitch’s exposed tattoos before using his finger to circle all of Mitch’s exterior. That stopped Mitch in his tracks. The driver, who had gotten out to take over driving, gave an ‘oh shit’ and got back inside the backseat, shutting the door.
“Look,” Connors started. “She’s OCD to the max. She has a PhD in accounting, and she’s very upset. So now’s not the time. I gotta go.” Connors wheeled around, slammed the door, and headed to the information desk as Mitch sat there staring. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that encounter. Was he offended that a bunch of stuffed shirts didn’t find him appropriate? Okay, no, not even a little bit. That wasn’t news. He’d made the decision a long time ago to not be a part of the man’s institution. Instead of driving them on, Mitch got out, walked around the car, and got in the passenger seat. The driver remained seated in the back.
“I can drive, but you know the way.” Mitch stared out the front window.
“I’ve driven Agent Connors for years. He’s always like that. Don’t be offended,” the driver said from the backseat.
“Not a problem. It’s better anyway. I need to get badged up, access to the building. All that’s going to take some time. Besides, I’d last about two point five minutes in that waiting room before I went stir crazy and drove everyone around me mad. This is for the better.”
“I figured you for that type. You’re a doer. It’s gonna be interesting to see how you fit in around there,” the driver said after he got behind the wheel. Mitch just looked at him. Yeah, he’d wondered that same thing. How would he fit in with a bunch of guys with sticks up their asses? He couldn’t help but laugh at the visual.
“I’ve been assigned to you for the length of your time here. I laughed out loud a few minutes ago when I saw you get off that plane. You got here yesterday, right?” the driver asked as he put the car in gear and navigated the hospital parking lot.
“Yeah.” Mitch cocked his brow, waiting for further explanation.
“Just wait until today. They all make Agent Connors look normal.” That made Mitch laugh.
“I’ve been with the deputy marshal program for years, I’ve worked with the bureau before,” Mitch informed the man.
“Not like this you haven’t. I’m Derrick, by the way,” the driver introduced himself.
“I’m Mitch.” They awkwardly shook hands while Derrick drove through the city.
“See, right there. No one uses their first name around here. Everybody uses their title. It’s good to meet you. Good luck, man. Here’s my card. Call me, I’m on standby for you,” he said, pulling to the front entrance of the FBI building.
“Thanks, man,” Mitch took the card, got out, and started to reach for Kreed’s duffel.
The driver shook his head. “Nah, I can hang on to your bags until I take you to your room, you don’t want to take it in there.” Mitch nodded, took his laptop case, and looked up at the massive building, before he started walking toward the front doors. There was considerably more activity than there had been yesterday when he’d arrived and, then, Director Carpenter had been waiting downstairs for him. Ignoring the fact he was the only one in jeans and a T-shirt, he entered the building through the front doors, only to be stopped immediately by FBI security.
Chapter 19
Cody woke about midmorning to a pounding headache. He opened one eye, then slowly managed to open the other, his phone lay on the pillow next to him. Damn, his head hurt. The headache had nothing on the cottonmouth drying his throat and tongue. He tried to muster enough saliva to help the situation. It didn’t work. He looked around his darkened bedroom. The bright Texas sun was trying to peek its way through his dark drapes. Thank goodness Sheila had insisted on black curtains when she’d decorated his apartment.
He rolled slowly to his side and pushed himself up to where he sat on the edge of the bed, finally able to place his feet on the floor. Feeling a little nauseous, he ran his hand over his stomach. His fingers brushed across something crusty. What the hell? He looked down and saw the remnants of dried come flaking off his belly. He glanced up and noticed a dried, folded up sock laying on his nightstand. That confused him for a minute until the memories of last night came crashing back. Mitch, the phone call, and stroking himself off hadn’t been a dream. Fuck! He fell back on the bed. His head and stomach immediately rejected the abrupt movement, and he felt like he might seriously hurl.