Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“This one wasn’t my fault,” he says defiantly. “My new girl brought her dog over, and the thing’s as big as a horse. Knocked into the TV while chasing a damn tennis ball, sent the whole thing crashing down.”
“Is the dog okay?”
“Yeah. You think I can get another TV before the weekend? Gotta see my boys beat the Cubs.”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, making a note.
He grunts in what I know is his version of a thank-you.
“So, how you doing? Saw those bastards who tried to take you down get sentenced next week.”
“Yep.” I tap my pen against the desk.
“Why ain’t you gloatin’ more?”
“Because I don’t really give a shit what happens to two cowards. They’ve taken enough away from me.”
Dave whistles. “You’re good and pissed. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they took more than your pride and a few weeks of your life.”
“They took my girl,” I mutter before I can think better of it.
“The SCT one?”
Close enough. “Yeah. She lost her job over this whole mess and had to take a new one in DC.”
Dave grunts. “That sucks. The Nationals are pissing me off. Nothing but bad calls the last time they played the Phillies.”
I say nothing, my mood too foul to feign interest in baseball.
“So, she didn’t want ya?” he asks, cutting to the chase as he always does.
“I guess not.” I rub my eyes. “Not enough, anyway.”
He makes a spitting noise. “Ah, then who needs her?”
The unexpected show of loyalty makes me smile. It also makes me brave. Brave enough to ask something I’ve been wanting to for a long time.
“Dave . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Why didn’t you ever adopt me?”
There’s a long moment of silence, and when the answer comes, it’s not what I expect.
“Hell, boy. You never asked.”
I go still. “I was only fourteen when I came to stay with you.”
“Maturity-wise, you were practically twenty. You always knew what you wanted, never made any secret ’bout it. Thought if you wanted me to adopt ya, you’d have said something.”
My mind reels. It couldn’t have been that simple. Could it?
“So, had I asked . . .” I clear my throat and break off.
“Well, yeah. Had you asked, I’d’ve adopted ya, son. You weren’t much trouble.”
Son. Not boy. Son.
I’m glad I’m alone in my own office, because my eyes water a little. All this time, and all I had to do was ask.
I go still, my tears drying immediately.
“Dave.” My voice is a little rough, so I cough to clear it. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll get the TV there tomorrow.”
“’Kay.” He hangs up, and I smile, because apparently we’ve hit Dave’s max capacity for affection.
We have not, however, reached mine. Not yet.
I pick up the phone again.
Kate’s voice is clipped. “What?”
I blow out a breath. “Enough with the attitude, Henley. You should be happy. My orchid is almost dead, so you’re going to win the bet. Congratulations.”
“I didn’t want to win like this,” she grumbles.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I didn’t want to win because you died.”
“I didn’t die.”
“You’re acting like it. Dead on the inside.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you going to spout hyperbole all afternoon, or can you do something for me?”
“What?” she asks suspiciously.
I grin. “Can you book me a flight to DC?”
I practically hear her sit up a little straighter. “For when?”
“As soon as possible.”
38
LARA
One Day Later: Friday Night
“’Night, Lara. See you tomorrow.”
I glance up from the filing cabinet and wave goodbye to Greg, one of the other analysts. “Have a good night.”
I drop the rest of the files into their appropriate folders and head back to my desk.
My cubicle at the SEC was practically a mansion in comparison to the one I have here. The office lighting makes my hair look green, the coffee has a distinctly metallic taste, my desk smells like someone else’s curry, and my chair has never even heard the phrase ergonomically correct. But . . . I love it.
I love it because it’s in the FBI building.
I’ll confess I was terrified it’d be a letdown. But I knew from the second I stepped through the front doors that it was right.
Or at least the right direction of right.
I’m still learning my way around, still learning who’s who, what’s what, who’s helpful, and who will bite my head off when I ask a question. I almost love those interactions the most. I love telling myself that when I’m in that position of power, I’m going to be nice to the new kid.
And I am going to be in that position of power one day. I know it.
“Crap,” I mutter, glancing at the clock. I’m supposed to meet my parents for dinner in fifteen minutes. The restaurant’s nearby, but traffic is brutal.
Eventually I’ll embrace the DC Metro system, but for now, I can only afford to live forty-five minutes from work and not particularly near any of the lines. My dad lent me his old car, and even with the constant maintenance on the damn thing, it’s the easiest option.