"If you want privacy, my place is best."
"Which one?"
I pointed to the small building to the right of the common area. This time Beckett followed me down the walkway and to the front door. I used my palm print to gain access.
"What, no key?" Beckett joked.
"This is safer." I didn't go into the lengths at which my team and I went through to keep our lives personal. The palm print was just one of the many security precautions we had in place.
"I'm glad to see my assumptions about your living quarters was right."
I glanced around the open floor plan through the eyes of someone else. The best way I could describe it was a bachelor pad but for a female. I didn't give a shit about interior decorating. Dark, moody tones were more my style, and they were part of every small inch throughout the space.
"I don't believe in frills."
"Or furniture, it seems."
I crossed my arms over my chest and widened my stance. "Did you ask for privacy to judge my living situation."
"Not at all. It was just an observation." He took two steps in my direction. "I asked for privacy because I wanted to tell you first, I'm going to resign from the FBI."
"Like hell you are." I heard what he said before we went in to talk to Alexander, but there was no way I was letting him quit because of one asshole deputy director. "If you quit, that means they won."
"If I quit, it means I can help people without the bureaucratic red tape. Kinda how your team does."
"What exactly is it you think my team does?" I doubted he fully understood the lengths my team went to, to accomplish our missions.
"Eliminate criminals and save innocents." He sounded so proud. If only he knew the rest.
"Sure, that's part of it but only a small chunk."
Beckett moved closer. The same way he had at his house. Instead of being intimidated, he was tackling this head-on.
"So tell me the rest."
I was considering telling him everything just to scare him away. Did I worry he would turn us in to his boss? Not a chance. Would I have Hawk monitor him anyway just in case? Absolutely. My team was protected.
I couldn't say the same for myself. I wouldn't go as far as saying my heart was involved because that damn thing was colder than the Arctic. My libido would take a hit though. After the kiss we shared, my body wanted to see what other things he could make me feel.
"Come on, Anita. You can tell me. It won't change anything."
We would see about that. "You want me to admit I'm a killer? That I'm paid to kill people? Fine, I'll admit it. I'm an assassin in every sense of the word. I kill assholes. I torture them. I take satisfaction in ending their lives. I'm the opposite of good. I. AM. A. MURDERER." I punctuated the words in hopes that they sank it. "Happy now?"
"Yes." Beckett smiled. Legit fucking smiled. "And it doesn't change a damn thing."
"It changes everything. You're a fucking FBI special agent. And I'm an assassin. In no world does that work."
"Former special agent. I told you I'm quitting my job."
"No, you're not. You're not letting Deputy Dickhead win."
"Deputy Dickhead?" Beckett smirked.
I waved him off. "His name or job title isn't important because he's an asshole. He doesn't deserve respect."
"Fair enough."
"You can't quit."
