I blinked, thrown by the question. "What?"
"This work. Tracking people, helping them, hurting them, whatever it is. Why?"
I exhaled, watching the small puff of steam break from my mouth. "It's what I'm good at."
"That's not a reason," she pressed, voice softer. "It's an excuse. Why not work in a bank, or teach, or—I don't know—fix motorcycles?"
I shifted, digging a heel of my boot into the roof floor. The question prickled, but not in a bad way. I found myself considering it, really considering, for the first time in a while. I also found myself wondering. Why, indeed?
"I don't know anything else," I admitted. "That's all I've been doing ever since I can remember."
Silence. Then, quietly, "You ever think about stopping? Does your family know about your work? Do they object?"
My hand squeezed the phone tight. "Thisisa family business."
She made a thoughtful sound. "So you were raised in it."
"I was," I said.
"Have you ever wanted to try something else?"
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I watched her move through the living room. She was pacing again, but she wasn't nervous. Her strides were measured as if she was out for a walk.
"No," I replied, knowing that I had already revealed too much. It was time to stop.
"So your parents do the same thing?"
"I don't remember them," I said. Again, too much.
She froze for a second, then moved out of frame again.
I found myself scanning the window, waiting for her to reappear. My pulse was suddenly strange, faster than normal, erratic, loud in my ears.
"Do you eve—" she started on the line, but my earpiece buzzed, telling me Viper was on another line. Frustration simmered just below my skin. I didn't like that we'd been interrupted but duty called.
"I have to go," I cut her off, ended the call, and switched the lines. "Operative Seven."
Viper's voice came in with a bit of static. "Hey, boss."
"What's going on?"
"I got something interesting on our last target."
"Go."
"I have a feeling you're gonna like it a lot," Viper added, sounding fucking giddy. "If we play our cards right, we can tank this guy in no time."
I didn't know if it mattered whether I liked the intel Viper had dug up or not.
Using information to handle targets was simply my occupation.
And if I was honest, it'd been the only thing that ever felt real in my life…until Kimberly Holt's clumsy dance I'd witnessed tonight.
Fuck.
This job wasn't going the way I intended. At all.
24 seven
