Page 113 of Jonesing for a Spy

“With computers and phones, we’re always being surveilled. Between my career and your what-shall-we-call-it connection to domestic terrorism, we should assume ears and eyes on us.”

Through gritted teeth, I spit out, “I am not connected to domestic terrorism.”

“Your business is. I don’t know how or where and digging in will set off more alarm bells than either of us can afford, but there’s a string there, and someone’s pulling it.”

“And that’s why you’re wound so tight?”

“Two things really. The first is the lesser worry. My handler is upset that you’re here and we’re together.”

“He doesn’t get a vote.” I turn her to face me. “You get a vote. I get one. That man does not.”

Planting her face in my chest, she nods. “I know. He knows that now too. Things got… heated.”

Tilting her face up to mine, I peer down at her. “And the bigger thing?”

“I need to do an op, unofficially, with unknown backup in the next couple of weeks. Someone is threatening to take down the Texas power grid. It’s a practice run for the U.S. grid. They’re going to be onsite, for reasons unknown.” She shakes her head. “It’s so stupid. One, because they don’t need to be there. Sadly, it can be done remotely with much less risk. And two, they’ll be stuck which gives me an opportunity to make sure they don’t get away. The whole thing is bad. It reeks of trouble, but it’s going to happen with or without me, and I can’t let it happen at all.”

The problems that could arise assault me in a deluge. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t either. But it would be easier if Daxton wasn’t being so ridiculous.” She practically pouts, though I don’t know that that word or expression is in her repertoire.

“Do you need this Daxton at your back?”

She shrugs and shakes her head. “Not really, but I’d rather he know than make an assumption.”

“Because his assumption is that you’d be doing it on my behalf? Does he know you at all?”

“Apparently not. Regardless of his misguided notions, I’ll be cleared. ‘Going down’ with the perps wouldn’t be that bad as long as I’m released quickly. Besides, I’ve known worse.”

“Not making me feel better, Freckles.” I place a kiss on her forehead. “Now, how should I act when we’re in your apartment or near our phones?”

“Just be yourself. But you don’t know about my job. Or Mom’s at all.”

“Or your dad.”

“Well, my dad’s former career.” She turns and leads me down the street. “Dad’s great, by the way.” She tilts her head to catch my gaze. “You’ll love him, and he’ll love you.”

“And me moving in with you won’t be a thing for him?”

“No.” Her voice is quiet, her words matching her head shaking. “He wants me happy. You make me happy. That’s all he’ll care about. That said, he’ll give you a little shit just because that’s who he is.”

Great. Another Jones giving me shit. “I look forward to it.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not exactly the whole truth either.

48

blow shit up and bounce

Strider

I have five glorious days before dealing with the reality of what a cross-country move entails. And I don’t have that much to do in the grand scheme of things.

From Mirren’s half-circle kitchen table, I’ve managed to get my house ready for a corporate leasing company to come in and do their thing. Utilities are changed over into a new LLC’s name. I’ll pack my personal effects and drive them down after the holidays.

Who am I kidding? I’m not hanging out here waiting for the holidays. I’m waiting to see if this operation Mirren has will fizzle or ignite. I’m hoping for the former while preparing for the latter. And, make no mistake, I’m preparing.

I’m no operative. I’m sure as hell not trained for combat. I don’t even own a gun aside from a small revolver I bought at twenty-one just because I could. It’s been in the box for damn near two decades because I don’t want to injure anyone.

The idea that my Freckles plans to waltz into a terrorist cell and bullshit her way as an insurgent, makes the skin want to crawl off my body.