Page 60 of Jonesing for a Spy

Mirren

Daxton is pissed, and I mean pissed.

Smack dab in the middle of my debrief, he was called away. The man rarely loses his cool, and it’s safe to say his cool is nowhere to be found.

Not going to lie, though, the extra time won’t go to waste. I have two casseroles already prepped for tomorrow that will only need to be heated. And I’m making a salad, but that will have to be done tomorrow morning. Donuts on my way in the morning will get me one of Mom’s glares, but keep me in my brothers’ good graces, and since it’s one versus five, I’ll always go with the odds.

Uncle Alpha

Heads up. New assignment on Tuesday. Be ready. Details forthcoming.

Uncle Alpha is a mash up of Uncle Sam and Alphabet agency, and a way I wouldn’t blow my cover if someone inadvertently picked up my phone. It’s not Aunt Britt’s husband, though I’ve no clue if anyone would even question it. Except maybe Jamie. And only because he’s way too observant.

Confirm receipt.

Well, I’ll be camping again on Tuesday, I guess. Probably time to ask the team for another set of photoshopped pics. Hell, I’m still waiting on the last set.

Flipping threads, I start a message to Strider.

How did today go?

Strider

It’s still going.

Good time?

Not really. Police reports take way longer than I would’ve thought. They look relatively quick on television.

Police report?

Call me when you can.

{Thumbs up emoji}

Nothing says shit day like a police report.

I finish out my workday and wait.

It’s after five when my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.” The defeat in his whispered voice reveals so much.

“Hey.” I drop my voice to match his mood. “Want to tell me about it?”

A car door slams in the background, and the call changes to Bluetooth. “The guys who’ve been stealing from me were shellshocked, but it was going as planned. I was waiting for them to sign when who I’m assuming to be the instigator decided choking me was better than being fired.”

“What?” I rip my phone from my face, toggle to speakerphone, and immediately hit my search engine for flights.

“Yeah.” His blinker activates, and I have to smile. We don’t do that down here. That midwesterner uses his turning indicators.

“And?”

“And after being checked out in the ER and paying a mortgage for tests I do not need, I had to go to the police station to press charges. Bad day for it, for him at least. Judges are gone, and tomorrow’s a holiday, so he gets at least two nights in the clink while I get to walk off the bruises and the random effects to my eyes.”

I try so hard. I really do, but I snort. “Did you just say in the clink?”