Page 70 of Jonesing for a Spy

Work… on a holiday—shit just got real.

I sit up and push a hand through my mess of hair and answer. “Hello?”

“Jones. That assignment. Be ready to go on Tuesday. Details sent to your computer. Devise a cover, and we’ll get you set up. Check in on Monday morning for more.”

“Sure thi—” The -ing never leaves my lips.

Daxton disconnects. Apparently, his mood is no better than it was forty-eight hours ago when we were trying to debrief.

“All righty then. So it’s going to be like that.” I’m talking aloud to myself. Not good.

Grabbing my computer, I return to my warm spot on the couch and open the lid.

Mirren Jones

November Assignment — Peoria, Illinois

Urgent | Top Secret

Infiltrate Electric Peoria.

Discover anything and everything that implicates Strider Anderson with conspiracy to destroy the U.S. power grid.

What. The. Fuck.

What the fuck?

I know the man. He isn’t conspiring to take down the grid. Why would they even be investigating him? Have they ever met him?

On second thought, do I even really know him? I was investigating at The Prestige, listening to conversations, looking for cohorts of people who were hiding in plain sight. He stayed, found my home, wined and dined me. He’s pursued me. Why? Was I his mark while he was ultimately my own?

Does he know who I work for? I throw my head back onto the sofa cushion. Am I being played?

Never before have I wished I had someone to talk to about my job as much as I do right now. Not my legendary mom or my skilled dad.

I need someone like Jamie. He’s crisp, shrewd, almost cold in his tactical skills. He slices through bullshit the way a skilled butcher with the right pressure and at the right angle carves an animal.

Interested in going for a run?

Hambone—Jamie

Sure. Where and when?

Mullet Point Park. As soon as you can get there.

{thumbs up emoji}

I slam the lid on my laptop with too much force and rush through changing clothes. I’m in the car, pointing south in no time flat. I failed to remember a baseball cap and sunscreen, but it is what it is.

I need the outlet. I need Jamie’s no-nonsense company. And I need my overactive brain to focus on something other than me getting played by the first man I’ve had interest in… maybe ever.

Jamie finds me stretching not far from the parking lot. My stupid knee isn’t happy, and I’m going to have to baby it. I’d rather it be sore and my brain clear than my knee fine and my head befuddled.

“You ready?” I ask.

He nods. “You set the pace.”

It’s nice of him to adjust his stride to mine. It can’t be comfortable. My legs are half his in length.