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“Forget that. What exactly do you have twenty-fours to decide? What is going on now?”
I look at her and chuckle. “Oh, right. Well. How would you like to be a spy?” I ask with a wink. Arie chokes on the mouthful of coffee she just swallowed.
“What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Spencer and Rufus have asked us to become, well, field agents of sort. Nothing high-risk. No espionage. Well, light espionage. Travel to some exotic countries, gather intel, maybe steal the occasional priceless antiquity and sell it on the black market.” I think I’m hilarious, but Arie isn’t laughing.
“Pierce, don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t even finish college. I am your receptionist. I am not remotely qualified to be any kind of field agent. And what about you? Your leg is just starting to heal! You want to risk your progress for what?”
“Adventure? Intrigue? A chance to travel on someone else’s dime?” I know I shouldn’t be joking because Arie is worked up, but I can’t help it. I’ve been in this situation before, and I know in the end, she is going to side with me. The allure of the unknown is just too great. But she is still frowning at me.
“That’s fine for you, but what about the kids? Layla and Beckett are babies, and Chloe… I can’t leave her again. What if she thinks this is the time I leave her for good? I don’t want our kids to end up orphans, Pierce.”
I cross over and sit on the desk next to her. “We’re not talking about parachuting behind enemy lines in a war zone, Arie. It’s basically analysis work in the field. Some traveling. Occasionally following a few bad people and seeing where they are headed. And I promise you, we will never be away from the kids for more than a long weekend.”
Arie scrunches up her face and crosses her arms over her chest. Then she starts thinking, and she thinks for so long, I’m pretty sure the twenty-four-hour deadline might pass. When she finally speaks, she actually startles me.
“And you promise me we’ll never be away from the kids for more than four days at a time?”
I nod. “I promise. And we’ll bring them back lovingly-curated knick-knacks from every trip.”
Arie shrugs. “Okay then, let’s do it.”
My jaw drops. “Really? Just like that?”
“Well, not just like that. We’ll have to work out a lot of details and prepare for every eventuality, but we should at least try it. I think we’ll regret it if we don’t give it a shot, you know?”
I grab her, sweep her up in my arms, and give her a huge, long, kiss. I really am the luckiest man in the world, to have a wife who is so brave, so utterly fearless. When I put her back on the ground, I kiss her again.
“You deserve this, you know. You are brilliant, and capable, and this is your chance to shine.”
Arie stretches up and gives me another kiss. “I do all the shining I need to with you.”
Just as I’m considering taking her into my office and really making her glow, the phone in my jacket pocket rings. The phone that only Spencer and Rufus have access to. I look at Arie with a smile.
“Ready for our next adventure, Mrs. Cochran?”
She winks. “I was born ready, Mr. Cochran.”
Copyright © 2016 by Jess Bentley
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Janie
I take a deep breath, and unclench my fists. Looking down at the stinging in my palm, when it opens I see the deep crescent indentations of my fingernails. Since I was a little girl, that sight was more or less the definition of home.
Inside the little brick single-level cottage, behind the yellow, ratty yard, I can already hear my stepfather screaming. I’m still on the sidewalk, so chances are everyone else within a three-house radius can hear him as well. Why he was there when my mother called me, I can’t imagine.
Mom called me about a panic attack.
George is pretty much the opposite of helpful for that.
No one knows I’m here yet. I look back at the car — I could still leave. No one would know. I could just say I got busy, or that someone quit at the restaurant and I have to cover. That’s what the owner does; what I always do. They’d believe me.
But no amount of fantasizing actually will make that dream a reality. Pushing the chain-link fence gate open with a sigh, my heels tap up the cracked walkway through the dead yard and up to the screen door where I don’t bother to knock. It’s not locked.
