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But right now, she’s sitting prim and proper. A lady by every appearance, except to me since I know what lays under those clothes and in her dirty mind. While I’ve been daydreaming, they’ve shaken hands, and we sit down, Maria behind her desk and Maggie and me in chairs in front of her.
“I haven’t seen your report yet, Shane. But I’ve got Organized Crime calling for a quick and dirty update, so I need a rundown of everything verbally. And then you can start catching up on your far overdue paperwork. Time to be an agent again, Guthrie.”
She’s mad I haven’t finished the job, but fuck it. I was busy. The hard work was done. The paperwork is always the part I hate anyway. It’s part of why I’m better undercover than as a regular agent. I mean, undercover just has to get shit done. The paperwork’s later.
Still, I do my best to give Maria a rundown even though she knows parts of it from my check-ins with Chucky. Starting with the shooting at Petals, I move on to the hitman, Maggie and me on the run, and I end with my conversation with Dominick as we left.
“I think we parted on respectful terms, all things considered. War averted, Dominick on alert to watch out for Sal a bit more carefully, and the hitman handled so Maggie is safe. My recommendation is to leave the agent in Sal’s organization for a bit to make sure that licking his wounds doesn’t turn ugly.”
Maria looks at Maggie, and I know I’ll have to answer a few hard questions later about the details of why Dominick just let me walk out with a handshake. “Anything you’d like to add, Miss Postland?”
Maggie looks at Maria for a moment, sizing her up, and nods. “I guess just that when I worked at Petals, I didn’t know about the mob stuff. All I knew was that Dominick ran a tight ship, cared about his employees, and when the crap hit the fan, he helped us.”
“That’s his style,” Maria replies. “But—”
“He didn’t have to do all he did for us, but he did,” Maggie continues, and for once, I see Maria actually shut up. “I don’t know what the FBI’s going to do about him. I just want you to know that he is a good man. It’s not black and white, criminal or not, and I hope you’ll take that into consideration for future operations regarding Dominick and his businesses.”
Damn this woman. I’d half expected her to sit here, quiet and shy like she sometimes gets, and just nod along with the big scary FBI folks. But the other piece of her, the brilliant mind she keeps hidden behind blonde curls and innocent eyes, is a work of fucking art. Maria smiles, a predator who’s seen her prey, and I’m not about to sit here while Maria skins Maggie with poisonous words.
“Maria, I think we should go. I’ll type up the report at home and send it in ASAP.”
Maria looks to me dismissively and then returns her eyes to Maggie. “You are quite something, aren’t you?”
Maggie shrugs but doesn’t break eye contact with Maria. “I do what I can.”
Maria nods, an amused glint in her eyes. “When we figured out who you are, I had Chucky do some digging. You have quite the impressive resume, Miss Postland.”
I’m confused. I know Maggie is a tabloid reporter, but that’s not exactly something that would impress Maria. I look out of the office window to the bullpen, seeing Chucky watching our exchange. When he catches me looking, he startles and looks down, shuffling papers.
Before I can ask what’s going on, Maria continues, ignoring me for the moment. “Your resume includes undercover work on a number of stories, everything from politics to celebrities. You’ve been . . . let’s see, an intern for a state Senator, a candy striper—”
“Candy striper?” I ask, imagining my innocent Maggie in one of those uniforms. Maggie gives me a little smile, blushing as I’m sure she’s thinking the same thing I am.
“As I was saying,” Maria says testily. “A secretary, and a waitress in a mob-owned club. In none of those jobs have you ever been detected until after the story came out and sometimes not even then. You’ve written many articles about mostly frivolous fodder. The FBI doesn’t really care who’s sleeping with whom—”
“Most of the time,” I say, earning a glare. “Sorry.”
“But some of your work—the investigative part, the undercover work—is well beyond your current situation at a tabloid,” Maria finishes.
Maggie smiles but shakes her head. “Actually, I no longer work for the tabloid. Nor Petals. I’ve been fired by both.”
There’s delight in Maria’s eyes, and she opens a manila folder on her desk, taking out a small packet and toying with it. “Ah, so sorry to hear that,” she replies in a way that makes me suspect she’s known that since Maggie walked in. “However, I do have something I’d like you to consider.”
