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Time to go face the music. It was going to get dark soon. Adam and I would be on shift before we knew it. I walked over to Guy’s room and knocked on the door. Wells opened it and allowed me in.
“How’s your case coming along?” he asked as I stepped through.
“Unfortunately, it’s exactly as Bob predicted. The more I dig, the more I realize he was right.” He nodded his head, as if he could relate.
“Did you figure out which agents visited the compound?” he questioned.
“Yeah, they are in the report I sent over to Bob.” No point in sharing names he wouldn’t remember.
“Do you know any of them?” he asked. I was surprised by his small talk, because Wells didn’t seem like the type to want to get into nitty-gritty. He seemed like a man of action, not words.
“One, but I don’t personally know him, thank God.” I could only imagine how unpleasant it would be to have a personal or working relationship with Agent Gordon.
“I suppose that’s good,” he muses.
“Yeah. If any of my acquaintances were involved, I might lose my fucking mind,” I admitted with a bite of anger. I imagined someone I knew sitting behind the desk allowing all of this to happen. It made me want to do terrible things to a punching bag.
“Speaking of losing minds—Strong came in here pretty mad. He wouldn’t say what happened, but I’m assuming it has something to do with you,” he suggested. His eyebrow raised playfully.
“That’s a fair assessment,” I replied with a fake chuckle. None of it was actually funny.
“Can you tell me what happened so that I can help him? I don’t want his mind fucked up when we are this close to the end. While we’re on babysitting duty and are only entering if there’s movement, we have to plan as if that’s going to happen. And when your head isn’t in the right place…that’s how people get hurt.”
He sounded like he was speaking from personal experience. Part of me was torn—I really wanted more details about some of their missions from their time in the Army. I was really curious as to how Yates lost his leg or Adam got all the scarring that hid beneath his tattoos—but as a prior service member, I knew it was best not to ask. Could trigger PTSD and shit.
He looked at me impatiently.
“He’s into me.” He raised his eyebrows, tilted his head, and mashed his lips together. Theobviouslyface. “I think he’s imagining a wedding ring, two-point-five kids, and a white picket fence, but that’s not in our future. I can’t give him anything except a fun vacation of casual hookups. My work is too important to me, and I don’t have room in my life for anything else. He keeps trying to boss me around like I’m his girl, this is his mission, and his job is at stake.”
“And you told him this?”
“In different words, yes. Despite that, he still tries to boss me around and keep me under his thumb. I’m not about that in or out of a relationship, and I won’t let that shit slide. He likes me, I get it. I set boundaries he doesn’t like, so he’s grumpy.” I crossed my arms in annoyance and to put up a physical barrier between me and my feelings.
“He’s grumpy because he wants to protect you, and you won’t let him,” he said with a chuckle. The amusement annoyed me. I wasn’t amused at all. I felt like I was left out of a bad joke and was struggling to hear the punchline.
“In a very basic nutshell, that’s part of it,” I agreed.
“I don’t want to tell you what to do, but can I make a recommendation?” he asked me. I was under the impression that if I said no, he’d still make it anyway. But I humored him, because at least he asked instead of trying to boss me around.
“What’s your recommendation?” I asked with a sigh.
“Go find him, and fuck his brains out before we leave tonight. After it’s over, think long and hard about what you really want for yourself and not what you need to do for others,” he said.
I pulled my head back in shock at the crude suggestion. I shouldn’t have been surprised though; he was a dude who probably saw me as a hot bro, his friend’s girl. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Strong told us briefly about your motivations, your undying commitment to your cause. I admire it wholeheartedly. We felt the same about answering our nation’s call. But at some point you have to take a step back and look at what you accomplished, then leave the fight for the next well-trained soldier,” he said. His shoulders settled, and his expression was sincere, imploring me to read between the lines. My job didn’t need to be my identity.
“So you think I should just quit the FBI, post up with Adam somewhere, and play house?” I asked, not quite believing what I was hearing. It was hard to keep the bitterness from my tone. The suggestion crossed a line.
“Absolutely not. Does it look like Jasmine or Christine gave up what they were doing once they got with Jones or me? No, in fact, they are doing more of it with our support. This doesn’t have to be a ‘your job versus your man’ situation. He’d support you in your career while standing on the sides. I’ve never seen him even interested in a relationship with a woman before. It’s usually just quick fucks with pretty bimbos, so this is huge for him. If you don’t think you can be part of the FBI and be with Strong—who I can see plain as day that you have feelings for—then look at other ways you can complete your mission. After everything you’ve been through, and all the lives you’ve saved, you don’t have to be a martyr. You want all of those you save to find happiness, right? You can find your own slice of happiness too.”
I took a long time to reflect on his words. I wanted to be pissed off that he suggested that I could squeeze a man as large and in charge as Adam into my life. I didn’t think he quite understood my predicament. My job was my life. It allowed me to help others out of a situation I barely survived in one piece; it was my crutch, it was where I found my peace, and it was how I battled my demons. While Adam was a great guy, and we had chemistry, that was a gamble. It’d always been my job versus everything else in my life, because it was so demanding. Not to mention, our demons were very different, and while he had sympathy for my situation, he could never truly understand it. He could never truly understand me if he thought he could pressure me into something more.
“And how would I find my own slice of happiness when my job is the only thing that has made me happy for as long as I can remember?” I asked, my tone sounding quiet and defeated.
“You join us. We have the same mission. Think about it. You came here to aid us in our mission to free these trafficked women, and you discovered the betrayal of a whole field office. We are all ingrained to want to make the world a better place. Do that as a part of our group, you’ll be doing what you love, with someone you could fall in love with. Lord knows he’s already fallen for you,” he countered.
“Adam is in love with me?” A rock sank to the bottom of my stomach, making me feel nauseous.
