Page 2

Damn, I can’t wait to get home.
†††
72 Hours Later— Washington, DC
I step out of Dr. Kinderson’s office with my psychiatric evaluation results in hand. Jax stands as I enter the waiting room, gaze glued to my face. I grin, waving the folder like a prize.
"You pass?" Jax raises one of his eyebrows.
"Of course. That bitch is annoying."
"She’s a good doctor." He leads me down the closest hallway.
"She pisses me off."
"Lily, everyone pisses you off." Jax stops in front of the elevator, pressing the up arrow as I fall in beside him. "She ask you about dating again?"
"Who gives a shit if I don't date?"
"Normal girls your age date. You know the information she’s going off of."
"I know . . . still fucking detestable, as far as questions and subjects go." I crack my neck and roll my eyes, as the metal door in front of me opens.
Stepping into the elevator, my body tenses. My teeth grind together with the jarring movement of the metal box. After years of captivity, there’s nothing worse for me than being confined in small spaces with no way for a quick escape. The elevator dings, displaying the number six. The doors open, and I practically jump out.
I follow Jax to the last office on the left. Our team is spread throughout the room. He moves to speak with Hayato, our Communications Specialist, and I move to the glass wall encompassing the opposite side of the room. The clouds on the horizon drift fluidly over the blue sky— it’s breathtaking.
"How'd your session go with the shrink?" Dresden leans against the glass wall to my left.
"Same shit, different day."
He stands close to me but is careful not to actually touch me— he knows better, they all do. His lips quirk up in a 'cat-who-got-the-canary' smile. He's so cocky, it should be illegal. His wavy brown hair sits in disarray, laugh lines disrupting his five o'clock shadow, and green eyes shining with arrogance. The muscles in his shoulders strain his sleeveless shirt.
Why doesn't he own a normal shirt for Christ's sake?
"Good morning, Agents," a low voice says, his words coated in a British accent.
Dresden and I turn at the same time, the entire team mimicking our movements. We're a well-oiled machine after ten years together.
"Please be seated."
I take the seat closest to me as Dresden sits to my right. Another one of my teammates, Rhett, sits down on my other side. His hair is cut short on the sides but just long enough on the top that it has a little curl to it. If it wasn’t for the dark, close-shaved beard and tattoos I know are hiding under his long-sleeved shirt, I’d say he could be part of a boy band. A small diamond stud glitters from his left ear, matching the megawatt smile he gives me. I return it, chuckling to myself.
Turning my attention to the front of the room, my chair jolts forward, pushing my stomach into the edge of the table. I growl, shoving against the polished wood. Dresden covers his mouth, chuckling, as Rhett shakes his head, his shoulders quaking with silent laughter. I lift my hands, as if to stretch, and slap both of them, hard, in the backs of the heads.
"Ouch! Dammit, woman!" Dresden chuckles.
I snicker as he and Rhett both rub their heads.
"Enough!" Jax's voice is a deep grumble, effectively wiping the smirks off all our faces. He points toward the top end of the table and we all look in that direction, scolded once again.
"I've met most of you during your time with Interpol, but for those of you that don't know me, I'm Hyde Monroe— Head of International Affairs and Covert Operations." He sits stiffly in the head chair.
Affairs and Covert Operations . . . yeah right. Elitist douche.
I've met Monroe a few times over the years, but this is the first time he’s called the whole team in. We don't see eye-to-eye.
"Agent Unnami, I know your team usually operates in undercover missions, but there's an assignment Interpol believes this team is uniquely suited for."