Page 49 of Agency

“Feel cheap,” he repeated. “You don’t really feel that way?” He was running a hand back through his hair, and the gesture was so boyish from a guy I’d watch set enough explosive charges to make an anti-government militia blush, that I almost had to laugh.

“No,” I said, grinning from one ear to the other. “No, man. Should I?”

“Well, no.” I half-expected him to kick at the carpet like a farm kid kicking the dirt. Instead, he just shook his head. “No, no you really shouldn’t.”

“You don’t, do you?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I liked her, and it was a fucking blast. I don’t regret shit.”

“No? You sure?”

“Positive. And she was pretty cool, even if she felt like she was holding something back.”

“While we were fucking?”

“Huh?” Another shake of his head. “Oh, no, not then. Not then at all. Back when we were playing pool and shit. Just felt like she wasn’t telling us everything, you know?” He paused to look around the hotel room for emphasis. “Like, when was the last time you had a hookup with some dive-bar chick dressed like a dive-bar chick, but who was staying in a room like this? I know it isn’t exactly the Ritz, or anything, but it absolutely screams business travel.”

“Good point.” I was pulling my shirt on now, and I fixed him with a look as I tugged the rest of the way down. “You think she’s married, or something? Living life on the wild side while she’s in town?”

“Something.” He snorted, gave a nod. “Maybe.” Then, after a short pause, “Probably. Why else would she disappear like that?”

“You never know, man,” I said with a slight smile. “She could be a spy or some shit.” I pulled out my phone, checked for any messages or missed calls.

A message from Alice, the partner to our three St. Louis guys. They’d met her down in Cancun during a job and, well, things had progressed from there. Now, the four of them lived up here in St. Louis, with her working in the emergency room at one of the local hospitals, and filling what little spare time she had with helping out some free clinics both around the city, and out west, closer to the Lake of the Ozarks.

Not that I could really judge. Not at all, actually, particularly after last night.

Still, I swore under my breath as I pulled up her message. Because, as lovely a person she might have been–and she certainly was–hearing from her instead of one of her boyfriends wasn’t a good sign.

“What’s wrong, now?” Andrew asked.

I sighed. “Caden and Vincent. Alice is at the penthouse right now, checking on them, and she thinks they’ve both caught a bug. She’s quarantining them both and putting them on bed rest for the next few days, so they can’t cover tonight’s third shift.”

“They have a doctor’s note?”

“Well, considering Alice is their doctor girlfriend, I think her message qualifies.”

“So, what do we do?”

“What else? Cover ‘em. Too close to the finish line to go begging for help from the home office. No symptoms from Thomas, yet, and she doesn’t think he’s got it.” My mind was already working on a backup. “You and I do a split.”

“Fuck. You serious?”

I shrugged. “Command responsibilities. Someone can’t pick up, we pick up for ‘em. Work’s gotta get done. We grab whatever shuteye we can after our morning shift, then go back and finish things up on the overnight.”

“But I’m not command,” he replied, seemingly as sullen as back when he looked like he was about to kick the carpet.

“Yeah, but you’re salary. That’s the private industry’s version of command.”

He sighed. “Fine. Whatever. Not like Morgan wants to do anything at night, anyways. I’d just be stuck one floor down watching Netflix and trying to sleep.”

“There you go,” I said. “That’s the spirit.”

“Just thought of something,” Andrew said as we went to leave the room together. “Think she has a license to kill? Some real double-o shit?”

“What?”

“Candice,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “You said she might be a spy, right?”