Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
She glared at me. “Of course you did. You also lost twenty pounds and fucked up your bloodwork because you didn’t have adequate nutrition.”
“I got the job done.”
She took in a slow breath and let it out, clearly trying to keep her cool. “Would you like to revisit the op debrief from three years ago? Because we can do that. But not right now. Right now, we’re going to make sure that our agents don’t go into the field thinking it’s okay to stay dark for that long or starve themselves in the process.” She directed her gaze to the others around the table. “Also, I need everyone to be clear that danger to your personal safety on an op doesn’t just come from bad guys with guns, okay?”
After the op in Hamburg, she’d ripped me a new one, but Rocky had also taken responsibility for it, claiming she’d sent me out too soon before I’d completed some of the advanced training.
This was somewhat true, but the experience I’d gained on that op had been invaluable. And it had led to my quick ascent in the ranks.
“Where do you need me on this?” I prodded, trying to refocus on the current op.
Rocky pinned me with a look. “On vacation.”
I blinked at her. “No, I mean where do you need me in Germany? I’m fluent in German and familiar with Brunsbüttel.”
In fact, I was one of the people on the team with the most fluency in European languages. It was part of what had gotten me recruited out of college in the first place.
She tilted her head and looked at me with an expression of disbelief. “I know you are. Which is why you’re not on this op.”
“That’s why I should be on this op,” I insisted.
“So someone can recognize you as the eco-activist Jonas Vogel, the kid who was literally arrested for loitering on the docks with nefarious intent? Not on your life.”
She had a point.
“I can provide support from here, then. I’m an experienced operative. I have information that might help,” I said, turning to CJ and Rita. But before I could give them suggestions about being undercover in Germany, Rocky cut me off.
“Except that you’re going on mandated leave, and that’s final. Listen, Jett. I’ve tried asking you nicely to take some time off—”
“I just went to my cousin’s wedding!”
Trevi snickered, and the edge of Rocky’s lip curved up. “Yes, you did. You took an entire week off… six months ago.”
“That wasn’t six months ago,” I insisted, doing the math in my head and realizing I was wrong and she was right. “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit. So you’re taking some time off. No arguments, Jett,” she added, when it was clear I was going to. “As an experienced operative, you know that pushing yourself’s the easiest way to get sloppy. Come back refreshed, and I’ll toss you into an op again.”
So, really… it was Rocky’s fault I was on a Dassault Falcon dressed in clothes that cost more than my monthly salary at ESP.
“You’re fidgeting,” Locke said, without looking up from his laptop in the seat across the table from me.
I swallowed and lied. “I’ve just never been on a private plane before. Isn’t it more likely to crash?”
He nodded, still not lifting his head from his work. “Statistically speaking, yes. But not this one.”
“Explain,” I said, and then took the opportunity to study him while he spouted a bunch of stuff I already knew about how student pilots, single-pilot flights, riskier weather decisions, and lower maintenance standards negatively impacted the statistics for private plane safety records.
He was so fucking sexy. His button-down shirtsleeves were folded up his arms, revealing straight-up forearm porn. I was close enough now to see that his forearm tattoo was a combination of his company’s anchor and compass logo. His tie had been yanked off and tossed onto the leather seat beside him the minute we’d boarded, and watching his thick fingers pluck at the tiny button of his shirt collar had made me want to take over the chore.
Now, a tuft of chest hair was visible in the open collar, above the white cotton undershirt he wore. Every time he shifted in his seat, those little hairs were either hidden or revealed.
“We have three pilots, and one of the flight attendants is also licensed to fly, although her experience is limited to her father’s crop duster.”
“Arial applicator,” the flight attendant said with a soft chuckle as she set a coffee down in front of him and a bottle of water in front of me. “Your lunch will be ready shortly. Is there anything else I can get you in the meantime?”
I smiled at the attractive woman and shook my head. Locke finally looked up and met her eye, giving her a warm look that made me want to claw her eyes out. “Thank you, Kayla. We’re all set.”