With a Twist (Last Call #4)(33)

Plus, it gives me something to do so I'm not tempted to look back up on the stage at Andrea. It's practically killing me not to, but I don't want to risk the imminent erection I know I'll get, and I don't want to have to be reminded that she's doing something very selfless to help us crack this case, even if it sullies herself in the process.





Chapter 10





Andrea





When I decided to become an FBI agent at the tender age of eight, I never really thought much about what that really meant. I was following in my dad's footsteps and because he was dead, I couldn't ask him practical advice on my career choice. Even at the wise-old age of twenty-seven, after two years with the Bureau, it never would have crossed my mind that I would be on my knees, giving my partner a blow job.

It seems absolutely ludicrous that this could be my life right at this moment, yet, here I am. Blow jobs for the greater good.

A new FBI motto.

A maniacal snicker followed by a snort slips out of me as I dress in a pair of sweat pants, my sports bra, and a loose t-shirt. I imagine Wyatt will be here soon to discuss our game plan for tomorrow night, and I'm nervous as hell because I know I didn't imagine his reaction as I was licking my lips after a job well done.

He was pissed at me.

As is my habit, I jumped in the shower as soon as I got to my apartment to scrub off the indecency of my job, making sure the heavy makeup swirled down the drain along with the metaphorical slime I was coated in. My shame in baring my body to strangers is lessening, and maybe that's due solely to the fact that I was willing to do so much more than strip to make sure my cover remained intact.

More shame piles on.

More guilt.

More embarrassment.

More than anything, I wish I were back home …  in my little bungalow house in Pittsburgh …  snuggled on the couch and watching a marathon of Criminal Minds. That show is a little out there, and isn't indicative at all of what it's really like in the BRIU, but it provides me with entertainment that I can relate to somewhat.

I want that very badly right now. I'm homesick, beaten down, and I need some type of familiar comfort.

The knock at the door has me padding softly into my living room. Before I can even detour to the couch for my gun, I hear Wyatt's gruff voice. "It's Raze."

My heart starts a mad thumping, fueled on by anxiety and the need to ease my conscience with him. I open the door to let him in, avoiding eye contact because I'm at an absolute loss as to what to say.

Wyatt walks straight into my kitchen and pulls two Diet Cokes out of my fridge. I follow him in and take the can from his offered hand, popping the top and taking a sip. Wyatt sits down at the table and kicks at the chair opposite of him. "Sit."



       
         
       
        

I pull the chair out a little further and take a seat, setting my can on the table. I notice that my soda is ice cold, which means I'm having a good fridge day, and that is one good thing that has happened to me.

I wait for him to lay into me for what I did to him, but he merely says, "I've got a tentative plan for how this will go down tomorrow. I want to discuss it with you and then hash it out. You have an excellent mind and while I have a general idea of what we should do, I really want your help in figuring this out."

I raise my eyes to his in surprise, and I see nothing but determination on his face.

No condemnation.

No anger.

Nothing but fortitude to get the job done well.

"Then let's get to work," I say as I scoot my chair forward and rest my arms on the table. This is a temporary reprieve for me, but I feel immediate relief we aren't confronting what happened in Simon's office just yet. "Tell me the basics."

Wyatt scoots forward and leans his arms on the table as well, loosely twining his fingers. "It's only going to be Simon and me taking you to the sale. No clue who the buyer will have with him, so that's an unknown."

"We should plan for there to be several," I pipe in.

Wyatt nods. "Exactly. Gomez wants to put a tracker on you, but I nixed that idea, and we'll just depend on him to follow the GPS on my phone. While I don't think Simon doubts you or me, I don't want to risk it if he chooses to search you."

"I'm fine with that," I tell him. "When will you arm me?"

"Just before the sale. They think I'm drugging you with a dose of Ecstasy and ketamine. That would make you a little loopy. I told Lance I'd drug you right after your last dance and then take you to Simon's office to wait. You should act a little buzzed, totally compliant, and in a really good mood. Our cover is that we're taking you to an after-hours party to dance."