Mr. Nice Spy by Jordan McCollum

Author:Jordan McCollum [McCollum, Jordan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Spy, Espionage, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: Durham Crest Books
Published: 2013-06-04T14:00:00+00:00

I learned a long time ago life doesn’t come with an “undo” button. However, a lucky few of us are equipped with a fully functional play-it-off switch, and I am deep in that mode when Talia gets to the office Friday afternoon. She jumps into her work with barely a nod in my direction.

I’m not planning to get all hostile, but I’m not going to complain about a little breathing room in this suddenly stuffy office. The awkward silence — and the stack of papers on my desk for Talia — still hammer at my concentration. It doesn’t help that everyone else is out doing actual spy stuff this afternoon, while I’m doing paperwork and biding my time until my Lebanese friend can chat.

After half an hour, I can’t pretend to work anymore — I have to give this to her. I wheel my chair over to Talia’s desk, tail between my legs and the equivalent of the embassy’s yearbook under my arm. “Ready for this?”

Normally she’d counter with an “always,” and the whole exchange would sound a whole lot more like flirting. Instead, it sounds like somebody died.

Not quite that serious yet. I slap the stack of paper on Talia’s desk and take a seat next to her. Fortunately, she knows what I’m trying to say — I totally screwed up — and gets right to work without any more discussion.

When she turns the third or fourth page, it hits me — there’s no reason for me to stay by her. I never saw the guy well enough. Talia doesn’t need me. But somehow I still need to be here. Because I need to make sure we’re okay.

Talia sucks her cheeks in, totally focused on the page of photos in front of her. I expect her to make fun of the “natural” smiles and the stuffed-shirt, kid-glove executive versions of foreign relations.

Okay, yes, “overt ops” are important, too, and you never know if these guys applied to the Agency first and this job is their fallback plan. Still, it doesn’t feel great to stare at their smug little I’m-almost-famous grins in this tiny form of recognition, when we’re the ones risking our lives.

But we knew when we signed up that we’d be safer living and working anonymously. And nobody goes into the Clandestine Service for the fame.

I break the silence to distract myself from that line of thought. “Nothing so far?”

Talia shakes her head. She’s not talking to me, not looking at me, not even thinking about me.

Nobody focuses this hard on staring at photos. “Listen, about last night—”

She holds up a hand, still clutching one of the pages, to cut me off. “We’ve said everything we need to say.”

“I know. I’m not—”

“Are you going to tell Shanna?”

Dread freezes in my throat, drops into my stomach, sends ice spiraling through my gut, just like the minute I stepped into our apartment last night until I remembered she wasn’t home. I have no idea what to say, to Talia or to Shanna.

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