Chapter One
“Oh,I feel good about this one, Cort! I feel like a man who can’tlose!”
Kendrick Cortland, better known as ‘Cort,’ smirked at his partner. “Uh huh. Then take the shot,Derrick.”
Derrick Green squeezed his wadded-up ball of paper and eyed the recycle bin behind Cort once again before giving him a mistrustful glare. “You can’t cheat, dude. No moving from your seat,no-”
“No wheeling the chair,” Cort said, impatient but amused. “I know the rules of office basketball, Derrick.Take yourshot.”
Derrick pursed his lips. “You forget I’ve been your partner for four years. Only reason you bothered to learn the rules was so you’d know how to bendthem.”
Cort laughed. The man wasn’twrong.
“I’m telling you right now, I’m not staying here a second after five just because you liked to hear yourself whining,” Cort warned. “I’ve gotplans.”
“Yep.That’sthe level of dedication I’ve come to expect from my partner,” Derrick teased, aiming his paper ball onceagain.
Derrick wasn’t wrong about that either. Cort liked his job, and some days he’d even loved it – the thrill of out-thinking criminals, the occasional feeling he’d helped someone. More and more often, though, closing a case felt like lopping the head off a hydra - the next day, two more would spring up to take its place. And when it came down to it, the most important investigation he’d conducted in the last year wasn’t on the FBI’s books atall.
“Hey, wait!” Derrick let the paper fall to the desk and pointed an accusing finger at Cort. “That means you’re not coming to Garvey’s with ustonight?”
“Nope.” Cort shook his head apologetically. “Nottonight.”
“Breaking tradition! We close a case, we go to Garvey’s!” Derrick’s brown eyes were as mournful as a basset hound’s. “But, fine.Whatever. Yourplansare more important than hanging with yourcoworkers.”
If Derrick only knew.Understatement of themillennium.
Cort had plans that would help him locate his brother and hopefully take down a powerful, entitled criminal businessman in the process. So, yeah, justslightlymore important than downing flat beer at Garvey’s Pub. Not that he would share any of those plans withDerrick.
From the other side of the cubicle dividing Cort and Derrick’s shared space from the rest of the office, Natalie Marquez’s deep voice shouted. “For God’s sake, Derrick, take the shot. Our boy’s got a date, and it’s about time he gotlucky.”
Cort rolled his eyes, but didn’t correct her. It hadn’t been more than a month or - fine, maybetwo, since he’d brought someone home, but not because hecouldn’t. If you had a good build and a decent-looking face, finding a hookup was child’s play, and there was no moreluckinvolved in the process of ‘getting lucky’ than there was in ordering a hamburger at the drive-thru. The problem was, those hookups were about as stale and unsatisfying as the dollar-menuburger.
“So, who’s the lucky gal?” Natalie, their computer specialist, peeked her platinum-blonde head above the divider. “Or is it a guy? It’s a guy, isn’tit?”
Cort shook his head. His bisexuality wasn’t something he’d ever hidden - nor was his personal life something he liked to discuss. “Nocomment.”
He cracked his knuckles as a spurt of nervous energy wormed its way through his gut. Part of him was excited that after months of planning, watching, and waiting, it was finally time to take action–the first step on a long path to getting his foster brother Damon back, and taking down the people who’d framed him - but he wasn’t particularly thrilled that tonight would involve what essentially amounted to unauthorized spying. Sinking to the level of the people he wanted to take down was sometimes necessary, but neverfun.
Nothing more than a simple conversation, he remindedhimself.
Cort’s desk phone rang, and Derrickgroaned.
“Game over, buddy. Shoulda taken your shot while you had the chance,” Cort said, shaking his head with mock sympathy as he reached for the receiver. But the voice on the other end chased the smile from hisface.
“Cortland, I need to see you in my officeimmediately.”
Agent Sean Cook, was one of the good guys - the kind of idealistic boss who didn’t have grand career ambitions and genuinely cared about his staff. His tone now was stiffer and harsher than Cort had ever heard him usebefore.
Cort’s stomached plummeted and his fingers clenched tightly around thephone.
In a career distinguished mostly by his ability to skirt the law and bend the rules, Cort was used to being in trouble. The question usually wasn’twhetherhe’d done something wrong, butwhichof those things he’d been found out on, and he wouldn’t have lasted long at this job if he let himself get riled every time he was called on thecarpet.
Today, though, he was pretty sure he knew exactly why he was in trouble, and he was afraid there’d be no bouncing back from thisone.
Using agency resources to track his brother had been a calculated risk. Time to pay thepiper.
“Coming, sir,” he said, putting the receiver back in itscradle.
