"Go the fuck away," I wheezed.
"I left the covert services six years ago," she started, drawing my shirt up to inspect the wounds along my ribs. She frowned at them, but didn't look concerned. "It wasn't engaging for me anymore. I wanted to have interests and experiences that were my own, and not part of a cover."
"Oh, yeah," I replied, my voice hoarse and the words coming in jagged, pathetic gasps. "Kind of like how you're the friendly neighborhood acupuncturist who happens to be on hand the second I wipe out on my board? Is that the type of experience you're looking for?"
She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head. "I've picked up a few gigs from the CIA and private contractors, yeah," she said. "But only because the money is good and it's never more than light surveillance work. A little sneak-and-peek action." She tossed up her hands. "I wasn't supposed to interact with you. I was only to confirm your location. That's all Renner wanted."
Despite the burn in my chest, I sat up and pushed to my feet. I couldn't take another hit from Toby fucking Renner while flat on my ass. "Great, so you threw in the fuck for free."
April was on my heels in an instant, following me into the kitchen as I found a dishtowel to blot my wounds. She ripped it from my hands and applied the pressure herself. "Don't you ever speak to me that way again," she said, low and lethal. "Itook you to bed. Not the spy. Not the soldier."
I stared into her eyes, and the forces of anger and affection battled for supremacy. My brain told me to show her the door, but my gut wasn't fully committed to that plan. One of them was right, but I didn't know which.
"I didn't give Renner any information about you," she said, her eyes blazing. "I wasn't on the beach as surveillance. I didn't realize it was you until it was too late, and after that moment, I was done. The only intel he got from me was to confirm that you were in Montauk."
"Great," I repeated. "Get in line behind the rest of the motherfuckers who've betrayed me, April." As her name passed over my lips, I stifled a groan. "If that's your name, of course."
The dishtowel ground into the wound and I gritted my teeth to keep from yelping. "My nameisApril," she said. "I didn't lie to you."
I broke away from her then, unable to keep up this ruse. "You were hired to track me. You failed to mention any of that." Stepping toward the bedroom, I scowled over my shoulder. "You're no friend of mine, lady. Show yourself out."
I didn't spare her a second look, instead discarding my bloodied shirt in the hamper and locating the first aid kit in my bathroom. As expected, the lacerations weren't life-threatening, and were adequately patched with wound glue and Steri strips. The mirror over the sink reflected a haggard man who'd fought and lost one too many fights. I flipped him off, and washed down several Advil with a handful of tap water.
I was ready for that dreamless sleep I'd pondered before finding myself on the receiving end of a zero dark attack, but April was waiting for me in the bedroom. She was staring out the window at the Capitol Hill skyline, and balancing on one foot in a modified tree pose. I only knew the name because I'd previously accused her of standing like a flamingo, and found myself thoroughly corrected. Her black-on-black attire was a sharp contrast to the bright white walls.
I started to object to her continued presence, but she moved away from the window, her steps slow and sure at the off-chance I wanted to go another round. Stopping in front of me, she brought her hands to my biceps.
There was a second where I thought about twisting those hands away and pinning them behind her back. Slamming her up against the wall. Pushing her around. Tossing her to the bed. Whether I'd fuck her or fight her wasn't clear.
"We need to talk about Venezuela, Jordan."
