Jack is starting to look impatient, like I’m purposefully annoying him with my responses.
“As long as you’re okay with me not being very reliable in any situation other than the ones requiring lethal violence,” he mutters, “I think I’d rather keep you as my partner.”
It’s strange to feel buoyed by Jack’s easy acceptance of my position at his side. I did not expect him to react this positively so fast if at all. I’m not sure what I’ve done to earn it. Unless Jack’s expectations for the people he works with are usually so low that any amount of pleasantness and acceptance is enough.
“Yeah, alright then,” I murmur, unconvinced. “Fair trade, I guess.”
“Not really.” Jack snorts. He crosses his arms and slumps down in the passenger seat. “I think I’m getting the better end of that deal.”
“Ha,” I scoff, ignoring the way my stomach tightens slightly at how relaxed Jack now appears, his body angled towards me. “Wait until we’re in the middle of a shoot-out, and then see how you feel.”
“A shoot-out?” Jack questions, looking mildly amused. “Like in the wild, wild west or some shit? No thanks. I don’t do horses.” He scowls withfartoo much vehemence. “They’re big, grudge-holding fucks.”
I’m immediately curious about what Jack did in the past to have discovered that horses are the type to hold grudges. But I’m worried Jack will clam up if I question him too much. Stories about his life before FISA could very easily lead to bad memories resurfacing, and I’d rather not be responsible for that. I can always ask him another time.
“Shut up. You know what I mean.”
Jack makes a low, dubious sound, like he thinks I’m the one being ridiculous.
“I’m gonna go ahead and pretend I do.”
“Thanks,” I respond dryly, “much appreciated.”
Jack finally cracks a smile then, a proper one with teeth and indents at both sides of his mouth. It’s a beautiful thing. Momentarily stunning, like the refraction of sunlight through a prism of clear crystal. I’m caught off guard by it, by the sudden warmth the sight evokes inside me.
I quickly look away, returning my full attention to the road ahead of us, mentally shaking off the heat that has begun to stoke in my gut. I can’t let myself go down that path. Nothing good could come from it.
As ridiculously gorgeous as Jack is, it would be disastrous if I allowed myself to become infatuated with him on any level. I shouldn’t forget he’s a person with a complicated past as well as an uncertain future. The last thing he should have to deal with is the unwanted physical attraction of his new partner.
I’d like to be Jack’s friend and his ally if he’ll let me. To offer him my help in assimilating to life as an agent of FISA. To prove myself worthy of his trust. Anything else is likely to lead us into trouble, and that is something I could very much live without, especially in this case.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Jack watching me steadily. He has no discernible expression, so it’s impossible for me to guess what he’s really thinking.
Jack eventually looks away and drops his head to rest it against the car window. We spend the rest of the car journey back to Danger in companionable quiet.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LEO
“It will take me a day or two to comb through the data,” Dru says, running her hand over one of the laptops Jack and I stole from the safe house. “But if there’s any usable intel on either of the laptops, I’ll report it to you immediately,” she adds, nodding at North.
After we arrived back on base, it took less than an hour for us to return our weapons to the Armoury and meet back up with the unit for a short debrief. There wasn’t much to go over since the mission was so quick and painless. If you don’t count the dead OI agents.
We won’t know what we’ve gained from the mission until Dru is done analysing the data. Hopefully, the intel we were after will be on one of the laptops.
North must be in agreement with me over not needing further rumination because he tips his head in thanks to Dru and stands up.
“Thank you, Agent Nash.” He sweeps his eyes over the rest of us. “We’ll come back together to discuss what you’ve found in a few days.” He offers Jack and me a nod of acknowledgement. “Good work, both of you. Let’s hope we have what we need.”
Without another word to any of us, North exits the War Room, leaving us all to our own devices.
“Blimey,” Dru says, frowning in the direction North went, “does he ever chill out?”
“No,” I say from across the table. “Pretty sure he’s allergic to relaxing. It’s a hereditary thing, I think.” Based on what I know about Damon and his father, all Norths are born running at top speed and don’t appear to have an off switch.
Dru makes a thoughtful, humming sound. “You might be right,” she says. “Damon once spent months chasing me nonstop across the world. He was relentless. It felt like trying to outrun Sonic the Hedgehog.”
“I remember that,” I say, recollecting the sheer amount of bitching Damon did over that particular mission. It was one of his first. He was sent after Dru when she illegally hacked into FISA’s database in search of information about her dead father, who used to work for FISA in a similar capacity to what Dru does now.
