“I have places to crash. It’s not a problem.”
“Does this mean you’re turning it down?”
“It means I have to think about it. I don’t have any details so it’s hard to say yes to something so vague.”
“Paperwork is in your email.”
“I’ll read it and let you know.”
“I need an answer by tomorrow.”
“Why? It’s the holidays. Short of an international terror threat, the suits have all checked out for the year.”
“Like I said, above my pay grade.”
There’s nothing to say to that, so I knock on the partition separating us from the driver and give him an address.
I get out of the limo and pull out a set of keys, something I rarely do. I don’t have a home or apartment here in the D.C. area, but my parents do. They bought it because they worried about me and wanted me to have a place to lay my head, even if I don’t go there often. They use it on occasion, when they travel or come to visit friends, and the best part is that it’s in my stepmother’s maiden name. Not that the CIA couldn’t find it if they were looking, but it doesn’t immediately pop up on anyone’s radar and it affords me a modicum of privacy.
If Director Dickhead wanted to look it up, it wouldn’t be hard to link to my stepmother, but again, I have nothing to hide. I just like having privacy and a place to sleep where I won’t be bothered. By not using this as an official residence, it stays under the radar. At least it has so far. Director Dickhead now knows about it, but I’m too grumpy to give a shit.
I drop my keys on the kitchen counter and leave my bag in the hallway. The townhouse is cold since no one has been here in a while, and I turn on the heat. I need a shower, something to eat, and to talk to Shannon. Then I’ll be able to wrap my head around this promotion opportunity.
I really need to talk to Erik and hear his thoughts as well, but it’s the middle of the night in Europe now. I’ll stay up a few more hours so I can talk to Erik and Shannon, and then I’ll crash for a while.
In the meantime, I open my email and peruse the official offer letter. It’s the usual bullshit, nothing that impresses me and not really a job I want. It’s still nice to see, after so many years of service, that I’m appreciated. Everything within the agency is political, so I know someone wants me in that position for a specific reason, but I’m okay with that. I just don’t want the job itself.
I’m contemplating what I want to eat when someone knocks on the door, and I immediately reach for my gun, sticking it in the back of my jeans as I peer out the peephole.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath, opening the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you too, Agent Ross.” Sandra Barnes brushes past me and into the townhouse.
Chapter 26
Shannon
I don’t sleep well that night and am up early, showering and dressing to go see my mother. I haven’t heard from Ace but didn’t expect to. Flying west to the U.S. from Europe means he arrived around nine or ten o’clock in the evening East Coast time and probably would be getting some rest now. I’m worried about his meeting with his boss because he was agitated about the whole thing. I wish there had been time to talk more, but there hadn’t been so now I’m going to deal with my mother and see if we can get past this.
The whole thing is stupid.
She tried to do something nice, because my father suggested it on his deathbed. Instead of setting us up on a blind date or some other thing a regular mom would do, she went way over the top in her usual dramatic flair, dragging me, Ace, and my poor coworker into the mix as well.
Now I’m left reeling in the aftermath, both excited at the prospect of being with Ace and frustrated that my mother went to such extreme lengths to make it happen. As if it’s a given that we still feel the same way about each other.
Yes, I’ve romanticized him all these years, but I didn’t really know him.
For all she knew, he never gave me a second thought. Unless… I chew my lip as I get in the cab. Had my father kept in touch with Ace over the years? Was it possible neither of them was able to tell me? But why wouldn’t Ace have confessed to that now? Does it matter since my father is dead anyway?
Instead of overthinking something I won’t have answers to, I put it out of my mind and walk into the hotel where my mother is already seated at a table in the restaurant.
“Hi, Mom.” I sink into the chair across from her and motion to the waiter. “Coffee, please.”
“Did you sleep well?” she asks me. She obviously didn’t. There are circles under her eyes, and she seems so much more subdued than usual.
“Not really. You?” I meet her gaze across the table.
“No.”
