Dreya nodded, even though she wasn’t actually sure he’d answered her question. “Why am I here?”
Because it was starting to become obvious that whatever else was going on here, being sent to jail on federal charges wasn’t part of it.
“That’s simple.” Loughlin smiled. “I’ve brought you here to offer you a job.”
She wasn’t sure what she expected Loughlin to say, but it hadn’t been that. She’d gone on a couple of job interviews, and not one had started with a visit to the police station.
“What kind of job?” she asked, curious despite herself.
Hazel eyes held hers. “A job that will make use of your special skills. To make a difference in the world. To help people instead of stealing from them.”
Suddenly, the curiosity that had been there a few seconds ago took a nose dive. Dreya had spent most of her life taking care of herself—and the thing inside her that demanded a constant rush of adrenaline in order to stay quiet. She wasn’t the superhero type, even if she had claws and fangs like a comic book character. If this guy thought she was going to go out and be some kind of Catwoman for him, he was dead wrong.
“Are you going to send me to jail if I turn down your job offer?” she asked, the feel-good sensations she’d gotten from finding out she wasn’t the only freak in the world fading as she realized what this was truly about.
Loughlin’s brow furrowed. “Is the idea of using the unique abilities you have for anything beyond stealing that distasteful to you?”
Considering they were coming from a man she didn’t even know, the words hurt a lot more than they should have. She shrugged them off, refusing to let the little stab of pain show.
“I don’t like being coerced, regardless of the pretty whitewash a person slaps over the reason,” she said. “You drag me here against my will, put armed guards on the door so I can’t go anywhere, then think I’m going to be thrilled when you offer me a chance to work for you? I might be a freak, but your people skills suck.”
On the other side of the room, Clayne snorted.
Loughlin’s mouth tightened. “This wasn’t the way I wanted this meeting to go, but I guess you’re a bottom-line kind of woman, so here it is. You owe me five days at the DCO complex. You bail before then, and I’ll send you to Detective Hayes and the MPD to finish whatever they had planned for you. The video of you climbing the building is gone now, but they still have the art piece you stole, and it’ll be their word against yours. If that’s enough evidence to put you in jail, then I guess the answer is yes, you’ll be going to jail. But if you stick with us for those five days, and give me an honest effort, I’ll make the charges disappear, and you’ll be free to go.”
A low growl came from across the room. Dreya looked over at Clayne to see his eyes flash gold. He seemed pissed, but surprisingly, his anger wasn’t directed at her. He was glowering at Loughlin.
“Do you have something you want to add, Agent Buchanan?” the older man asked in a calm, controlled voice.
Clayne didn’t respond but instead got up and walked out of the conference room. Danica watched him go, an unreadable expression on her face.
Dreya turned her attention to Loughlin, trying to figure out if she could believe him. He’d said five days. If he’d really wanted to stick it to her, why hadn’t he said a month?
She sat back and folded her arms. She hated giving in, but she didn’t have a choice. Not unless she wanted to go to jail. “If you think I’m going to help you catch other thieves, you can forget it. I’m not a rat.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “All I expect out of you over the next five days is to take part in a few training exercises with Danica and Clayne, talk to other people at the DCO, and above all, keep an open mind. You might find out that what I’m asking you to do isn’t as distasteful as you seem to think it is.”
Dreya sighed. It looked like she was going to be stuck with the DCO odd couple for the next five days. She could do worse, she supposed. As prison guards went, they weren’t that bad.
“Shall we go?” Danica asked.
Dreya stood and followed her to the door, only to stop as a thought struck her. She turned to see John Loughlin leaning back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“What does DCO stand for anyway?” she asked.
Dreya wasn’t sure why she cared. It wasn’t like she was going to be around the place long enough for it to matter. One hundred and twenty hours, and she washasta la vista, baby.
Loughlin’s mouth twitched. “Stay around long enough, and you’ll get to find out.”
Dreya followed Clayne and Danica out of the DCO offices and over to the four-door sedan parked off to one side of the EPA parking garage. She still couldn’t believe that a covert government organization like the DCO was tucked under the EPA building.
“Where are we going?” she asked from the backseat as Clayne pulled out of the garage and turned onto Twelfth Street into traffic.
“To the main DCO training complex near Quantico,” Danica said over her shoulder. “It’s about an hour or so outside the city.”
Clayne must have seen Dreya’s less-than-thrilled expression in the rearview mirror, because he laughed.
“Don’t worry. We’re not doing any training today,” he said. “We’re going to get your access badge for the compound, then get you set up in one of the dorm rooms. It’s already stocked with food, so you can get something to eat and crash.”
