“I see,” Dawson says. “And this tactical adjustment was coordinated through proper channels?”
Another pause. “The situation required immediate response. Agent Longo was already familiar with the asset and available for deployment.”
“Of course,” Dawson replies, her tone professionally neutral. “Operational flexibility is important.”
But when she glances at me, her look clearly says that’s bullshit and we both know it.
Walsh moves things along. “Given the expansion and the sensitive nature of ongoing intelligence gathering, we need additional DEA presence on the ground. Someone with institutional knowledge of the players involved.”
My pulse kicks up. “Ma’am?”
“You handled Mason Black during his deep cover work,” Walsh continues. “You’re familiar with the Amador network, the Corluka connections, and you have existing rapport with Dr. Palmer. That continuity is valuable.”
“We’re reassigning you to Los Angeles, effective one week from today,” Walsh adds. “You should have time to make arrangements. This is a long-term placement—pack accordingly.”
The room goes quiet except for the hum of the building’s ventilation system.
They want me in LA. With Nina. For months.
Part of me—the part that’s been hollow since she left—floods with relief so sharp it’s almost painful. But the guilt comes right behind it.
Did I set this in motion when I recommended her for the job?
“Agent Booth, do you have any concerns about this assignment?” Walsh asks.
Yeah. I have concerns.
I’m concerned that my feelings for Nina clouded my judgment when I recommended her—that I sent the woman I love into something dangerous without fully grasping the risks. And now showing up in LA might look like I’m suffocating her when she specifically asked for space.
But I’m also concerned about her being there alone. About her cryptic text that said we needed to talk but not tonight.
Something’s wrong. I felt it in those three sentences.
“No concerns, ma’am. When do you need me there?”
“Next Wednesday,” Walsh says. “We’ll have temporary housing arranged within the week, but you’ll want to secure your personal affairs and hand off any other assignments quickly.”
“Understood.”
“One more thing,” McIntyre adds. “Dr. Palmer doesn’t know about the expansion yet. We’ll be briefing her tomorrow morning. Your presence will help with the transition.”
The call ends.
Dawson and I sit in the silence for a moment, both staring at the now-dark screen.
“Well,” she says finally. “That was interesting.”
“That’s one word for it.”
She closes her tablet with a sharp click. “Agent Longo’s ‘tactical adjustment’ aside, this is a good opportunity for you. LA operations are high-profile. Career-making, if you handle it right.”
I nod, but my mind is already elsewhere. Already cataloging everything I need to tie up within the next few days.
“Wyatt.” Dawson’s voice is softer now. “You’ve been off since Dr. Palmer left. It isn’t lost on me that you referred her for the DEA contract earlier this year to start with, and then this assignment. It was clear you two had a relationship then, but the change in you is more recent. Not unprofessional, just... different. And now you’re getting reassigned to the same city.” She tilts her head. “That’s either remarkable coincidence or remarkably convenient.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “I didn’t ask for this assignment.”
“No. But you didn’t object either.”
