TUCKER
The team briefing runs long because Riggs won't stop asking about his character in Kassidy's book.
"Does West get a love interest?" he asks for the third time. "Because if my fictional self doesn't get a love interest, I'm filing a complaint."
"West gets a marine biologist," I say. "She's smarter than him."
"Obviously. I like smart women. Tell Kassidy to make her tall. And brunette."
"I'm not passing notes between you and my girlfriend."
"Fiancée," Calder corrects from the head of the table.
The room goes silent.
"What?" Riggs's head snaps toward me. "WHAT?"
"I haven't asked her yet," I say through gritted teeth, shooting Calder a look that would have earned a reprimand in the teams.
Calder's expression is impassive. "The ring's been in your desk drawer for two months. I saw it when I borrowed your spare radio."
"You went through my desk drawer?"
"I was looking for the radio."
"It's a ring box. It doesn't look like a radio."
"It was under the radio."
Channel 16 is already going off in my pocket.
Riggs: RING??????
Decker: let the man do this on his own terms, Riggs.
Riggs: HE HAS A RING AND HASN'T PROPOSED??
Riggs: HOW LONG HAS HE HAD THE RING??
Decker: two months apparently
Riggs: TWO MONTHS. TUCKER. BROTHER. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??
Calder: The right moment, presumably. Something you'd understand if you'd ever had one.
Riggs: that was uncalled for sir
Riggs: but also fair
Calder assigns me today's job with a perfectly straight face: security escort for a corporate event in Charleston. Standard fare---venue assessment, guest screening, executive protection for the event host.
The event host is Ryan Mitchell. Kassidy's ex-boyfriend.
I stare at the brief. Calder stares at me.
"You're kidding."
"His company hired us three weeks ago. You're the best fit for the assignment."
