Instead, he let the moment sit. People didn’t like silence. They felt the need to fill it with all sorts of inane chatter, desperate for noise because a lack of it made them feel vulnerable. Perhaps they thought that, with no words tumbling out of their mouths for people to listen to, it somehow made them unimportant.
Not Glennon. Like him, she understood the power of silence. That it was strength, not weakness, to let a moment just be what it was without trying to make it something more. Maybe part of that was the agent in her—always watching, always listening,always thinking. But he thought it was more that her family had unknowingly trained her to be this way, constantly on the alert, listening to the subtext behind people’s words, planning her strategy. All the things that made her a good undercover operative.
He cleared his throat and shifted on his seat, willing his dick to calm down. “Time for bed,” he finally said.
After clearing away the garbage and wiping down the counter, he took hold of her by the back of the neck and led her to the bedroom. It took no prodding from him for her to crawl under the covers. When he slid in behind her, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she passed out before her head hit the pillow. But once he settled there, she wiggled her way backward, tight up against him.
He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, one arm banded around her waist and the other resting on her hip. She felt good in his arms. Right. Like she was meant to be there, and no one else would fit.
Although he was exhausted, his brain wouldn’t shut off. She hadn’t said she wouldn’t run. All she’d really done was explain the logical thinking process behind why she should. How did he keep her from leaving?
“Relax, Triumph.” Her groggy voice was muffled by the pillow she’d basically face-planted into. “I’m not going anywhere between now and tomorrow.”
How did he explain the worry he felt without pressuring her? “Short of tying you to the bed, I can’t keep you from running. And while I admit that particular activity sounds delightful all on its own, I do understand the impulse. But know this.” He kissed her behind the ear. “If you run, Guillermo won’t be the only one chasing you down.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then snuggled her in tight to his frame. “Sleep now, little spy.”
MY CLOSET OR OUR CLOSET?
Glennon
“Thankyou for meeting with me, Agent Thompson.”
She fiddled with the insulator on her to-go coffee cup, sliding it up and down against the paper casing. “Please. Just Glennon. I think it’s safe to say I’m no longer an agent for the US government.”
They sat at one of the many tables under a brightly covered umbrella along the riverwalk. Just two normal, everyday people enjoying the weather and a cup of early morning coffee. Nothing out of the ordinary.
At the table to their left, Triumph sat at his laptop, pretending to be doing work. He had his earbuds in as he listened to the conversation at Glennon and Hammerling’s table. At the table to their right, Francesca sat with Cruz, maps and sightseeing brochures in hand, breakfast in front of them, looking for all the world like two tourists planning out their day. They also had earbuds in. The first goal was to keep neighbors from overhearing the two agents talking to one another. Theirsecond goal was to make Glennon feel more secure about speaking with the FBI chief.
“Glennon, then,” Hammerling agreed. “And feel free to call me Steven.”
She nodded. They could sit like this all day and shoot the shit, so she opened the conversational door. “What is it you want from me? The FBI and the CIA don’t always work hand in hand. My time in South America is out of your jurisdiction.”
“Hmm… So if our two organizations were living together in a relationship, my FBI closet is only an FBI closet, but your CIA closet is ‘our’ closet, and vice versa?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny the accuracy of that statement,” she replied.
He smirked. Message received. He wasn’t wrong. While it was illegal for the CIA to work domestically, it was a common acceptance that they often broke that rule. Glennon hadn’t, personally, but she knew it was done.
He took a sip of his coffee, then leaned back in his seat. “My contacts at San Diego International Airport informed me that a private jet from Buenos Aires, Argentina, landed late last night. Four passengers. They were identified as Guillermo Colonel, his second, Cesar Romero Díaz, and two bodyguards. They were questioned at customs, but nothing untoward was found. They claim they’re here to visit the family of a Gillian Thomas.”
Fuck. Brazen. Technically, her legend listed her family as having gone “No Contact,” but she was guessing that they knew her true identity. Even though it was the truth, he wouldn’t necessarily know that. “They’re going to go after my parents to try to draw me out. I haven’t spoken to them in over a decade. They won’t know anything, and when he realizes that, he’ll kill them.”
“I don’t have a way to protect them, officially, without putting this conversation on the record.”
“Unofficially?”
“Triumph’s friend, Cosmos. He owns a protection company out of Chicago. He sent a couple of men to watch them, but it’s a race to see who gets there first. Guillermo has the advantage.”
It wasn’t the best, but it was something. She may not like her family, but theywerefamily. If something happened to them because of her, it would be one more sliver of guilt within her.
“Understood. But that still doesn’t explain what you want.”
“I want the Colonel Cartel out of the United States. You’ve been inside. You have information we can use. Information the CIA has not been willing to share.”
Yet another trait of her employers. They always wanted all the other agencies to hand over their findings, but rarely did they do the same. My closet versus our closet.
“What you want from me is very one-sided.”
“Well, one can always hope for the informant to want to do what’s best out of the goodness of their heart.”
