Page 15 of Whistleblower

“D.C.”

Of course. “I don’t want to sell my home…my parent’s home,” I admit.

“Don’t. We’ll get you set up with housing in D.C. No problem.”

“Would you be willing to discuss an advance on my salary?” I duck my head, embarrassed to taste the words. “I’m delinquent on my mortgage. I need to get caught up on a few payments or I’m facing foreclosure.”

“Eden, you agree to help me with PALADIN, and the FBI will pay off the rest of your mortgage…today.”

Glancing down at the coaster, I tug on my bottom lip with my top teeth. Even the military needs leadership strategy consultations. Is this really any different than working with the armed forces?

“Would I be a federal employee?” I ask.

Callen teeters his head. “Contractor. But if benefits are an issue—”

“They are,” I say. I haven’t had medical or dental insurance in over a year. I’ve had no company to provide it and couldn’t afford the cost on my own.

“I can make those arrangements too,” Callen says in a smooth baritone. “We will take care of absolutely everything you need.”

“And I wouldn’t be expected to…” I eye his holster, trying to convey my question without actually asking.

“What?” Callen asks, looking at me like I’m stupid.

I don’t want to sound as squeamish as I feel. This all still sounds like a movie. Agents, operatives, assassins… It’s like something from a very cliché action movie. I prefer to picture this as fiction, the reality is too off-putting. When I was little, I used to pretend Dad was a construction worker. The cuts and bruises he’d return home with after his jobs were simply run-of-the-mill construction hazards.

“Carry a gun. I don’t… I don’t do guns. They have always made me uncomfortable.” Not to mention, after the death threats I received when Empress went under, discomfort turned into unbridled fear.

“It’s a desk job, Eden. What would you need a gun for?” he asks with a tone full of sarcasm

My chest expands as I inhale until it hurts. “Okay.” I breathe out dramatically. “I’ll take it.”

“Really?” Callen’s face pulls in surprise.

“You thought I’d turn down my only job option?”

“No.” He lets out a cocky laugh. “I just figured you’d be a tougher negotiator.” He taps the coaster in front of me. “I would’ve paid off your mortgage and offered you double that,” Callen says with a smirk.

Fuck.

What the hell did I just get into with PALADIN if Callen would’ve been willing to offer me a literal fortune for a desk job?

FOUR

LINC

My shower is drafty. The giant glass box is too big for the single shower head above me. The water pressure is powerful. I feel like I’m caught in the prelude of a hurricane, but the amount of space in here could accommodate a small orgy. That’s not my taste. Lance, however, would make good use of this oversized shower…although it’d have nothing to do with getting clean.

Come to think of it, my whole house is too big, uncomfortable, and drafty. Four-thousand-square-feet is way too much space for one person, but what else was I doing with my money? Until a couple months ago, I’d never owned a home.

This is too much change, too fast.

I normally don’t spend more than two weeks in one place, and now I need to purchase a lawn mower to tend to my backyard. Backyard. I have a deed and a title, a mailbox, and a place of work that I’m expected to report to Monday through Friday…

Way too much, far too fast.

I wouldn’t be going along with all this change if I wasn’t witnessing the mental demise of Vesper. She saved me twelve years ago, giving me a life and a reason to wake up in the morning. It’s my turn to help her and shit, does she need help right now. Heavy is the crown. Every day she wakes up and makes impossible decisions—who lives, who dies, who pulls the trigger. Those are heavy puppet strings to pull. And, not that I’d say it out loud, but lately she looks tired.

We’re all tired.

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