Page 22 of Whistleblower

“Where the hell do you think?” Lance sasses. But I see him bite his lip before he can add, “Up your ass.” Vesper has slapped him a time or two for his snarky remarks. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t thoroughly enjoy it. It’s like watching your mischievous little brother getting in trouble with Mom. “Since when do I need to own a fucking tie?”

“Okay, let me be clear everyone,” Vesper growls. She makes eye contact with us one by one as her eyes go glacial. “We’re all that’s left of the old team—the four of us. I’m done saying goodbye to my family, and this is how I’m keeping us safe. We're fighting for the same cause anyway, the only difference now is Callen is providing the resources. So, dress up in the monkey suits, show up where you’re supposed to, on time, find a way to work with the other agents, and keep your fucking noses clean. End of discussion.”

We may not like Callen, but Vesper has saved all of our lives, and we’re in her debt, so we collectively duck our heads and nod in agreement.

Because that’s what you do when the real commander gives an order.

* * *

I almost missed her at first.

I figured Eden would be at this oh-so-important mandatory team meeting Callen called for, but when I didn’t see her at the table as Lance, Cricket, Vesper, and I shuffled into the empty seats at the far end of the table, I was relieved. It gives me a little more time to figure out how to explain myself.

But while I’m watching in disgust as Lance takes down a donut like a starved boar, I feel eyes on me. Not agent eyes—those are always on me when I’m anywhere near the FBI. I can almost hear the whispers: He’s a sociopath. I heard he keeps their teeth as souvenirs. He’s cold-blooded, with eyes like the devil. Is he really on our side?

Most of that is rumors… Most. Am I on the FBI’s side? I don’t know… I’m on Vesper’s side.

Looking past the squirmy agents who refuse to make eye contact, I see her in the back corner, staring right at me. She waits for me to look at her, and raises her brows, conveying her message with just a look, “What the fuck?” Then, she goes back to scribbling on the notepad in her lap.

Shit. I could’ve handled surprise, anger, fear, but the look she just gave me is the same one people get when they’ve been betrayed. Why do I get the impression that Eden doesn’t forgive liars very easily?

The meeting was supposed to start at eight o’clock, but it’s well past 8:15 a.m. when Eden finally rises from her covert seat in the corner of the room and begins introducing herself to everyone, individually. Callen shadows her like an eager puppy, adding his unnecessary commentary. I tap my fingers nervously against the table as she nears. Cricket, sitting right next to me, notices and shoots me an odd look.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks in a hushed whisper.

“Nothing, I—”

“Guys, thanks for coming,” Callen says, clasping Eden’s shoulders with both hands from behind. My jaw clenches in jealousy…but not because of the obvious. They are clearly chummy—she looks relaxed around him, which is probably a way she’ll never feel around me. “I want to introduce you to Doctor Eden Abbott.”

“Ph.D.,” she clarifies. “Doctor makes me sound way more sophisticated than I am.”

Impossible. I don’t ever think I’ve seen a more graceful creature. Even in yoga pants the other day, she looked regal. But now, dressed in flattering gray slacks, and a form fitting, navy button-down blouse, it’s extremely apparent she’s way out of our league. Her hair is twisted neatly at the nape of her neck, and her makeup is clean and minimal. She looks like she should be running meetings at Merrill Lynch or Goldman Sachs. What the hell is she doing slumming it with a bunch of hitmen?

“I have a few friends who got their Ph.D.’s,” Vesper says and we all shoot her a quizzical look. Vesper doesn’t have friends. Does she? “It’s a lot of work, a lot of school, and takes a lot of drive. It’s very impressive, please don’t sell yourself short.”

Eden blushes, just slightly, but I see it. “Thank you. I appreciate that,” she says, a sheepish smile claiming her face as her shoulders relax.

Now, it’s obvious. Vesper doesn’t have friends who have Ph.D.’s, but she did just find a way to connect with Eden. Clever.

“This is Vesper, Cricket, Lance, and that tall, cold drink of water over there is Linc.” Callen makes a finger gun and points it at me with a stupid grin. I want to reach across this table and smack the shit out of him. I think he’s still pissy about the time I nearly broke his hand off, but don’t fucking sneak up on a man who could kill you with his thumb and forefinger. That’s just goddamn common sense.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” She makes a point to shake everyone’s hand, making eye contact as she does. She pauses when she gets to my chair, almost like she’s savoring the moment.

“It’s nice to meet you, Linc. Or do you prefer Lincoln?” Her gaze fixes tightly on mine, but it’s like the doors have shut. I can’t make sense of the look she’s giving me.

I take her small hand in mine, feeling the same little jolt from when I shook her hand the other night. “Whatever you prefer.”

She gestures over her shoulder at the half-empty tray of breakfast foods. “You didn’t try anything?”

“I’m not hungry.”

She grabs a muffin from the platter and holds it out to me. “This bakery is incredible. It’s the kind of stuff you eat, even when you’re not hungry.”

Reluctantly, I hold out my palm. I don’t like breakfast foods of any type. I’m less enthused about taking food from a community platter. It’s an easy way to poison someone. That’s not paranoia… I’ve seen it.

I’ve done it.

“That good, huh?” I mumble as I grudgingly peel back the paper wrapping and take a large bite out of pure masochism.

---