Page 26 of Whistleblower

“Okay, I’ll go first.” Eden takes a seat at the head of the table and gracefully crosses her legs. “Deserae Pinar, Cricket, and Millie Mae,” she reads. Balling up her fist, she lightly taps her knuckle against her plush top lip. Her face twists in confusion. “All right, I give,” she finally says. “I am almost certain this is Lance’s, but I can’t make sense of these answers.”

Lance laughs. “You want me to walk you through it?”

“Would that be putting you on the spot?”

“Not at all. I am not shy.” Lance brushes the crumbs from his fingers and leans into the table. “Deserae is my something fun—she’s an OnlyFans model with double D’s. Millie Mae is my pistol and the only thing that makes me feel safe. And if I was stuck in some shithole and could only bring one person to talk to and pass the time, eh—Cricket ain’t bad company.”

Cricket clicks her jaw and winks at Lance. Vesper purses her lips in disapproval, but she has nothing to worry about. These two would die for each other before they’d fuck. With our lifestyle, hookups are easy, but friendship is far more difficult to come by. Cricket and Lance wouldn’t risk that for a little physical gratification.

“You know what, Lance?” Eden asks with a smirk on her face. “That was far tamer than I was expecting it to be. I would’ve suggested something along the lines of movies or video games for your ‘something fun,’ but I did ask for honesty so I guess… Good job.”

The whole room, filled with angsty killers and uptight suits, laughs. I’ll be damned. She really does have a way with people.

Going around the table, we make it through a few more note sheets. I watch the gentle ribbing, the teasing, and the arguing about everyone’s preferred assault weapon, in utter surprise. PALADIN blending with the FBI is like the Hatfields and McCoys sitting down to break bread, but surprisingly, we all seem very civilized at the moment.

Eden looks far more relaxed. She leans back in her chair and wears a warm smile as she watches her work unfold. I like the current expression she’s wearing. For a moment, I imagine what it’d be like to be a normal man who sees a beautiful woman and doesn’t immediately feel the need to hide his identity.

I’d ask her out for a drink tonight. If the conversation flowed, a drink would turn into a late dinner, and I’d buy her the most expensive things on the menu. Maybe I’d even bring her home and cook for her. And after, all she’d have to do is let her pretty, dark-brown hair down, bite her bottom lip, and give me that look. I’d whisper in her ear that what’s in my pants would put Cricket’s boat captain to shame, and she could use me however she wanted. I’d lick every single inch of her, starting with those sweet cheeks—

Knock, knock.

Two quick rasps on the door yank me from my fantasy as a squirrelly-looking agent bursts into the room. “There you guys fucking are!” he squalls, looking panicked as all hell.

Who are you? Geez, this compound is officially crawling with suits.

The agent tosses a few manilla folders onto the table, causing the contents to spill out. He walks up to Callen and begins to speak in a low, urgent tone, making it impossible to hear what he’s saying from across the room.

“Are you okay?” Vesper asks with growing concern in her eyes. When I follow her gaze, I realize she’s staring at Eden who looks pale and frozen all of a sudden. I finally see the gory visual in front of Eden. From what I can make out from the photographs, the men are tied to chairs and sitting in a bloodbath. At least two are beheaded—definitely the mark of a terrorist execution.

“What the fuck?” I roar at the top of my lungs, causing everyone to look my way. I point at the pictures and then at Eden’s face.

“Shit, sorry miss,” the agent says, scrambling to stuff the photographs back into the folder.

Eden covers her mouth with both hands and mumbles something that sounds like, “I’m sorry,” and, “please excuse me,” but she doesn’t dare pull her hands away from her mouth because she knows it…I know it…the entire room knows it—she’s going to be ill. I see the tears gleaning in her eyes as she rushes out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

I kick out my chair as I rise, fully intent on following her, but Callen stops me.

“Linc. No time.” He nods toward the folder. “Get your gun. It’s time to go to work—right now.”

NINE

EDEN

I lost all the coffee in my stomach. But it wasn’t enough for my stomach to be completely empty, I dry-heaved for another ten minutes. By the time it’s over, I’m sweaty and nauseous, reveling in the cool relief of the cold tile on my hands and knees as I crawl to the opposite wall of the toilet. Never have I been more appreciative of private bathrooms with a lock.

How the hell am I going to recover from this?

How do I save face and go back to that meeting room?

Do I even want to?

Leaning against the wall, I tuck my knees to my chest. I wish I had my timer. I’d give myself an entire hour to fall apart. I’ve never seen something so gruesome in my life. Blood is one thing…but…those were headless bodies.

It’s not real, Eden.

I shake my head at my subconscious which is trying to protect me. “Shut up,” I shoot back in a whisper to my own thoughts. “I saw it. It’s very real.”

The gore was enough to twist up my stomach and make me damn well lose consciousness, but it was the prisoner in the photo that was still alive who will give me nightmares for the rest of my life. He was looking up at the camera, his eyes full of fear. He had it worst of all. He witnessed the deplorable brutality unleashed upon the first two victims and knew exactly what was coming for him.

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