Page 72 of Whistleblower

“I love dogs. I had a Malinois who passed a couple of years ago. She’s impossible to replace and I haven’t had the heart to try.”

“What happened?”

“My dad bought Mickey for me right before his fifth tour. He told her to look after me, but that girl was obsessed with her Daddy Jorey, she’d get mopey whenever he was gone.” I chuckle to myself thinking about how she was supposed to cheer me up during the times Dad was away, but I always ended up taking care of her instead. “She was such a good dog though—so smart, patient, and sweet. After my dad retired and his health really started declining, I thought I’d have Mickey to help me through the aftermath, but the day he died, she crawled up into his empty bed, closed her eyes, and never opened them again. I guess…she wanted to go with him.”

Linc presses his lips to my temple and wraps his arms around my shoulders. I want to bathe in the clean soap smell he’s always wearing. It’s a smell I’m starting to miss whenever it isn’t around. “That’s a shame,” he murmurs.

“It’s okay,” I assure him. “She went peacefully. They both did.”

“Good. Next question.”

I glance down at the card as if I don’t have all these questions memorized in order. “Where do you see yourself in five years? Jobwise.” I cringe. That sounded more like an actual interview question. Geez. It’s official, I no longer know how to date.

Linc chuckles lightly. “Dead.”

My expression flattens. It’s the first and only thing he’s said to upset me this evening. I have a hard time seeing the humor in it. “That’s not funny.”

“Bambi, I’m kidding.”

“Okay, let’s try a different question,” I say, wiggling away from his grip and angling my body so I’m facing him head-on in the curved booth. “How many times a week are you in mortal danger because of PALADIN?”

Linc folds his hands together and taps his knuckles against his lips. “If it helps, I am very good at what I do. Disturbingly good. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. Linc’s so normal around me, sometimes I forget who he is, and how I met him in the first place.

“Okay.” I flash him a half-hearted smile. “But maybe work on your secondary skills, you know, in case you ever want a career change.” I wink and click my jaw, but he doesn’t return my playfulness.

Linc’s expression hardens. “Eden, there’s only one way out of PALADIN, and it’s not a happy ever after. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

A small lump lodges in my throat that I can’t swallow down. Surely, he doesn’t mean…death? “I think so.”

Grabbing my hand, he pulls it to his lips. “Next question,” he says before planting a quick kiss on the back of my hand.

“How many prior relationships have you had?”

“Zero. Next question.” Linc answers in a hurry, eager to move on but I’m too clever for that.

I narrow my eyes. “How many women have you slept with before me?”

“Technically we haven’t slept together yet.” He pumps his eyebrows.

“Oral sex is still sex,” I say, sounding like a sexual harassment seminar I’ve delivered on several occasions. “Which means I’m a little late in asking but are you, um…clean…you know, health-wise, are you in the clear?” I pinch one eye shut. I don’t care if you’re a nurse who hands out condoms for a living, asking someone you like to see naked about their sexual health is uncomfortable. Not even I know how to handle this gracefully.

A teasing smirk spreads over Linc’s face. “Are you asking me if I could potentially have an STD?”

He’s enjoying the flush of embarrassment reddening my cheeks. I don’t think Linc gets embarrassed because he acts like he doesn’t understand it. Every time I’m humiliated, he looks at me like I’m the most fascinating creature in the world.

“I’m asking if maybe the last time you got a bullet wound stitched up, they asked you to pee in a cup…and then later sent you the results?”

He’s full-on laughing now. “Thanks to Callen’s protocol, I actually do have to piss in a cup every time I cross country borders, so yes, Eden—I can assure you, I’m clean.”

“Good, me too.”

“Does that mean we can omit the condom tonight?”

I flash him my teeth. “Whether or not you’re having sex tonight is highly dependent on your answer to that other question,” I tease.

He presses his lips together. “You’re asking a question you don’t really want an answer to. What does it matter how many if they all pale in comparison to you?”

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