Page 72 of Set Fire to This Cardhouse

“That’s Agent Cruise for you, babe.” It takes a split-second for her proud grin to emerge, and Toby blinks before he leans forward to give her a one-armed hug.

“Congratulations.” He pulls back, and this time, the smile comes much more easily. “Seriously, I’m gone for one week and suddenly you’re all grown-up and whatnot? Warn a guy.”

Jesy laughs as she steps out of the elevator. “The way you talk, you’re going to give yourself a heart-attack before you turn thirty-five.” Slowing down, she waits for Toby to fall into step before she opens the outer door to Liu’s office, which will take them past Mirjam’s desk out of necessity.

Not that Toby minds; he likes Mirjam. Jesy, on the other hand, barely breaks her stride.

“I have clearance to take Agent Brown into Liu’s office. Liu told me” —there is an uncommon smugness to Jesy’s tone— “that he is not to be disturbed until they’re asking for him.”

Mirjam’s expression is mildly strained in a way Toby has never seen before. “Fine. I’ll see to it.”

“Fine,” Jesy says.

“Fine,” Mirjam says. She turns to Toby and gives him an honest smile, all sharpness fading from her tone. “Glad you’re all right, Toby.”

Toby clears his throat and returns the smile. “Thank you. I must say, I could have done without the welcome-back committee.”

“I can imagine.” Mirjam laughs, but trails off rather abruptly with a sideways look at Jesy. Jesus, emotions really do make people stupid—Toby considers himself a prime example. Of course, ten-thousand miles away and dead, Ken isn’t much of a competition anymore.

Come to think of it, maybe he never was.

Holding the door open, Jesy gestures for Toby to enter Liu’s office. He complies with an awkward half-wave at Mirjam, immediately directing his steps towards the couch. A couch isn’t a bed, and neither is it a hot shower and Mike beside him, but it’s a start. Honestly, Toby would be fine postponing sex until tomorrow as long as he can fall asleep with Mike right next to him.

Christ, he’s so gone.

“Hey,” Jesy says from the desk. “Liu forgot to lock his computer. How strange.” Toby glances up to find her pointedly not looking at him as she shrugs and moves back to the door without touching the keyboard. What the—oh.

The interrogation.

“Thank you, Jesy.” Toby emphasizes each word, and Jesy lingers for a quick smile before she closes the door, promising to return with coffee before leaving Toby alone in Liu’s soundproof office. He counts to ten, then moves for the desk.

The video is right there, already open on the Agency’s intranet page—Liu deserves a fucking flower bouquet, a fruit basket, a new Mercedes. Toby hits play, and slowly sinks into Liu’s chair as he waits for the video to load.

The sound comes first: a dry cough and Welton’s steely voice. “You were out of control, Agent.”

The image assembles just in time for Toby to make out Mike, shifting his weight from one leg to the other before he answers. “I did what had to be done.”

He sounds calm, sure of himself, his posture untroubled. The resolution isn’t the best, the camera catching the entirety of the small room to show Mike standing in front of Welton and two other agents, all three seated at a long table with Liu in another chair, slightly off to the side. There’s an empty chair next to Mike that he clearly chose to disregard and yeah, he would. God, he’s an idiot. A proud, beautiful idiot, and Toby exhales, closing his eyes as Welton speaks again.

“Please explain your actions.”

“My partner was in danger.” Mike says it slowly, like someone talking to a child. “My partner was in danger, and there was something I could do about it.”

“You caused a diplomatic incident,” Welton barks. Toby opens his eyes and finds the man leaning forward, halfway across the table as he stares at Mike. Toby wouldn’t mind punching him—a nice, well-placed fist should be enough to make this asshole back off.

Mike stares right back. “It was necessary.”

“You explicitly disregarded the rules, Agent.”

“Excuse me, but…” Mike lifts one shoulder, an almost cheerful note to his voice. “Fuck the rules.”

Welton is quiet for all of three seconds before he sits back and jots something down on a notepad. When he looks up again, he seems oddly satisfied, as though he gets off on catching an agent guilty of misconduct—for all Toby knows, it’s part of the bastard’s bonus plan. Fuck him. Also, fuck the Agency and their stupid rules that put Mike in trouble for saving Toby’s life.

On that note, fuck Mike for making Toby feel like this: helpless and tangled up inside, forced to watch from the sidelines. Fuck Mike for being loyal and passionate and crazy and absolutely, completely irresistible. Just… fuck.

Toby scrubs both hands over his face before he exhales heavily. He doesn’t want to listen anymore, but Welton’s voice could cut through glass.

“You are out of line, Agent.”

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