Page 12 of The Spy Ring

“I know. Rip the bandage off with Tiffany. Confront her and explain you aren’t a physical therapist. Remind her that you met her in Vegas, accidentally married her, and now you need a divorce. She may be mad but if she does anything . . .” Tenn leaned forward but said nothing.

“And?”

“If she does anything have Chester get you a new identity. Problem solved.” Tenn sat back. He had a look on his face that told me if he was a cat, he would be licking the cream off his paws.

“Can’t happen.”

Tenn’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I asked Chester already for a new identity. She said no.”

He shrugged. “Then I can’t help you. I tried. Anyway, I have to get back to work. Mondays, am I right?” Tenn chuckled as he got up.

Left at the table gripping a cold cup of coffee the same thoughts swirled around in my head. What’s so bad about being married if both people, in this case, one person, doesn’t know about it. If Tiffany ever decided to settle down with a man in the future, she would realize she got drunk and married in Vegas. By the time she contacts me, I could claim I had no idea too.

We would get divorced and move on with our lives.

As easy as that idea seemed, I couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling it left behind. It wasn’t fair to her. Realizing I was going to have to tell her the truth and risk my job, I began to turn in my seat but a voice stopped me.

“If it isn’t Agent Dick-punch.”

Glancing up, I saw a pair of gray eyes settle on me like steel.

“If it isn’t Edgar Mimir. And how are your nuts?”

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