Page 41 of Doozer

“What about after?”

I sighed. “After training is done, you mean?”

Doozer nodded

“We’re gonna have to play those cards as they’re dealt to us. Are you okay with that?”

He dried his face and shook his head. “This is all gonna suck, baby, but I do have your back and we’ll figure it out. But please don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

I nodded. “I get it. It’s not like I’m looking forward to being apart from you, either.”

He closed the distance between us, leaning down to kiss me gently. “Let’s not talk about it anymore tonight. I just want to hold you and forget for a few hours.”

I stroked his cheek. “I love that idea.”

He smiled and took me back to bed.

CHAPTER TEN

Trouble

DOCTOR FENTON’S OFFICE, like most of what I’d seen of Quantico so far, was unremarkably plain. Bookcases and framed credentials lined the standard-issue beige walls. A few potted plants and some muted lighting attempted to soften the space, but if you’ve been in one government appointed therapist’s office, you’ve been in them all.

“How was your flight?” Doctor Caroline Fenton asked from her cozy looking chair.

“Fine,” I replied softly. I was lying, of course. It was a seven-hour flight from Portland to Dulles, with a three-hour layover in Chicago, plus an additional one-hour drive to Quantico. We arrived at the academy at midnight, which meant it was three o’clock in the morning according to my body. I was wrecked. I’d barely slept, hadn’t even had the chance to unpack my duffel bag, and here I was under the microscope of Quantico’s chief psychologist at the ass crack of dawn.

“If you’re jetlagged I have a wonderful tea I can make you,” Doctor Fenton said, pointing to a small tea station in the corner.

“No, thank you. I’m fine,” I said.

“You let me know if you change your mind,” she said, sweetly. Doctor Caroline Fenton was beautiful and looked to be in her mid-thirties. “I can’t seem to drink enough tea throughout the day.” She pointed to what looked like a freshly poured cup on the small table beside her.

“Is the tea part of it?” I asked.

“Part ofwhat?”

“Your test,” I replied.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Doctor Fenton said.

“The test to see if I’m psychologically fit to perform. Is whether or not I say yes to the tea a part of it?”

“No,” she said, smiling. “There’s no test. We’re just here to talk.”

“You mean, we’re here to determine if I’m mentally stable enough to handle killing a person at the behest of the federal government.”

Doctor Fenton patted the folder sitting on top of her desk. “Agent Davis’s dossier on you says you’re highly intelligent and speak directly. Seems accurate so far,” she said with a smile.

“Oh, yeah? What else does it say?”

“That you are slow to trust people but are extremely loyal once you do. Is that true?”

I shrugged.

“Miss Palmer. I’ve known Agent Davis since he was a recruit and I’ve always known him to be an excellent judge of character. I agreed to meet with you personally at his request because I understand the time-sensitive nature of his training program. Even though you don’t know me, I’d like to ask you to trust me.”

“Trouble. Call me Trouble.”

---