Page 60 of Mistletoe in the Mafia

“What?”

“We might have to make one more pit stop before we go in for work. It’s your day to get the team donuts,” she informs me.

My lips immediately pull down in a frown. “I don’t even eat that shit and yet I have to feed it to a dozen people I barely like?”

“Yeah, pretty much. And don’t talk bad about our coworkers,” she scolds.

“I didn’t. I said I didn’t like them,” I correct.

“Still. You’ve been working with them for weeks and you haven’t made an effort to socialize or be friendly with any of them.”

“That’s because my position at the office is temporary. Soon enough, I’ll disappear from all their lives. What’s the point of getting to know them?”

She falls silent at that, looking down at her phone with an awkward expression on her face.

“I wasn’t talking about you, Flowers,” I tell her, figuring it’s why her mood changed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She huffs out an annoyed breath, although it’s impossible to hide her small smile. “Who says I want that?”

You know you do, baby.

After completing our morning tasks, complete with a box of donuts and a large cup of coffee for her. I protested her getting it, but she countered that she was having withdrawals and ignored me. We head into the office a little late but just in time for the meeting.

On the way into the break room, I pull her aside.

“Don’t mention anything about Torres at the meeting,” I tell her.

Her brows furrow. “What? Why not?”

“You can tell Joshua when he’s alone, but telling everyone could be dangerous. We’ve got a real shot at getting him, and your efforts could end up being wasted if somehow there’s been a mole planted somewhere in the FBI.”

She turns my words over for a couple of seconds before sighing. “Yeah, I understand. No problem.”

The two of us go over to tell Joshua together after the meeting is over.

“I’ll put together a small team and we’ll move out in a couple of hours,” he states once we’re done relaying the information.

“I’ll come along,” I offer, and Joshua nods gratefully.

Meanwhile, Madelyn’s eyebrows rise, “What? No. You’re an intelligence analyst, not a field agent. What if you get hurt?”

Joshua, the dickhead, is unable to hide a snicker at the concern in her tone.

“I’ll be fine, Flowers,” I tell her. “But it’s nice to know you care so much.”

“Do you even have combat experience? Shooting experience?”

I can tell this entire conversation is very amusing to my best friend, who knows firsthand just how much experience I have. But I need to be on the mission to make sure that if we really do find Torres’s hideout, I can ensure it’s wiped clean of anything incriminating that could lead to the Cosa Nostra.

“I promise I’ll be fine,” I say again.

Eventually, she’ll find out the truth. And I know without a doubt she’s going to hate me for it when she does.

The air feels sharp as we step out of the surveillance van into the dimly lit alley. I’ve got my FBI-issued sidearm strapped to my hip. The small team of agents, totaling five, are already assembling, checking their weapons and gear. The entire thing feels foreign. I’m using to working alone, preferring the precision and control that comes with only having to rely on myself. This feels completely wrong.

Joshua adjusts his tactical vest beside me. “Last chance to back out. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” he teases.

I shoot him a glare. “Nah, someone has to make sure you don’t screw this up,” I reply flatly, earning a snort.

---