Page 5 of A Labor of Hate
Sometimes, FBI agents could pull some seriously insane hours, but the two weeks since transferring here had been relatively calm.Boring, even, which was another reason why I’d messed with him so much.And there was the fact he deserved to be knocked down a peg or two.And he was the worst.
“He’s just so, so…” I struggled to find an adequate adjective as I slid into my car.
“Perfect?”Dekker offered, the teasing in her voice unmistakable.
“Hardy har har.Wrong P-word.I was thinking ‘pompous’.”Perfect, seriously?Colt Dixon was perfect in the way arsenic was a good seasoning—he put the “kill” in “overkill.”In this case, the thing he was killing was my patience.“Look, I’m about to drive, so I’ve gotta go, okay?”
“Already?”There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.“Isn’t it a little early for you?”
I fought to keep my face neutral even as my thoughts strayed to the bag in my passenger seat.Still, my voice came out a touch more defensive than I would have liked.“I have a lot of work to do.”
That was partly true, for the record.There was alwayssomethingto do, and we were getting so close to a breakthrough with the drug mastermindLe Chimiste, I could almost taste it.
“Mhmm, work.Okay.”
I glared at my phone, already shifting the car into reverse.“Goodbye, Dekker.”
I didn’t give her the chance to reply before ending the call and making my way to the field office.
The Drug-Related Crimes Unit was eerily quiet and still as I made my way off the elevator.There was the cluster with the brawny agent—whose name I’d learned was Max—and Alec’s desks.Papers cluttered the surfaces, arranged into haphazard piles around the empty mugs, water bottles, and photos.Then there were two other desks, both clear of clutter save for photos, pens and pencils, and a few cups.Those belonged to Isaiah, the agent with the intense stare, and the only other woman on our squad, Rowan.And lastly, you had my desk and Colt’s.
Mine was somewhere in between Alec’s and Rowan’s as far as organization went.Everything had its place, even if said “place” looked a bit chaotic and colorful.I knew where to find everything I needed, and that’s what mattered.
Post-It notes stuck out in various directions from my computer monitor, and stacks of paperwork were arranged into piles.A small photo of my parents, Dekker, Nonna, Papa, and myself from my high school graduation years ago sat by my phone.My sparkly pink coffee cup Dekker had gotten me when I’d been accepted into the FBI training program sat next to it.There was a takeout receipt from last night’s dinner and a stress potato conveniently placed next to my keyboard.
Yeah, you heard that right.Stress potato.Because life was too short to squeeze anything but your favorite vegetable when you needed to blow off some steam.
I Colt were already here, I was positive I’d be able to see him in the reflection from his desk.Seriously.It was like he was a robot or something.No pictures of his family.No clutter.Whatever paperwork he didn’t make it through before he left for the night went into the lemon-yellow folder in the top left drawer.The only desktop inhabitants were the keyboard, monitor, and phone all arranged at perfect ninety-degree angles.And when he had his morning cup of apple juice, he’d pull a coaster from one of the desk drawers.
Yep.A coaster.And it wasn’t even a cool one.Circular.Dull.Cork-brown.It was probably the most boring coaster I’d ever seen in my life, which was saying something since my standards for them were devastatingly low to start with.
Which brought me to my next order of business.
I glanced around inconspicuously, ensuring I was really the only one in this section.My eyes caught on the coat rack in the corner where an all-too-familiar coat hung.Pressed and pristine.Not a single speck of snow or mud.
I frowned, vowing to never wake up a minute earlier than necessary ever again, no matter how great of an idea it seemed at the time.I wasnota morning person and waking up a half hour earlier today just to try to beat Colt at his own game had nearly killed my will to live and buried it in the backyard.So much forthat.I’d choose staying late over coming in early every time.
With another hasty look around and a sleep-deprived grumble, I switched out his coaster with theenhancedone I’d made last night.Satisfied that my switcheroo went undetected, I settled into my desk.I ignored the coat holder in the corner, both because I didn’t want my coat to smell like antiseptic and crushed dreams from touching Colt’s, and because I knew hanging it on the back of my chair bugged him.And, come on, it waswaymore convenient to have it within reach.
I’d only made it through the first page of paperwork before the hairs on the back of my neck raised.Sure enough, Colt’s voice cut through the relative stillness.
“You have a knack for ruining even the best laid plans, don’t you?”
“Funny, I could say the same about you,” I muttered, not even bothering to look up from my papers as he slid into his chair.“Tell me, are you here because you’re a masochist, or because you can’t stomach the fact that I might have gotten more done than you yesterday?”
Based on his determination to drive me up the wall, I’d put my money on the former.
“Perhaps I wanted a few minutes of peace before being subjected to your incessant crunching,” he retorted.
I raised my papers to hide my triumphant smile.The chips yesterday were a happy accident, honestly.I was hungry from skipping lunch, and I was craving something salty, so naturally I’d detoured to the vending machine and gotten a bag of potato chips.I’d been so focused on the files I was sifting through I hadn’t initially realized how slowly I’d been opening the bag, or how drawn out each bite of crispy chips was.Not until Colt started his impatient huffing, that is.And when he’d asked if I’d “show some evidence I knew what manners were and chew quieter,” well, he’d sealed his fate.
And, yes, I fully planned to make a bag of afternoon chips a habit now.Maybe I’d even bring some celery and carrots.But that would involve me having actual vegetables in my fridge instead of takeout containers and bottles of iced coffee, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
Once I’d wiped all the emotion from my face, I let the papers drop enough to spare him an unimpressed glance.“I know this is shocking information to you, Colt, but us humans call that ‘eating.’Something a cyborg like yourself couldn’t comprehend, I’m sure.”
His nostrils flared, and I allowed the slightest self-satisfied smirk to lift the corner of my mouth.
Lex: one.Colt: zero.
