Page 8 of A Labor of Hate
One little condescending huff and it all fell down.
And I hated it.
I ignored Colt’s side eye as we followed McBride like the chastised little ducklings we were.If Colt thought this wasmyfault, he’d have another think coming.Preferably in the form of a well-placed kick to the shin in the parking lot after work.Maybe under our desks if my legs could stretch far enough.Which, to be clear, they couldn’t.I’ve tried.
McBride led us to his office, a small square room immediately off the side of the squad’s desk clusters.Colt took one of the two seats offered, sitting straighter than the pleats he methodically ironed into his pants and leaving me to take the one to his left.As much as I wanted to curl into myself in shame, I wasn’t going to be the first one to crack, and especially not when Colt had been the instigator.I was prepared to sell my soul to appear as calm as him.
McBride shuffled a small stack of papers around, utilizing the silence to his advantage as I fought the urge to squirm more.Colt’s jaw flexed with the seconds ticking by, the only indication of his discomfort outside of his measured breathing.In for four, hold for two, out for eight.It was the exact routine he went through whenever my curls were especially unruly or an interrogation was going exceptionally poorly.
Finally, when my rising blood pressure was about to break through my aching skull and skyrocket to the moon, McBride broke the silence.He leaned forward, his silver hair catching the light as he lowered his papers.“You both volunteered for undercover operations, yes?”
It took an embarrassing amount of time to recover from the unexpected question.I blinked hard, convinced everyone in the room heard the record scratch sound my brain had made.“Yes, sir.”
At least for me it was.I couldn’t imagine Colt blending in with anyone aside from pocket-protector salesmen at an accounting convention.
“Yes, sir,” Colt echoed, scooting to the edge of his seat.
My eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets, which I disguised by vigorously rubbing them to keep those suckers firmly in place.Smooth as silk, this one.
Considering an undercover assignment could be the epitome of unpredictability, the fact that Colt had both volunteered for such thingsandpresumably undergone the extra training for it boggled my mind all the way to Timbuktu.He was as predictable as the days of the week.As adventurous as a carousel in the middle of an amusement park.As it was, I still didn’t know how he managed being an FBI agent without getting a hernia with every change of plans.
Then again, who said hedidn’t?It would certainly explain a lot.
“And are you both still willing to go undercover?”McBride continued.
“Yes, sir,” I answered immediately.It didn’t matter if the assignment was a five-minute cameo.I was down for it—anything to take down more of the scumbags responsible for the drugs on the streets.
Colt rubbed his chin thoughtfully.“Can I know the details before accepting?”
I managed to resist the urge to roll my eyes.It was a practical question, obviously, but leave it to Colt to take the thrill out of everything.E-ver-y-thing.He wouldn’t know “spontaneous” if it clocked him upside the head.
“Of course.”McBride smiled, his hazel eyes intense under his dark brows.“I’ll cover the main details in the brief in half an hour, but it’s only fair you know what you’d be signing up for before planning everything.”
Colt and I nodded in unison, waiting with bated breath.
“As you know, since learningLe Chimiste’s identity, we’ve been tracking his movements religiously.His security is tight, but we believe we’ve found a potential opening.”
I didn’t bother hiding my reaction this time.Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t.This washuge.“Once in a lifetime” kind of huge.Nothing on God’s green earth could keep me from accepting the assignment.
“However, it would involve the two of you going undercover as a married couple.”
Except maybe that.That might do it.
Colt and I exchanged wary glances, bordering on disgust.Lots of disgust, actually.Oodles and boodles of disgust.
“You wantus,” I squeaked out.
“—to pretend to be married?”Colt finished, nearly choking on the words.
“Well, yes.”McBride shrugged, as if tying a pretend knot between two rivals was just a typical day for him instead of arguably one of the worst ideas ever.“You’re both the hardest working agents on the squad, you both speak French, you’re trained for undercover operations, and you’re both professional enough to handle something of this magnitude.Truly, even without taking into account the fact you’re both the only single agents on the squad, it seems an obvious choice to me.”
Colt erupted into a coughing fit, though whether it was from the fact that we were an “obvious” choice or because he was allergic to having anything in common with someone as inferior as myself, I couldn’t say.
I never remembered sharing my relationship status with McBride, though the long hours and unruliness of my hair might have given it away.ObviouslyColt was single because no human with half a brain would saddle themselves to his Cloroxed carriage for the rest of their life.
As McBride sent a concerned look at Colt and offered him a mint to suck on, a slow grin spread across my face.If Colt couldn’t stomach the verythoughtof pretending to be my husband, then I had nothing to worry about.I could accept, Colt would back out, and McBride would find someone else to take his place.I’d get to dig up the dirt needed to putLe Chimisteaway for good,andI’d get to go undercover while doing so.
It was a win-win situation in every way.
