Page 18 of Choose Me

Once I had my bags, I went outside and waited for whoever they sent from the Miami office to pick me up. While I waited, I called Ava, the ringing loud in my ears as I waited for her to answer.

"Hey, baby."

"Hey, babe. How was your flight?" she said softly, her voice groggy from sleep.

"It was long. I am waiting for my ride, and then I'll head to the office to see what shit show Martinez sent me to."

She sighed, "Yeah, well, hurry up so you can come home to me."

I inhaled deeply, "I miss you."

"I miss you." She responded.

"Everett taking care of you?"

"You know it." Her voice brightened slightly. "He made me brunch after we dropped you off. He called it a paco, probably the best thing I've ever eaten." Ava laughed softly on the other end of the line.

“Ah, his world-famous pacos. I don't know where he comes up with this shit, but they are really good."

"Yeah, surprisingly enough, they really are."

I could see the typical agency black suburban rounding the corner headed in my direction, and I shifted my phone to my other hand to wave in the driver's direction.

"Well, it looks like my ride's here. I'll call you when I get settled into my hotel tonight."

"Be safe, okay?" She responded solemnly.

"Always. I love you," I replied without hesitation.

"I love you back."

With a heavy heart, I hung up and climbed into the car, giving the driver a nod of acknowledgment. As I settled into the back seat, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at me since I left. It wasn't just the job that was bothering me, though. It was something deeper, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

I was used to being in dangerous situations, but this time it felt different. Martinez had always been a loose cannon, and I knew he wouldn't hesitate to throw me into the middle of something shitty to see if I would sink or swim. To have an excuse to run my ass through the coals to satisfy his twisted need for revenge.

We pulled up to the sleek glass building that housed the agency's Miami office, and I stepped out of the car, my eyes scanning my surroundings. The grass was green and lush, covering the landscape like boughs of green velvet, and tall palm trees swayed gently in the hot breeze. Their fronds rustled in the breeze that held a salty tang of sea air mixed with the sweet smell of freshly mown grass. The air was humid, the sun hot as it blazed high in the afternoon sky.

I took a deep breath as I walked toward the entrance, my mind already running through the best-case scenarios for this case. Ahead of me was a long walkway to an elegant front door encrusted with sparkling mosaic tiles.

As I approached the entrance, I was met with a pair of sharp, crystal blue eyes belonging to a woman standing inside the doorway. Her short blonde hair was styled into a sleek bob, and her dark blazer and pencil skirt accentuated her curves. She looked like a model rather than an agent, and I couldn't help but recognize her out-of-place appearance.

"Agent Buchanan, I presume?" she said, giving me a warm smile, her voice smooth and confident as she extended her hand to shake mine.

"That's me," I replied, my tone equally formal.

"I'm Agent Scarlett. I was sent to bring you to the briefing room," she introduced herself, gesturing for me to follow her.

I followed her into the elevator, the walls mirror-like and glossy. The doors quietly slid shut, and I stood in silence, watching the numbers indicating the floor we were passing move higher and higher.

"So, how was your flight?" she asked, trying to make small talk.

"It was long," I said, repeating the exact words I had spoken to Ava.

As the elevator chimed to signal our arrival, she stepped out, leading me down a long hallway and through a set of double doors. Fluorescent lights above her painted her pale skin with a sickly green tint. I noticed a small placard by the doors as I passed: Briefing Room: Alpha. Inside, the room was filled with around a dozen agents, all in varying states of alertness. Some were hunched over laptops, while others passed files back and forth. Everyone looked up as I entered, their eyes lingering on me for an extra beat before returning to work. A long table was in the center of the room; speakers dangled from the ceiling overhead. On the giant screen that faced the end of the table was an image of a bird with dirty feathers. The words "Operation Hitchcock" shone red across a stark white background.

At the head of the table, Brock, my brother from my time as a Navy Seal, sat like a king, his arms crossed across his chest as he looked up at me, an amused grin on his face. When I walked closer, he stepped up to meet me, a smirk playing on his lips.

Brock and I had served together, and for a long time, he was my ride-or-die. In all the shitty situations we were in and life-or-death operations, I knew without a doubt that he would have my back, and I would have his. His coal-black hair was neatly parted to the side, and his salt-and-pepper beard covered his face. His face had seen years of bloodshed and struggle, just like mine. His sapphire blue eyes sparkled as they met mine, giving me a warm and genuine welcome. It had been eight years since we had seen each other, and I couldn't even remember the last time we had a chance to catch up on the phone. Come to think of it, it had been at least before I went to Oregon for Ava's case.

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