I hadn’t let myself feel the fury and the shame of my husband never actually wanting me. The playful head games of the boy in front of me were what was going to break me. Not the ten-year marriage. Not the friendship I thought I had with Mel. No, it would be a boy rubbing my underwear.
I refused for it to be the straw that broke the camel's back. I took a deep breath and pulled the car back on the road.
"I will kill him, how the fuck I am told to. I will do whatever the fuck Servario asks me to do. You will keep your hands to yourself. I am not a teenage sorority girl. I am not playing your games." I looked at him severely, like his mother would and shouted, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, COOP?"
He licked his lips and nodded, "You’re hot when you're pissed. This is a good look for you. Try to maintain this the whole time, okay?"
My nostrils flared as I looked back at the road. I was going to have to kill him when I finished with the fat man. That was a given.
I parked in the parking lot and grabbed my small purse. I had brought nothing else.
I was about to close the door when he smiled at me and spoke, "The code for evac is floor 17, room 723. Dial 9-1-1 and tell that to Jack and I will meet you out front of the hotel, and we run for it. See you in Vegas."
I snarled and slammed the door.
The parking lot was dark. I couldn't help but wonder, how alone I really was. I entered the airport and immediately started to look around. Would they come for me? Would they give me plane tickets? They had frozen my accounts so buying tickets would be hard, unless I used the Visa from the envelope. I had that in my clutch but if I used it, how would it look? I grumbled and looked around. My paychecks from the government hadn’t exactly kicked in yet. I knew, well enough, how missions worked. I never paid for anything with my own money or my own credit. We only ever used untraceable currency, cash. Of course the problem with not being a real agent anymore, was that I didn’t have any cash.
A woman in a beige dress suit walked up to me. She had sandy-colored hair and bright-red lips. She looked about my age, if not older. She was tall and thin with very high heels. I wondered if her back hurt in them.
"Evie, it's so wonderful to see you." she beamed.
I frowned and then smiled back, "Of course it is. How are you?"
She embraced me and slipped something in my pocket.
"Say hello to James and the kids for me," she muttered and walked off. Her words stung but she smelled nice, like expensive French perfume. I tried to focus on that more than anything.
"I will," I called after her. I slipped over to the woman's washroom, not checking my pocket until I was in a stall, with the door closed.
The thing in my pocket was a ticket and ID and a piece of paper with a gate number. I crumpled the paper and flushed it.
I walked to the sink and gave myself a once over. I didn't look convincing as a hooker. I was definitely more mom than prostitute.
Leaving the bathroom, I noticed Coop. He was across the way, watching me from a payphone stall for a hotel.
I scanned by him and walked on. I passed through the security and walked through the domestic gates, until I got to the door I was meant to go through.
"Let me get that for you," a man's voice spoke suddenly.
I turned to see Servario's guard from the hallway in the hotel.
"Thank you," I muttered and walked down the hall with him.
"You seemed a bit lost," he said, still keeping his voice low.
"I was."
"The plane is just ahead." He pointed and walked a bit faster than I did. He was meaty, they always were. It was such a cliché. Dark hair, olive skin, beefy bodies. They never just got a skinny, pasty guy named Steve to do their dirty work. It was always the one guy I would pick out of a crowd as a possible mercenary.
"What's your name?" I asked, mostly because I wanted to see if he really was a mercenary.
He glanced back at me, flashing me dark eyes and thick lashes. He even had a scar on his
I refused for it to be the straw that broke the camel's back. I took a deep breath and pulled the car back on the road.
"I will kill him, how the fuck I am told to. I will do whatever the fuck Servario asks me to do. You will keep your hands to yourself. I am not a teenage sorority girl. I am not playing your games." I looked at him severely, like his mother would and shouted, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, COOP?"
He licked his lips and nodded, "You’re hot when you're pissed. This is a good look for you. Try to maintain this the whole time, okay?"
My nostrils flared as I looked back at the road. I was going to have to kill him when I finished with the fat man. That was a given.
I parked in the parking lot and grabbed my small purse. I had brought nothing else.
I was about to close the door when he smiled at me and spoke, "The code for evac is floor 17, room 723. Dial 9-1-1 and tell that to Jack and I will meet you out front of the hotel, and we run for it. See you in Vegas."
I snarled and slammed the door.
The parking lot was dark. I couldn't help but wonder, how alone I really was. I entered the airport and immediately started to look around. Would they come for me? Would they give me plane tickets? They had frozen my accounts so buying tickets would be hard, unless I used the Visa from the envelope. I had that in my clutch but if I used it, how would it look? I grumbled and looked around. My paychecks from the government hadn’t exactly kicked in yet. I knew, well enough, how missions worked. I never paid for anything with my own money or my own credit. We only ever used untraceable currency, cash. Of course the problem with not being a real agent anymore, was that I didn’t have any cash.
A woman in a beige dress suit walked up to me. She had sandy-colored hair and bright-red lips. She looked about my age, if not older. She was tall and thin with very high heels. I wondered if her back hurt in them.
"Evie, it's so wonderful to see you." she beamed.
I frowned and then smiled back, "Of course it is. How are you?"
She embraced me and slipped something in my pocket.
"Say hello to James and the kids for me," she muttered and walked off. Her words stung but she smelled nice, like expensive French perfume. I tried to focus on that more than anything.
"I will," I called after her. I slipped over to the woman's washroom, not checking my pocket until I was in a stall, with the door closed.
The thing in my pocket was a ticket and ID and a piece of paper with a gate number. I crumpled the paper and flushed it.
I walked to the sink and gave myself a once over. I didn't look convincing as a hooker. I was definitely more mom than prostitute.
Leaving the bathroom, I noticed Coop. He was across the way, watching me from a payphone stall for a hotel.
I scanned by him and walked on. I passed through the security and walked through the domestic gates, until I got to the door I was meant to go through.
"Let me get that for you," a man's voice spoke suddenly.
I turned to see Servario's guard from the hallway in the hotel.
"Thank you," I muttered and walked down the hall with him.
"You seemed a bit lost," he said, still keeping his voice low.
"I was."
"The plane is just ahead." He pointed and walked a bit faster than I did. He was meaty, they always were. It was such a cliché. Dark hair, olive skin, beefy bodies. They never just got a skinny, pasty guy named Steve to do their dirty work. It was always the one guy I would pick out of a crowd as a possible mercenary.
"What's your name?" I asked, mostly because I wanted to see if he really was a mercenary.
He glanced back at me, flashing me dark eyes and thick lashes. He even had a scar on his
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