Animals

Day 17

Saturday, May 26th

Elle: Hey. I heard there was a raid at the warehouse. What the hell happened?

Lester: Yes, there was. Many people died.

Elle: Did they find SHE?

Lester: No. Luckily, I thought to move them.

Elle: That's good. Smart. Where are they now?

Lester: Safe

Elle: Let's meet up. It's not safe to talk over the phone.

Lester: 1520 Fort Lane. 5pm

I read through our exchange several times. It didn't seem like he suspected anything about my affiliation, so I came to the conclusion that he had just gotten lucky. Because of the adrenaline pumping through my body at the time, I had just been thinking too much.

However, there was still an inkling of fear settled deep in the pit of my stomach. I had convinced myself that Lester was clueless, but what if he wasn't? Stan was sending me in with little to no idea about what would happen. It all just felt wrong.

Mitch strapped me into a protective vest, his eyes drifting between my face and the vest. Despite his closeness and the way his firm hands ghosted over my body, I was distracted in an unrelated way. I was terrified. If Mitch's strength hadn't been jerking me around, he would've noticed how my body shook where I stood. Out of everything I'd done, this was going to be the hardest. It should be simple considering I'd have the brute force of the CIA lurking in the shadows, but I was uneasy.

I sucked in a breath as Mitch tightened the vest on me like an old Victorian maid.

"Sorry," he hummed. He loosened it a bit, but I could tell he was as distracted as me. I assumed it had something to do with the hushed yelling I'd heard over the phone earlier. Something Stan had said obviously bothered him, but he made no move to tell me what it was.

"Wear a loose shirt," he said, turning his attention to the small case of high-tech items.

His melancholy attitude wasn't doing anything to ease my twisted stomach, but I suppose I couldn't expect him to comfort me. I slipped a large sweater over my body but immediately started sweating. My nerves weren't going to let me wear something heavy less I wanted to drown in my own making.

I searched through the small bag I'd packed, but the shirts I had didn't fit inconspicuously over the vest. "Uhh..." I turned to look at Mitch with a sheepish frown.

"What?"

"I need to go back to my motel room. Nothing I brought will work."

He pinched the bridge of his nose with a brief sigh before he opened his dresser. Mitch pulled out a plain black shirt and brought it to me.

"Use this."

It was soft in my hand, and I stared at it before looking at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's fine."

I turned my back to him. It wasn't because I didn't want to put it on with him watching. I was just grinning so hard I thought my face would split. I took my time putting on his shirt, relishing in the softness of it against my skin. Strangely, it was warm. Or maybe it was my own excited body heat. Whatever it was made the shirt feel like a hug from Mitch himself.

"Thanks," I said, facing him again. "I'll return it after it's washed."

Mitch's eyes glassed over like he was lost so deep in his mind that he wasn't even registering what I was saying. His chest jumped with quick deep breaths and his fingers clenched at his sides.