Double Agent

○ six ○

A bullet flies, pinning me to a tree adjacent to the sidewalk. I jump, but spur into action, tugging against the fabric of the shirt.

I don't want to look up.

I know who it is.

Another bullet flies by and embeds itself right by my ear. I straighten up, startled, my peripheral watching the silver glint and charred wood.

I finally give in, staring at him. He stands by his car, an elbow resting on the top of the door as he twirls the gun in his hand. His jaw is tight, and his movements are jarring, dangerous.

He walks toward me, predator stalking prey.

I'm certain he's going to kill me here, so I close my eyes and sink as close as I can into the tree. I can feel his presence, consuming, addicting, powerful. He doesn't do anything, so I open my eyes.

"What the fuck," he seethes, "are you doing?"

His head is bent down so his eyes are level with mine.

I refuse to give in, glaring back at him.

"You had one fucking job. Stay in the house," he glowers.

"I wanted to go for a walk."

"So you damage almost everything in my house, climb across a high rise building, and walk down the street unarmed, carrying nothing with you? Aren't you smart? In case you're an idiot, you can't go anywhere because guess what? You're a fucking criminal."

"I wouldn't be here right now if you'd left me the fuck alone that day. Then at least I could've had a chance. You could've killed me too, that would've been better."

He leans closer, "Aw," he mocks, "Too bad."

A pause.

"Get in the car."

"My shoulder's stuck to a tree, you imbecile."

"Watch your fucking mouth," he gives me a condescending look, ripping my shirt away. He points the gun to my head.

"Car. Now."

I move hesitantly, and he shoves me.

"Don't fucking push me."

"Don't fucking walk too slow."

I grit my teeth as he opens my door and pushes me inside. He gets in through his own door and puts the gun into the dash on his side.

His chest rises and falls heavily as he drives, and a hand runs through a head of dark brown waves.

"You ripped my shirt," he keeps his gaze on the road, his jaw clenching.

"You shot it, you dumb fuck."

He flicks a knife out.

"You took a walk one day after the Service extracted you and then employed you."

We ignore each other for the rest of the ride.

When we reach the lobby, he tucks the gun into his pocket and walks over to my door, opening it.

I jerk when his hand reaches under the shirt and wraps around my waist. I'm about to freak out, but I feel the cool metal of the barrel against my skin. The gun is hidden and I look like one of his sweethearts.

"Smile and I won't put a hole through you."

Roughly, he tugs me with him as we walk through the lobby. There are more people this time, dressed fancily, talking to more fancily dressed people, holding little china cups of coffee and smiling.