[ON HIATUS] AMAZING GRACE // MISSION IMPOSSIBLE

ASSESSMENT

The first thing that Agent Brandt made her do was a timed physical assessment. Once they'd returned from the grocery store and completed the task of putting the food away in various cabinets, he'd instructed her to change into some shorts.

When she'd returned, brushing her palms over some awkwardly fitting running shorts that were evidently designed for a more masculine build than her curvy stature permitted, Brandt had a sheet of paper in his hand.

He had pushed a small cup full of purple-colored water towards her with a wry grin. "Electrolytes. Do me a favor and hydrate before we start."

As she drank, he'd presented the assessment sheet. A rubric of exercises and their corresponding times and scores detailed her plans for the next two hours.

There would be a timed mile and a half run. Despite her confidence that such a distance would be easily done, Grace started off strong and fast but crossed the finish line with her face on fire and a twist in her gut.

Brandt marked her time on the sheet with a dissatisfied frown, and informed her that her time would have to be down at least forty seconds before her official initiation in a month.

After the run he put her in the pool.

The swim time made up for the run time. After years of hotel pools and using endless laps as a way to get her mind off of running and dodging and skirting arrest, Grace knifed her way through the distance swim in well under the required time limit.

Her supervisory agent appeared quite pleased.

Still dripping with chlorine water, Grace reached the calisthenics portion of her assessment.

With an exhausted, loathsome expression, Brandt marked down her scores. Push-ups, fifteen; sit-ups, twenty-five; pull-ups, none.

"So, you've definitely got some work to do." Brandt stood in her kitchen, a striped gray apron tied over his t-shirt and jeans. He gestured to where she sat on the counter, freshly showered, with his spatula. "You have a month to meet the minimum scores on the actual assessment. Unfortunately, you're also my trainee, which means you're going to do much better than meet the minimums."

Grace worked a towel through her hair. "Because your boss doesn't trust you?"

Brandt shot her a sideways look as he flipped the chicken breast in the pan and checked the crispy sear. "Because I don't trust minimums."

Her eyes trailed him from the stove to the fridge, watching the muscles in his back flex through his shirt as he bent to grab sliced cheese from the drawer. "I wasn't that bad."

"You have to drop your run time by a minute."

"You said forty seconds—"

"And you have to be able to make thirty push-ups, forty sit-ups, and twelve pull-ups."

"Twelve."

Brandt slapped sliced mozzarella over the top of the chicken breasts. "The minimum is eight. You'll do twelve, or you'll be a receptionist in the lobby. Do you understand?"

Grace relented with a shrug. "How do I get there?"

"I'll help you. We'll train twice a day. But for now, here—" he pulled a sheath of papers from his briefcase and slid it to her. "Your written assessment. Take it while I finish making dinner."

She flipped through an exam of arithmetic, algebra, geometry, physics, and reading comprehension. "Are you serious?"

Brandt glanced over his shoulder. "That's for me. I need to know if we need to review to boost your actual score. IMF requires a minimum test score for you to have a specialist position. Take the test."

Grace slid off the counter and into a chair, reaching for the pencil he'd set out for her. "It's like school all over again."

Brandt set a plate of seared mozzarella chicken and asparagus before her at the exact moment that she dropped her pencil and shook out the cramps in her hand.

Perching himself on the edge of the table, Brandt collected her exam and began marking up her scores.

Grace watched him between bites, silently in awe of the perfectly cooked chicken and savory, slightly spicy flavor that blended together into an incredible dish.

She rather liked a man who cooked.

Brandt put the test down and raised an eyebrow at her. "Trouble with geometry and physics, yeah?"

Eyebrows lowering in offense, Grace swallowed a mouthful. "It's been fifteen years since I was in school, thank you very much."

He collected his own plate and sat down across from her, rubbing his hand across his forehead. "Well, consider yourself back in school. You're going to need ten more points."

"Ten more from your standards or ten more from IMF's?"

"Ten more, Grace." Brandt sliced into his chicken. "Don't worry. It's not like you've got anything better to do."