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"All in favour of letting Maggie call?" Three hands raised. Maggie wasn't in favour. Adriana wasn't in favour. Maggie could only wish she wouldn't get further involved with anything Ward Cameron. And therefore, indirectly, anything Daniel Berger.
Pope's phone was placed in her hands. The same hands she could only view clad in blood. Her father's blood. The young girls at the Academy's blood. She looked up at Pope. "I'm not doing it."
"It's the easiest way. You're a Brit. You don't have to pretend," Kiara said. "You'd be talking all like this." She tried to replicate Maggie's accent.
"Not like that." JJ intervened. Maggie could only agree silently. She'd told Kiara before that her English accent was terrible, and it hasn't gotten better since. That time seemed so far away now, but in reality it was only a few months ago.
Kiara looked at Maggie expectantly, as if she wanted her to respond to her accent, like she used to do. "It sounds terrible." She said flatly.
"There you go," JJ pushed the phone closer to Maggie, a tingling going through her body as she remembered the night before. "That's spot–on. Now push that button."
Maggie exhaled through her nose, giving JJ a glare. But she pressed the call–button. He could still make her do whatever he wished. Even after she'd tried to tell him he couldn't. But all he heard was I love you too.
The line rang for a few seconds. Maggie put the phone on speaker so the whole car could hear the conversation. The line crackled. "Hello?" A male voice picked up.
"Hello, Gavin."
A short silence sounded. The man obviously expected her to say something else. When she didn't, there was a tremor in his voice. "This is Gavin. Who's this? Hello?"
"Listen to me very carefully, Gavin," Maggie put on her voice she used for missions. Her intimidating voice. Her father always said it was exceptional. "You don't know what you did when you lied about what happened on the tarmac. When you defended Rafe Cameron—"
