Angel

Chapter 1-E.J.

"Good morning, Agent St. Claire." Normally, those would be innocent words, but coming from Agent Grant Foster, they were always ominous.

 "It would be, Grant, if you hadn't called before I could even finish my coffee. What is it now?" I grumbled into my phone. Where the hell is my coffee cup? I live alone, how is it I can never find the damn thing?

 " The Director says you need a vacation, starting now." Grant's tone was cautious. 

" Really, I never go on vacation. You know idle hands are the Devil's playthings." I was surprised. I was a good agent, no bad marks on my record, I always did my job and I did it damn well. 

" Now, E.J., this is not because you have done anything wrong. You are the best of the best, but the Director is worried about burn out." Huh?

 "Damn it. Grant you don't have to fluff my ego, I know I'm damn good, but it is always nice to hear. I guess this isn't a request?" I huffed.

 "Nope, kid, it's orders. Find a beach or something." He said. 

"A beach, Grant, seriously? You know I'd burn in two seconds. Maybe I will visit my hometown and see what I can dig up about my past. I am tired of the questions." Grant laughed, that prick. 

" Be careful, kid, sometimes the past is best buried. Oh, and E.J., don't forget the sunscreen."

 I grunt,  "Fuck you very much, Grant." As I ended the call, I pictured Grant Foster. He was pushing fifty but kept himself in shape. Tall, gray hair, and ran every day.

 "Asshole, I have tons of sunscreen." I muttered to myself. At 29, I was comfortable with myself. I was 5'5", so not tall but not short. I had long curly auburn hair, green eyes, and a great body. I worked out every day but I was still a bit curvy. I was strong and toned. Damn, I guess I better book a flight to Indiana and start my vacation.

 As I packed a few bags, I thought about growing up in one group home after another. I had no idea who my parents were. I was found in a dumpster when I was a few days old and for some reason, was never adopted. Talk about a blow to the ego. 

I can't change it but I do want to know who threw me in that dumpster and why. I had about a week until my thirtieth birthday and maybe it would be my gift to myself to find the truth. I had tried to access the info through my CIA contacts, but they got nothing. I literally came from nowhere, which was good for being an assassin I suppose.

 I had my flight booked, along with my hotel and rental car. There was no way I was driving from DC to Indianapolis, not happening. I was leaving at 6 am tomorrow morning, ugh, vacation, YEAH! I rolled my eyes at myself.