Broken

V

Thursday. 18:52. New York, NY.

Nancy Drew wasn't alone. As she stood outside her hotel room door, she could hear sounds from beyond the glossy white plywood. These sounds caused her skin to prickle and her lovely eyes to narrow with suspicion.

Her hand slipped to her cold, damp skin, gripping the handgun in her waistband.

"Hello?" She murmured into the door.

No answer. Heart racing, she slid her key card through the slot, and threw the door open, gun at the ready.

"Stand down, Agent. I don't want to make a scene," a voice greeted her as a stranger emerged from the shadows.

"Identify yourself," she snapped, inching into the room, gun still cocked.

He was unfamiliar. Rangy. Wearing a suit. She suspected that he was an agent, as he moved slowly and spoke steadily. But he was a threat until she knew that for sure.

"Special Agent Chris Somers. Anti-Terrorism. Badge is on the bar." He raised his hands and stepped into the pale light, which pooled on the floor, leaking from the exposed window pane.

She advanced further, doing a quick check with a swift jut of her jaw. Only once she had checked the photo and badge with his handsome features, did she lower her weapon.

"Sorry. It's been a rough day."

"I hear you. The assignment?"

"A success." She walked over to the wardrobe and discarded her outer layers, back to him as she tried to reign her composure.

"Good. Look, I'm your supervisor on this op. I was hoping I could fill you in on the particulars? If you have the time, that is?"

She gave him a weary look. "I know I don't have a choice. So let's skip the niceties and get this over with. But before we start, I want it on the record that I don't appreciate strange men hiding out in my hotel."

"Noted." He laughed, but grew sober. "I was waiting outside, but you were late. Why was that, Agent?"

She stiffened. "I had to lose a tail."

"A tail?"

"It was nothing. I assure you, Special Agent."

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you Drew. What kind?" He snapped.

"Personal acquaintance. I said it was nothing."

"Fine. But I'm watching this op like a hawk."

When she stayed mute, he exhaled, collecting his badge and returning it to his coat pocket. He spoke steadily, looking her in the eye, "I like you, Drew. I've heard the stories, that you've got balls. But I won't stick my neck out for you. Even if you're as sassy and sexy as they say."

She returned his look. "I'm glad, because that would be unprofessional. I don't know you. And you don't know me. You have no reason to trust me, not until I prove that you do. So, can we get on with this? I've had a shit day and I'd rather... be alone right now."

He gave her a salute. "Right. A drink?"

"Be my guest."

As he poured himself gin, she tossed her handgun onto the small coffee table and sank into a stiff looking beige armchair.

He handed her a glass and sat down opposite her. As he opened his briefcase, she took a sip from her drink and observed his features.

He was clean cut. Fit. Forty, forty five perhaps? Definitely not the type to have a family. No. He was too relaxed for that. He was military. A bachelor. James Bond. Lived for the job.