" so many assume. so little know "
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in which a bad mouthed agent is assigned to help the walking talking patriarchal symbol of what is right and what is wrong. and in the process of it all, learns how much she needed the desk duty
BOOK ONE | St...
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W A S H I N G T O N D. C. america ____________________________
CORTEZ
six months earlier
IT WAS too early to be alive. The overwhelming stench of coffee and metal was what greeted me the morning that my life was completely altered. And it wasn't in a good way. In fact, it was the kind of mind numbing and blood boiling alteration. And I was livid.
My hands were still wrapped tightly across the unlucky cell phone that delivered me the worst possible news that I could receive on a Monday morning. I hadn't even been given the chance to set the quinjet down in the hanger bay before my phone blew up with the words that soured my somewhat lifted moods. Although I don't think sour is the right word for it. It's not like sucking on a lemon or eating sour candy. It hellish, red, and fiery. My anger was almost resembling a fire. It burned hot throughout me; I just never knew if it would be wildfire or not.
I didn't wait for the rumbling of the jet's engines to quiet, nor the men and women that would begin strapping the jet into its place and bringing it under the still Potomac waters.
I didn't wait to make polite conversation with them.
The glass elevator became my unnerving home for the two minute and forty three second ride to the top level. And that was two minutes and forty three seconds too long, because I hated elevators. Especially ones I could see out of.
To my dismay, it stopped half way to let various men dressed in black in, carrying guns at their sides that matched the one on my waistband.
"Agent Rumlow." I nodded my head towards the man now staring a small space with me. "Sitwell."
"How was your weekend? Heard the mission went to shit." Rumlow asked me; eyes meeting the dark of mine.
"It did not go to shit." I said defensively and crossed my arms. "It went fine."
"That's not what the big man says," Sitwell laughed. The undeniable urge to smack the smile off his face overcame me, but for once, I didn't let my anger get the best of me. Instead, I stayed the polite woman my mother once taught me to be.
"He could bite me." I said with a roll of my eyes. The elevator finally came to a stop and I internally thanked the very God I didn't believe in. "Wish I could say it was fun, boys."
The carpeted hallway muffled the sounds of my footsteps, and the soft thudding was almost a punchline. With each step taking me closer and closer to the secluded office towards the back, my anger grew and grew.
