Page 37 of Whistleblower
Her light brown eyes are wide and startled. The wounded expression on her face tells me she’s interpreting this as rejection.
If only she knew.
“Okay. Um…” She blows out a shaky breath. “I’ll see you around.”
THIRTEEN
EDEN
I’ve had my fair share of dating mishaps. I’ve been embarrassed before…but not like this. I have never so wildly misjudged a situation in my life. Two days ago, I basically begged Linc to kiss me and he literally ran out of my office.
I still don’t understand what I missed. I haven’t dated in the past year—perhaps I’m out of touch with romantic signals. Is squeezing a woman’s knee and slowly trailing your hand up her thigh the new universal sign for not interested?
To make matters more confusing, this morning, when I walked into my office, lying on my desk was a brand-new copy of War and Peace. Linc left a simple note—
For when you make time.
He didn’t even sign it. He didn’t have to. I haven’t talked to anyone else about Dad and my heaping pile of regrets.
“Holy hell,” Cricket groans as she barges into my office, nearly making me jump out of my skin before toppling out of my desk chair. “What a fucking night.”
I am very seriously considering changing my open-door policy to a please-fucking-knock-first policy. One thing I didn’t take into account is how goddamn sneaky the operatives of PALADIN are. Half of their job is to move around undetected and quite frankly it’s like working in a compound full of lurking cats. You never know when one is going to jump out at you.
“Hi Cricket,” I huff, pressing my palm against my still pounding chest.
“Why are you holed up in here reading a textbook?”
Such a pretty face and a beautiful thick head of hair, but as far as what’s rattling around in her head… I have no clue if Cricket truly has a few screws loose, or if she just prefers for people to underestimate her. Maybe this way it makes it easier for her to strike them down, like a lioness toying with her prey.
“It’s fiction. A novel…”
She scoffs. “I’m kidding, love. I know Tolstoy. Why you’re reading it still remains a mystery.”
“I’m not…yet, anyway. It was a gift from Linc. I mentioned something about my dad and he remembered, that's all.”
Cricket tiptoes over to my couch and curls up, pulling the afghan I brought from home over her. She likes to hide in here for naps from time to time. She says her office is chilly, but I think she likes the company. I don’t mind, especially because Cricket sleeps like the dead. I’ve worked for hours in total silence while Cricket’s drooled on my couch in a deep slumber.
I cross the room and straighten the blanket over Cricket before settling into the chair across from her. The same chair where Linc almost put his lips on mine.
“May I ask you something?”
Cricket lifts her face to look at me, her green eyes looking especially bloodshot today. I want to ask if it’s a hangover, or from a late night at work, but again—it’s best not to ask for the details I don’t want.
“What’s up?”
“Do you guys…date?”
“You mean Linc?” she asks with a smirk.
“Not just Linc—any of you guys. Do you have personal lives outside of PALADIN?”
She’s quiet for an uncomfortably long time. “I’m sorry, forget it,” is almost on my lips when she finally responds.
“PALADIN isn’t just our job, it’s our only family, our entire life. We don’t have anything outside of it which is why most of our relationships are short-lived.” She clamps one eye shut, like there’s something sour on the tip of her tongue. “Do you understand what I mean?”
“Yeah, of course. It makes sense. My dad was much the same. He never remarried after my mom died. He just focused on work…and me.”
“Oh, Bambi,” she tuts. “I’m sorry. He must’ve been lonely.”