Page 67 of Whistleblower
“Hm?” I check the time on the top bar of my phone and am shocked when I see it’s four o’ clock in the afternoon. Holy shit. I slept an entire day away.
“I waited as long as I could, but I didn’t want to wake you. I’m with Vesper and Lance. But when we’re done, how about I take you to dinner tonight?”
“Out?”
“Yes, why are you surprised? You asked last night and I told you I’m fine with dates.”
I grin into my coffee mug, remembering our antics. Linc was sexy, needy, and caring. He ripped apart every single assumption I’d ever made about him.
“It was more the ‘out’ part. Can you be seen in public?”
“Jesus, Eden, as I said—I’m not a vampire. We can go to dinner.”
I giggle. “All right. That sounds great.” I hear mumbling in the distance, maybe the sounds of radio static.
“I have to go. I’ll call you soon.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond. The line goes silent and it’s just me and my mug of coffee. I dawdle in bed for a while, enjoying the non-anxiety ridden occasion. Finishing my cup of coffee, I read a chapter from my book on the nightstand. I thought I’d be embarrassed if Linc saw my smutty romance book, but we broke a lot of barriers last night. I slept half naked next to him all night. I know what his precum tastes like. I wore his actual cum like war paint last night, right before he washed me, towel-dried me, and tucked me into bed. There’s nothing left to hide from him.
Not to mention, he could be watching me as we speak. I still have no idea where the cameras are. I’m not remotely put off by Linc’s extreme measures. I’ve reported break-ins and suspicious situations so many times to the police in the past year and they’ve always shrugged it off. They called me paranoid and unnecessarily hysteric. I’d officially become a nuisance to them and before Callen showed up, I wasn’t a priority for the FBI either. No one took me seriously until Linc. So he can watch me all he wants, I’m grateful.
Finally pulling off the covers, I set my coffee cup aside and make my way to the bathroom. I laugh out loud in utter glee when I see orange sticky notes everywhere.
On the mirror is another note right above my sink: You’re so beautiful. Next to the toilet paper: Don’t forget your button. On the back of the bathroom door: Remember, no cameras in here. On the glass of the shower door: You make me fucking crazy. On the shower handle: I already miss your tits. I collect them all before entering the kitchen where I find one more orange note next to a plate of Belgian waffles. It reads: I guessed chocolate chips.
I grab the fork Linc laid out for me and help myself to a big bite of the fluffy waffles with melted chocolate chips. I don’t care that they’re no longer warm, they’re still perfect. I must’ve been in a deep sleep for him to pull all this off without me noticing. I look at the sink embedded in my kitchen island counter to see a bowl, measuring cup, and a spatula washed and drying on the dish rack.
Linc might be the perfect man…job aside. I was expecting a really good fuck. I was not expecting…dreamy. Is this finally karma? I’ve tried so hard to be a good person. Is Linc finally my reward?
I whip out my phone to send a quick text, hoping it goes unread for a while. I don’t know what Linc’s doing, but I can’t imagine it’s the kind of thing that should be interrupted by a text message.
Me
You guessed right. Always chocolate chips for waffles.
I set my phone down but scoop it right back up when the soft chime tells me I have an instant response.
Linc
*kissy face*
I gawk at my phone. Stop. Was that an emoji? Did the cold-blooded assassin who has FBI agents shaking in their boots just send me a kissy-face emoji?
Me
*heart on fire emoji*
* * *
LINC
The wet concrete is starting to dampen my shirt and agitate my stomach, but I don’t get up. I don’t want to risk missing my window, so I stay low, on top of this high rise, my eye on the scope and one hand on the trigger of the sniper rifle.
I’ve been lying here for over an hour, even through the brief rainstorm, but at least I have company. Vesper impatiently paces. “Lance, what the fuck is he doing?” she whispers.
Lance, who is pretending to smoke at the back of the building across the street, is our ground operative, because while he’s better with a pistol, my long-range aim far exceeds his. Cricket’s our best sniper, but Vesper sent her out of the country for something I’m not privy to, nor do I care to be. There’s enough bullshit here to worry about. Plus, Cricket can handle herself. Everyone thinks I’m the fearsome one, little do they know that when provoked, Cricket’s the most terrifying of us all.
Through my scope, I see Lance put his phone to his ear, pretending to make a call. We can hear each other through our hidden earpieces, but he’s trying to act natural. We don’t normally complete hits in public where witnesses could see, but this is a special case.
“Hey, Mom,” Lance says into his phone, sarcasm lining his tone. He only calls Vesper “Mom” when he’s annoyed. He’s still pissed off he got ground detail for this job. “Lunch is going to take a little while longer. He just ordered another round of drinks...and dessert.”