Page 38 of Covert Mission
“What kind of man is called Beast?”
“A big, snarly, bossy one.”
Belle’s eyes glitter. “Could be. Could be something else. Something a lot more fun.”
My eyes bug. “Well, I’m not finding out.”
“You sure?” She twists in her chair until she’s facing me.
“One thousand percent. I generally avoid men. Where I’m from, women are expected to cook, carry beer, stay quiet, and bury their dreams in the backyard, because they’ll never be good enough to make anything of themselves.”
Her eyes round. “Harsh, Mamacita. You grew up rough.”
Belle told me enough about her past to know the street kid had more than her fair share of struggles. I offer her a shrug. “So did you.”
“I’m not sure if it was that bad.”
“It made me who I am.”
She holds her water bottle out toward me. “Cheers to that, sister. We’re no wilting flowers.”
I stand and stretch my shoulders. “I’m going to make that call now.”
She watches me go.
Unfortunately, I also feel Beast’s eyes on me.
Not going to look.
I stride to the front of the truck and grab my pack. Thank god my work satellite phones weren’t in the one that got burned. That would have been hard to fix.
As I squat down, I unzip the pack. There’s too much crap in the pocket. I need to get organized. There’s no room for sloppiness when in the field. But it was a fast-packing job, I was swimming in the deep end of the pool, trying to get ready for our last-minute mission.
Learn fast or die.
Well, I’m learning.
I drag out the sunscreen, lip stuff, bug spray, and the small sewing kit I never travel without. Then the lock-pick kit, and the small recorder. I set them aside.
“Where are you?”
I push my hand between a couple of packets of tissue, and below the… what is that?
I tug it free. “Oh.” One of my sports bras. That definitely doesn’t belong in this pocket.
Finally, I touch a phone. I drag it out.
Damn. Not the right one. I set it aside and retrieve my FamFind phone from the same bottomless pit.
It takes a minute to power-up. I take the opportunity to put on my favorite Burt’s Bees lip balm.
The cool mint feels good. I get the weird idea to put it on my wrist. Right where that damned hot spot is.
When the phone hums to life, I’ve got a couple of voicemails.
I wasn’t expecting any calls. Only my boss has the number.
Usually, I call him. Not the other way around.