Instead, it’s simply because we can. We’ve enjoyed every moment of being together, and we’ve had a wonderful vacation ‘playing house,’ but we have to be responsible too. I’ve put off the FBI as long as I can, but when Chucky sends me a text to ‘get to the office today or else’, I know I have to go.
But I’m taking Maggie with me. It’s not protocol, but fuck if I care. I’m not letting her out of my sight. Not until we’re one hundred percent sure that she’s safe and we’re settled in.
“Are you sure?” Maggie asks as we approach the Federal building. It’s small. East Robinsville isn’t exactly Los Angeles or New York for a field office, but that’s okay. “I mean—”
“I don’t give a damn what Uncle Sam has to say,” I reply, holding her hand as we approach security. I watch her go through first before laughing as her jaw drops when I put my gun and badge in the bin to walk through the metal detectors. “Guess you haven’t seen these yet.”
“No,” she admits, her eyes going even larger when I flash the badge in its black leather billfold at her. As I replace them, badge in my back pocket, gun in my holster, I realize she’s watching me, biting her lip. I cup her chin, bringing her eyes up to look me in the face. “It’s okay, Angel. Don’t be scared. I’ll never hurt you.”
She shakes her head, looking left and right to make sure no one can hear her before whispering in my ear. “It doesn’t make me nervous. You look hot and tasty as fresh French fries, all confident badass. Especially in that T-shirt.”
I smirk, kissing her hard but keeping it fast. I don’t want any of the fuckers around here seeing my woman turned on. That’s fucking private, just for me and her. I groan, wishing I could shove her into a broom closet or empty office, but there’s never anything private in this place.
I take her hand again and start to lead her to the elevators. “Come on, we’d better get this over with so we can get back home.”
The ride up to the fourth floor is quiet but slightly tense. Maggie’s probably never even been in a normal police station, except maybe to pay a parking ticket, and now she’s going to an FBI office. I give her hand a squeeze as the door opens, and we head into the bullpen area. I’m surprised to see Chucky jump up immediately when he sees me.
“What the hell? When’d they let you out of the basement?” I ask, giving him a big hug, bro-patting him on the back. “Damn, Chucky, you lost weight! What the hell happened?”
He steps back, flexing and patting on his considerably flatter stomach. “Yep, Pokémon Go sucked nuts, but getting outside to catch the little fuckers did me some good. Got me away from my desk and even to the gym. Having to watch my diet now that I’m mostly playing Fortnight and my usual Call of Duty team.”
I grin, shaking my head. He’s a geek, but he’s a good face to see. “Battle Royale?”
Chucky grins. “Fuck, yeah, anytime.”
I glance at Maggie, who’s wearing a half amused, half scared shitless look on her face. “Might be a bit, but soon, man.”
Chucky sees Maggie, and he walks toward her, hand outstretched. “You must be Maggie. Nice to meet you. I’m Chucky. I sorta run the computers, you know.”
Maggie smiles, shaking his hand. “I remember, and thank you. Nice to put a face to the voice on the phone.”
Our reunion is cut short by the appearance of my boss, SSA Solomon. A tall woman in her early sixties with a no-nonsense brown helmet of hair that nobody in the office has the balls to fuck with, she’s run the East Robinsville office for five years now. “Shane. How good of you to join us. You two come on in my office.”
I look to Chucky for some read on the situation, but he shrugs. Keeping Maggie’s hand, we go into the office.
I try to start on the right foot, with introductions. “Maggie, this is my boss, Maria Solomon. Maria, this is my . . . Maggie.”
I didn’t know what to call Maggie. Girlfriend doesn’t seem remotely strong enough, and I can’t just go around proclaiming her ‘mine’ like a caveman to other people. When it’s the two of us, fuck, yeah. But in public, probably not exactly politically correct. Although, Maggie’s still got a bit of pink tint to the delicate skin of her neck where my lips sucked a day or two ago, and she looks proud of it.
I knew this meeting was coming and at least tried to keep my marks to the skin that’d be covered by her clothes. I smirk a bit, knowing that she’s got my claims on her tits, her belly, her thighs, her ass, and she was begging for me to ‘fuck her’ just this morning.
It’s those filthy words that do me in every time my sweet girl uses them, my dirty Angel who makes me hard as a rock in an instant.
But right now, she’s sitting prim and proper. A lady by every appearance, except to me since I know what lays under those clothes and in her dirty mind. While I’ve been daydreaming, they’ve shaken hands, and we sit down, Maria behind her desk and Maggie and me in chairs in front of her.
“I haven’t seen your report yet, Shane. But I’ve got Organized Crime calling for a quick and dirty update, so I need a rundown of everything verbally. And then you can start catching up on your far overdue paperwork. Time to be an agent again, Guthrie.”
She’s mad I haven’t finished the job, but fuck it. I was busy. The hard work was done. The paperwork is always the part I hate anyway. It’s part of why I’m better undercover than as a regular agent. I mean, undercover just has to get shit done. The paperwork’s later.
Still, I do my best to give Maria a rundown even though she knows parts of it from my check-ins with Chucky. Starting with the shooting at Petals, I move on to the hitman, Maggie and me on the run, and I end with my conversation with Dominick as we left.
“I think we parted on respectful terms, all things considered. War averted, Dominick on alert to watch out for Sal a bit more carefully, and the hitman handled so Maggie is safe. My recommendation is to leave the agent in Sal’s organization for a bit to make sure that licking his wounds doesn’t turn ugly.”
Maria looks at Maggie, and I know I’ll have to answer a few hard questions later about the details of why Dominick just let me walk out with a handshake. “Anything you’d like to add, Miss Postland?”
Maggie looks at Maria for a moment, sizing her up, and nods. “I guess just that when I worked at Petals, I didn’t know about the mob stuff. All I knew was that Dominick ran a tight ship, cared about his employees, and when the crap hit the fan, he helped us.”
“That’s his style,” Maria replies. “But—”
“He didn’t have to do all he did for us, but he did,” Maggie continues, and for once, I see Maria actually shut up. “I don’t know what the FBI’s going to do about him. I just want you to know that he is a good man. It’s not black and white, criminal or not, and I hope you’ll take that into consideration for future operations regarding Dominick and his businesses.”
Damn this woman. I’d half expected her to sit here, quiet and shy like she sometimes gets, and just nod along with the big scary FBI folks. But the other piece of her, the brilliant mind she keeps hidden behind blonde curls and innocent eyes, is a work of fucking art. Maria smiles, a predator who’s seen her prey, and I’m not about to sit here while Maria skins Maggie with poisonous words.
“Maria, I think we should go. I’ll type up the report at home and send it in ASAP.”
Maria looks to me dismissively and then returns her eyes to Maggie. “You are quite something, aren’t you?”
Maggie shrugs but doesn’t break eye contact with Maria. “I do what I can.”
Maria nods, an amused glint in her eyes. “When we figured out who you are, I had Chucky do some digging. You have quite the impressive resume, Miss Postland.”
I’m confused. I know Maggie is a tabloid reporter, but that’s not exactly something that would impress Maria. I look out of the office window to the bullpen, seeing Chucky watching our exchange. When he catches me looking, he startles and looks down, shuffling papers.
Before I can ask what’s going on, Maria continues, ig
noring me for the moment. “Your resume includes undercover work on a number of stories, everything from politics to celebrities. You’ve been . . . let’s see, an intern for a state Senator, a candy striper—”
“Candy striper?” I ask, imagining my innocent Maggie in one of those uniforms. Maggie gives me a little smile, blushing as I’m sure she’s thinking the same thing I am.
“As I was saying,” Maria says testily. “A secretary, and a waitress in a mob-owned club. In none of those jobs have you ever been detected until after the story came out and sometimes not even then. You’ve written many articles about mostly frivolous fodder. The FBI doesn’t really care who’s sleeping with whom—”
“Most of the time,” I say, earning a glare. “Sorry.”
“But some of your work—the investigative part, the undercover work—is well beyond your current situation at a tabloid,” Maria finishes.
Maggie smiles but shakes her head. “Actually, I no longer work for the tabloid. Nor Petals. I’ve been fired by both.”
There’s delight in Maria’s eyes, and she opens a manila folder on her desk, taking out a small packet and toying with it. “Ah, so sorry to hear that,” she replies in a way that makes me suspect she’s known that since Maggie walked in. “However, I do have something I’d like you to consider.”
She looks at me, then back to Maggie. “Working undercover, finding ways to tell the truth while lying, and finding out people's secrets in subtle ways are skills that are very difficult to teach. Most field agents in the FBI will go through quite a few training courses and never be able to do them effectively. Wouldn’t you agree, Shane?”
I nod, knowing that most FBI agents are products of their bureaucracy. They can grind, they can use the FBI like a bludgeon, but very few can do what I do. “Not many. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Seeing possible solutions beyond the scope of the usual point-to-point way of thinking is also exceedingly rare,” Maria says, turning her attention back to Maggie. “It seems you do well with both of these. In short, you impressed me, Miss Postland. And I don’t impress easily.”
Maggie gulps beside me, and I squeeze her hand. “See? I’m not the only one.”
Maggie blushes more deeply, but smiles. “Thank you.”
“The FBI has a very straightforward system for becoming an agent,” Maria says, toying with the paper in her hands. “But, there is considerably more flexibility when it comes to being a consultant. Especially when you’re a relatively minor field office like this one. So I’d like to offer you a job with my team. Very entry-level to see how you do, an internship, if you will. But an opportunity beyond anything you’ve ever considered before.”
Maggie looks at me, shock clearly written across her face as Maria slides the paper across her desk. “Me? Working for the FBI?”
I smile, encouraging her. “It’s your call, Maggie. You’re free to do anything you want now. If this sounds interesting, go for it.”
“Can I become an agent too?” she asks, looking at Maria. She picks up the paperwork, flipping through it for a moment. “I mean, what does a consultant do?”
“Basically, you’d be able to do all the grunt work, but you can’t carry a gun or arrest people,” Maria says. “But if you want, well, I could set you up on the path for that. I’d discourage it, though. Consultants don’t have to worry about rank or getting reassigned away from their . . . significant others.”
Maggie nods, then grins at me. It’s so beautiful I want to kiss her, right here and now, but I manage to refrain.
For now.
“That does sound interesting,” Maggie says, setting the papers back down on Maria’s desk. “I accept, but can I have one request? That I work with Shane and Chucky as I get my feet wet. I trust them and want to learn from them.”
Maria stands, offering her hand. “Already planned, although you’ll get some oversight and training from me too. See you two on Monday then. Get out of here for now.”
Just as we reach the door, Maria speaks up again. “Oh, and Shane, I need that report. Today.”
I grin, knowing that I can get it done and still be able to take Maggie out for a little celebration later. “Sure thing.”
We walk out hand-in-hand, ready for the next beginning. Together.
Epilogue
Maggie
Walking into the apartment, I can immediately tell something is off and I go on high alert. Quietly opening my purse, I reach for my pistol. I scan the living room for anything amiss, keeping my back towards the door I just cleared.
Seeing nothing but trusting my instincts, I walk heel-toe further into the apartment, looking into the kitchen to make sure no one is ducked down to take advantage of the blind spot. Clear. Other than a couple of dirty dishes in the sink, everything looks just like it normally does.
Silently steadying my breath, I breach the bedroom doorway. Before I can fully scan, an arm pops down across mine, knocking my weapon to the floor and continuing the maneuver to twist my arms up behind me.
I’m yanked against a hard body, male, judging by the impressive bulge pressing against me, and a lot taller than me, considering the bulge is pressed to my back, not my ass.
“You forgot to check your blind spot first,” a deep voice growls in my ear. “You know what happens now.
My training kicks in, and in one smooth motion, I pop my hips back to knock my attacker off-balance, pull forward in a twisting motion, and dive into a front roll to get space between us.
I grab my gun from the floor, standing in perfect stance with my attacker three feet away with his hands up in surrender. “On your knees.”
My voice is hard, projecting power, something Maria’s had me work on in training. He lowers to his knees, a smirk on his face as I step closer. “Usually, I’d prefer for you to be on your knees, sucking me off. But this works too. Come here and let me lick you, Angel.”
The gig is up when he calls me that, and I laugh, letting the gun lower to my side. “Dang it, Shane! I was doing so well! And you ruined it with your sweet dirty talk.”
Shane takes the empty training gun from my hands, setting it on the dresser behind him and grabs around my waist to pull me to him. “Allie even laughed at my training pistol today. She sent a pic to Dominick, who said he thought mine would be pink, not bright orange.”
Shane smiles. “How was your shopping?” But before I can answer, he shakes his head, “Never mind, tell me later. But really, you did just fine clearing the rooms and even handling me. But fuck if you don’t turn me on when you get all fierce and badass like that. Makes me want to earn your sweetness back, taste the innocence you only share with me.”
As he talks, he’s kneading my ass, his nose nudging along my belly and down to my core. More brave than shy these days, I begin unbuttoning my blouse, tossing it to the floor.
Shane sits back on his heels, watching me. “More,” he demands.
Having learned a few tricks from Allie, I don’t obey instantly. Instead, I tease him, tracing a finger along the swells of my breasts, which are almost eye-level with Shane. He growls, licking along the edge of my bra, and I decide maybe teasing can wait. I reach behind to unclasp my bra and shrug it off.
Shane cups my breasts, pressing them together and burying his face in their fullness, groaning as he begins licking my skin, sucking here and there to leave the marks he always wants to see on my body.
Finally, he takes my nipple into his mouth, and my hands tug on his hair, holding him there, wanting more. His fingers work at the waist of my pants, undoing them before he helps them slide down my legs.
I step out of my shoes and then the pants, standing before Shane in just my cotton panties. I asked him once if he wanted me to wear sexier lingerie, but he assured me with his words, his hands, and his cock that he liked my simple bikini briefs. He said they look sweet, like me.
Seems his opinion hasn’t changed because he’s using his thumbs to trace my lips through the soaked cotto
n, desire darkening his eyes.
“Lie down on the bed,” he rasps. “On your stomach.”
Like I need a reason to do as he says, feeling Shane’s weight on the bed as he straddles me, his strong thighs supporting him so he doesn’t squish me.
“Hold the headboard, Angel.”
I look back at him over my shoulder, but his face is unreadable. I move my hands up, holding one of the slats in the headboard.
Shane leans forward, and before I realize what he’s doing, he’s handcuffed my hands around the slat.
He sits back, pleased with himself. “Good girl.”
I laugh, half turning even as my body thrills. We’ve talked about this, but this is the first time we’ve taken the game this far. I love it. “Shane? What are you doing?”
I can feel his rough hands tracing my skin, and once in a while, he bends over to lay a sucking kiss or nibble to a spot that entices him. “Celebrating. The first night I came here, I drove you home after that asshole scared you at the club. Your keyring had a fluffy white pompom on it.”
I smile, loving that he remembers details like that about me. “I still have it. And?”
“And as of today, you’re officially field cleared,” Shane says. “Maria texted me the news.”
I’ve been working hard these last few months, both with Shane and at Maria’s insistence. I’ve learned so much, including FBI procedures, hand-to-hand fighting, firearms, and more. And while I’ve been able to sit next to Chucky as he pores over his computers, learning the in-house intel side, I hate that Shane is out there, undercover without me.
After his last mission, we decided he was going to wait for me so we could do the next assignment together. He took some well-deserved vacation and requested that Maria let him oversee my training, to which she agreed.
Maria’s actually excited to have a team available for undercover work as a couple. Apparently, that’s rare and makes us uniquely fit for a few different intel-seeking positions. I squeal in excitement at the news, kicking my feet behind Shane, but not dislodging him. “What’s that got to do with handcuffing me to the bed?” I ask.
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