*
I was halfway home when I remembered Harrison’s calls. I immediately stopped jogging and pulled out my cell phone. With all the Celia drama, I’d completely forgotten about the missed calls. My mind was seriously going to crap. I hoped it improved before I needed it for something important. I dialed Harrison’s number and started slowly walking toward my house.
“What the hell, Redding!” Harrison answered on the first ring. “I was about to send out the cavalry, or at least call that deputy of yours.”
I couldn’t help feeling guilty. Harrison was a great partner and a good person. He was also the only contact I had with my real life, and he was carrying a lot of weight around on his shoulders trying to get me back to normal status. He didn’t need me unnecessarily adding to his worry.
“I’m sorry. I, uh…sorta took a break from everything.”
The line went quiet and I knew he was processing not only my words but also my tone. One didn’t become a CIA operative without excellent perception, and your partner usually knew you better than anyone.
“I take it things didn’t go well once you returned to Sinful?” he asked quietly.
“No.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
I felt my chest constrict. He should be chastising me for getting involved with Carter in the first place, for blowing my cover, and for a million other things I’d done since I’d been here that I shouldn’t have been involved in. But he hadn’t said a word about any of it, and his simple and genuine expression of sympathy had almost undone me.
“Thanks. Is anything wrong?”
“No. I mean, nothing other than what you already know. An agent spotted Ahmad in Brazil, but he took a private charter out. We tracked it to Iraq, but our people there haven’t picked up the trail yet.”
“No more movement from his organization in New Orleans?”
“Not even a peep. Looks like they’ve all cleared out.”
“How’s Morrow doing?”
Director Morrow was my boss and had been injured in an intentional hit-and-run. We figured it was all part of an attempt to get to me.
“He’s grouchy as hell, so that must mean he’s better.”
“I didn’t think he could be any other way.”
“Ha. Yeah, well, when you’re around, that seems to be the case.”
I knew I was a constant trial to Morrow, both professionally and personally. In his younger years, he’d worked with my father, one of the most respected assassins that the CIA had ever employed. After my father’s death, Morrow had watched out for me as best as he could. I wasn’t exactly the easy-to-watch type, nor was my job conducive to playing the protective role. And I didn’t make it any simpler by breaking policy and risking my cover when I shouldn’t have. But that was all water under the bridge. When I’d first come to Sinful, I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t. Now I wasn’t even sure I ever knew who I was.
“I have something to tell you,” Harrison said.
I frowned. His tone was serious, but he’d just gotten through updating me on Ahmad and Morrow. “Okay. What is it?”
“When this situation with Ahmad is resolved, I’m transferring out.”
I stopped in my tracks and clenched my phone. Never in a million years would I have guessed I’d hear those words coming out of Harrison’s mouth. Something must be wrong. Harrison had wanted to be a CIA agent his entire life. He was completely devoted to his job, and he was great at it.
“Are you sick?” I asked, suddenly worried.
“No. I’m perfectly healthy, and I aim to stay that way.”
“I don’t understand…”
“You remember Cassidy?”
“The girl who lives in the apartment across from yours?”
I’d met her once when I was returning a scope I’d borrowed to Harrison. She was young, pretty, and friendly and was an emergency room nurse.
“Yeah, that’s her,” Harrison said. “The thing is, we’ve been hanging out some and I never thought I’d say this, but I really like her.”
“That’s great. Right?”
“It’s great except for the part about what I do for a living. Look, the truth is, I never thought I was the settling-down kind of guy, but being with Cassidy feels right. I don’t know how to explain it. It just is.”
“But?”
“But then I went down to New Orleans. I saw how much you cared for that deputy, and how much he cared for you. But I also saw the strain between the two of you and I started thinking about the realities of our work. I don’t think it’s fair to get involved with someone and do the job we do. They would constantly be worried about us, and we’d constantly be worried about them. This situation with Ahmad shows how quickly everything can get personal. If you had family…”
He didn’t have to finish his statement, because I knew exactly where he was going with it. If I’d had any living relatives, Ahmad would have gotten to them a long time ago trying to find me.