Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC) Read Free

smooth
and even.
    “Um, yeah. That’s me,” I stammer dumbly. “How did you know
my—”
    “I know all about you, Collins,” he cuts me off lightly.
“But please, don’t let me interrupt your, uh...lunch.”
    I blush furiously, imagining how I must look in this man’s
eyes. A pretty little girl, playing FBI agent, eating her cupcakes in the
sunshine. What a darling first impression.
    “Oh. This isn’t—these were my mentor’s idea of a joke,” I
laugh shortly, chucking my treats in the nearest garbage can. “Agent Jones has
a...unique sense of humor. I’m sorry,” I go on, holding out my hand to him, “I
didn’t catch your name.”
    “That’s because I didn’t offer it,” he chuckles, shaking my
hand firmly. “I’m Special Agent Max Mitchell. I run things over at the Las
Vegas field office.”
    “Nice to meet you, I’m—Oh. Never mind. You already know,” I
mutter, making a mental note to kick myself later. I can’t help but be
flustered by this guy. Why would a senior agent have any idea who I am?
    “I do know, indeed,” Mitchell replies. “You’re the whole
reason I’m here in Los Angeles, after all.”
    “I am?” I reply, taken aback. “Is something, uh, wrong? Did
I—?”
    “I’m not here to discipline you, Agent Collins,” Mitchell
assures me. “Quite the contrary. But perhaps we can discuss this somewhere a
bit less public?”
    “Of course,” I say quickly, rise and moving toward the front
door, “I only have a cubicle, but—”
    “It’s alright. Agent Jones’ office will do just fine,” he
replies. “I’ve already confirmed as much with him.”
    “Chuck knew you were coming?” I ask, trailing Mitchell
inside.
    “Sure,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “didn’t he mention it
to you?”
    “Like I said, unique sense of humor,” I grumble.
    Plenty of heads turn my way now that a high-ranking agent
accompanies me. Looks of suspicion and jealousy cloud the faces of my mostly
male coworkers. Many of them still haven’t gotten used to my presence in the
office, especially since I found my sea legs and started doing well. For all
its diversity initiatives, the FBI is still something of a boys’ club. But I’m
not going to let their insecurities bother me today. It would seem I’ve got
more important things to worry about.
    Chuck appears in the doorway of his office, beckoning us in
to join him. “Get in here, Mitchell,” he barks good-naturally. “Good to see you
again, sir.”
    “And you, Jones,” Mitchell replies, clapping Chuck on the
shoulder.
    “Thanks for the heads up, Jones,” I mutter, closing the door
behind me.
    “I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” Chuck grins, winking
theatrically at me.
    “Have a seat, Quinn,” Mitchell says, as he and Chuck settle
into their places. I perch on the edge of the unforgiving foam chair, anxious
to know what’s behind this surprise meeting. “First of all,” he begins, lacing
his fingers over his knee, “let me congratulate you on completing your first
two years here at the Bureau. From what I understand, it’s been a very
successful time, indeed.”
    “I guess that’s true,” I smile, looking back and forth
between Chuck and Mitchell.
    “Oh, don’t be modest,” Chuck says. “It’s not as endearing as
your finishing school teachers would have you believe. You’ve been kicking ass
here, Collins. Best addition to the cyber division I’ve seen come out of
Quantico in years.”
    “You feeling OK, Jones?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow at my
surly mentor. “Outright praise isn’t exactly your thing.”
    “Just ‘cause I’m not made of rainbows and butterscotch,
doesn’t mean I’m not proud of everything you’ve done here,” Chuck says,
granting me a rare, sincere smile.
    “Well, thanks. But I started at the FBI Academy with a bit
of an advantage, technology-wise,” I allow. “I got my BA—”
    “In computer science and journalism from Pace University,”
Mitchell rattles off from memory,