Uneven Exchange Read Free Page A

Kevin and his then partner, Enrique Hernandez, stood confidently behind their chairs during the introductions to their other table companions. Daniela was the third to be introduced. In all his years of marriage to Casey, Kevin had never looked twice at another woman. Yet when he took Daniela’s soft, delicate hand, he’d needed all the strength he had just to let it go.
    Kevin interlocked his fingers and rested his forehead on his palms. While staring at Daniela’s image, he wondered how this woman had come to affect him so greatly. With a deep, soul-searching sigh, he slowly walked over to the half-full pot and filled his mug with stale, lukewarm coffee. He then returned to his desk and leaned in to pull the short chain on his lamp. Kevin raised Daniela’s photograph to the light while deciding whether to call Casey.
    He lifted his mobile and punched in his code to unlock his phone, then scrolled through the missed calls. Two were from Casey. She had called without leaving a message. While still holding the phone, he considered sending a text but immediately dismissed the thought. His fingers hovered within inches of the glass screen as the inner turmoil raged. Kevin knew he should call her. He also knew he was tired of arguing, and the only way to ensure they didn’t argue was to refrain from talking.
    Still hesitant, Kevin decided against calling and returned his phone to the top of his desk. Shaking his head, he half whispered, “This is going to be one long night.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    THE BOYS ARE BACK
     
    After hearing the elevator stop on his floor, Kevin looked up from his work to peer above the rim of his dime-store reading glasses. He rubbed his stubbly chin as Armando and Conner emerged from around the corner.
    “Hey, SAC!” Conner called as they walked toward the open door. “You look like crap,” he announced with his usual boyish enthusiasm. Though nearing thirty, Conner Reeves could easily pass for a teenager. He even dressed the part by wearing one of his many baseball caps with the brim reversed, catcher’s style.
    The two agents reached the doorway of Kevin’s office and stood side by side within the frame. Armando, at five feet eleven inches was a fraction shorter than Conner. He narrowed his coal-black eyes and scrutinized Kevin’s rumpled appearance before announcing, “Sorry, boss, but this time I’ve got to agree. You do look like crap.”
    “I’ve been working all night. What are your excuses?” Kevin reached across the desk and pulled the short chain to click off his desk lamp. He had meant to turn it off hours before, when sunlight had first flooded the room.
    Armando swiftly ran a comb through his straight, black hair, and then he looked down to inspect his attire. “There’s nothing wrong with my appearance,” he announced while straightening the collar of his salmon-colored golf shirt. “But Conner, as usual, is another story.”
    Conner’s brow creased. “What?” he asked, pouting as if emotionally wounded. “I don’t see anything wrong with what I’m wearing.”
    “I know. I know, Conner,” Armando interjected while laughing. “I’ve heard it before. You take great pride in planning the perfect outfit.”
    “Well, I do.”
    Armando grabbed the hem of Conner’s aqua Hawaiian shirt with a surfboard pattern, then pried and tugged at it before asking, “How hard was it to pick this shirt?”
    “It’s not only the shirt,” Conner combated. “I have it layered,” he teased.
    “Wow.” Armando’s tone sounded sarcastic. “It’s layered over a white T-shirt, no less! That must have been hard. Plus, what’s up with these jeans? Could they be any baggier?”
    Conner tried to grab the side of Armando’s jeans before saying, “At least mine aren’t spray-painted on.”
    “Were you both planning on discussing fashion while standing in the doorway all day, or did you want to come in and get caught up?” Kevin