“September ninth.”
“Year,” he grunts in annoyance.
Oren huffs behind me and my irritation rises.
“Nineteen-ninety-five,” I growl.
A knowing smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as if this unnecessary game of twenty questions is amusing him.
“Mother’s maiden name,” he taunts.
“De Laura. Do you want my dick size too?” I return his smirk. “Nine inches and a quarter, girth of your soda can.” I point to the Mountain Dew on his station next to him. “But I prefer pussy, thanks.”
The guard narrows his eyes on me and throws me my badge. I catch it with a chuckle, striding past him as Oren gets cleared without a hitch.
The building is noisy with the normal hustle and bustle. Eyes filled with questions follow me as we pass. In my hurry to get to Deavers I didn’t take into consideration how many people would be here. I didn’t consider we’d be in a federal building hunting our prey to take, torture, and kill.
How we’re supposed to get a whole agent out without him kicking and screaming or bringing attention to ourselves, I have no idea. I just need to have faith that The Omen and Oren have some sort of plan to bring Deavers back to the mansion without someone trying to get in our way.
I always hated the neutrality of the interior. Muted hues of different grays and whites coat the walls, floors, and furniture. The only real color anywhere is the large Federal Bureau of Investigation insignia behind the reception desk with smaller versions randomly decorating the halls and rooms of the large building. We take the elevator to the third floor, neither of us speaking, tension and anticipation thickening the air in the tight space.
When the doors open on our floor, we’re face-to-face with the bastard who’s “protecting” my sister. Bastian narrows his dark eyes on me, his mouth pulling down into a frown.
Surprise motherfucker.
“You’re back,” he says, neither a statement nor a question, like saying the words makes it more real than him seeing me in person.
“How long have you been home?” he snaps, pretending he gives a shit about where I’ve been. Maybe he’s annoyed on my sister’s behalf. Then again, I don’t know if she’s even still in D.C.
“How’s Xan?” I ask, not bothering to answer his question.
“Worried about you, asshole,” Bastian seethes between clenched teeth.
Until recently I wouldn’t have known this man would have the capability of rage. He’s always been a coward, hiding in the corners of public places and trying not to attract any attention. Perhaps what they say is true—we all have a snapping point. I wonder what his was, and if I could laugh knowing I had a part in it.
Little man found his balls.
“I’ll call her,” I say, stepping over the threshold and onto our office floor, with Oren following close behind.
Bastian takes a few steps back as I start to pass him, and I smile a t his reaction.
Alright, he found tiny balls.
Bastian curses under his breath and steps into the elevator. I look over my shoulder and meet his glare, my smile grows when his already pale skin drains of more color and he shifts his eyes to the ground.
Once the doors close, I look ahead. The director is stepping out of his office and closing the door behind him. He notices us immediately and frowns. I was expecting to see him here at some point and I don’t know which is worse—him seeing me before I drag a crying Deavers out of here and keeping his eye on me, or him seeing the action first hand and putting a stop to it.
I curse under my breath when Director Rene changes course for our direction and I look over at Oren who just nods, encouraging me to keep going. We meet in the middle of the room and the director keeps an unreadable expression on his face, which is better than instantly calling security and handing me a new asshole.
In a way, I’ve always liked my boss. He’s strict, but wants the best for everyone, there isn’t a single person he doesn’t want to succeed in his or her chosen career. Director Rene gets to know his agents and pushes them to be their best.
“I noticed your badge was missing from my office and now here you are,” he says before giving Oren a stern look.
Oren just shrugs and gives him a bored expression. Director Rene rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to me.
“As much as I would love to reprimand the both of you for this, I’m glad you’re here Special Agent Brenner,” he gives me a tight smile that comes too close to pity for my liking.
I lock onto the look, and I realize that Director Rene might be swimming deep in The Omen’s pockets, which would explain why I wasn’t fired immediately after beating up Bastian. Nobody pressed charges, everything just disappeared. Not to mention we literally walked in the front door of a federal building with criminalistic intentions.