5

Callum Brady-3rd person

With tepid fingers, Callum brought the cotton wrapped ice cubes to his jaw. His arms clenched on the desk before him at the painful contact. It had been a while since he even got a bruised ego, now he was sporting a face full of splits and scrapes as if it was trapped in a cat's litter box.

And it was all because of that woman. A fragile irish temptress. Or so he thought.

"You look like shit." A low, deep voice interrupted his barely formed thoughts. He snapped his head up to meet the eyes of the six feet four strawberry blonde manboy James Archers, who he has to deal with on a daily basis. They had met each other on Callum's first day inducted in the Central Intelligence Agency. It was ordained, James said that day. Callum was fresh out of a briefing from the director at the time which James should have been present and was in desperate need of a drink. It turned out that James was at the same bar, almost mind numbingly drunk. And seven years later, he was still a pain in the ass.

Ever since Callum shared his encounter with him, he was met with those exact words everytime this man saw him. And he was his partner so this was the eleventh time for the past hour. He was getting really sick of the reminder that he almost had his ass handed to him by a woman so small.

"Did she use her heels on you?" The man asked, a knowing smirk was playing around his lips. Callum knew he was referring to the woman who currently occupied his thoughts.

"Enough James." Callum threw the cotton cloth on his desk and slumped back in his chair. His partner chuckled at his salty tone.

James waltzed further into the large white office that they shared and where Callum spent most of his days as of late. A playful glee in his eyes, it was obvious that his teasing wasn't about to end any time soon. "What happened? You didn't tip her or something?" He quipped. Callum rolled his eyes, James was enjoying this way too much.

"I just assumed that she was a stripper." He said simply.

James blinked once before he threw his head back in a booming laughter. "In fucking leggings?" He managed to squeeze out between laughs.

Callum opened his mouth to cut off James' roars but then he froze, his brows drew together, creasing his forehead. Now that he thought about it, that was really strange, in his twenty years of visiting clubs, he had never seen a call girl in anything past their thighs. "Oh hell." He grimaced as the realization hit him. "Who is she?"

'No fucking clue." James cleared his throat in all seriousness, just recovering from his laughing fit. His long strides brought him to his desk and he quickly pulled his chair over to Callum with his laptop in his grasp. "Take a look at this."

It was the footage from yesterday while he was at the club. James zoomed in on the blonde female sitting at the bar, just minutes after Callum entered the club, the woman called a brunette over and seconds later, that same brunette went over to him. “She made you before you even ordered your first lap dance.” James pointed out coyly.

Callum rolled his eyes, his focus never shifting from the screen. “That’s- not why I followed her.”

“Huh-huh.” James’ aloof grin and tone was a tell tale that he was not convinced by his partner’s words. “Tell that to your face.”

“How did you get this?” Callum asked curiously, he was told that the FBI was still working on getting the footage from the club and now, not even an hour later, James had the same footage on his personal laptop.

His question earned a smirk from his partner. “The FBI has their ways, I have mine.” James sang in reply.

Callum snapped his head to where James was sitting. Maybe it was his tone but those methods didn't sound completely legal. “Did you find anything on this woman?”

James shrugged. "No." His tone was breezy, too breezy for Callum's liking. As if he wasn't concerned about her whereabouts. This woman had to be found ASAP!

If Callum's throbbing chest and bruised face was anything to go by, this woman was a trained killer and a fucking master profiler. It took her minutes to realize that he was an agent and by no

exaggeration, Callum was the best undercover agent the agency had to offer.

He was pretty sure if they hadn't been interrupted, one of them would have been dead and he was still trying to figure out which one. Her large eyes had crackled with a fierce determination that Callum would have admired if she didn't plant her heels across his face. Just then, an image of his blonde vixen invaded his mind, the velvetiness of her skin and the warmth of her breath against his face. It took all his restraint to not grab her and….. Callum's head fell back and he pressed his eyes close. It hadn’t been that long since he got laid, so why was he thinking about a woman that almost killed him?

“The only thing you need to worry about right now is fixing that pretty face of yours.” James pointed out, completely unaware of Callum’s wrenched expression. “A shot of whiskey is what you need my friend, or maybe six just to be safe.”

“Is alcohol the solution to everything?” Callum released an exasperated sigh, his eyes still closed.

“Maybe, it's either that or pussy which you, Callum Brady, are currently on bad terms with.” He didn’t have to see James’s face to know he was wearing his signature shit faced grin.

“Let me worry about that.” Callum chuckled as he sat up and reached over to pat James’s shoulder. “I’m more concerned about why Suzanne isn’t breathing down my neck yet.” Suzanne Walker, the deputy executive director of the agency and Callum’s former aunt in law, was the sweetest woman who ever lived. It had been almost two years since Callum cut all ties with his ex-girlfriend and Suzanne made it clear that he was out for his blood for ‘ruining' her niece. Ever since then, just the sight of her made him miserable and she looked for every opportunity to do so. And last night was the perfect ammunition.

He had one mission, get footage of the underground dealing of the gang associated with the greatest crime syndicate in the country while the FBI did the rest. He had his fair share of beautiful women and all that came with them. A new skirt could have never distracted him from his mission yet she did so easily. It was the first time he went against protocol.

A knock sounded at the door and they turned into its direction. Thomas Reeves, a dark haired stalwart man's head was popping in through the glass door. He sent a brief glance in James's direction before focusing on Callum. "I need to see you in my office in 30."

Callum stood from his desk, more alert than he was minutes ago. He could probably guess why Thomas would want to see him now but the fact that he walked all the way to his office without his usual guards meant it was important. "Okay."

James frowned slightly as he looked between the two men, as if trying to figure out the unspoken words between them before he stood and left. Thomas's eyes narrowed a bit as his footsteps became faint then turned back to Callum, now taking his face in. "You really do look like shi-"

"Don't-" Callum stopped him midway, he had James to deal with now Thomas wanted to join? "Don't even say it."

"Alright. I won't say you look like shit, but your mother just called." Thomas chuckled, now standing in the door frame. He was adorned by a crisp black tuxedo, his starched seams could stand on their own if he wanted them to. His eyes were as bright as a new parent's first glance at their baby. Thomas was always that man, cheerful and carefree. But this side was only reserved to Callum or James if he was lucky. Anyone on the outside who never came in contact with him would assume that this man was not one of the most important men in the government agencies in America.

"Mother? You do know my mother has been dead for almost 24 years!"

"You know who I mean." Thomas gave him a look.

"Aunt Margaret?" Callum guessed.

Thomas nodded in return, then added. “The girls sounded pretty upset with me too.”

Callum’s lips curved upwards at the mention of his nieces. They were always a bit feisty, and it got worse over the years, especially when their stepfather, one of the two father figures they had in their life practically lived at work. “They just miss you, that’s all.”

Thomas gave him a sad smile before he excused himself from the room. That left Callum with time to give his aunt a phone call.

He already knew why she was calling, she’d invite him over to cook with her or just catch up because it was that time again. The eve of his sister's death.