Special Agent | ✓

Forty-Six

"I know we go back and all, Scott, but colleagues generally don't sneak into one's bedroom in the middle of the night to ask for a cup of coffee." Imani's words held a cold, arctic edge.

Slowly, carefully, Davidson lowered his palms, to rest his hands on the side of his hips. He'd worn a tight, black henley, paired it with dark grey combat pants. A utility belt was strapped around his belt, the gun in his holster more than visible.

Sarraf's eyes darted to the hands at his waist, noted the way his finger started tapping, slowly, against the side of the holster. Imani had worked with Scott for long enough to know exactly what that careful tapping meant, what sort of mode he'd switched to before entering her bedroom.

"I just wanted to see if you were awake," Scott started, eyes gleaming, " — since I couldn't ask Kent."

"Why couldn't you ask her?" Imani asked, awaiting the response that would let her know whether or not the charming Special Agent she'd worked with for so long was here to do something more malicious than grabbing a coffee.

"She's asleep," Davidson answered, in an easy tone. No dips in his answer, no fluctuations in tone. Not even his face had twitched as he'd spoken, that easygoing smile remaining in place.

The work of an expert liar.

"Interesting," Sarraf started, mouth thinning as her muscles tensed again, " — I wasn't aware Kent was such an avid sleepwalker that she'd get up and leave the apartment."

That calculated tapping of Scott's stopped. Sarraf waited one, two seconds, felt her heart beat even harder against her ribcage.

"What are you talking about, Imani?" Davidson continued, but the two of them knew, by now, that she'd picked up on the bullshit he was spewing.

"Let's cut to the chase, Scott."

Imani's tone brooked no argument, contained nothing but the cold, hard words she'd just spoken. Her mind whirred, thought of the weapons she was carrying. She had a knife shoved into a boot, the gun she was holding — little else, and her satchel had been shoved into the closet upon arriving, holding the rest of her weaponry.

Sarraf bit back a scowl, berating her lack of preparation.

"There are only two reasons you would be in my room now, disturbing a kill order you have no business bothering yourself with. The first reason would be you intended to come here and somehow make good on your crush - "

Sarraf's smile twitched, sharp and dangerous.

" - and the other reason would be that you've more to do with this kill order than you should, and wish to assume control of it by killing me. In all honesty, both reasons sound equally terrible in my ears, but if we're going with the second I'll at least get to beat you up before I send you packing."

Scott merely stared at Imani, that easygoing smile dropping, morphing. It shifted into the cold, ruthless mask of a Special Agent, one sent here on a mission which had unexpectedly changed course.

The knowledge that Scott had come here intending to kill her in her sleep was what set Imani off. The lack of integrity, of honor .. the sheer disrespect, the cowardice, of creeping in here to plant a bullet in her head.

"Two ways to go about this, Scott. The hard way, or the harder way. Care to choose?"

Sarraf arched one perfectly shaped brow, the challenge evident in the set of her shoulders, the tension ready to spring in her muscles.

"I've always wanted to go a hard round with you, Sarraf." Scott replied, hand creeping ever so slowly toward his holster.

Sarraf scoffed, "You wouldn't last a second, Scott. Or maybe you would — I know you tend to ... underperform."