"What," I started, "are you doing? You know no one is to have a simple little chat with the-"
Carol's face paled.
"It's him?" she asked cautiously.
"Yeah," I said angrily.
Brent looked skeptical.
"Why," he asked dryly, "are you all freaking out? And what's the big deal, anyway?"
Chapter 9
I glared at him.
"Shut your mouth and eat your broccoli," I growled.
I saw Brent glance at his plate, then smirk, as if there was something funny here that I was missing.
"Ok," I said impatiently. "Now what? Want to explain what is so funny?"
"No."
"I didn't really mean that as a question."
"Sure sounded like it."
"Come on."
"No."
"Cough it up! I want to know."
"It's just that broccoli seems like the least of my problems right now."
"That's not funny."
"Is to me."
"You have a weird sense of humor."
"Thank you."
"I really don't like it."
"Angela…"
I looked over to see what she could possibly want now.
"I don't believe that you are supposed to be arguing with him," she scolded.
"What am I supposed to do? He provoked me!"
"I'm sure you can find more helpful topics to talk abou-whoa!"
She was clutching her stomach.
"Carol?" I screeched.
Oh god no. Please, not now, not now. My thoughts were interrupted by Brent's gasp.
"Her water just broke!" he yelled.
I was almost about to faint. We really had to leave. Fast. I had a mission, and a person to save. And carol chose this moment to go into labor???
"I can't believe this," I said, clutching my head. "It can't get any worse than this, can it?"
My prediction was proved wrong when all of a sudden, I saw Chief come in.
"Scratch that," I muttered.
He looked the same as always, in a clean, dark Armani suit, perfect gleaming hair, and shiny black leather shoes that never made a single noise. His clean-shaven face showed off his pale skin, and his slightly graying hair seemed practically black in comparison. His perfect eyebrows rose up, showing about as much emotion as ever. Nothing else moved, and his dark, almost black eyes never changed in expression or widened in surprise. His wide mouth moved down at the corners about one millimeter, and I realized I was doomed.
"Sixty-six," he said calmly in his deep, echoing voice. "I'm not quite sure if this was part of the plan. Are we having a family get together that I didn't know about? And what exactly is your charge doing here?"
Ah, yes. There it was. The racing of the heart, the pumping of the blood. I wasn't even afraid of death as much as Chief. His mouth went down another millimeter. I'd only seen that once, when he was informed that his best agent had suffered a heart attack and had resigned. He had only been twenty three, for god's sake.
"Um," I began lamely. What was I supposed to say? The only thing in my mind right now was this flashing billboard reading 'Holy crap, Carol's in labor.' Nothing else really came floating around.
Chief glared at me, and his mouth moved down yet another millimeter. Now, this was truly unheard of.
"Just get your charge out the door and into safety," he said. "And afterwards, you are definitely getting suspended. After a stunt like this, there has to be a punishment that you will remember for a very, very long time." I had a feeling that suspension wasn't the only thing coming my way. Extra training hours, useless jobs and, oh God, recruitments. This was definitely going to end badly.