Jason
Banes is a thief, however, he's found himself on the wrong end of a
murder charge. He admits to the accompanying theft, but maintains his
innocence in the multiple murders he's charged with. When compelling
evidence comes out that he's telling the truth, he's released into
FBI custody in order to help them find the person who is ultimately
responsible, the elusive Orchid. Unfortunately, Special Agent in
Charge Taylor Driscole, doesn't seem very happy to meet him.
The
woman was medium height with an athletic build. Her hair was an
average shade of light brown, worn in a sloppy bun as if she couldn't
be bothered to style it. Her eyes were a common shade of blue, her
complexion and looks attractive, but not impressive. She carried
herself like a professional and her silvery gray suit coat bulged
slightly under her left arm. She wore loose fitting, low riding pants
that matched the jacket. Her shirt was stark white. She wore a tie;
narrow, silk, gunmetal gray. Her makeup was minimal, severe. She had
dark sunglasses perched on her head.
Putting
the glasses to her teeth, she bit on the end a moment before
speaking. "So, this is him, huh?" She looked at Jason like
she was inspecting disappointing livestock.
"Jason
Banes," he said, stepping forward with his hand extended through
the bars.
The
men flanked the woman putting themselves in front of her like a wall.
"Cool
it, guys. He can't hurt me from in there." She stepped forward,
extending her hand.
Her
nails were short, unpolished, well manicured. Her grip was strong,
her fingers and palms calloused. Jason got the impression that she
could kick his ass too. He took her hand, meeting the intensity of
her grasp with equal pounds per square inch. His disarming smile
flashed, making no impression whatever on the young woman.
"And
you are?"
"Special
Agent in Charge, Taylor Driscole."
"You're
Agent Driscole?" He grinned, still holding her hand. The other
hand went immediately to his head. Long fingers brushed his curly
hair out of his face. "I was expecting a chap. Nice to meet
you."
"This
isn't a social visit, Mr. Banes."
"Jason,"
he corrected automatically.
"Mr.
Banes," she said firmly. "You're to be released in my
custody. The men and I will escort you to a secure location. They're
setting up surveillance and checking security now."
"All
right. How soon do we leave?"
"I've
got a few more papers to sign, then you're officially my headache."
"I
won't be one, I promise. I'm house broken and I do know how to treat
a lady."
He
wasn't really trying to flirt, but Special Agent Driscole seemed to
think he was overly familiar. She snatched back her hand, glaring at
him.
"Get
him ready," she told the men with her. "Move into
position," she said to the cuff of her jacket.
"Yes,
ma'am," her entourage replied in chorus.
Driscole
strode to the door, slapping it with her palm, knocking it aside
angrily.
"What's
biting her?" Jason asked the men quietly.
The
meat shield shrugged, exchanging a knowing look. Jason wasn't sure,
but he had the uneasy feeling they might be laughing at Driscole, him
or both.
He
was cuffed, with his wrists in front of him, and escorted to the
elevator. Driscole was nowhere to be seen, but she and more security
men were waiting in the parking garage. Jason was led off the
elevator, surrounded by a walking wall of muscle. He'd never seen so
many big, well armed men in his life. Each man had a weapon in his
hand. They all looked around carefully, checking for unknown menace.
Jason didn't know whether to feel very safe or very, very afraid.
Two
black SUV's were waiting a few feet away. He was taken to a vehicle
and put inside. He was flanked by two members of the meat shield.
Agent Driscole climbed up front and the rest of the team got in the
second vehicle. She contacted the other driver and they took off.
"Why
is it you lot like black?" he asked the agents.
"What?"
the man on his left asked.
"Black,"
Jason replied airily. "Could we be anymore obvious? Do you chaps
buy every black SUV in America?"
The
man on the left looked puzzled, the man on the right and the driver
chuckled. Driscole stared straight ahead. Jason shrugged. He wiggled
around trying to get comfortable, but his companions took up most of
the seat. He was more of a wiry build himself, but he had very broad
shoulders. Feeling slightly claustrophobic, he wiggled some more.
Mr.
Left gave him an evil eye. Mr. Right eased slightly toward the door,
angling his shoulders so the each had a little more room.
"Thanks,"
Jason murmured, smiling a little.
The
man said nothing, but nodded and a smile flickered for a second and
was gone.
"May
I ask where we're going?" Jason directed at the group.
No
one said anything. Driscole shifted in her seat, ignoring him.
"Oi,"
Jason said rather more loudly. "I know I'm a criminal, but I
think I've got a right to know if I'm going to be safe. Might I point
out, that you need me—rather a lot?"
Driscole
glared at him over her shoulder. Firming her lips, she inhaled
slowly. "Look, Mr. Banes. I'm not here to be your friend. I'm
here to protect you. The less you know about our destination the
better."
"What?
Am I going to yell out the windows and give it away? Who am I gonna
tell, Special Agent in Charge Taylor Driscole? Eh? And while we're
having this lively repartee, perhaps you could ask one of the kind
gentlemen to undo the handcuffs? I assure you, I'm not inclined to go
anywhere. Besides, they'd break me in two before I even got to a door
or disabled the driver—not that I know how to do that in any case.
I'm a thief, not an assassin."
©
2016 Dellani Oakes
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