“We’ve secured the perimeter, sir,” Barstow said. He was reporting to Bartowski as Agent Walker had already retired for the night—or so she claimed. The noises from the living room upstairs sounded suspiciously like dinosaurs and also like Walker. He’d learned early on not to comment on the most feared agent to ever come through the farm and her proclivities toward being silly around young children. He respected Walker, and he liked Bartowski, which was why he cleared his throat before holding up the evidence he’d bagged this morning. “The men, ah, found this in the kitchen. I thought you should know.”
Bartowski took one look at the skivvies in the bag and turned the color of a ripe cherry. “Oh. Right. Of course. Good work.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Did you have a safe flight? Things all checked out for Berlin?” Bartowski nipped the evidence away and hid it behind his back.
“Everything is in place and ready to go for tomorrow.”
“Does that mean you’re signing off for the night? Going to explore Amsterdam?”
Barstow had only had plans to clean out his SIG and review arrangements for Berlin for the fifth time before he checked in with Vegas about how things had gone with the family that day. “Yes, sir,” he lied.
“Well, have fun with that. Good night, Scott.” Bartowski took the time, as ever, to learn all of their first names. Barstow wanted to tell him to stop.
Instead, he just wished the boss a good night and headed downstairs, relieved to be off-duty. Truth be told, he liked the Woodcomb-Bartowski family, he really did, no matter how much he wished for a little more order in his life. The kids were pistols. Agent Walker was a fair boss. But he was essentially baby-sitting a family of bright children and their equally-bright parents and as charming as they all were, it led to a life of monotony. And traveling all day hadn’t helped that. He couldn’t help but wish for a little excitement after a day of navigating European airports.
“Well,” a voice from the shadows purred. Barstow turned very slowly, both annoyed something had crept up on him and because he recognized that voice. Sure enough, Carina Miller slid effortlessly from the alleyway by the front door and gave him a positively feral smile. “Hello there, Agent Barstow.”
Scott Barstow learned right then and there that it was very, very possible to regret something you had just wished a second before.
Wow, even Agent Barstow has problems because of condoms.
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