Bonus Chapter: Room 502

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Takes place after Chapter 29. Enjoy!

The second the door closed after Percy and Oliver left, I was hit with an overwhelming sensation of dread. For a while I could pretend it wasn't going to happen, but now, I know there was no stopping it. I am an expert in hand-to-hand combat. I was the first of my class all throughout my life. I was the lead supervisor who has taken down over twenty illegal organized crimes. I could handle any tough situation.

Except for this one.

"Sooo," I heard Jason's voice from behind me. "It's been a while since I've been to a sleepover. Do we stay up and gossip about boys now or after we climb into bed?"

I prayed to about three different gods and goddesses before I could turn around to look at the man. He wasn't exactly clean cut, but he wasn't unattractive either. His tall frame stretched above my own and his build clarified the fact that he was a former UFC fighter, just as my research had shown. I've never liked men with long hair, but he appeared to be the type that the look suited well with. Of course, none of this mattered. But I've always had a habit of taking in people's appearances. For obvious reasons.

"You can gossip all you want while sleeping on the floor. I, however, will be sleeping in my bed," I told him as I took off my shoes.

"Technically it's the hotel's bed, but whatever floats your boat," he grinned before turning to the room's closet to pull out extra blankets and pillows for himself. At least he was compliant, although in his own way.

I watched as he unfolded the blanket onto the floor for a brief moment until I realized how odd that must seem. So instead I went to grab my bag and walked towards the bathroom.

"I'm going to change," I informed. "So don't come into the bathroom."

"I will try to resist the temptation," he smirked as he threw a pillow down on the blanket.

I brushed off his comment before slipping into the bathroom, locking the door behind me out of habit. He didn't seem all that bad, but I knew too well how people can deceive you. Once inside I peeled off my business clothes that have always felt constricting to me and replaced them with cotton pajama bottoms and t-shirt. Simple and sufficient. After brushing my teeth. I gathered my clothes and was about to head out when I caught my reflection in the mirror. Have I always had dark circles under my eyes? I mean I have before, but they were never this noticeable. Like I was some sort of raccoon. I don't wear any makeup so I couldn't hide them, not that it mattered. I was going to bed anyway. Wait, and why does my hair look like a mess? No, no, no, this won't do.

I dropped the clothes from my arm to brush out my hair in order to fix it, but that didn't work. I opted for the last resort and pulled my hair up into a bun telling myself it was okay to sleep like this. I've seen American women do this all the time. Why can't I? And why am I so concerned about how my hair looks before I go to bed? Before I could think about it, I grabbed my things and hurried out to the room as if escaping my thoughts.

But the second I was back in the room a new set of thoughts formed when I saw Jason sitting in a chair, looking through his phone with his shirt and pants off. Meaning his torso was on complete display along with his boxers with candy canes on them. Normally I could find humor in the fact that a grown man was wearing such childish clothing, but my mind was too preoccupied with other things to think. Not to mention the healing bruises on his body alarmed me. I knew that he was a former fighter, so why are they there now?

I don't know how long I was standing there, but when his dark eye flicked up from his phone to look at me I immediately turned my face away and marched over to my bed. Regardless of my interest, I was going to keep this professional. My sisters may hit me over the head for not taking advantage of the fact that I have an attractive nearly-naked man in the same room as me, but I couldn't afford relationships that go beyond business.

"The bathroom is all yours," I said in an even, controlled tone.

"Oh," he locked his phone. "Thanks, but I already changed."

I see that.

After I placed my bag back I took in a deep, soothing breath before climbing onto my bed. Once I finished my prayer, slipping one in for myself, I pulled out my phone to go through my emails. Even when working there were other things to be done. For a moment I enjoyed the silence and forgot that I wasn't alone, but all that ended when I heard Jason say, "They were from Sparrow, by the way."

I paused responding to an email to look at him in confusion. To fill in the blanks he added, "The bruises. They are from Sparrow."

"Oh," was all I could say, feeling a bit guilty. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For what he did to you. And . . . for looking."

He shrugged. "It's okay. They are hard not to notice."

That I could agree with. "I'm still sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he waved me off. After a moment of awkward silence I went back to finish up my email. The second it sent I heard him say, "You look very nice."

Now I really looked at him in confusion. However he remained smiling at me as if there was nothing odd about the statement. This man, I narrowed my eyes at him before setting my phone aside.

"Jason, as nice as that was, I told you earlier there will be no funny business. We are sharing the room for the night, and that's all. You sleep there," I pointed to the floor where his blanket was spread out, "as I sleep here," I gestured to the bed. "For the next twelve hours or so, you do your normal thing and I'll do mine. Okay?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Okay. But how normal are we talking? Because I usually sleep nude and I'm not sure if—"

"No! No, no, no," I waved my hands around. "Not that normal. Please keep your clothes on."

He frowned. "That's not what women usually ask from me."

Kutte ki aulad, I mentally cursed.

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you."

"Fine, fine. I can respect that. Although if you ever change your mind, I wouldn't—"

The rest of his sentence was cut short when I chucked a pillow at his face so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. Any serious feelings I felt earlier was now gone.

"I am not changing my mind! And enough talking, we have to be up early tomorrow," I pulled back the covers to slip into bed. "I have a lot of people to talk to and things to plan and organizations to take down."

"So we're not going to gossip about boys?" he sent me a smirk after pulling the pillow from his face. I debated on throwing another, but then I would have nothing to sleep on.

"Shubh raatri, Jason," I said before turning off the lamp and pulling the covers up.

It was silent for maybe two seconds before he asked, "Did you just cuss me out?"

"I said good night."

"Oh," I heard him shuffle to the floor. "Well shoob rat-tree to you, too."

Don't chuckle, don't chuckle, don't chuckle. If he knows that you think he's funny that will be the end of your night right there.

I took in another deep sigh before settling in further to the bed. I knew getting comfortable was going to be pointless, and closing my eyes was laughable, but I tried just as I have every night. I even did the old counting sheep method, but then the sheep stopped jumping over the fence and instead turned into a completely different being that had gentle eyes but a hard scowl. I tried to push the image of him away, but I knew that was a losing battle. It's always been a losing battle no matter how hard I try, just like with sleep. I had methods to cast the images that burned my mind away, but if I moved I could wake Jason. If he was even asleep. And I didn't want him to really know . . . yet it shouldn't matter.

"Fuck it," I tore the covers off my body before walking over to my bag to pull out what I needed. It seems to be a traveling companion lately that I wasn't fond of, but knew was necessary.

"Armita?" Jason called out.

"Just go back to sleep," I cracked open Jim Beam Black.

"I don't sleep." I paused unscrewing the cap before turning to look at Jason who was now sitting up, watching me with a knowing look. He eyed the bottle in my hand and said, "I take it you don't either."

"Not willingly," I murmured as I walked back to my bed. His eye followed me the whole time and I could feel the shift in the room almost immediately. It made me feel itchy and I didn't want to think about it, so instead I took a large swig, feeling it burn all the way down my throat. This was what I needed.

"Trying to forget something?" he asked.

"It's a possibility," I said wiping the corner of my mouth.

He nodded. "I understand that."

Of course he does. He may be an annoying man but I can't forget why he is here. He is a victim of the Flock and has been for several years. And it clearly shows.  I've read reports of what the organization has done to people, so I have no doubt he has seen things as well. With that in mind I offered him a drink to which he gladly accepted.

"How do you say thank you in your language?" he asked before taking another drink.

"There are a lot of ways, but the common one is dhanyavaad."

He tested out the word a few times. "It sounds nice."

"It does," I agreed.

The room fell into a comfortable silence as we passed the bottle back and forth before he decided to pull out his flask and just fill that up instead. Curious, I asked, "Is this your nightly routine as well?"

He scoffed. "Night, morning, afternoon routine, actually. I've been waning off lately, but . . ." he had a faraway look in his eyes, "nights are the hardest."

"For me as well," I agreed.

"Is this your only method?" he asked gesturing to the bottle.

I shook my head. "It is only part of it. Sometimes I will stay up reading or playing games on my phone."

"What sort of games?"

"Card games, mainly poker."

His eyebrow shot up. "You're into poker?"

"Does that surprise you?"

He looked like he thought about it for a moment. "I guess not. I used to play poker a lot myself."

"Do you play now?"

"I haven't for a while," he scratched he back of his head. "I just haven't had the time. I always have to babysit his ass," he gestured to the door behind him and I could only assume he meant Gage, "so hanging out and playing with others hasn't been an option."

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. "You are with him that much?"

"I am with him a lot more than I care to admit. And even when I'm not, I'm busy with looking for stuff for him. Or training, or whatever," he took a sip from his flask. "It's not an easy job."

"It won't be your job after tomorrow."

He paused, clearly caught off guard by my words, before setting his flask aside. I worried that I said something wrong when he finally said, "You really think so?"

"Absolutely," I spoke with confidence. "I have taken down much bigger organizations than this one. It's nothing I can't handle."

He looked back up to smile at me. Even in the darkness I could see the light of hope in his expression. "Okay."

He believed in me. I don't know why after all these years it is still satisfying to know that people believe in me. In the beginning I really had to prove myself, especially as a female agent, that I could do my job twice as good as any male. At first when I told the others I could take down an organization, they laughed. Now they come to me for advice. I have proven myself time and time again, but it was always nice to hear someone take me seriously.

Jason and I chatted a bit longer, sharing a few interests like our favorite brand of bourbon, when my ears perked up at the sound of someone crying out. At first I thought someone was in danger so I turned to grab my gun when the person started moaning loudly. I paused when I recognized the female voice crying out, "Gage! Oh God, yes!"

My lips went into a straight line before looking at Jason who looked equally uncomfortable. What surprised me the most was that such sounds could be coming from a small woman. And they were across the hall.

"Damn," Jason lifted his eyebrow. "Cupcake girl is getting it."

"Jason!" I hissed.

"What? It's not a lie." I was about to protest his behavior when another loud moan broke through to our room.  Jason shook his head. "I feel so bad for their neighbors. Although . . . they are neighbors."

"Let's change the subject," I quickly stepped in before we really started gossiping. "I have a deck of cards in my bag if you want to play."

He perked up at that. "You brought cards? I thought agents aren't allowed to have fun on business."

"I always bring them just in case," I said as I sat my bottle down to crawl over the bed towards my bag. "They were originally Oliver's but he lost a bet and now they are mine so we usually—"

"Armita?"

"Yes?" I said while bending over to grab the cards from my bag.

"Could you do a man a favor and not prowl sexily around with your wonderful ass in the air? I'm trying not to get my dick blown off. Ha, that sounded weird."

I paused, realizing the position I was in along with where he was sitting, and quickly sat down. My face was so hot I couldn't turn to look at him when I said, "Sorry. Although this is really not my fault. You can control yourself, you know."

"I can, and I won't try anything, but I thought I would ask before you turn around and notice that one of my candy canes on my boxers became three dimensional."

I nearly dropped the cards in my hand.

It's not like I haven't been intimate with others before, but this was completely different. We were on a business trip. I couldn't let anything mess that up. But I couldn't deny that for some reasons his words sent a shiver through my body, and not in a bad way. Seriously, what was wrong with me?

Pushing his comment aside for the fifth time tonight, I cleared my throat and turned back around keeping my eyes on anything but his boxers. Even when I sat down in front of him I kept my eyes trained on the cards as I shuffled them about ten different ways. Before dealing, I grabbed my bottle to sit next to me and began.

"We don't have chips to bargain with so we will just stick with basic rummy instead," I said organizing my cards. "Are you familiar with the game?"

"It's been a while," he said arranging his own cards before taking a sip from his flask. "You are trying to get to get a matching set, right?"

I nodded. "Consisting of groups of three or four of a kind."

"Or sequences of three or more cards of the same suit?"

"Yes."

"Alright, sounds good. However," he looked up at me, "I want to make this a little interesting."

I didn't like the sound of that. "Okay?"

"If I win, I get something in return and vice versa."

Now I really wasn't like thing. I cleared my throat before saying, "Such as?"

"Hmm. Well, if I win," he suddenly leaned forward until he was directly in front of my face. From this proximity I could smell the liquor on his breath when he said, "I get to kiss you."

I was so struck by his words I couldn't find my own for a moment. And he totally knew it. I quickly tried to gather my sanity back and pushed against his shoulder, "Out of the question."

"Oh come on! It's just one kiss."

"No."

"It will be a quick kiss, I promise. I'll make it worth your time," he winked.

"Why are you so adamant on this?"

"Well, for one thing you're like really hot," my cheeks instantly caught on fire. "And for another I am curious. This would make the game so much more fun if you had something interesting to bet on. And I find your lips very interesting."

I tried not to show any sign of being flustered when I said, "I told you earlier that if you—"

"Try anything you would shoot my dick off, I got it. However," he smirked, "this is different. This is a bet. And I know you don't deny bets," he waved his cards around in his hand as if to prove his point.

Damn him. Damn him and his eyepatch. Of course my mind is telling me how completely wrong this was, but everything else was telling me to go for it. It's just one kiss, it won't hurt. And that was only if I lost. He doesn't know how well trained I am on rummy. Possibly better than poker.

So with that in mind I said, "Okay. Deal. But on one condition," I quickly added before he got too excited. "If I win, you pay for my food tomorrow."

"I don't have my wallet."

"Oh, right. Then, uh . . . you have to carry my bags around all day tomorrow."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

"Of course not. You also have to . . . clean up the room before we leave."

He looked around the room that wasn't all the bad. "Oh no, anything but that."

"And you have to stay professional around me," I added. "No more talking about my ass or how you want to kiss me or none of that. We are strictly here for business."

"Fine, fine," he held his hands up in surrender. "If that's what you want."

"It is," I nodded although a part of me couldn't help but feel like I was lying. "Is there anything you want to add to your list?"

"Nope," he took a drink from his flask. "Just a kiss."

I eyed him evenly for a moment. "Fine," I turned to my ten cards and said, "then let's begin."

As always the person left of the dealer begins, which in this case was Jason. After he discarded his ace of hearts, the game began. The whole time we played in silence despite the fact that our companions had apparently decided to make their appearance for the fourth time. To drown out their moans Jason used Pandora on his phone to play music. It surprisingly only took us a few seconds to settle on a jazz station that both of us enjoyed. We also enjoyed keeping the bourbon coming, and once that was finished we busted open the mini bar. I had made sure

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