Full Disclosure (Nice Guys 2)

“I’ve already been informed I won’t have that honor. I tried to go to the hospital with him, but he wouldn’t let me,” Mitch shrugged.

“What happened?” Brown’s demeanor changed instantly, and he was already reaching for his cell.

“His son broke a bone. Needed an operation, he’ll be fine. That’s all I know.”

“I hope he’s okay.” Anne sounded concerned.

“I’ll go now. Knox, it was nice meeting you.” Brown was up and out of his office, shaking his hand as he passed by.

“They’ve been partners for almost three weeks. Agent Connors is one of the top in the field, but he’s a little intense. Agent Brown’s the only one that works reasonably well with him,” she said, flipping off the office light and closing the door. “The doors lock behind you. That code you were given earlier will allow you access. Just punch it in the keypad at the door. Now let me take you down to the cafeteria and the workout room. Then we’ll get your weapons.”

Mitch followed along beside her, trying to memorize his way around. They stopped at the second floor. He followed her as she hit the highlights of every office and room along the way. The cafeteria looked more like a dining area at a mall. It had everything you could possibly want. A little farther down was a workout room.

“The bureau requires every agent to log in forty-five minutes of daily activity. They swipe their badges here. Director Young’s a stickler about it. Since we’re open twenty-four seven, each agent must abide by the rule unless they’re in the field,” Anne advised him as she pushed open the door. “So the entire facility’s usually packed with men and women training.”

“During office hours?” He couldn’t believe it.

“Absolutely,” she nodded.

“Damn. We have the same physical fitness criteria, but we aren’t getting paid to work out, that’s for damn sure.” Okay, he had to admit to just a little twinge of jealousy over the FBI’s sweet setup, but all this still wouldn’t make up for having to wear the damn suits.

“I understand this office runs differently than most federal agencies. You’ll see Director Young runs a tight ship. I’ll be available as your assistant,” she said, efficiently navigating them back around, now a different way. They took stairs down to security.

“We’re here to pick up Deputy Marshal Knox’s weapons and badge.” She smiled sweetly.

“Right.” Cocky Smith, the one he’d stood up against while being detained, sat behind the desk. That smirk was still there on that smug face, and damn if the guy didn’t purposefully move slowly just to irritate him. Mitch lifted his brow and smirked right back. The agent was probably still pissed about earlier. They held eye contact, and Mitch wasn’t about to back down.

“Okay, boys, the cock measuring contest is officially over. Play nice,” she scolded, and that caused them both to look up at her at the same time. The smirks on their faces now aimed at her, and she gave one back and didn’t even bat a pretty eyelash in the process.

“Deputy Marshal Knox, I want you to meet my husband, Agent Roger Covington. And from this point forward, he’s here for anything you need,” she said, smiling as she nodded at her husband. Mitch laughed when the guy looked over at his pretty wife and gave in, then lifted a brow in his direction. He decided he might end up liking this guy after all.

“Policy, you know…” Agent Covington said, handing Mitch his pistol, which he took and immediately secured the safety. He slid the gun into his waistband holster in the back of his jeans. The next one he did the same thing and placed the firearm in the holster attached to his belt on the side of his jeans.

“Right,” Mitch started, preparing to do a bit of trash talking about the pat down he got, but Anne spoke up before he had the chance.

“Roger’s always wanted a tattoo,” Anne said, watching as the final items were handed to Mitch—his wallet, computer bag, and badge. He checked his wallet and badge before shoving them both in his back pocket.

“Oh, that’s right. You guys can’t have ink. Too bad.” He shrugged.

“You stick out like a sore thumb,” Roger grumbled, but was clearly inspecting the sleeve Mitch was about seventy percent finished with.

“Better than being a Mr. Smith,” Mitch shot back.

“Yeah, listen, The Matrix and nineteen ninety-nine called and they want their joke back,” Roger laughed. It was lame, but Mitch laughed too.

“So do I have a place to stay tonight?” Mitch asked Anne.

“Yes, that information’s back on the fourth floor, and I’m afraid you’ll have to put this back on.” She pointed to the suit jacket he’d placed across the desk while holstering his weapons. All he could do was look up and roll his eyes. Was he absolutely certain solving this case was worth all this?

Chapter 21

Mitch got word that Director Young had been successful in changing out the Secret Service for the Greyson family. Connors called—he wouldn’t be back until the morning. To kill time, Mitch somewhat set up his new office and managed to hit the bureau’s gym. While in there, he’d actually worked out harder than he had in years. He ran ten miles on the treadmill, lifted weights heavier than he’d ever lifted before, and he’d done the workout wearing shorts and a too tight wife-beater he found in Connors’s locker after he’d picked the lock.

Mitch made sure he gave his standard nod greeting to anyone who came close to him. Then set to outdo them on every level. His body would hurt tonight, no question there, but he hoped he’d gained a few points in this over-the-top, self-righteous group of men.

A sweat-soaked Mitch decided to shower in the locker room of the bureau before heading to his temporary home. After his shower, he went in search of his driver, who took him to a rental car place where Mitch rented a small SUV. From there he went in search of food and clothing. As he hunted for something to wear, he decided on Spencer’s and carefully chose the most annoying T-shirts he could find, but decided to grab a leather bomber jacket to help hide himself when needed. Besides, it was October in Washington, DC. The nights were cold even if the days were still relatively warm.