Get Lucky
“You’re the fucking FBI?”
My voice feels like it’s coming from somewhere outside my body, mumbling through the numbness.
And then, we hear it—the sound of the cavalry coming in like a fucking thunderstorm. Sirens fill the air, and outside, we hear the chaos of Terry’s guys freaking out. Gunfire erupts, and whatever the bombshell she’s just dropped on us, it doesn’t stop Eamon and I from pulling Phoebe to the ground and covering her, until suddenly, the shots stop.
There’s yelling outside, boots running for the door and the words “FBI, open up!” before the doors come crashing in.
And Eamon and I are just fucking numb.
I’m vaguely aware of the guns, and the men in full tactical gear. I’m aware of watching Phoebe—our Phoebe—marching over the captain of the swat team and a woman who looks like a Fed and identifying herself.
At first, Eamon, Collin, and I are shoved to the ground, but Phoebe’s quickly shaking her head and running over. I hear the words “non-interests” and Phoebe basically saying we’re just three guys who happened to be in the back room and who helped her when the fighting started.
I almost want to laugh when the Federal agents holding two of the leaders of the entire Irish mob shrug and let us go, clearly not knowing who we are. But, I don’t.
I can’t laugh.
I can’t even fucking think. I’m just numb. That is, until I see them cuffing Terry.
Fuck that.
“No,” I growl, moving for Phoebe and grabbing her arm. She whirls, looking up into my eyes, and then Eamon’s as he moves next to her as well. And for a second, that hard “agent” look disappears, and all we see is the fierce, fiery girl from before who stole our hearts.
“Baby girl,” Eamon growls lowly. Phoebe blushes at his words.
“I—I wanted to tell you, I just…”
“Didn’t,” I say quietly. “You just didn’t.” My jaw clenches. “Are we…”
She shakes her head. “No, you’re no one to anyone here. I told them you’re tourists who were in the bar when the shots came, and you came to help. They think I took down those first three men and armed you as backup. Though, I don’t know how long you have until someone who’s paying attention realizes who you are.”
Eamon nods at Terry. “And him?”
“Him? He’s…” she shakes her head. “He’s the reason I’ve been undercover. I didn’t think it would happen this fast with him hiding in that hotel, but here we are. Now we’re going to take him in.”
I shake my head.
“You can’t.”
Phoebe bites her lip. “Clay—”
“You can’t take him in.”
She shakes her head. “What do you think I should do instead? Hand him over to you?”
“That works,” Eamon growls.
Phoebe barks out a cold laugh. “Jesus, you want to execute him right here on the street?”
“Absolutely.”
She stares at us, something close to disgust crossing her face.
“Who are you?” She whispers.
“Angel, you don’t know what he is.”
“He’s a criminal,” she mutters. “And he’s due a process. That’s kind of what we do around here,” she mutters sarcastically. “As opposed to gangland executions in an alley.”
“You don’t know what he is,” Eamon growls fiercely. “Angel, do you think we’re here to kill him lightly? For what, some kind of disagreement? Who do you think we are, monsters?”
She swallows.
“Phoebe, he’s done terrible thin—”
“Agent Carter!”
An important and official looking guy jogs over, ignoring Eamon and I.
“Agent, we’re ready to take off with Morrow, if you want to ride along.”
She nods quietly, saying nothing as the man jogs off before turning to us. Her lip catches in her teeth, and her eyes look at the both of us with such sadness that it breaks my heart.
“I—I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
“You can’t take—”
“I can,” she hisses, tears brimming her eyes. “Because I have to. Because taking him in is my job.”
She moves towards us, but when Eamon and I stiffen, her face crumples as she shakes her head.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry. Eamon, Clay…” she looks at us pleadingly.
“You don’t know what he’s done,” I growl.
“Yes, we do. That’s why we’re taking him—”
“No, you don’t,” Eamon grunts. “Not this part.”
He digs into his pocket and pulls out a small little thumb drive. And I know just what it is. It’s the collected information we have on Terry’s little side project, with the girls he has no business using in that way, at all. It’s got Kelsey Hanity on tape talking about what he tried to do to her, and pictures of the bruises he left on her. It’s got interviews from some of the girls our people pulled out of his little sex ring before Eamon and I came over.
It’s got it all, and I watch as my friend passes it to Phoebe.
“Don’t believe us? I mean, I know we’re just two criminals and your job is to not believe guys like us, and take us down—”