“I get it! Geez, Davidson. It’s not that hard. Nobody touches me. Except you,” I replied, with another eye roll that was becoming my signature look for him. He was making a huge deal about it, like it was something that would definitely happen. There was no need to be so protective of me; I’m a goddamn agent too, for Christ’s sake.

“I feel like you’re not taking me seriously.” He looked at me sternly, with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh my God. I’m taking you seriously. Why is this such a thing?”

“Because it doesn’t help our case at all to let them get handsy with you, and they’re fucking scumbags. So, let’s be real clear. I’m territorial, you’re mine, and you’re off limits. Got it?”

“Yes sir, I got it.” I appreciated that he referred to it as our case, and I let the whole dad lecture go as his reward, even though he didn’t know it.

“Alright, we gotta go soon, so go get changed and we’ll head out.” He pointed to his room. “You can get ready in there. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah, slutty clothes and a smile. That about covers it, right?” I teased him.

“Oh you’re hilarious now, a real comedienne.” He smirked at me. “Go!” he demanded playfully.

I headed off to his room with my bag of trashy clothes, and rummaged through it to figure out what would be best for a night on the town, with a bunch of douchebag drug runners. I decided on a pair of black leather pants, and the backless shirt I had tried on for him at the store. He seemed to like it; maybe that’s why I leaned toward it.

He was fun to be around. We’d spent much of the afternoon just chatting, getting more comfortable with each other. I usually worked alone, but our banter was enjoyable, and the more I learned about him, the more I genuinely liked him. I’d begun to appreciate all he’d been through the last six months, just trying to get in with these guys, and how hard all that time alone, pretending to be someone you’re not, must have been. As I examined myself in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me. I looked ridiculous.

After fussing for another few minutes, I decided to just head back out to the living room where he was waiting. I certainly didn’t want to make us late, or cause any other hiccups in the case. I was uncomfortable, and felt completely exposed in the skin tight clothing. As I approached, he lifted his head from his phone and stared, looking me up and down.

“What? Is something wrong?” I asked, looking down at myself. I felt like a dimestore hooker, but it’s what we picked out, so I wasn’t sure what the problem was.

“Um, no. No, nothing’s wrong. You look…” He trailed off.

“Like a cheap whore?” I suggested.

Snapping out of his daze, he let out a chuckle. “No, that’s not what I was going to say. You look sexy.”

A small sense of relief washed over me, and I relaxed my shoulders. I felt absurd, but he approved, and that was good enough for me. Only one problem. “I don’t have anywhere to hide my gun,” I informed him.

“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. “Well, how about you put it in your purse or something?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Ok, well then, here’s what we’ll do. Even though I don’t think you’ll need it, we’re strictly going to be a part of the gang, I’ll hold it for you.”

“How are you gonna do that?” I asked, a skepticism apparent in my voice.

“I’ll put my ankle holster on and keep your gun there. They know I’ll be packing - all of the guys will be - so carrying two is no different than carrying one. If you need it, you’ll know where to find it, ok?” he suggested.

Hesitating at first, simply because I didn’t like the idea of going into this situation without my gun, I agreed. It was a reasonable compromise. “Alright, I guess that will have to do.”

“Ok, I’m just going to change my shirt and we’ll head out.” He got up, never taking his eyes off me. As he walked past me, toward the bedroom from where I’d just come, I watched him as he took his t-shirt off over his head. His body was incredible. I’d seen the material stretch from his muscular arms, but seeing him completely shirtless left me slightly weak in the knees for a moment. He was downright hot, there were no two ways about it, and I only had a view from the back. When he disappeared from sight, presumably to get a shirt from his closet, I fanned myself.

He suddenly reappeared before me, buttoning up a shirt he’d picked out, and all I could do was stare at his chest and torso. I hoped I wasn’t noticeably drooling, because I could feel the saliva pool in my mouth as my eyes devoured every inch I could catch a glimpse of. His abs looked like they were rock hard, and it took all of my will not to walk into that bedroom and run my hands over them. I must have looked like I was in a daze, because he suddenly stopped buttoning his shirt, a questioning look on his face.

“You ok?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, I’m great.” I snapped myself away from the fantasy that had started forming.

“Don’t be nervous. It’s pretty unlikely that anything interesting will happen tonight.” He was reassuring me. I was almost disappointed at his response, but we weren’t thinking about the same thing.

“Oh, I’m fine. I was just thinking is all,” I smiled. “You just about ready?” I changed the subject back to his attire, or lack thereof.

As I watched him finish covering up his delicious body, one button at a time, he replied, “Yep. Just need your gun, and we’re good to go.” He smiled, as if we were going on some kind of a real date.

“Yes, yes you do.” I walked over to the table where I had set it down, checked it over, and handed it to him. “Don’t let anything happen to it. I’m not comfortable at all, not having it on me to begin with, but if it gets lost or, God forbid, stolen, I’m in deep shit.”

“Your firearm is safe with me. And so are you.” He gave me a reassuring glance, sensing my discomfort. “It’ll be fine. We’re going to go hang out with some lowlifes for a little bit, and then come home. Easy.”

I wondered what coming home meant exactly. Was I supposed to stay there with him in his fake apartment? I decided that I’d cross that bridge at the end of the night. I’d prefer to go back to my own house, not that I needed to be there. I didn’t have any pets, or a roommate, or anything like that. We hadn’t discussed that aspect of our personal lives. Surely he had a girlfriend who was waiting for him. He wasn’t married; I did know that from his file. As I pondered these questions quietly to myself, he led me out the door, back down to the street. He hailed us a taxi and gave the address of the bar we were headed to, before settling in close to me in the backseat. The pounding of my heart against my chest was practically audible as I wondered what in the world I’d gotten myself into.