Chapter Seventeen
“Fine. You do that, then. You look that up and call me back.”
Donovan pressed the End button on his cell phone as hard as he could and growled low in his throat. It just didn’t have the same tactile satisfaction as slamming down a landline like the one in his office, so he made do with punching the kitchen table lightly with his fist.
“How many calls is that now?” Troy’s voice reached Donovan from where he stood in the kitchen making coffee, breaking him out of his frustrated haze.
“Hell if I know. I’ve stopped keeping track. Everybody has some story. It’s not their job, or it’s not their problem. ‘Here’s another number to call,’ or ‘let me look into that and get back to you.’ Hey, bro. What do you think the chances are that they’ll get back to me?”
Troy turned to look at Donovan’s expression. “I’m guessing from your face that you think the chances are low.”
“I think the chances are either slim or none, and slim’s out to lunch.”
“So, what’ve you learned? Do you have any idea how this happened?”
“As near as I’ve been able to piece together, Ella and I got married using our real IDs instead of the fake ones we thought we’d used.”
“Well, yeah. That seems like a fair guess. But why is it just coming to light now?”
“That’s the part no one wants to cop to. We might never know for sure, the way these bureaucrats keep playing the CYA game. The most likely scenario is that the paper was filed on time but misplaced, and now all these years later, it somehow ended up on someone’s desk and was entered as if it were new.”
“Makes sense.”
“I’ve ordered a copy of the original certificate. I would imagine Flowers has, too.”
“Well that should be enough to clear you, then. Right?”
Donovan rubbed his temple. He had one hell of a headache coming on. “Well, damn. I hope so. But at this point, I don’t know what the hell is gonna happen.”
Troy carried two mugs of coffee over to the kitchen table. He sat one in front of Donovan and then took a seat across from him. “This is really important to you. I can see that.”
“Hell, yeah, it’s important to me. It’s my whole career on the line.”
Troy nodded. “Then, I’m sure you’ll manage to work it out. After all, you tackle tougher problems than this during the course of doing your job. If this is what it takes to keep it…”
Donovan laughed, and Troy’s head tilted to the side. “Why was that funny?”
“It’s not, really. I think I’m just a little punchy from making so many frustrating, fruitless phone calls. But it just struck me as weird. Do you know what I was doing when I got the call from Flowers about this whole security clearance debacle? Paperwork. And even as I was starting it, I was mentally bitching about how it’s my least favorite part of the job. And now, hell…it seems like paperwork’s going to be the thing that’s ultimately my downfall.”
Troy snorted. “Your downfall? What are you, a comic book villain? Put it in perspective, man. You might get fired. And that sucks. But it’s not your downfall.”
Donovan took a drink of the strong, hot coffee. “You’re right. I’m not a comic book villain. If I’m anything, I’m a damn comic book hero!”
Troy rolled his eyes and Donovan laughed. “Fine, whatever. But if I’m a villain, I’m at least a super villain.”
Troy shrugged. “I’ll give you super villain. But, getting serious for a minute. I understand that your career is a big deal to you, and you’re back here now to save it. But…do you think that you might be able to set aside some time for Mila while you’re here? She really misses you, man.”
“Are you serious? When we got to the baseball game last night, she couldn’t wait to run off with her friends. She barely even noticed I was there.”
“You clearly don’t know teenagers. That’s how they operate. She wants you around. She doesn’t want to interact with you in front of her friends, but she wants you around. Trust me. Block out some one on one time with her. You’ll see. She misses you.”
Donovan took a deep breath. “Yeah. I miss her, too. And, I miss Valentine Bay. That’s one of the things I don’t like about the job. I wish it gave me more time to come home. There’s a lot that I’m missing, being away.”
Troy nodded thoughtfully and took a long sip of his coffee. “That’s two things,” he said quietly.
“What?’
“Two things,” Troy repeated. “Paperwork and lack of time off. Two things you’ve told me in the space of five minutes that you dislike about your job. Want to guess how many things you’ve told me you like about it?”
“I love my job,” Donovan protested, defensiveness welling up in him like lava.
“Zero.” Troy lifted his eyebrows as he answered his own question, then continued, his voice reasonable and even, “That’s quite a ratio for someone who loves the job, and is fighting tooth and nail to get it back. Just sayin’.”
“Just don’t,” Donovan shot back, and immediately regretted it. He couldn’t deny that he’d had the same thoughts himself. In fact, that was probably why his brother’s words stung the way they did. They hit a little bit too close to home.
He took a breath and tried again, his voice conciliatory this time. “Look. I get what you’re saying. But here’s the thing, nobody loves their job one hundred percent. Right? I mean, show me one person that can’t find any aspect of their job that chaps their ass. That doesn’t exist. But this job, man. It’s all I’ve got. I’ve worked years to get here. I’ve overcome obstacles. I’m part of the smallest fraction imaginable of agents who’ve made it as far as I have. I’m on the most elite law enforcement team in existence, guarding the most powerful person in the world. I’m gonna fight for that. Even if I do hate paperwork.”
Troy nodded, then lifted his mug in a mock salute. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it, then.”
Donovan nodded and turned his attention back to his phone as Troy stood and walked out of the room. Just as he was poised to dial the next number on his list, though, he heard his brother’s voice from the archway separating the kitchen and living room. “Hey, Donovan?”
Donovan lifted his eyes from his phone screen and turned in his chair to face him. Troy continued, “I do get why your career is so important. I swear to God, I do. I understand how hard you’ve worked, and how good you are, and the sacrifices you’ve made. But there was one part of that little speech you just gave that was dead wrong.”
“What’s that?”
“Your job isn’t all you’ve got, brother. Not by a longshot.”