11. REBOUND.

(END OF FLASHBACK: PRESENT DAY)

Angel.

The last two days have been spent seeking refuge at the bottom of a bottle. I had been so devastated when Cyrus had given me a week's suspension—I still was.

Never have I missed a day of work since I became an FBI agent five years ago. And now, an impulsive moment was threatening to destroy everything I've built, everything that mattered to me.

I was totally shitfaced when my phone rang. Clumsily, I swiped it from the centerpiece in my living room.

“Hello,” I said into the speaker. That wasn't the way I would normally answer my phone but my eyes had been too blurry to read the name on the screen.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hoped it wasn't Cyrus or someone from the agency calling. Because right now, with my slurry speech, I sounded like a deadbeat.

“Hey Angel,” a masculine voice filtered through, “It's Max.”

Oh!

My body relaxed against the couch as I took another swig from the bottle of bourbon in my hand.

“Max, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

There was a brief silence at the other end and I removed the phone from my ear to check that the call was still connected. It was.

“Are you alright, Angel? You don't sound too good.” His voice was calm but carried a trace of panic.

“Of course, I'm fine.”

But even as I said that, Cyrus' disappointed face appeared in my mind and that earned me another swig of the bottle.

“I was wondering if we could meet. I just got into the state this morning, and you were the first thought on my mind. I've…” There was a sharp intake of breath, “I’ve missed you.”

That caused my hand to halt in the process of taking another swig. Max missed me. How is that even possible?

“What of your fiancee? Finally decided you weren't worth it?” It was a low blow and if I was in my right mind, I would never had brought it up.

It reeked of a heartbroken and bitter man, which I was not.

Max sighed before replying, “Angel, we don't have to do anything. Let's… let's just meet tonight. At least, for old time’s sake.”

“I'll think about it,” I told him curtly and hung up before he could say anything else.

Dropping both my phone and the bottle of bourbon on the center table, I got up and stumbled to the bathroom—suddenly feeling the urge to throw up.

After I threw up, I flushed and leaned weakly on the sink.

Turning on the tap, I splashed water on my face and rinsed my mouth. It took all my strength to stand upright but I managed.

After cleaning my face with a towel, I caught right of my reflection in the mirror, and I flinched.

The man staring back at me could as well be a stranger. My complexion was pale without any color, my eyes were ruined red, and my hair… My hair looked like a bird's nest—tangled and mangled.

Shaking my head slightly, I continued to the living room that was also in total disarray. In the back of my mind, I could remember returning home after I was suspended and destroying my house.

There were shards of glass everywhere from the tantrum I threw. I made a mental note to call for my housekeeper later.

I bent down to pick one of the throw pillows when I was suddenly hit by a dizzy spell, making me go on my knees.

Crawling, I reached for my phone and check the time. It was just a few minutes past 2, and I vowed then to go easy on the alcohol.

***

After a short nap and a long bath, I finally felt like a living thing. I had barely made it out of the shower when my phone began ringing again.

The caller was Dan and for a second, I didn't want to pick. But instinct and curiosity won.

“Agent Di Cristina speaking.”

“Angel my man. How's home?” Without waiting for a reply, he continued. “As much as I hate to admit it, I kinda miss you, man.”

I kept quiet, not sure how to answer that. Was he being honest? Or was that sarcasm?

“Anyway, I wanted to check on you. And also thank you for your sacrifice. It must have killed you to reject this mission, but you still did it for me. That's what being a partner means, so thank you.”

And then, he hung up.

My jaws clenched as I gritted my teeth. Of course he was calling, just to rub it in.

Taking a deep breath, my heart ached as I grabbed a towel from the stand, wrapping it around my waist as I padded to my room.

My mind wandered to the night I spent with the masked man. It was the beginning of my problems. And as much as I wanted to regret it I couldn't. And that annoyed me.

It annoyed me to acknowledge that part of the reason I was so devastated after being suspended was because of him.

I would have loved to meet him again, without the mask this time. But that wouldn't be possible, seeing as he didn't leave behind any mode of contact.

Honestly, it shouldn't bother me this much. I was a master of flings, moving from one person to another without hesitation.

So why was I hurt by the fact that I might never see him again?

And now, Max is back and wants to meet. He was one of my flings, and if I were to pick a favorite—with the exception of the masked man—it would be Max.

But I could remember a year ago when he texted to inform me that his family wanted him to settle down, and we could no longer meet as he would be moving to Florida with Eva, his fiancee.

At that time, my ego was bruised. Not only was he leaving me, but he was leaving me to be with a woman.

And he didn't even have the courage to tell me in person—he had to tell me through text. I hadn't replied, and I had been angry with myself for getting attached to yet another person that left me.

Anyway, he was back. And without giving it much thought, I called him.

“Angel,” he said with a sigh that sounded a lot like relief.

“So you wanted to meet?” I asked.

“Yeah sure. You can pick the place and time,” he rushed out. Seems like someone is missing me.

Glancing at my screen, I discovered that it was past 7 pm.

“Let's meet at Enchante by 9,” I decided.

“Sure. See you soon.” There was a longing in his voice that briefly unsettled me and I hung up without another word.

Guilt settled in my chest after the call and I was confused. It felt like I was cheating on the masked man.

I don't even know who he is, so why the hell do I feel like I'm doing something wrong?

Moving to my walk-in closet, I selected a blue dress shirt and black pants. Laying them on the bed, I went to fix some food for myself.

I had nothing in my system apart from alcohol, and considering the fact that I was going to meet Max at a club, I was going to need food to deal with the alcohol tonight was sure to bring.

It wasn't until I stepped out of my house and got into my G70 that I realized that the shirt I had selected was the same shade as the stranger's blue eyes.

Sighing deeply, I clenched my fists around my steering wheel and groaned. I was fucked.

And suddenly, I didn't feel so bad about going out with Max. Maybe, he could make me forget about him.