P. Stormcrow

Why the fuck did she agree to this?

Finn stared at the chaos that had become her apartment in short order. Sure, it wasn’t in much better of a state before they started, but at least it was her mess. Now she didn’t know what this was.

“So, how many bowls do you have?”

She groaned, spinning around as Jackson—no, Damien, since they were off duty—held up another pile of poorly stacked porcelain crockery. So far, it looked as though that was the only thing her ex had decided was hers in their entirety. And she had half a mind to throw them all out the window.

“Hey, easy there.”

She let out a long sigh and reined in her temper. It wasn’t her partner’s fault, other than suggesting they’d spend their time unpacking. That one was on him. She crossed the room and picked up the Kintsugi bowl on top of the pile, tracing a finger along the golden streak across. At least it didn’t chip.

“So what’s the story?” Damien asked. Though his tone was light and his grin was teasing, there was a warmth in his eyes that caught her off guard.

“Nada,” she muttered, and stepped away to place it on the counter. It was more of a display piece, anyway.

“Come on. Everything’s got one.” He tucked the rest of the bowls in the cabinet with the others. At this rate, they both knew she was going to run out to space for anything else.

When she remained silent, he nudged her with his elbow and grinned. 

Damn it. His charm even worked on her.

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Fine. It started as a joke. I hated how ugly our dishware was at home and when I moved in with my ex, the first thing we bought were our own bowls. He began explaining to all our friends and family that I collected them to troll me and for my next birthday, every gift I got was… well, you can guess what.” The memory itself was a bright one, but she couldn’t help but see the shadows. Kaden had a penchant for telling people things about her that weren’t true. Why hadn’t she realized it earlier?

“Everybody kept doing it after, didn’t they?” He stared at the half-opened box in front of them. 

“How can you tell?” Sarcasm dripped in her words.

Damien didn’t seem to mind as he just laughed, the sound bouncing off the apartment’s walls. After a second, she placed it. This was the first time she heard it in here.

He peered into another open package. “But you know what? I don’t think you have more than a single fork here.”

She rubbed her face, and without a word, she walked into the bedroom.

There weren’t that many boxes, not ones she brought with her with the move, anyway. But in one of her nightly episodes of drunkenness, she had gone on a rage fueled shopping spree.

Though bringing all the packages home from the PO Box at the post office had sucked ass, even with the car.

Still, that was how having three outfits, including pajamas, turned into these bags of clothing scattered across her mattress and piled on the floor. She should figure out what she was keeping and what she was returning while she was at it.

Fuck.

She marched herself straight out again, ignored the curious look from him, and headed for the liquor. 

Except it wasn’t there.

“Damien? Where did you…?” She slid other things around the counter, then began to open each of the cupboard.

“Hmm?” He peeked up from his current task, his expression just a tad bit on the side of too innocent. Plus, she had seen that slight smirk lurking in the corner of his lips. 

She may not have known him for very long, but they had spent a lot of time together and been through even more. “Damien,” she growled, and stalked closer to him. If he did anything to her supply…

“Hey now.” He wagged his forefinger at her. “Work first. Play after. And the faster you finish, the faster you’ll get your drink.”

Her jaws dropped. It should have incensed her. She should rip him a new one. She should kick him out. But she did none of those things. Instead, she stomped back to her room again, muttering curses under her breath. 

She didn’t stop to think until she plopped down on her mattress. Why was she listening to him? Was it because he was her senior and partner at work? What was it about him that made her and other women in the office not only listen but to follow his words? She chewed her nail while she shook her leg. What was she missing?

Before she could start entangling the puzzle in her mind, her phone vibrated against her hip. Surprise stiffened her body, and she fished the device out of her pocket.

Another unfamiliar number. Fuck.

She jabbed her thumb against the screen to hang up without picking up and tossed it on the bed. It landed with a dull thud and a second later, it started its buzzing again.

“Seriously?” She grabbed the thing and picked up this time, ready to vent her frustration at Kayden.

“Agent Reed?”

She blinked, her words dying on her tongue. That was not her ex.

“Agent Olsen?” she asked at last.

“Oh thank God. Olivia said you guys were not on the base.”

She could almost picture the man breathing out on the other side of the line. “What happened? Wait.” She pulled the phone back and yelled. “Jackson!”

“Yeah.” He pokes his head in, mirth gone from his expression. Family names had become code for business.

Finn pressed the megaphone icon on the screen. “You’re on speaker.”

“Agent Jackson?” Olsen sounded more like a lost little boy than an agent. That worried Finn more than it should have.

“I’m here,” he reassured.

“There’s been another incident. They’re on lockdown.”

What the hell did that mean? She looked to Jackson for an explanation, but found his brows furrowed, his face darkening. Whatever it meant, it was not good. She needed to plow through that procedure and policies manual soon, even if it was a fucking tome.

“Is there any way to communicate with them?” Jackson asked, his tone unusually terse.

“No. They got a message out right before they went dark. Oh. But…” 

The sound of rustling papers punctuated Olsen’s speech. She bit back all the questions that rose in her mind and waited.

“Here! I have your warrant and took the liberty of contacting the registrar. They’re going to send over the information.”

“Thanks. Text me when you have it.” Finn replied.

“Will do.”

She hung up and looked up at Jackson, noting his clenched jaws and his shaking shoulders. She hadn’t had the time to form an attachment to headquarters yet, but understood he saw it as home. After all, he had spent enough of his days there to call it that. It was what drove her to reach out and place a hand on his arm, giving it a light squeeze. “Hey. We’ll fix this, okay?”

He cleared his throat and refocused on her, but his body relaxed just a smidgen. “You really don’t think it’s Inguz Tech?”

Finn bobbed her head. “Yeah. Too simple. Someone wants to frame them or lay down a false trail but they are too clumsy.”

“Give me your best guess on who it could be, then. Some disgruntled ex employee?” 

Though his tone was lighter, she recognized it more as an attempt than him relaxing for real.

“Pissy witches that own an occult store and have a hard-on for the progress of technological innovation?” She grinned at him, and he rewarded her with a small chuckle. Good.

Her phone chose this moment to make its angry whir again. “Why don’t we find out.” She motioned him to follow her until she pulled out her chair and opened her beater laptop once more.

“Okay. Why are you using that and not your super fancy set up,” Jackson blurted out.

For once, it was Finn that sported a smug smile, relishing in that she got to teach him something new. “You know the idea of a burner phone?”

He nodded.

“Same thing. You wouldn’t want to hack on a machine that isn’t disposable.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes, but she didn’t have the luxury of enjoying how quick he caught on. She turned and focused on typing in the information Olsen relayed.

“Huh. What is with magic and suburbia?” she muttered under her breath.

“What’s on you mean?”

She leaned back to allow him room to peer at the monitor where she had pulled up the address on the map. With another click, she switched to street view. “Look familiar to you?”

“The Dawson’s,” he breathed out.

“Only five doors down,” Finn teased in a sing song tone.

“Nah.” There wasn’t as much disbelief as Jackson was playing out to have. More like a routine that felt it had to happen. Except this time, there was a role reversal.

“No, really,” she confirmed with a grin.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go check it out.” He took a step back and bowed, gesturing for her to lead the way.

She shut the laptop and returned it to the desk drawer before she pushed the chair out and rose in one swift movement. With no regard to the state of her apartment, she crossed the room and opened the door, letting Jackson through first.

All this unpacking could wait. With a bottle of tequila or whatever she could find after when she was alone again. This was more important, though. It was time to get her partner’s home back for him.