The Female Unsub

Chapter Thirteen: Sloane's POV

I check my watch for the third time in thirty minutes. He's late. My client was supposed to pick me up from the hotel 45 minutes ago and is now not answering his phone.

Fuck this. I text him, via my encrypted texting / calling app that Tim designed, that the date is off and call Darren Bernard. Even though he's not my first choice, I didn't come all the way to DC to not make money. He picks up after two rings and I turn on the charm.

"Bonjour bébé," I say in a sultry voice. Darren is French and while he can speak English well, he much prefers for me to speak in his native tongue. "Tu m'as dit de t'appeler la prochaine fois que je serai dans ta ville et je suis tombé sur DC cette fin de semaine. Êtes-vous libre?"
(translation: "you told me to call you the next time I'm in your city and I happened to stumble into DC this weekend. You free?")

"Toujours pour toi," (always for you) God, even the sound of his voice makes my skin crawl, "how does dinner at Ocean Prime sound? I can meet you there in thirty."

"Perfect," I say sweetly. I'm relieved that he switched languages. The unspoken rule is that we speak French until he wants to switch. I mean, I might be fluent in French but that doesn't mean I want to speak it all night when I don't have to. "I can't wait to see you."

We hang up and I walk back towards the parking garage at the hotel, that's when I see the SUV. I roll my eyes, Dr. Reid is back at it again. It's been two weeks since Los Angeles and he has continued to follow me across the country. To his credit, he did try to be a bit more inconspicuous by switching the make and model of cars he stalked me in but I could always spot him. I'm tempted to acknowledge him, let him know his cover is blown yet again, but I have a client to get to and even messing with Spencer isn't worth losing a paycheck.

--

"And that's when I told her," Darren says with a mouth full of steak, "either you get me the hundred thousand dollars or your fucking fired."

He laughs and shoves more food in his mouth. I try my best to keep my composure and fake that I'm not disgusted by him. He continues to talk with his mouthful throughout the meal and I am relieved when his plate is clean. But I laugh at his bad jokes and drink the expensive wine he picked, always in character. Eventually, he settles the bill and we walk to the entrance.

"Je suis si contente que tu aies appelé, Sloane," (I'm so glad you called, Sloane) he hugs me and slides the cash into the lining of my coat, "let me know the next time you're in town."

"I will Darren," I kiss his cheek and walk away, trying my best not to vomit.

I walk to the Range Rover I rented and once I'm inside I count the cash, $600. I let out a sigh of relief, he didn't short me this time. Other than his disgusting eating and bathing habits, Darren was known for giving me up to $300 less than our agreed rate. He was desperate for companionship though since his wife left him a year ago and his son refuses to speak to him, which is the only reason I keep him on as a client.

I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and I reach in to grab it. I'm hoping it's a text from Tim telling me where we're drinking tonight. It's rare that I'm in DC, since I don't have too many clients here, and I miss hanging out with my friend. Plus, when we go out he always insists on paying so I get drunk for free.

As I unlock my phone, someone knocks on my window, causing me to jump. I look over to see none other than Dr. Spencer Reid.

I turn off the car and step out, "well this is a surprise." I close the door and lean against the car, "usually you prefer to lurk in the shadows until I approach you."

He smirks, "I guess I was getting tired of waiting. I mean, you did say that I had to find you in order to get another date."

"So, you want to take me on a date?"