The Date (Part 5)

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This is part of the undercover saga, so make sure you've read the previous parts, starting with The Profile.

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"Mason, stop checking out my wife."

"If by checking out, you mean checking out that she looks fit for a date, then no, I won't. That is part of my job. If you mean checking out as in finding her." Mason shuddered. "Attractive? I'd rather pour bleach into my eyes. Thank you."

Though Donovan stared at Mason in a manner that translated into: I could break your neck with my pinky, Mason still returned his focus to Owens.

In his defense, how could he not? Owens was in a SUNDRESS! She'd even managed to make her hair do something other than just be there as a thing on her head. She wore shoes that didn't look capable of withstanding a kick to someone's face. She looked... Mason didn't know if he dare say it aloud in his mind but... human.

Owens looked human. Even... girlish.

This was disturbing on so many levels. What kind of world did they live in where someone like Owens could convincingly conceal her threatening nature? And was it even a safe world to live in anymore? After all, it was like she was a dinosaur walking around a dog park and no one saw the danger of it.

"Does my appearance fit the qualifications for a first date?" Carter asked, holding out her arms.

"To a disturbing level," Mason answered. "You look like you've never held anything more deadly than a butter knife, let alone handled a gun."

"So it works, good. I'm going," Carter said.

Donovan reached for her as if to kiss her, which Mason thought extremely rude, he was present. It was unnecessary for him to be tortured in such a way.

But Owens held up her hand, stalling him. "Lip gloss."

Mason shuddered. "Who are you?"

Carter met Mason's gaze and grinned. It was a grin that made the entire harmless vibe of her outfit completely disappear, instead, it was Owens in a dress loose enough to give her range to do damage. Mason breathed out.

"Oh, there you are. Never mind, I thought I was losing my mind for a second."

"Dramatic. Don't kill each other," Carter said.

With that parting reminder that Donovan could kill Mason if the desire came on him, Owens left the van. To avoid causing thoughts of murder in Donovan, Mason spun his chair around to face the bank of computer screens and the displays from all the security cameras. Also the footage from Owens' glasses camera. Donovan took the seat next to Mason, leaned back, and propped his chin on his fist.

"Owens, can you hear me?" Mason said through the mic.

"Yes, but if you talk to me while I do this I will show you how a dress can't stop me from being lethal."

"Understood," Mason said.

He switched off the mic and placed his hands behind his head. On the screen, Carter walked down the block, gaining a few glances as she went. It seems the innocent girl persona was a draw. Mason nearly snorted, these men would never know she was obnoxious as well as dangerous.

Carter turned into the French bistro and Mason looked to Donovan.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked. "I can't have you going on a jealous rampage and ruining Owens' cover."

Donovan looked over at Mason, stared for a solid minute, then focused back on the screens. Mason would never admit it out loud but Donovan's ability to communicate so much without saying anything was impressive. The look he'd just received said everything: Mason, you're stupid if you think I'd ruin an operation because of my emotions. Do you take me for an incompetent idiot? I know what this job entails, don't ask ridiculous questions again.

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