Teague stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, frowning at the few wrinkles in his button-down shirt. He briefly considered ironing it, but dismissed the notion. Procrastinating wouldn’t make dinner with Addison and her children any less of a crap shoot. Satisfied that his appearance was casual yet professional, Teague
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Teague’s mobile telephone vibrated against his hip for the fourth time in fifteen minutes. Since he’d effectively shut Juliet out telepathically, she transferred her insistence to more mundane methods of communication. He was two hours late to their scheduled rendezvous and Teague knew the blonde was pissed.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Dr. Harris, the
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A repetitive buzz nudged Teague from slumber. Alarm clock, he realized, but was too sleepy and sated to do anything about it. Then the device silenced.
The sudden quiet woke Teague some more. He stretched, and sore muscles reminded him why he was so damned tired: Addison. Purring, he reached physically and
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Addison hesitated a few steps from Myers’ door. The prat hadn’t ogled her once, which left her disappointed. Her reaction and the fact that she hadn’t wanted to leave just plain pissed her off.
Turning to face the door, Addison considered what she’d do if she teleported past it. She’d likely
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Teague grimaced as bitterness coated his tongue and poured down his throat. He frowned at the tan fluid in the Styrofoam cup, then looked up at Sydney. The commissary clerk tried to hide a grin. “People drink this on a regular basis?”
The heavyset woman gave Teague a sympathetic smile. “I warned you that two
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“I am not wasting my time filling out any bloody forms. Now give me the bleedin’ data!”
Teague looked up from Hasting’s transfer form. Before the shouting started he’d thought that Kraus and Woo were bickering again. Now there was no mistaking the female speaker’s British accent.
Del Rio began, “Ma’am, please–”
“I have a
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“Here you are, Captain.” The commissary clerk handed Teague his usual Irish Breakfast tea in the largest to-go cup they offered.
“Thanks, Sydney,” Teague mumbled. He sipped the hot liquid as the heavyset woman swiped his ID card. “What time is it?”
“5:04.”
Teague shook his head at himself. “You think
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