Agent with a History (Chapter Two - Rundown, page 1 of 8)


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The doorman looked like he was about to object to my front-on approach so I flashed him my badge and he did a double take of me. I was used to it. For whatever reason, no one ever seemed to place me as being a cop.

I had a friend tell me once that I looked like I should have been some wealthy millionaire's mistress instead of wasting myself on the life of being a cop. Needless to say, we hadn't kept close since then. I had few enough friends without losing another, but I seriously didn't need one who thought my higher calling in life should be as someone's mistress.

I walked into the oh, so familiar atmosphere of the strip club. Talk about déjà vu, only this time the place was populated.

I winced slightly as my headache took it up a notch in time with the loud music and strobe lights. I really did need to get some sleep. I made my way through the ranks of glazed eyed men. The place was packed and I had to shove my way through the pressed throng to make headway. Rafferty hurried to keep up with me, and I slowed down some.

I was forever making the short Irish man hurry to catch up with me. I couldn't help it that my walk was really more of a stride than a step. I was 5'11''. Some said that I was blessed with long legs, but cursed with a short amount of patience for getting where I wanted to be, which right now was backstage.

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