She glares at him.

He just ignores her as he walks her out.

She keeps glaring.

He takes her to his car.

By now, she's given up struggling.

That was smart.

She just stays quiet.

He sits her down and shuts the door and gets into the driver's side

She just stays quiet.

He started to drive.

When the CIA had taken control of his 'mafia', I guess we'll call it, almost two years earlier, a lot of things had changed. One of the main ones was that each of them now worked alone, with no contact from the others. Alex didn't even know where the rest of his compainions were; he hadn't been in touch with them for over twenty months. Anonymous texts arrived on his cell phone from unknown spotters; there were no names involved, no way for him to link the information he received to an actual person. Though his longing for the old days--the camaraderie, going on the hunt together, even the boring, endless days at the camp in the desert--was like an ache inside of him, he knew that the secrecy was necessary.

But it also meant that it was a struggle to actually get ahold of someone if you needed to.

Alex spent the next five hours driving before checking into a motel room, dragging the girl along with him.