“Let me talk to him.” He must have been listening long enough to get an idea as to who I was talking to.
I handed him the phone, then got a washcloth, wet it, and wiped myself down, all the while listening shamelessly, although all I could hear was Quinn’s side of the conversation.
“What did you want, Bram? … No, I was not overreacting. … Why would I do that? I resigned, if you’ll recall. … You didn’t seem to have a problem accepting it earlier. … Excuse me?” Red began to climb up his cheeks, and it wasn’t from embarrassment. He was fucking furious. And damn, that was hot. His voice, though, was ice cold. “Is anything going to be done to save those people? … I see. In that case, this conversation is finished. I’m having dinner with my mother, and I need to dress. … As a matter of fact, yes, not that it’s your business or the business of the CIA. … Goodbye, Bram.” He hung up.