The Bank Job

To be perfectly honest with you, I don't even remember how I talked myself into writing this story. I remember the line in Chapter 13, when Carina and Chuck are talking while kidnapped, about Chuck being "Bunker Boy" and it stuck with me. I was like, "Wow, that sounds like a really interesting story. I should pester Frea about writing that." So I did, and in the process, I somehow became not only the author of this story, but her beta for Fates as well. Boy, what a mistake that was.


I guess I can't really help it. The allure of Carina was too strong for me to resist. Add to that the idea of Carina and Sarah robbing a bank? And Chuck helping them but nobody knowing about it but Sarah? Plus, more Sarah POV, Sarina flirting, and seeing how those two years played out for Sarah after Chuck screwed her all up? It was too good a potential story to pass up.

So I started writing and I did the first chapter. But there just seemed something off about it. It just didn't seem right to me. I turned to Frea and she helped me zero in on what didn't feel right about the chapter. And now the first chapter is complete. She's working on the second. And we've planned the third and fourth. I personally think it's pretty cool. Definitely the funniest contribution to the Fatesverse yet, I think. But how could it not with Sarah and Carina teaming up for a heist?

So here's a little excerpt from the first chapter. And for the record, folks, at least half the Sarina flirting and innuendo in this story is provided by Frea. I'm not making that up.

“So this is about Bryce.”

Sarah inwardly smacked her forehead. She had walked right into that one. It really was true what they taught at the Farm: alcohol and secret keeping? Not a good mix.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Carina shrugged and slid down until she was lying mostly horizontal on the thick carpet of the hotel room. She ran a hand through her hair and leaned on one elbow. She leveled a steady gaze at her and pursed her lips. “Okay, so then maybe we can discuss what you’re doing here instead of wherever the hell Bryce is.”

“I don’t wanna talk about that either.” Sarah hoped she wasn’t pouting, but all bets were off the table these days—had been ever for months.

It didn’t help that she was more than a little pissed about the CIA’s decision to toss her into the DEA’s lap. She thought it was ridiculous and unjustified. And she resented the implication. Bryce got to stay with the Agency. Bryce got to request a reassignment. Bryce got to have his choice of missions while the brass dealt with their little tiff. Was she or was she not the CIA’s golden girl? What the hell was going on?

“You must have pissed in somebody’s Froot Loops to get stuck with me.”

Sarah’s sour expression softened and she placed her hand atop Carina’s. “I requested you.” Carina was her friend. If she was going to be forced to work with some other member of the government alphabet soup for the foreseeable future, why not do so with a familiar face? Why not make the best of a crappy situation? When they told her that they were transferring her out of the CIA for what they were calling “re-certification,” she had requested the DEA. It would be perfect. If she couldn’t be partnered with Bryce, Carina was the next best thing.

Or so she had thought. She was not so sure now. Things had gone well for the first few hours. Until Carina had talked her into having a drink with her. One drink had turned into five. And five had somehow become ten. She could hold her alcohol better than most women—hell, she could drink Bryce under the table—but even she had trouble maintaining her wits after ten shots of Johnnie Walker Black. And, naturally, it had only gone downhill from there.

So there you have it. That should help you get an idea of what's in store. Probably. Maybe. I mean, we don't want to spoil you too much, but I will say this: the hot tub scene? It gets pretty steamy.