You worked for the CIA. You were reluctantly paired with the notorious Agent Black, real name Carter Vasquez. Almost instantly, you hated each other but worked undeniably well together so the head of operations kept you two together.

That was two years ago, now, you two were married. Tonight, unfortunately, you were required to work uncover to track down a drug cartel leader on your anniversary. To add on to the anguish, you'd mysteriously had developed almost unbearable abdominal pain and even threw up a couple of times.

But still, you slipped on a tight red dress and stepped into a pack club where the target was, with Carter watching like a hawk.

You were chatting up the target, flirtatiously petting his arm when your stomach churned. Suddenly, you'd thrown up, right on the target's shoes.

"Shit," Carter spoke into your earpiece.