Max had been actively recruited by the CIA for years before she was even eighteen, but Charlie had put the kibosh on that. Unsure of what her big sister had done to discourage that interest—the CIA was not an organization that was usually put off by an easily stressed eighteen-year-old who loathed her father and had been fired from Dairy Queen once because she’d put a mouthy patron in a headlock—Max came to realize that organizations like the CIA, the FBI, or the military weren’t for her. They were too regimented. Too cautious. You had to take orders. Max hated taking orders from anyone but
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