Misplaced Trust

by G. K. Parks

  I nodded.

  “Good.” She went back to the couch and picked up the file. When she looked up, her friendly smile was back in place. “Let’s continue with the pop quiz.”

  “After some time, I was sent to boarding school back home. I lost touch with my dad, except for an occasional birthday card. He didn’t even show up at my college graduation.”

  “Where’d you go to school?”

  “NYU, graduated with a degree in English lit., which clearly is the way to go career wise. Since then, I’ve tried waitressing, working as a temp, and being a barista. By the way, you really should tip your baristas.”

  Eve laughed. “What brought you to the West Coast?”

  “A lawyer.” My face contorted, and I looked away. “I was the only heir, but there have been complications. Dad owed money, back taxes or something, I’m not entirely sure. It’s a mess. Until things are sold and everything’s straightened out, my trust fund is frozen. I have nothing.”

  “Bingo. That’s exactly the type of story that Wilde will go nuts over. You don’t have the money yet, which means you need his help, but from the financial information we’ve planted, you’re going to come into millions soon enough. Wilde needs you and the money, so he’ll do anything to get you to join his church. That’s why I don’t think your lack of proper upbringing will be a problem.” Her phone buzzed, and she dug it out of her purse. Checking the display, she typed a quick reply and placed it on the table. “Plus, we’ve been careful. He has no reason to believe he’s even on our radar. No badges or uniforms have been poking around the co-op. We’re in the clear for now.”

  “Great.”

  The phone buzzed again, and she gave it another glance. “Even better news, we’ll start the insertion process in two days. Tonight, review whatever you want. Tomorrow, we’ll be here to clear this place out. Your research will be taken to our command center, and I’ll see about getting you an office for your check-ins. If there’s anything that Alex Parker needs to do, it should get done between now and tomorrow.” She went to the door. “My suggestion would be prioritize sleep. You need to be sharp. Jace needs you to be sharp.” Her eyes flashed a warning, and then she was gone.

  * * *

  “Shit,” I cursed, scrambling to wipe the hot coffee off my blouse. Following Decker’s instructions, I’d arrived on time to the agreed upon coffeehouse. I’d waited in line, not spotting him inside. When I got to the front, I ordered the cheapest thing on the menu to sell my story. After all, it wasn’t like Alice Lexington had eight dollars to blow on a fancy unpronounceable concoction. As soon as I picked up the cup, someone bumped into my side.

  “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He held out a handful of napkins, and I took a few while he wiped off the counter, apologizing to the barista and requesting a repeat of my order.

  Glancing up, I almost didn’t recognize Jace. He’d shaved since our last encounter, and his shaggy hair wasn’t slicked back. Wilde wasn’t inside, but Agent Decker was no amateur. He wouldn’t risk any sort of compromise, especially not eight months into an active op.

  “I’m fine. I’m just having a doozy of a day.” My eyes flicked briefly to the man waiting outside the café before I shifted my focus back to Jace. Timothy Wilde was watching us with bored curiosity. “Don’t worry about it.” I took the remaining napkin from Jace’s hand, spotting a handwritten note on it. Leave, go left down the street, and enter the clothing shop. Buy a new shirt.

  He raised his palms and took a step back toward the order window. “I’ll have an herbal tea and a chai latte to go.” He glanced back at me. “I’ll stay over here until you’re no longer in the splash zone.”

  I laughed. “Thanks.”

  As soon as the replacement drink was ready, I took my cup and went out the door, tossing the note in the trash. Pulling the wet material away from my skin, I looked down and sighed. Turning in the proper direction, I saw the boutique and continued walking. I felt eyes on me, but I didn’t risk turning around. Jace had a plan, whatever the hell it was.

  Meandering through the racks, I searched for a white button-up blouse like the one I was wearing. It had actually been part of my regulation attire, but since Ben stipulated that I was to dress as if going on an interview, I’d put on the blouse with a pair of dark jeans. No jacket. No gun. No badge. Admittedly, I felt naked.

  Finding a suitable replacement in my size, I checked the price and fished out the credit card I’d been given. It contained the fake name that matched my fake ID. I guess it was time to see how things would play out. Smiling at the clerk, I handed her the item.

  “If you need a place to change, you can use the dressing room after I ring you up,” she offered.

  “Thanks.”

  After taking my credit card, she slid it through the machine. It beeped angrily, and she tried again. Then she looked at the name and the expiration date. She tried sliding it once more. “Do you have another card I can use?” she asked. “This one was declined.”

  “No problem.” Flipping through the cards in my wallet, I pulled out another one, noticing two men lingering outside the shop. “Try this one.” I handed her the card, but it was also declined.

  “I’m sorry.” She looked at me. “Do you want to pay cash?”

  “No, I’ll have to come back for it.” Stuffing everything back inside my purse, I picked up my coffee, put on a pair of sunglasses, and went out the door.

  “Miss,” a voice called from behind, “wait.” Spinning around, I came face-to-face with the clerk. She held out the blouse. “Take this with you. You can come back and pay when you have more cash on you.”

  “God, this is so embarrassing.” I shook my head. “Thank you so much. I’m already late. I have to go, but I will pay you back. I promise.” Heading back toward the parking lot where I left the rental, I couldn’t help but wonder if the clerk was part of the plan.

  As soon as I got inside the car, I slipped out of my shirt and into the new one, hoping there would be additional instructions. However, I didn’t find any notes anywhere. Jace didn’t make a reappearance, and when I pulled out of the lot and onto the road, he and Wilde were nowhere to be found. Without additional instructions, I had to fall back on my standing orders.

  Navigating the streets took some getting used to, but I made it back to my cover apartment. It was a condo in one of the exclusive high-rise buildings. The valet waited for me to grab my bags before offering to park the car, and the doorman greeted me by name, asking if I needed help upstairs.

  “No, thanks.” At least it was an improvement over the roadside inn.

  When I made it to the condo, there were flowers in a vase. Knowing that the DEA had full access to the apartment and performed sweeps weekly, I correctly assumed they were responsible for the delivery. The card in the note gave an address and a time. Good luck on your second job interview of the day. I’m sorry you missed the first one. Dress accordingly and avoid clutzy coffee drinkers.

  The note had been typewritten. Jace had everything planned from the get-go, and I was just rolling with the punches. I hated being out of the loop. Normally, I called the shots, so playing second chair wasn’t particularly comfortable. How the hell was I supposed to know what was in store for me this evening?

  Taking a seat behind the computer, I entered the address and found the name of the business. It was a saloon, or rather, a recreation of an Old West saloon. It was a restaurant and bar that boasted dinner entertainment. Clicking through some images, it looked like a tourist trap with some kind of song and dance number. They had several openings for barmaids and servers. It was a good thing Alice Lexington had previous experience; now all I had to do was show up on time, fill out an application, and wait for Jace to throw a wrench into the mix.

  My eyes scanned the walls, but my intel was safely boxed up and inside the command center. There wasn’t anything for me to do between now and then. I had my instructions, so I just had to wait. Looking at the walls of my new prison, I laughed and ch
anged clothes. The luxury building had a gym, and while I had the chance, I planned to make use of it. I didn’t imagine someone on the verge of eviction getting to hang out in a fancy condo too terribly long.

  After my workout, I showered, changed back into the white blouse and dark jeans, and decided to do some sightseeing. I’d been cramped up in that tiny hovel for almost a week, and I needed to do something to get out of my own head before I went crazy. Plus, it would help to have some familiarity with the area. We were positioned between the Nevada border and Los Angeles. It was less than an hour to the city, and if we had to call in the cavalry, I imagined they’d be arriving from there. The LA field office was massive and prepared to deal with every contingency. If this became an FBI matter, they’d take jurisdiction.

  Somehow, I ended up driving farther west than I intended. My original plan was to stay in the suburban town and get a feel for the area, the people, and see if there were any hints of a criminal element. Instead, I ended up a few blocks from the Martin Technologies west coast offices. Grabbing some fish tacos from a food truck, I took a seat on a bench and stared at the skyline, seeing the MT logo in the distance.

  I really fucked up, and there was no way to fix it. Coming here was just a means of preventing Martin and me from falling back into the destructive, painful pattern. This was for the best. By removing myself from the equation, he’d be able to move on.

  Biting my lip, I gave the building a final look, as if saying goodbye, threw out the uneaten tacos, and went back to the car. Alex Parker was gone for now. I was Alice Lexington, and I had a job interview in two hours. On the way back to the condo, I stopped at a big box store and picked up a couple of throwaway phones. It was best to be prepared, and I wanted to have an untraceable way of communicating with Jablonsky should the need arise. My phone was in a locker at the DEA command center, along with most of my personal belongings. I’d been given a phone for use that they could track, but if things went sideways, it was nice to have a plan B.

  Nine

  “Your internet listing says you’re hiring barmaids and waitresses.” I pointed emphatically at the printed page. “I have experience waitressing, and I worked as a barista. I’m good with complicated drink orders.”

  “I get that you’re looking for a job, but that listing is old and outdated.” The restaurant owner shrugged.

  “But you have a help wanted sign out front.” I spun, spotting Jace and Wilde at a booth near the bar. Ignoring them, I turned back to the owner. “Please, I need to find work. Maybe I could update your website?”

  The man chuckled. “Do you know how to do that?”

  “I’m a fast learner.” Alice didn’t possess any overt computer skills, and since Alex Parker was great at the research and using government databases but no whiz at computer programming, it was best to stick with what I knew.

  “Sorry.” The owner turned away. He’d been behind the bar, filling orders and managing. It was a small, hands-on establishment.

  Plopping down on a barstool, I sighed dramatically. The last thing I wanted was a drink, but given the circumstances, it would be the normal thing to do. “Can I at least get a glass of wine?”

  He nodded, pouring from the nearest bottle of red. Placing it in front of me, he offered a reassuring smile. “On the house.”

  “I don’t want charity.” I swallowed. “Sir, I need a job. I’m about to lose my apartment. I don’t have anywhere to go. I’m new here. I don’t know anyone. I just need something to work out.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” he sighed, “I’ll hold on to your application, and if we have any openings in the future, I’ll keep you in mind.”

  “That’s not going to help. I need something now.” The desperation in my tone was starting to carry, and a few of the people at the bar turned to look at me. I hoped that Wilde was close enough to hear what was going on also. However, I didn’t think that making two passes in one day was the best plan, but Decker and Ben orchestrated this. I had to trust their judgment, even if it seemed downright risky. “I’ll do anything. I’ll scrub the toilets, mop the floors, wash dishes, whatever you need. I’m at the end of my rope.” With any luck, the owner wasn’t going to prey on the situation, take me into the back, and ask for a blowjob, but I couldn’t be sure.

  He looked around the bar. “The only opening I have is for a dancer, and we only hire professionals.”

  “I can dance.”

  He gave me a ‘yeah, right’ look. “Nice try, hun.”

  “At least let me audition. Are you having an open call?”

  His eyes narrowed, sizing me up. “You’re serious? It’s not listed on your application.”

  “So?” Swallowing, I wondered just how thoroughly the DEA had delved into my history. As a child, I’d been forced to endure ballet lessons for nearly ten years. I was never good enough to be admitted to a troupe, but I knew basic positions. However, I didn’t think any of that would be relevant to the saloon’s stage show. “Can’t a girl have a hobby?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to pester me until I agree?”

  I picked up the glass and took a tiny sip, eyeing him over the rim. “Is that a yes?”

  “Fine. Come in tomorrow at three. Costumes are in the back. If you fit the costume, you can audition, but the choreographer will make the call. Is that understood?”

  “Thank you,” I squealed. “You won’t be disappointed.”

  The owner rolled his eyes and went down the bar to serve some drinks. Standing up, I grabbed my bag and turned to leave. With insane precision, Jace collided with me at that exact moment. If this were to keep up, I’d start wearing football pads to the rest of our planned meets. He swept his foot behind mine, knocking me off balance and propelling me backward. But he caught me before I fell into the barstools.

  “Whoa, I didn’t see you there,” he said. I searched his eyes for a clue as to how to proceed. “Do I know you?”

  “Oh my god,” I righted myself and shoved him backward, “you’re the jerk from the coffee shop.” I backed away, holding my palms up. “Stay away from me.”

  He laughed uncomfortably. “Maybe it’s fate that we keep bumping into each other.”

  “Or maybe you’re stalking me.” I continued scooting backward. “Why don’t you stay right there, and I’ll go this way.” I pointed behind me. “And let’s not cross paths again.”

  “Come on,” he turned up the flirtatious charm, “let me buy you a drink or dinner or something. It’s the least I can do.” He looked down at my shirt. “Shit, at least let me pay for your dry cleaning.”

  I followed his gaze, watching the wine drip down the front of my new blouse. Slumping onto the closest stool, I put my hands over my eyes and took a few unsteady breaths. Playing this wrong might be a disaster, but I was going with my gut. I shuddered, attempting to appear to be on the brink of a meltdown. A few tears sprang to my eyes, and I forced myself to calm down, fearing that if the waterworks started, they wouldn’t be entirely staged.

  “Excuse me, miss,” Wilde’s smooth voice interrupted Jace’s attempts at an apology, “my friend is very sorry for upsetting you.” I removed my hands from my face and took a deep breath, focusing on Wilde. “Why don’t you join us for dinner?” He pointed to the booth. “I don’t mean to pry, but you look like you could use a meal and some friendly conversation.”

  “No, I…,” I shook my head, knowing that jumping at the offer would seem suspicious, but protesting too much might force him to back off, “I should get this into the wash before it stains.”

  “Let me reimburse you,” Jace offered from beside Wilde. “How much did you pay?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

  Looking as sheepish as possible, I shook my head. “I haven’t even paid for this yet. God, I’m such a mess.” I shuddered again, forcing a few more tears to my eyes.

  “That’s it.” Wilde put a cautious arm around my shoulders. “You’re going to sit down and hav
e something to eat. It’ll make you feel better. It’s our treat.” My eyes darted around the busy restaurant, and he sensed my trepidation. “If you’re worried about my friend spilling something else on you, you can sit at your own table, and we’ll pick up the tab.”

  “No, that’s just silly.” I pressed my lips together in thought. “Just a quick bite and then I have to go.”

  “Okay.” Wilde brightened, leading the way back to the booth. He and Jace sat together on one side, and I took the other. “I’m Tim.” He held out his hand, and we shook. “This is Jason.”

  “Jace,” Decker corrected, winking.

  “Alice Lexington.” I busied myself with picking up a menu from behind the napkin holder.

  “Nice to meet you,” Wilde cooed. “Alice’s a lovely name.”

  I shrugged. “Thanks, but no one calls me that. I’m just Alex.”

  “Alex?” Tim asked.

  “Yeah, our dorm assignments were first initial, last name. But since my last name was too long to fit on the sheet, I became A. Lex. And it stuck.”

  “Alex,” Jace smiled, “I like that.”

  To avoid the awkwardness, I remained focused on the menu, hoping to find something small and cheap to order. Wilde kept asking personal questions, but they seemed innocent enough. He wanted to know if I was new to town, how long I’d been in the area, and if I liked it. Those were normal small talk questions, and I stuck to the script. Finally, the waitress arrived, took my order for half a steak sandwich and a side salad, and spoke to Tim about how much she enjoyed the honey butter she’d bought the previous week from his stand.

  “Do you have a farm?” I asked.

  “It’s not solely mine. It’s a co-op. We grow some fruits and veggies, and we keep bees. It’s not that impressive.”

  “It sounds nice.” I tried to appear wistful. “Is that what you do for a living?”