by G. K. Parks
“Is that paranoia contagious?”
“I heard about the attack, but Tim’s kept me busy. I had a shift at the store, and then he made me run errands. It’s almost like he wants to keep me away from you.”
“Maybe he does. He brought me to breakfast at the commune this morning, showed me the dorms, and offered room and board for the low, low price of twenty-four hour surveillance.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He has fiber optic cables in the ceilings to keep an eye on his flock. They aren’t supposed to date or canoodle inside those tiny prison cells, but I guess he wants to make sure there aren’t any rule breakers.” I shook my head. “He says men aren’t allowed to sleep in the main facility, but as far as I can tell, he sleeps there. I guess you’re right to assume that he doesn’t want any other cocks in the henhouse.”
Jace smirked. “I’m glad you’re enjoying my analogy.” He looked around the messy apartment. “Did the attack happen here?”
“Out front. It wasn’t the same guy. I don’t care what the cops think or Tim insists.” Self-consciously, I started to clear the clutter away. I’d spent the night awake, piecing things together and had scattered my work throughout the room while I’d been on the phone with Agent Eckhardt.
“We’re on the same page,” Jace agreed. “I won’t waste my breath asking how you are, but we need to agree on the play.”
“I’m ready to dive deep.”
He nodded. “In forty-eight hours, you’ll move into the main facility. You’ll need to pick up a secondary burner phone that will be on you at all times.”
“I already have one.” Going to the fireplace, I pulled out the hidden bag with the two phones and my credentials. “Will this work?” I tossed it to him, and he scanned through the internal memory. “It’s brand new.”
“Yep.” He stared at the screen for several minutes, closed his eyes, mumbled something, and checked the screen again. “Memorization.”
“Fantastic,” I deadpanned.
He snorted, practically rolling his eyes while he handed me his phone. “Don’t write it down. Don’t store it. Don’t share it.”
“I thought Eckhardt had it.”
“Everyone on the team does, including you.”
Repeating the digits several times in my head, I made sure they were committed to memory. It was stupid that I couldn’t store the number, but Jace wanted us to be cautious.
“Normally, this would be for emergencies only, but since Tim limits the use of technology, this might be our primary source of communication when we aren’t able to meet face-to-face. Make sure you keep the phone with you at all times, and keep it on silent if you’re near anyone else,” Jace instructed.
“Yes, sir.”
Ignoring the remark, he reached for a pen and a sheet of paper. After drawing a rough sketch of the commune grounds, he marked off the building locations. “This is my trailer, but if you’re right about the surveillance, you won’t be able to sneak away to meet me.”
“How do you know your place isn’t bugged too?”
He smiled that infuriating self-assured look of his. “It gets swept every week, just like this apartment. I’ve always had issues with the heating and cooling system. It must be a lemon, and the repair guy has to come by and tinker with it on a regular basis. While he’s there, he makes sure there aren’t any bugs around.” Picking up the pen again, Jace drew another diagram of where he’d planted cameras inside the facility. “Do you think we could splice into Wilde’s system?”
“That’s the plan. I already spoke to Matt about it.”
Nodding, he pondered a few more things, flipping through the stack of notes and papers while he thought. “In the last seventy-two hours, Wilde sent two men to attack you. He had one of them killed and the other arrested, and he invited you to join his cult. He’s desperate to reel you in. I think it’s too dangerous to drag this out. You’ll need to inform him of your plans by tomorrow morning. Tell him you need a day or two to pack and get everything in order. There isn’t much room at the commune, so bring a week’s worth of clothing, a blanket and pillow, a few towels, and minimal toiletries.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve seen my new room. It won’t hold much, and I have to assume everything will be searched.”
“That’s probably a good assumption.” He met my eyes. “Once you’re there, it’ll be harder to back out. Are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. I just wanted to hear you say it. I’ll do what I can to keep an eye on things, but from now on, you’ll be closer on the inside than I am. So I guess I’ll be your back-up. It’s an odd role reversal.”
“Well, it’s been nine months. You deserve a break.” I laughed. “Does this mean I get to the call the shots from here on out?”
“We’ll see.” His eyes swept the room again. “I need to head back before Tim wonders what’s taking so long. Just be careful. You know what they say about the third time?”
“That you’ll get lucky?”
He chuckled. “Not with this mission.” He went to the door. “Make sure you stow everything out of sight before you leave. We’re not taking any chances. And he’s already sent two goons to get under your skin. At this point, I don’t believe a home invasion would be out of the question.”
“Does that mean I’m supposed to phone him tonight with my answer?” I asked.
The lines in his forehead deepened, and he swept his hair back, something I’d seen him do when he was contemplating things. Finally, he met my eyes. “This is your play. I’ll back it either way.”
I bit my lip, taking into account everything I knew. “Tomorrow morning. He knows he has me hooked. He can stand to lose some sleep in anticipation.”
Decker nodded and disappeared through the door. As soon as he was gone, I flipped the locks and pulled out the other burner that I’d used to phone Jablonsky. At this rate, I should probably label all three phones to avoid confusion. After spending the next two hours updating Mark on the play and spitballing ideas about Harbring, Shrieves, and the real reason Timothy Wilde was running a commune, we were out of ideas and intel. Once we hung up, I packed everything I had. It was time to clean house, especially if I had to entertain an uninvited guest later this evening.
After sealing the box and shoving it in the hall closet for pickup by the DEA, I nibbled on some leftovers and decided to call it a night. My headache never fully went away, but it wasn’t nearly as bad. And since I was about to move into the lion’s den, there would be no other opportunities for a good night’s sleep in my future.
It felt like I’d just crawled under the covers and closed my eyes when I heard sounds of rustling. The noises continued to grow louder until I was certain someone was inside the apartment. Then the sound of gunfire boomed through the enclosed space.
“Alex!” Martin screamed my name, and I shot up in bed.
Before flipping on the light, I grabbed my nine millimeter from beneath the mattress and crept out of bed. Aware that I was shaking and drenched in sweat, I knew it had been a nightmare, but the noises had been so vivid. Martin’s pained, frantic voice reverberated in my ears. The dreams hadn’t been this bad for some time. Something was seriously wrong.
Swallowing, I checked the attached bathroom and the closets before turning on the bedroom light and making sure the rest of the apartment was clear. The front door remained locked, as did all the windows. The box of intel remained inside the hall closet, and nothing had been moved. I was insane.
Glancing at the clock, I rubbed a heavy hand down my face. It was three a.m. I’d been asleep for almost three hours. It was only a dream. Another stupid dream. But no matter how many times I repeated that to myself, I couldn’t get Martin’s voice out of my head. He was in trouble, and I wasn’t there.
Disregarding every ounce of rational thought and violating the basic tenet of deep cover work, I picked up the burner that I used to speak to Jablonsky and dialed the familiar number
that I hadn’t used in over six weeks. With the time difference, he should be up by now, preparing for a workout before getting ready to leave for the office. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t be alone. Frankly, I didn’t care. I just needed to know one thing.
“Hello?” Martin sounded tired.
“Are you okay?”
“Alex.” It wasn’t a question, and he let out a lengthy exhale. “How dare you ask me that. It’s six a.m. What the hell do you want?”
“I just need to know that you’re okay.”
He snorted. “I’m not. If you call back around noon, I’ll probably be a little better because I’ll be two or three drinks in by that point, but right now, I’m about as sober as I’ve been since you left. And it fucking hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” I shouldn’t have called.
“Don’t say it when you clearly don’t mean it,” he snapped. “Why the hell did you really call?”
Slowly, I inhaled, making sure my voice would remain steady. “I had a nightmare. I heard you screaming my name. I thought you were hurt.”
He let out an angry laugh. “Guess what. I don’t have to deal with your nightmares anymore, sweetheart.”
“You’re absolutely right. I won’t bother you again.” I pulled the phone away from my ear, knowing that I needed to press disconnect, but he stopped me.
“Wait. Don’t go.” It sounded like he was talking about more than just the phone call, and I blinked back the tears, pressing the phone back against my cheek. “Alex?”
“I’m here.”
“No, you’re not.” The pain in his voice was unbearable, and I knew that leaving had been the biggest mistake I’d ever made. “There’s something that I need to know. Why didn’t you fight for us? You just stopped fighting. You gave up. You turned into the victim, and you let me use our relationship to vent my resentment. I know I fucked up. I was angry. I’m still angry. But you didn’t fight back. You just rolled over, and then you ran away. You ran away from me. From us. From everything. Did I push too hard? Did I push you away?”
“It’s not your fault. You said you didn’t trust me, but the truth is I don’t trust you.”
“Alex,” he began, but I shushed him.
“Let me finish, or I may never get this out. I owe you an explanation or an excuse, whatever this is.” The tears were falling now, but I fought to keep my voice steady. “I almost lost you, and every time that shit goes sideways, all I can think about are the mercenaries and you bleeding out inside your office. When I lost my first OIO partner, I didn’t think I’d ever find my way out of that black hole, but I didn’t love him, not like I love you. If anything ever happened to you, I can’t imagine I’d survive that. And now the fucked up thing is I’m three thousand miles away, and the only thought in my head is that if some asshole were to come at you, I’m too far away to do anything about it. God,” I wiped my eyes, trembling, “I want so badly to find some way to fix this. I just don’t know what to do.”
His voice sounded strained. “You don’t act like this with Mark or Nick or Derek. Is this really just because of the shooting? And don’t tell me it’s different with them. Jabber’s the closest thing you have to a father, and your cop friends might as well be your brothers.”
“But it is different with them,” I insisted, hearing Decker’s voice in my head. “They’ve been trained. They have experience. They signed up for this shit. You didn’t.”
Martin scoffed. “So I should apply to the FBI or enroll at the police academy in order to get my girlfriend to come home?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why can’t it be?” He blew out an angry breath. “Haven’t I proven myself to you? Do I need to remind you that you came to me when you were in trouble, or how about the time that I saved you from that asshole that was going to shoot you up with a lethal dose of heroin?”
“Stop.”
“What about the countless nights spent awake, dealing with your night terrors? Or that horrible night we spent on the bathroom floor?”
“Martin, why the hell would you even want to be with me after all of that? This is your chance for a clean break. A good life. A normal life.”
He laughed cynically. “Do you have any idea how many women I’ve dated? None of them meant a damn. I wasn’t looking for a relationship. But then I met you, and you made me work for it. We went from strictly professional to friends, and finally, after a year, you agreed to give us a chance. And I knew that was it for me. You were it for me. Now you want me to give that up and go back to nothing.” He got quiet, and I pressed the phone closer to my ear, waiting for him to speak again. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t it for you.”
“You are.” I squeezed my eyes closed. “You always will be.” The words sputtered out leaving me raw and exposed. “Look, I don’t know how but I’m going to figure this out. There’s something wrong with me, with the way I react to things, but I want you to know that I’ll work on it. I’ll find a way to conquer this fear of losing you. It’s so ironic and stupid, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve already lost you. I did that to us. I did it to myself.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. Come home. We’ll work on this together. We’ll get therapy, or I’ll take self-defense classes or whatever you want.”
“I can’t. I’m not sure what I need or what we need. Not yet. But when this assignment’s over, in the event that you’re still single, maybe we can talk. Just don’t wait for me. Whenever you’re ready to move on, do it. You deserve so much better. I just wanted you to know that I love you. And I want to fix this. I wish things were different. I wish I never sent you to London. I wish I never lied to you. And I wish I never left.”
Pulling the phone away before he could say a word, I disconnected and ripped the battery free. Then I removed the SIM card, tossed them separately into the trash, opened my door, and threw the garbage down the chute. I’d breached protocol. That conversation could cost me this mission or possibly my job, but I didn’t care. The call didn’t pose a risk. If it had, I never would have made it in the first place. Unfortunately, my mind was on Martin, and it needed to be on the game.
With the knowledge that he had no way of contacting me and I was out of spare burner phones, idiotic ideas, and unrealistic promises, I went back to bed and cried myself to sleep. Tomorrow morning, Alex Parker and her problems would have to remain on the backburner until Timothy Wilde was taken down. If that wasn’t incentive to wrap this up quickly, I didn’t know what was.
Seventeen
“You look like hell,” Tim said, entering the apartment. “I take it you didn’t sleep well last night either.”
I shook my head and stared at the kitchen tiles. Agent Eckhardt had shown up earlier with a few police officers. After taking my statement about the attack and learning the fundamentals about the second assailant, I knew that we weren’t any closer to making a case against Tim. Once the police were done, Eckhardt removed the questionable items from the apartment, promising that they’d be placed in my office space at HQ. As soon as that happened, I’d phoned Tim and asked for his help. His casual snooping wouldn’t uncover anything, and I let him wander the apartment while I made lunch.
“There is limited storage space in the basement of the main building,” Tim offered, “but it would have to be short-term.”
“Thanks, but the apartment came furnished. I don’t have much, just some clothes and the necessities. I really don’t want to put you out. Are you sure this is okay?”
“Alex, it’s fine. It’s better than fine. It’s wonderful. We’re like a large extended family. We’ll probably benefit just as much by having you join us.” He smiled brightly and took a seat at the kitchen table. “But you should know that we all contribute. It’s a commune. A cooperative of individuals. Not to sound too much like a socialist, but we work best as a community.”
“What does that mean exactly?” I asked, placing a plate in front of him.
“People volunteer to do different chores. Sarah mad
e up the room for you the other day. Hannah and Dana cooked breakfast. Joseph cleaned up the kitchen and the dining hall afterward. We each take turns. No one expects you to jump in right away. Hopefully, your housing and financial issues will be handled swiftly, and you may choose to leave without participating. That’s okay too.”
“No, I’ll help out. I’m no chef,” I nodded down at the plate, “but I can wash dishes with the best of them. I don’t care to pull my own weight.”
He nodded. “That’s good, but promise me you won’t do anything to stress that ankle. You need to get well so you can get back to work at the restaurant. I miss seeing your performances.”
“I’m really not that good.”
“You’re incredible.” For a moment, he oozed smarmy lechery.
Staring him down and making the sudden awkwardness in the room obvious, I cleared my throat. “Not really.” I wouldn’t thank him for the thinly veiled sexual remark. “You know, you didn’t have to come all the way here to discuss this in person. I know how busy you are. I just wanted to make sure that you hadn’t changed your mind on the offer.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” He stabbed at his plate, chewing thoroughly. “It’s a lot quieter here with far fewer distractions. At the commune, I find that there are always things to do and questions to answer. I wanted to make sure I devoted the proper amount of time to you.” He dabbed at his chin, leaning back and smiling. “Are you sure you didn’t find the dorms too claustrophobic? You didn’t stay particularly long. I thought you would have wanted to get some rest.”
I wasn’t sure what game he was playing, but I imagined he had watched the surveillance feed from that room. Did he realize I’d spotted the camera? Being undercover required walking a thin line, and I forced myself to become the lie.
“I was too wound up. There were a lot of things to think about, and for some reason, I had this horrible headache. I’m not sure what brought it on, probably stress, but it made it difficult to relax, let alone sleep. But the room was great. It will take some getting used to a shared bathroom again, but it’s a huge step up from having to shower at the gym or wash up in a gas station bathroom.”
