TRIGGERED: A Romantic Suspense Bundle (5 Books)

by Evie Nichole

  Thankfully, before she had the chance to continue to worry, the door opened. Jason entered followed by three men around his age. One was tall, thin, and black with a thick mustache; one was short, white, and pudgy with reddish-blond hair; and the other was about Jason’s height, Latino with slicked back hair that she thought must actually be quite long. The last one was carrying a clipboard and a thick, yellow notebook. The pudgy one sat in the corner chair, diagonal from her, with his body angled toward her and one legged across the other, ankle to knee. The Latino one sat in the chair directly across from her, placing his papers on the table. The black one leaned against the wall between the door and the table, his arms crossed in front of him, staring at Monica.

  Jason smiled at her, but she could tell he was tense.

  “Guys, this is Monica. Monica this is Miguel.” The Latino one reached out his hand and she shook it. Stephen, the redhead, saluted her and continued to watch her with curious scrutiny; and Chris, the black one nodded at her, showing the least emotion and friendliness out of all of them. She thought he must be either highly suspicious of her or completely indifferent. She relaxed a little, though, because none of them seemed aggressive or to outwardly loathe her. She had been worried that they would blame her for the derailment of their case, or that they would all be like the bad cop investigators with Jason playing the good one.

  She looked at Jason who was watching her carefully. He nodded as if to ask “You alright?” and she took a deep breath and nodded back. Chris noticed this, looking back and forth between the two of them but revealing no emotion. Miguel was flipping through his notebook, presumably looking for a blank page. Stephen reached over to the clipboard and started reading down the top page.

  “We should get started,” Stephen said without looking up.

  Miguel stopped flipping and pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket. Chris remained motionless, eyes on her.

  “We’re going to ask you some questions, first,” Jason said, his voice strained with trying to ease her into things and still trying to maintain professionalism.

  She took a deep breath and nodded, keeping her eyes on Jason. Stephen started speaking, reading from the clipboard, and Miguel started writing. Chris remained where he was, unmoving. Jason moved to the chair on the other side of Miguel, directly between her and Chris. She appreciated having a barrier there because Chris seemed very intense, but every time she looked at Jason, she couldn’t help but see Chris in her periphery, watching her continually.

  “You are the former girlfriend of Alan C. Porter?”

  “Yes,” she said, looking between Miguel and Stephen, trying to determine whom she was supposed to direct her answers to. Stephen nodded, making eye contact with her briefly; Miguel stopped writing after a moment and also met her gaze, giving her a smile and a nod of reassurance. She decided to direct her answers to him. She glanced at Chris and was relieved to find that he had stopped looking at her. Instead, he was staring over his arms to the floor below him.

  “Did you know him by any other names?”

  “Um, no, he didn’t have any nicknames that I knew of.” She glanced at Jason, and he nodded at her, though he still looked fairly stressed.

  “Examples could include—” Stephen began but Chris interrupted him,

  “She doesn’t need to know what aliases we know.” His voice was gruff, and he spoke quickly, authoritatively. Stephen looked at him over the top of his clipboard, and Jason looked toward Miguel, who was still writing. When Miguel looked up, he made eye contact with Jason and then Stephen and gave Stephen a subtle nod. Chris gave an exasperated sigh, and she thought she saw him shaking his head.

  “Examples could include Alan Smith, Alan Cole, Porter Cole, Jeremy Watson, Frank Harper, or Stockboy.”

  She tried to restrain the snort because she felt like this was the last place she needed to be bursting into laughter. She caught Jason’s eye, and he, too, looked amused. She looked at Stephen, who was grinning blatantly, and Miguel, who was biting back a smirk. She knew without looking that Chris was not smiling.

  “Stockboy?” she asked, still unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

  “You’ve heard it?” Stephen asked, looking up and his face returning to normal. Miguel and Jason were also watching her closely.

  “No, no. Sorry. I’ve never heard any of those, though Porter Cole is like Cole Porter isn’t it?” Three of them nodded, as if this had already been discussed by them a thousand times.

  “For the record,” Miguel said, his voice was slightly nasally, “you are unfamiliar with the aliases that have been listed, correct.”

  “Correct,” she said, the smile fading from her mouth as they quickly returned to business.

  “Where did you meet Alan C. Porter?” Stephen continued, his voice sounding resonant and low compared to Miguel.

  “He went to school with an old roommate’s boyfriend. She gave him my number when he said he wanted to start dating.”

  “Please tell us the roommate and the boyfriend’s name.”

  “Why?” she asked. Stephen looked at her, his jaw slightly tense. Miguel looked up patiently, however.

  “We need to know any and all people who have come into contact with him because they may be able to provide us with important information in this case. And they may possibly prove to be a person of interest.”

  A person of interest, she thought. She pictured her old roommate’s face in her mind, remembering that she’d tried cocaine once in college. She didn’t know her boyfriend well, but she felt traitorous giving their names to the authorities. She looked at Jason, and he nodded.

  “Lisa Friedman and Bobby Jones,” she said to Miguel, hoping that Lisa wasn’t involved in any of this.

  “What do you know about the work Alan Porter does?”

  “You mean the drugs?”

  The three seated men all chuckled, and she glanced at Chris to find that he was looking at her intensely again, his eyes narrowed.

  “Anything,” Stephen prompted.

  She told them everything she’d told Jason, the phone calls, the lateness, how Alan had worked all hours and seemed to have clients all over the world.

  “I just thought he was really successful and had a bunch of international clients for whatever it was he was selling,” she said, disappointed in her own naiveté.

  Jason gave her a small smile as Stephen continued, “Did you ever meet any of his work associates or colleagues?”

  “He took me to a party once. He said it was all work people.”

  Stephen nodded as if he expected this answer, and she noticed Miguel nodding as well. Jason had scooted forward, and though Chris hadn’t seemed to move, he seemed to be standing even more still, as if he were listening very hard.

  “Who did you meet?”

  “I don’t remember names; I’m really bad with names. They were mostly men around Alan’s age. I remember a guy with sort of dirty blond hair, he was pretty tall. There was another guy with a shaved head, which seemed odd to me in such a formal setting; I think his eyes were green. I noticed because he had no hair and they kind of stood out. But they might have been blue.” She felt increasingly like she was being no help at all. Chris was shaking his head in the corner, with the hint of a smirk on his face that made her shame increase. Stephen was looking at her, frowning slightly, and Miguel was taking notes in what she thought was a slower pace than before. She was letting them down, but she had warned them. She looked at Jason; he alone did not seem disappointed in her. He smiled sweetly and gave her a subtle wink. She felt a little reassured.

  “There were a few women, but Alan didn’t introduce me to any of them. I remember a redhead in a sequined gold dress, she definitely stood out.” She chuckled to herself, but stopped immediately when Jason was the only one that joined. This was becoming an increasingly nerve-wracking situation. “Then there was this old guy. I remember wondering why he was there because he was so much older than everyone else was. He was short, shorter than me
, fat, balding on the top of his head but with, like, curly patches on each side, sort of like a clown, you know?”

  Miguel nodded in response without looking up. Unless she was imagining it, his writing pace had picked up again. Stephen sat up straighter, dropping his crossed leg and scooting into the table a little more to face her more directly.

  “He’s the one who I’m pretty sure I heard asking Alan about pills or something like that. I can’t remember exactly, but I’m pretty sure it was pills. That’s when I decided he must be in pharmaceuticals or something.”

  “Something is right!” Stephen chuckled enthusiastically at his own joke and Miguel laughed as well. Jason was smiling at them, shaking his head in amusement. Chris was shaking his head as well, though clearly not in amusement.

  “Do you remember his name?” Miguel still had a smile on his face as he looked at her, pen poised over his notebook.

  “It was something alliterative, that’s all I remember. Mr. something, started with an M, I remember thinking about M&Ms. It wasn’t too long, his last name. Alan just said Mr. whatever, starting with an M. I was bored; I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry.”

  Miguel was writing again and Stephen held his hands apart in a sort of shrug, “Hey, no worries.”

  She smiled at him appreciatively. “I danced with him. It was awkward because, in my heels, I was like a head taller than he was. He mostly just complimented Alan on being a good worker and stuff, and me on being beautiful and a lovely dancer. His words, not mine.” She blushed slightly and refrained from looking at Jason so it wouldn’t get any worse.

  “Anything else?” Miguel prompted, still scribbling away.

  She closed her eyes, trying to remember. They’d danced two slow dances because Alan was talking to everyone but her. When the second song had finished and she’d excused herself to get another drink, he had kissed her hand and said, “I must leave now, anyway. Please, remind Alan about China. Tell him I said it’s priority number one.”

  “China!” She almost shouted and felt immediately stupid for doing so. All four of them snapped their heads to her, however, and she thought she may have landed on something.

  “China?” Miguel asked.

  “Mr. M-whatever, he told me to remind Alan about China. He said it was priority number one.”

  Stephen, Miguel, and Jason all exchanged looks. Chris was only staring at her, however.

  “You’re sure he said China?” he asked, making Jason jump.

  “Yes,” she said, bravely meeting his withering stare.

  He looked at Jason, leaning up away from the wall and opening his arms to gesture around the room.

  “How convenient is that, Jason? You’re still sure about her, are you?”

  Jason looked steadily at Monica, who didn’t understand what Chris meant. “I am,” he said simply, smiling at her kindly.

  Chris stared at the back of his head and then looked to Miguel and Stephen, both of whom had resumed staring at their respective papers, saying nothing. Chris threw his hands into the air with a huff and then turned to storm out of the door, slamming it behind him so that the fake mirror in the wall wobbled slightly.

  There was a brief moment of silence. Then Miguel closed his notebook saying, “Sorry about him; he gets a little heated,” with an apologetic smile.

  Stephen snorted. “A little heated. Yeah.”

  They both stood and Jason followed suit. She remained seated because she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do.

  “Thank you, Monica. We’ll plan another meeting with you if we feel we need more information.” Miguel gave her a final friendly nod and opened the door, allowing Stephen, who gave her another salute, to exit first.

  Jason waited until the door closed to speak.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded, trying to evaluate what had just happened and feeling slightly shaken, though it hadn’t been as dramatic as she thought it could have been.

  “I’m sorry about Chris. He resents me for ‘bowing the case’ as he calls it. He likes his drama. We have plenty of information to go on without you. I didn’t blow anything.” He sounded mildly bitter.

  “It’s okay. I hope I was helpful.”

  He smiled at her triumphantly.

  “You were, actually. Come on, though, let’s get you home.”

  She looked at him with a question in her eyes, but he just winked and jerked his head toward the door.

  Chapter 12

  Jason didn’t speak again until they were inside his car and driving away from the nondescript office building that had no sign out front but had a security guard in a hutch at the entrance to the parking lot. A long, wooden beam painted red and black was raised and lowered to allow cars through. Jason had to present identification and an authorization paper for her when he came in and again when they left.

  “Jason,” Monica said quietly, after they’d driven a few minutes.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said, chuckling. He reached over to squeeze her hand before returning his hand to the steering wheel. “I was just going over everything. Right. So we’ve heard Mr. M before. We think a lot of people actually call him Mr. M. We think he’s the boss.”

  “The big guy! Number one!” she gasped as she exclaimed.

  “The one and only. We think. It’s a pretty good hunch made even better by the fact that you seem to have delivered instructions from him to Alan.” Jason was smiling, and she found herself smiling as well, happy to see him so happy. She was also pleased that she may have been some help after all.

  “And China?” she asked, remembering that that was what seemed to set Chris off.

  “China,” Jason shook his head, still smiling. “We have been trying to nail down a connection with China for a while now. Alan and a few of his underlings who do some of the traveling go to several of the same countries. None of them have ever been to China, that we’ve been able to determine, but our counterparts in London and Paris believe that China is involved and that the meetings take place outside of China.”

  “Like where?”

  “Like in London or Paris, though possibly someplace else.”

  “If you knew China already, why is it such a big deal that I said it?”

  “We knew China from other countries; we had yet to corroborate it on this end. We needed to do that to prove that the branches of the organization in England and France weren’t just involved in other exchanges with China that were unrelated to this particular organization’s work. That happens sometimes, like side jobs.”

  She nodded, feeling a surge of exhilaration.

  “So you know he’s probably the boss, and you know China’s probably involved. Is that good?” She knew she was looking for affirmation but didn’t care. She felt overwhelmed by everything that was going on, and she wanted to know that it had been worth it. She didn’t quite know why she was so invested all of a sudden, though. If she had to guess, she’d say it was because of her feelings for a certain someone.

  “Definitely good, Monica. Definitely good.”

  They both smiled, staring at the road ahead of them.

  ***

  “You don’t have to go back to work?” she asked, as Jason found a parking spot near her building. They’d stopped to have dinner at a Thai place near a small park, wandering around afterwards as the sun went down, discussing Alan’s case.

  “Nope, I took the rest of the day off. Thought you might want some company after all of that.”

  “Don’t you need to analyze everything with them or something?”

  Jason shook his head, as he put the car into park and undid his seatbelt. “I’m not officially on the case anymore.”

  “Aren’t you curious though?” she asked, undoing her own seatbelt and starting to get out.

  “Of course I am,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s why Miguel is going to send me the notes from your meeting and from the meeting they’re having right now.” He winked at her from across the hood of the car, leaning against it l
ightly. He seemed happy. She stood on the curb, smiling back at him. Suddenly, he frowned and stood up.

  “I don’t have to come in, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Jason.” She paused, and they looked at each other, both waiting to see what she’d say next. She scanned his face, took a deep breath and said, “Come up. Please.”

  ***

  She walked into the apartment with him right behind her, and she kept walking. She heard him close the door and assumed he would follow her. The place was tidier than the last time he had been there, but she found herself not caring so much this time. She wasn’t so much thinking right now as letting her body lead her. If she let herself think, she would start overanalyzing everything, getting stuck in her head, and be unable to be present with him. If she let herself think, she would probably want to wait for the “right moment” and something inside her made her feel certain that she would regret that. Her body was acting in total assurance, like when she was drunk, but steadier, more controlled. It was letting her have what she wanted without overthinking, with the added benefits that she would be able to remember everything and there would be no hangover tomorrow.

  She kicked off her shoes just inside the bedroom door, sliding them over toward her closet door, which stood slightly ajar, revealing her other shoes in slightly untidy rows on the floor. The bedroom was tidy, too; she’d spent part of her long weekend cleaning and organizing because it allowed her to think without getting overly anxious. Cleaning worked off the excess energy. She felt the cool, soft carpet beneath her feet, and she stood in one spot for a moment, wiggling her toes in it idly. She sensed him behind her and turned; he was standing in the doorway, looking at her. His face was open, without expectation, waiting to follow her lead.

  She turned to face him fully, keeping her eyes on his, watching his eyes and his mouth, taking in every change that occurred there. She was wearing a fitted, button-down shirt and jeans; she smirked at the inadvertent foresight she’d had in choosing her outfit this morning. She slowly started undoing her buttons, top to bottom, feeling the cool air hit her chest, the soft swell of her breasts in a flattering but simple nude bra; she felt goosebumps spread across her arms and torso as the air hit her stomach. She let the shirt fall to the floor and stood for a moment, letting him look at her, holding her hands loosely at her sides. His eyes stayed on hers for a long time; she gave him a wink, and one corner of his mouth jerked upward. His eyes moved slowly away from hers, down her half-exposed body; his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and she felt a pulse inside of her pants. She reached forward and undid the button and zipper of her jeans, feeling slightly awkward as she tried to sexily lower them. She kicked them to the side and stood in front of him once more, her panties matching her bra, feeling exposed but safe.