The Job

by Jove Belle

  “You need to answer your door when I knock, Marcus. I don’t appreciate being kept waiting.”

  As Marcus’s smile grew, she realized her mistake. He’d been late to a meeting and she’d let him do it. According to the hierarchy, Marcus’s actions were very disrespectful, to the degree that he should be worried for his safety, not smiling about being allowed to push the boundaries of their relationship. That was the thing about working undercover. It made her scrabble for action like a kid on a street corner trying to build a rep. She’d already earned her status within Lithman, but every meeting had the potential to give her what she needed to close the investigation for good. She couldn’t risk missing out on valuable intel and, like it or not, Marcus was valuable.

  As far as power plays went, this was fairly minor to her, but not to Marcus. She felt as though she’d lost an important, if subtle, game, and it added to her building sense of unease.

  “I’m sorry about that, boss. I forgot all about our meeting this morning.”

  She wanted to call bullshit but held her tongue. She’d talked to him the night before, just after her meeting with John. No way he’d forgotten about it between then and now, and the glint in his eyes confirmed as much. She moved off the front porch toward the SUV. Something about Marcus’s tone, his body position, and his goddamn smile had her primed and ready to act. She couldn’t pinpoint the cause, but her instincts told her to go the other way. Her ingrained training forced her to stay and do her job.

  “You forgot?” She moved toward him carefully, watching for changes that would clarify her unnamed fears. She needed to put them to rest or identify them.

  “Yeah, I’m really sorry. But we’re both here now, so that’s good, right?”

  A second SUV pulled into place behind Marcus. The windows were tinted so dark on both vehicles that she couldn’t see into the one Marcus was driving to check if anyone was in the backseat. However, she could see through the front windshield of the other one that four men were seated inside, two in the front and two in the back.

  “Turn off the car and let’s go inside. I don’t want to talk in the driveway.” She sounded far too normal for the way her heart was pounding. She didn’t have any clear indication of what was wrong, but the situation wasn’t right. Marcus always pushed her just a little harder than a subordinate should, but he was careful to keep it on the right side. Truthfully, other than the fact that he’d kept her waiting, followed by the slight change in his smile and posture, she couldn’t see any other signs that anything was wrong.

  Marcus made a small tsking sound and shook his head. “No can do, boss. Why don’t you get in the car with me? We can go for a drive.” As he raised his arm, bringing a handgun into sight, she realized that was the slight change in his body she’d been picking up on. He’d angled himself in his seat so that his gun had been trained on her throughout the conversation.

  She had weapons of her own, but none she could draw without Marcus noticing. The closest, and most obvious, was the Glock 40 in the holster at her side. It would be impossible for her to clear the holster and get a round off without Marcus shooting her first. As much as she wanted to dive behind the nearest garbage can—which was twenty feet away and would provide very little cover anyway—and wait for backup to arrive, she’d never survive a firefight against Marcus and his crew. If he’d openly drawn on her, it was best to assume his goons had weapons trained on her as well.

  She glanced as surreptitiously as possible at the second vehicle. The two men in front pointed handguns at her. She saw the glint of light reflecting off polished steel in the backseat as well. She’d be lucky to make it six inches before being filled with a bunch of extra, unwanted holes. She wasn’t interested in attending her own funeral, so she kept her hands where he could see them. She focused on looking calm and waited for him to tell her what he wanted.

  “I’d rather not.” The odds of her survival decreased drastically as soon as she stepped into his vehicle.

  Marcus rested his handgun on the edge of the open window with the barrel pointed directly at Sera’s chest. He never stopped smiling.

  “I’m not asking.”

  Sera left her hands at her side and did her best to look angry instead of afraid, but it took effort to keep her voice steady. If Marcus was making this kind of play, he expected it to end with one of them dead. And he looked far too calm for a man who believed he was about to die. Her only chance was to remain calm and watch for her opening. She couldn’t let the tension building in her chest force her to say something to blow her cover. “What the hell is this?”

  Interestingly, the moment he showed his gun, things settled inside Sera. The tension didn’t ease so much as sharpen to adrenaline-fueled clarity. She no longer had to guess whether her instincts were running amok. Seeing his weapon confirmed she was spot on with her assessment of his behavior. Now all she had to do was focus on staying alive. First step to making that happen was calming her nerves and forcing the energy flowing through her to work in her favor rather than against her.

  “Get in and I’ll explain.” Marcus’s voice shifted with the command. Instead of the easy conversational tone he’d used to that point, his words were hard edged and demanding.

  She started toward the SUV, her hands slightly raised in the universal “don’t shoot” position. The guys in the other car had a clear view of her as she moved. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “Oh, absolutely.” Marcus almost laughed, but she didn’t find anything funny about the situation. He didn’t tell her to put her hands down, one more confirmation that the rest of his crew, at least the ones present, were aware of his plans. She wasn’t likely to find an ally among them. Still, there was a chance John didn’t know about this. That was something she could probably use to her advantage, if she lived long enough to start a dialogue.

  “Are you serious right now? Forget explaining it to me. How do you plan to explain it to John?” Sera mentioned her boss and watched Marcus carefully for his reaction. If John had sanctioned a hit, she had no hope of talking Marcus down. The slight tic in Marcus’s left eye gave her hope that John had no clue, but it wasn’t enough to be certain.

  “You let me worry about that. Now get in the car.”

  Sera nodded. Any show of fear at this point could get her killed. Instead she focused on looking murderous. It wasn’t too far off. She was trained to watch for signs that someone was shifting his position and tactics. The possibility that she’d missed something so blatant from Marcus made her pretty damn angry.

  She searched her memory for indicators that Marcus was getting ready to make a power move. She came up empty, but that could mean a lot of different things. Maybe he hadn’t planned anything and this was a poorly thought-out, little-boy tantrum. Or perhaps he’d kept everything very tightly in hand and convincingly pretended things were fine. Worst possible case, he hadn’t given any signs because he wasn’t working on his own. He could be following someone else’s orders.

  She hoped for the first, a burst of temper, because that was the easiest to negotiate and ultimately sidestep. The other two would be much more difficult, and the possibility of making it through alive was remote. She did her best to swallow her emotions. It was nobody’s fault but her own that she was being forced to climb into a blacked-out SUV at gunpoint. Some of her anger was directed at him, but most of it was at herself. None of it would serve her in the current situation. She needed a clear head.

  She eased into the passenger seat and closed the door. The shuffle-click as Marcus engaged the door lock, sealing her inside with the man who aspired to kill her, cleared the shock from her brain. She needed to focus or this would be the last ride she ever took.

  Another passenger sat in the backseat. Craig, a twenty-two-year-old kid who was obviously lost and searching for his way in life, slumped with his head down. Long strings of black hair hung into his face, giving her a streaked view of his features. His eyes were closed and his mouth pinched. Eventually, he
looked up and smiled. The sadness she read in his eyes made her want to hug him. He was in so far over his head, and it seemed as though she was the only one who could see it. Or maybe she was the only one who cared.

  “Hi, Sera.”

  She nodded, the motion helping her sort out what his presence there meant. “Craig. You’re a part of this?” Whatever this was.

  He looked away and didn’t answer.

  “Of course he is. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.” Marcus sounded smug.

  “I see.” Sera looked at Craig for another moment. She’d been trying for months to ease him into a safer place, one where he wouldn’t be in danger from Marcus or from her. But her opportunity for saving him had now officially closed. She had no choice but to treat him as fully hostile.

  Normally, she adjusted her gun when she first sat down in a car. Otherwise the holster pinched against her side. This time she let it pinch. Marcus hadn’t asked for her weapon, and she wasn’t going to bring attention to the fact that she still had it. That morning, she’d also put on her ankle holster with a smaller .22 caliber handgun strapped in it. Maybe he didn’t know about that at all. For the first time since taking this assignment, she wished she’d put on her vest. Her shirt, while stylish, wasn’t designed to stop bullets. Too bad her cover identity gave her no reason to wear one on a regular basis. She was technically a button pusher. If she’d landed in an enforcement role, she could have justified it. Not that she liked wearing one—it was less comfortable than the butt of her gun pressing against her ribs—but both were better than bullet wounds.

  “Marcus, you need to tell me what this is.” She used his name because that’s what her training told her to do. Establish a relationship with her captor, humanize herself to him. She didn’t think it would work in this situation, since she’d been using his name for almost two years and he still hated her. To be fair, she wasn’t a big fan of his either. Especially when she considered the developments of the last few minutes.

  “I have a theory about you, boss.” Marcus spoke conversationally as he pulled out into the street. He drove with his right hand on the wheel and kept his left hand resting easily in his lap with the gun pointed at her.

  “A theory?” That couldn’t be good. For him to have anything resembling a theory meant he’d spent far too much time thinking about her.

  “Yeah, it’s like this. Two years ago I’d never even heard of you. You appeared out of nowhere and rose so fast…” He shook his head, a far-away look in his eyes. “Now, here we are, two years later, and you’re my boss. How did that happen?”

  Sera was pretty sure the question was rhetorical, so she didn’t answer. She focused on the passing scenery and street signs, trying to make sense of where they were going. Marcus wasn’t likely to tell her their destination. He was content to act as the ghost of Christmas past, reminiscing about events that had already happened rather than talking about those to come.

  “No, I really want to know. How did you do that?” Marcus prompted her again.

  Sera shrugged. “I pay attention and work hard.” That was the over-simplified version of the answer. Actually the skills that had helped her move through the ranks of the FBI quickly also helped her in the criminal world. More so, even, because the rules of conduct within Lithman rewarded bad behavior. The more she acted like a thug in a nice suit, the more her boss noticed her.

  “But why this organization? It’s not like you have ties to anyone. I know. I checked.” He looked at her sharply. He was driving, so he couldn’t remain focused on her for long.

  “I’d heard some things and it seemed like the right place for me.” She answered like she was talking about any other career choice, as if it was normal to scout organized-crime groups before petitioning for a job.

  That wasn’t too far off the mark, except she wasn’t the one who’d done the research. A team of analysts and other agents had somehow managed to connect LFA and Lithman, and here she was trying to tighten those connections. It was her job to tie it all together in a nice package for the US Attorney.

  Marcus turned toward the financial district and Sera’s stomach sank. Whatever he was planning wasn’t as simple as executing her. For that he’d have headed toward less populated areas, like the warehouses down by the dock or out of town completely. He wouldn’t have chosen a center of activity in the heart of the city; the traffic alone should have vetoed the location. When transporting a hostage, it was never a good idea to head into an area densely packed with slow-moving vehicles. That morning, they were moving even slower than usual. She counted that in her favor since it gave her more time to figure out what was happening and how to stop it.

  “It seemed like the right place for you.” Marcus repeated her answer and nodded like it made sense. “I wonder, when you introduced yourself to John, if you mentioned your history with the FBI?”

  Chapter Two

  Traffic was unrelenting that morning, enough so that Torrence Jewel found herself questioning her decision to drive to work rather than taking advantage of the city’s mass-transit system. Barring disaster, the trains usually ran on time. If she’d gone that route, instead of indulging herself in the luxury provided by her BMW convertible, she wouldn’t be stuck behind a semi on the freeway. Most mornings, she could make it from her home to the bank in less than thirty minutes. Today, she’d been driving for almost an hour and still hadn’t entered the financial district.

  “Call Minnie.” She gave the vocal command for her phone to dial her assistant, and the volume on the stereo system immediately quieted, replaced moments later by the sound of ringing.

  “America First Bank, this is Minolea speaking. How can I help you?” Minnie answered the phone with cool professionalism that didn’t mute her warm personality. Tor had lucked out when Minnie had taken the job as her personal assistant. She kept Tor on track and pointing forward from day to day.

  “Min, I’m just calling to let you know that I’m on my way.”

  “Are you on the four-oh-five?”

  “Yes, going about twelve miles per hour.” She’d picked up speed in the past few minutes. Previously she’d been alternating between sitting still and charging forward at an abrupt and short-lived five miles per hour. “Any idea what’s going on?”

  “It’s all over the news. Apparently there was an explosion on Hancock, at the Sixteenth Street exit. They’re still trying to get the fire under control. Traffic is being diverted.”

  Beckford Financial, a powerful investment firm, sat on that corner, and despite her normally levelheaded approach, Tor couldn’t stop the spike of fear that hit her when Minnie named the location. Her best friend, Chris, had accepted an offer from Beckford over the past summer, and the move had proved to be lucrative. She worked hard and Beckford rewarded her generously for it. If the explosion was at Beckford, Chris had probably been there when it happened.

  “Good to know.” Tor hit her blinker and started the slow process of moving to the right lane. Normally she stayed on the freeway all the way into downtown. She was still about twenty blocks away from Sixteenth and could just now see the faint clouds of smoke rising into the air. She might as well get off the freeway and fight her way into the heart of the city on surface streets.

  “Where are you?”

  “Just passed the Hollywood exit.” She had two more exits before Sixteenth, assuming the asshole in the next lane would let her get over before then. “Any idea what caused the explosion?”

  “They haven’t said, but isn’t that right around Beckford?” Minnie asked. Beckford handled billions of dollars in transactions on a weekly basis, and Tor had teased on more than one occasion that she would kill to get her hands on their client list. She’d never considered actually blowing up their building though. As much as she wanted the revenue, that seemed a bit extreme, even for someone like her who had a reputation for doing whatever it took to get the job done. She wondered if she’d be able to get close enough in her car to see what had happened.
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  “Yes, Beckford’s on that corner. I’m trying to think of what else is there. Do you remember?”

  “No idea. I’ll Google it. My boss won’t be in for a while, so I shouldn’t get caught.”

  Tor laughed. “You do that. I’ll call Chris and see if she knows what’s happening. In the meantime, will you check with Astrid and make sure she has what she needs for the day? There’s no telling how much longer it’ll take for me to get there.”

  Astrid was the floor manager, in charge of divvying up work assignments and making sure the tellers, the backbone of the banking services, had all the tools necessary to be successful. She was good at her job and likely didn’t need any help, but it was good to let her know Tor was available even when she wasn’t there.

  “Got it. Anything else?”

  Tor pictured Minnie tapping her stylus against her tablet, ready for more.

  “Just keep me posted.” Tor disconnected the call.

  Beckford, while a rival firm, was also filled with people, like Chris, that she and Minnie considered friends. Tor didn’t vocalize any direct concern about what might be happening at Beckford, nor did Minnie, but she didn’t doubt that Minnie was just as concerned as she was. It was too soon to draw conclusions and there was no point in panicking, but it wasn’t easy. She couldn’t help but worry.

  When Chris made the move to Beckford, she’d considered going to work there as well, but had decided she liked the full range of services offered at America First. They were able to manage investments, provide a full array of checking and savings options, and had a cache of safe-deposit boxes. Her office was filled with traditional, old-world banking décor: polished wood, shiny brass, and thick carpet. It all filled her with a sense of nostalgia reminiscent of her father. He’d been a bit of a bastard, but God did she miss him.

  Beckford, on the other hand, specialized in investment banking only, catering to the very wealthy. While America First had more than its fair share of well-off clients, they also helped the average person off the street. On any given day, she could walk onto the bank floor and shake hands with a teacher, a day laborer, and a CEO. She tried to help each of them with the same care and deference. Beckford, in her opinion, lacked charm. Banking that worked only to make the very rich even richer had no soul.