Insanity

by Xavier Neal

  Lordy walks in, frustration clear on his face. Immediately he shakes his head, “He's not gonna talk.” With a short shoulder shrug he says, “I don't even know if torture would help.”

  “Torture helps everything,” Director Shepard gripes.

  “I thought we didn't use the word torture,” Glove adds.

  “Fine.” Director Shepard growls. “Excessive interrogation tactics.”

  With a calm voice Jazz redirect the conversation, “I understand what Lordy is saying. From his background to his life choices now, physical endangerment doesn't scare him. It's more a fact of life. And if you physically persuade him and you damage him, you can't use him as your in to The Face, like you want director. The proof he's been flipped will be all over his body.”

  “Well what do you suggest then JZ?” the Director folds his arms tightly.

  She gives me a short sympathetic glance before sighing, “I suggest we use the Victim as part of the process.” My chest tightens as does the rope of tension around my neck. I keep my body still. My voice silent. My eyes focused on the screen where he is looking up at the ceiling appearing to be bored. The rage swimming rapidly through my blood heads home sweet home to my fist. I ball them in my pocket tighter. “The way she spoke about him, it seems there's a connection there that I believe we can manipulate in our favor.”

  “Bring her in.” He demands with no hesitation.

  Hearing the order crushes my wind pipe before I can object. It's an order. Not a question. Not a suggestion. Not a fucking debate. I swallow the tension in my throat before trying to still the throbbing in my jaw. They can't do this to her. They can't put her in the same room with him. This is fucking wrong.

  “Grim,” Jazz's voice forces my eyes open.

  Hers look slightly saddened. The torn decisions for doing what's best for an entire country or what's best for an individual. Not an easy call to make. One I don't like standing in the middle of. One I don't like having to enforce. Especially not with her. Especially not with where we have finally gotten to in our relationship. I hate that I have to always choose a side to stand on. I love my country. I will die for it. But I've learned it's not the only thing I'm willing to die for.

  Glove volunteers, “I can bring her in.”

  “No,” I focus my eyes on Jazz's. “I'll bring her in.”

  “Now,” Director Shepard reiterates before preparing to walk out the door. “I want this taken care of. Every day we are not one step closer we are one step further Jackets. That means one more helpless woman sold and one more dollar funding terrorist actions on our home front.”

  My eyes are still locked in Jazz's. Trying to remain professional, but missing, my name comes out in a weak voice, “Grim--”

  “You're just doing your job,” I coldly state. “And I'll do mine.”

  Glove's hand lands firmly on my shoulder pulling my eyes out of hers. “You wanna do this alone?”

  I nod as answer. “But I appreciate it.”

  His hand drops and I turn to exit the building on an order I'm less than pleased to fulfill. I may have to bring her in because it's my obligation to my country, but I'll be damned if they hurt her while she's here.

  Pulling up in my own driveway I kill the engine and sit in silence for a minute. I have to do this. It is not a choice. It is not an option. My fingers drag down my face hoping to erase some of the tension. The trepidation. The self-loathing. On a deep breath I exit my vehicle and walk across the street to Mindy's where Haven said she was.

  The moment I step foot inside, her mirth fills my ears, my head, and my heart, which I feel shatter just when I thought it couldn't break again. With another heavy sigh I let my duty lead me to what needs to be done.

  In the kitchen Haven has on her “The Future Mrs. Walker” apron, which is covered in flour, as is her beautiful light brown face, and dark brown hair. She's wearing a brown t-shirt and jeans. Her feet bare. She lets out another loud laugh full of so much life that I have to clamp my jaw shut to direct the pain in my chest elsewhere. She's happy. And safe. And I'm the one about to rip that away from her, the same one who promised to deliver it to her. Fuck. My chest aches again. I'll give it back. Whatever this damages, whatever this does to her, I swear I'll repair it. That. Is. My. Word.

  “I really like Lei's new boyfriend. I think he's good for her,” she dusts her hands on her apron again. “And more importantly I think she's actually happy.”

  “That girl and the word happy don't typically go in the same sentence unless someone else is miserable,” Mindy mumbles and Haven shakes her head, disapproving during her giggles.

  When she spots me, the smile expands, and she quickly bounces over to me, pressing her warm body against mine. Instinctively my body relaxes. Her hands fly around my neck as she places a delicate kiss on my lips. Briefly I let myself enjoy it unsure of the next time they will be on mine. Unsure she will forgive me for what I'm about to do. I pull away and plant my hands firmly on her hips, a cold look on my face.

  Sensing the seriousness she slides her hands down my chest. “What's wrong?”

  In a low voice I say, “I need you to come with me.”

  “Couldn't be away from her a minute longer?” Mindy playfully teases.

  I want to smile. I want to laugh at the joke. More importantly I want her to be right. Glancing around Haven I show Mindy the stern look on my face and she pins her arms tightly against her chest.

  My eyes cut back to Haven whose bottom lip is shaking. That's my fault. I'm causing this. In barely audible voice she asks, “Where?” When I don't answer she pulls her body out of my grasp, trembling on the way away from me. “Why?” No answer. I simply place my hands behind my back the message as clear as it can be. Shaking her head in disbelief she glances away before back to me. “Is it a choice?”

  “No.”

  “What's wrong?” Mindy quickly comes over. “What's going on?”

  Haven wraps her arms tightly around her on body. Protective. Shutting down already. I can see her falling back into the place she's worked so damn hard to come out of. Guilt grabs me tighter by the throat. In a weak voice she says to Mindy, “I um...need to run an errand with Clint for a bit. Can you finish up here alone?”

  Skeptical Mindy stares at her and then at me. Several still moments pass before she responds, “Yes.”

  “Thank you,” Haven meekly replies and undoes her apron. Handing it to Mindy she starts to ask, “Will you--”

  “I always do,” Mindy takes it from her with a nervous look. She reaches over and gives her a long, motherly shoulder squeeze before saying, “He'll protect you. He always has.”

  True. And I always fucking will.

  Haven nods and looks up at me, her brown eyes on the verge of tears already. The pit in my stomach swells, forcing my body to tighten. I motion towards the front door, with Mindy on our tails the entire way.

  Once we're out of ear shot Haven fearfully questions, “Alpha?”

  Abruptly I stop. In the middle of the road I do what I should've done in the first place. In one swift motion I wrap both my arms around my angel and cradle her body close to mine. She buries her face in my chest, tears landing on my shirt, but not a sound comes out of her.

  In the strongest voice I have I state, “Alpha.”

  Escorting Haven into the building, I keep her tucked into my side. An arm gripped around her waist tightly. Secured. Protected. As we come around the corner she lifts her head off my shoulder when we arrive a few feet away from the outside of the interrogation room that contains the last piece of her nagging past.

  Jazz, Lordy, and Glove are headed towards us. Her body stiffens and her arms wrap around herself.

  “Hey Haven,” Lordy greets her in a friendly tone.

  She doesn't verbally respond. She tries to smile.

  “Hottest thing I've seen in this place yet,” Glove's compliment accomplishes the smile. On instinct I slug him in the shoulder and he grunts in pain. “Damn it Grim. I'm fragile.”
r />   “Hit on my girlfriend, I'm gonna hit on you. Hard.”

  Haven leans back into my embrace on the word I haven't used in months.

  “Glad to see that rule still stands,” he says on a sly smirk.

  Jazz clears her throat, “Hello Haven. Remember me?” She nods as a response. “Did Grim explain why you're here?” Haven shakes her head. I grip her tighter. Jazz gives me a brief look as if expecting that I would've helped her in this situation, but I don't show her any emotion. I did my fucking part. I did my goddamn duty. I delivered my girlfriend. “We have someone here who we want you to talk to. You don't have to ask him any particular questions. Just get him talking and keep him talking until we end the session.”

  “Alone?” Haven's voice struggles to ask.

  Before I can answer, Jazz does. “Yes.” She sees my reaction and immediately says to me, “Grim. We will all be right here on the other side of the door. She's in no immediate danger.”

  “Says you,” I argue back my body stiff. She shoots me a warning look to stop talking, but I'm not sure I can. Turning to Haven so I'm facing her I let her eyes adjust to only me. Her brown eyes flicker a glimmer of an emotion I know all too well. Hope. I let my hand slide up her neck to stroke her face. My forehead rests against hers and I whisper, “Alpha.”

  Her cold hand touches mine that's on her cheek. She gives me a tender look and nods. When she pulls away from me to open the door I feel strain in my heart. Our eyes stay locked with the door cracked open.

  “When will you people give up? There's nothing you can say or do to get me to--”

  His voice cuts short at the sight of my girl. Wrath cuts through me and the second the door closes my eyes narrow in on Jazz.

  “We will discuss this later,” she insists.

  I don't respond. I move my body just in time to see her sitting down across from the one she calls Green Eyes. My arms fold across my chest in an attempt to control the rage and fear that are in a vortex inside.

  “Haven?” Martin's voice trembles as he leans over the table at her. “Haven? Is that...is that really you?” His eyes wander over her body like it's his own personal toy that he lost. The excitement. The relief. The joy. I grip my arms tighter. I fucking hate this.

  “It's me,” she says clearing her throat, leaning back in her seat. Her hands fold and place themselves in her lap.

  “God I've missed you,” he confesses.

  Lordy's large hand lands on my shoulder keeping me planted in place.

  “I wonder how much crazy glue he's been sniffing,” Glove mutters. A small amount of tension settles, but not enough to convince Lordy to remove his hand from my shoulder.

  “Why did you leave me?” Martin pleads to Haven in a gentle tone. “Why love? Why did you run away from me?” The baffled look on her face says volumes. “Why didn't you wait for me?” His hand stretches towards her across the table. “I had it all planned out. But you...you left me. Why?” Haven glances down at his hand and looks back into his eyes, still saying nothing. “Do you have any idea what we've had to go through to find you?”

  “Tell me.” She answers.

  “This isn't the information we need,” Jazz sighs shaking her head.

  “You wanted her in there just talking, that's what's happening. You put her in there, let her get her answers too,” Lordy stands up for her, for me, removing his hand from my shoulder. Appreciation swells in my chest. How could I not fucking trust him before?

  Martin removes his hand from the table. “When your parents died and dad was supposed to take you in, his original plan was to sell you. He had done a couple favors for The Face before that made him good, easy cash and when he heard he was inheriting you, The Face told him, he could take you off dad's hands.” The information has her shifting in her seat. “And he said he'd pay dad a good price for you. But then dad had something inside him click. I assume it’s the same thing that clicks in all of us when we see you. He wanted to keep you. When he went back on his decision The Face told him he could keep you for the same price he had planned to sell you to some foreign diplomat's son. A couple million bucks. He knew dad didn't have that kind of money, so he exploited that fact. Turned dad into one of his work horses. When you went missing, he asked The Face to expand the debt in his name and help find you.”

  “How did The Face know how to find me?”

  “He's that kind of man Haven,” Martin sighs. “He has resources everywhere. I mean everywhere... And when dad died, that debt rolled over to me. The Face demanded I pay what was owed, or pay with my life.”

  “So now you sell girls like your father did?”

  “I--”

  “Rape and torture them the way he did me?”

  “N--”

  “Keep them within inches of their lives at all time? Is that what you do?”

  “N-N-No,” he shakes his head quickly. “I would never do that. Not to them. Not to you. I just move cash for him. Sometimes product, but never girls.” Seeing her disapproval he says, “It was that or death.”

  In a whisper she says, “Death would have been honorable.”

  Martin pushes past her words to fight for his own answers, “Now why did you leave me Haven? I was in love with you. I mean, I'm still in love with you. I wanted to take you away....”

  “In love with me?” she says, the words echoing in my mind. Lordy's hand lands on my shoulder. Her hand lands around her tags. The action speaking volumes. She knows I'm in there with her. She knows what real love is, no matter what that bastard says.

  “Of course. I had been saving up to get us a place together far away. I was going to sneak you out and take you some place they could never find us. So we could be together.” There's a shift on his face, “You were in love with me too.”

  “Get her out of there.” I glance over my shoulder at Jazz.

  “Not until she gets me something I can use,” she growls.

  “You just heard him say he moves cash--”

  “And that's not something I can use. I already knew that. I know he's an errand boy.” She argues back. “Now let me do my damn job or I'm going to send you upstairs to watch on the monitor.”

  Lordy squeezes my shoulder. I attempt to shrug him off. He clutches tighter.

  Having missed part of the conversation, when we turn back I hear the tail end of the conversation, “...but it doesn't matter. Now that I'm a dead man.”

  “Why are you a dead man?”

  Martin wets his lips and looks away before looking back at her. “The Face has a certain way of doing things. I picked up a cash delivery today. He's gonna send me a text at some point today and if I don't respond to it within 45 minutes, that's it.”

  “What do you mean that's it?”

  “I mean I'm dead. He'll find me. He'll kill me. He figures if you miss your window you have betrayed him. There are no second chances with him. No explanations. The Face kills without question.”

  “Get me his phone,” Jazz demands to Glove. “Now.” He hurries away and she points a finger at Lordy, “Keep him right where he is.” Even more pissed off than I was at the way she is treating me like a mutt rather than a uniformed soldier she trusts, I try to flinch away Lordy's grip.

  Jazz opens the door and steps to Haven's side. “If you haven't missed your window, what happens next?”

  Martin glares up at her refusing to answer. Sweetly Haven says, “I'm a little curious too. Can you tell me what happens next?”

  His eyes fall back onto her. “I answer him. Afterwards at any point in time in the next ten days he'll text me twice. Once to text me an address. The next indicating time to make the delivery. He doesn't care where I am or what I'm doing. When he gives the word, I go. It can happen any time between now and the next ten days.”

  “Who do you deliver the money to?” Jazz asks leaning both hands on the table.

  He shrugs. “Someone higher up on the food chain than me.”

  Not liking the answer, Jazz hits her hand on the table. “How hig
h up?”

  “Use your brain,” Martin sneers. “It's The Face's money. Who do you think he lets handle that? Just anyone?”

  Glove opens the door and hands her the phone. Jazz pushes it towards Martin. Pointing at it she demands, “Check for that message.” Martin raises his eyebrows and she demands louder in a voice I don't recognize. “Now!”

  In a sweet tone Haven encourages, “Please.”

  He lets out a sigh and does as he's instructed, clearly not for Jazz, but for my girl. Without looking up he answers, “He sent it 38 minutes ago.”

  “Text him back.” Jazz states strongly.

  “And if I say no?” Martin seems unbothered with the idea. “If I don't I'm dead. And if I do and he finds out I've spoken to you, I'm dead. Death is the end result.”

  To my surprise Haven says, “Do it for me.” When my body goes rigid Lordy clamps down to the point of bruising. The sting of pain being enough to anchor me in place. “Do it because you have a chance to save others from ending up like I did.”

  Something inside of Martin clearly shifts and he sighs. He grabs the back of his neck and gives it a scratch before sending a message back on his phone. Once it's done he looks up at Jazz. “Now what?”

  “Now you do what we say from here on out and you might have a chance at living,” she snatches his phone from him and turns to walk out of the room with Glove behind her. Before she's out, Jazz says, “Thank you Haven. You're free to go.”

  I let out a sigh of relief at the same time she stands to walk away.

  “Haven wait.” Martin stops her.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you answer me one thing?” She raises her eyebrows at him. “Did you love me?”

  She reaches up and wraps her fingers around her tags once more. I let the sentiment wash over me, flooding some of the rage that's coursing through my veins out. Haven offers him a sympathetic smile, “If we had runaway together, would you ever have given me the choice to walk away from you? To be free? To become my own person?”