by N Kuhn
“Ok, thank you, for telling me. Do me a favor, take down this number and leave a message so I have a way to reach you if there are any questions I can think of. I’ll find Hanson, I promise.” Giving him my UC phone number, I turn. I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to keep them from tearing up. I’m feeling overwhelmed. I’m in over my head. My little bit of training hasn’t prepared me for this. Two large arms wrap around my tiny waist, he pulls me to him in an embrace, my back against his chest. It’s comforting, feeling his closeness. It’s almost like being safe, which is something I won’t be for a long time. The corded muscles in his arms hold me tight. He smells amazing. All masculine and woodsy, I want to swim in his scent. I turn to face him, laying a hand on his shoulder. My breasts are almost falling out of my nightie, and he quickly moves away, acting shy again. I laugh at him.
“It’s okay Geek Boy, I’ll find him. You should loosen up a bit. You’re kind of cute, that shy bit doesn’t work with the ladies.” He tosses a twenty on the table and leaves quickly. Watching him go, I can’t help but notice his ass and the way those black dress pants fit him like a second skin. Damn, if this is what geeks grow up to look like, I wish I had been nicer to the kids at school.
Chapter 2
Geek Boy? Really? I mean, yea, I look a little nerdy, that’s the point of this undercover bit. To look like something you’re not, someone you aren’t. But Geek Boy? Digging my phone out of my pocket, I call my handler and best friend.
“Jefferson,” he says. That’s us agents for you. Always right to the point. No ‘Hello’, ‘How are you doing?’
“It’s Bartel, man, this get up has to go. I can’t move my arms without ripping the shirts and this chick has already nicknamed me Geek Boy. Why the hell can’t I just be the cute guy next door with my nice jeans and shirts? Or maybe a bodyguard?” He laughs so loud I actually have to pull the phone from my ear.
“Listen Dom, man, you’re undercover. You have to look different. You can’t look like your normal panty chasing self. We need you to look harmless so you can get into the mix with Candice without causing suspicion in the suspects or locals. Paulie Sirocco isn’t going to let his girlfriend hang out with the hottie who lives next to her. It’s harder to get into their protection detail than it is to get into the CIA. So you’re our only choice to get in on this before it blows up in the locals faces. Your little computer repair, World of Warcraft playing ass needs to look like no girl would ever take you out of the friend zone. You need to look and act smarter than everyone, while playing down your normal charm.”
“Great, any word on Hanson?” Jefferson gets serious.
“No plates on the vehicle that took him. Tracked it via traffic cams out of the city, lost it on the thruway. It’s going to be pretty hard to find him.”
He’s right and I hate that. It’s not often that he’s right, so it really bites my ass.
“How long do you think this will take? They have a drop tomorrow right? Can’t we just use a tracker and bust him then? Maybe they will have Hanson with them. Added layer of security?”
“Because we don’t have enough time to set up and coordinate between the locals and us to find an actual working plan. We don’t even know where it is. So for now, we need to track Paulie, but not pick him up. We have to get enough surveillance and evidence that when we do pick him up, we have him lock stock and barrel. You also need to do this without letting the locals know you’re a Fed.”
“What about Candace? She’s in over her head. Have you seen her? She’s tiny and fresh out of the academy. What is she? Twenty two? Twenty three? They have to be on to the locals if they grabbed Hanson. She’s in danger. Why don’t they pull her out?” This girl seems so young compared to my thirty. She’s so fresh faced, no wonder Paulie took to her like a moth to flame.
“Dom, just do your job, okay? Protect her, help us get the bad guys.”
“Fine, whatever. You suck dude. Next time, you’re the one who gets to dress like Urkel.” Hanging up as his laughter fills my ears again, I storm outside to my car. I barely fit into the tiny little Prius they gave me. I still don’t understand why they picked me and not some scrawnier agent. They say I’m the best fit for this detail, but I think this is going to be harder to pull off than they think.
I’m sure the fact that I used to be a Sniper in the Corp has a little pull behind why they picked me, but they should have come up with a better cover. Just because I’m a decent shot and used to staying calm under pressure, doesn’t mean I’m suited for this cover story. Hell, there’s no way anyone who sees me is going to believe I’m a computer whiz or Geek as Candy so politely put it. My cock is throbbing just from seeing Candace dressed in barely nothing. It’s hard to believe she’s a damn local cop. With that curvy body of hers, she sure doesn’t need to work hard for a living. Hell, I would have been happier playing a gay man, to get close to her, not a nerd. But then again, who would believe I’m gay when I go around popping boners every time I look at her? This case is going to suck.
Cranking over my toy car, I head towards my new rundown apartment. Living in Black Rock isn’t what I’m used to. My gorgeous ranch style home in the Southern Tier will be missed. Hopefully this case runs along smoothly and finishes quick. I hate being in the city. I miss my wide open yard, big blue skies. From what our sources say, Paulie has a short temper and treats his girls like dirt. When he’s done with them, he’s done with them and so is everyone else. We have him on suspicion of four different disappearances. There are no bodies, so we can’t get murder. We think he either kills them or sells them.
His father, Sal, covers for Paulie on everything. From speeding tickets to murder. The kid seems untouchable. Hence, the large undercover operation. Sal has been keeping his nose clean. It’s the son that’s causing all these problems. Candace has been under for six months already, with only two months out of the Academy. So in all, eight months of police work, I don’t think she’s ready for this. She’s provided a lot of information, but so far, nothing we can use against them in court. The bosses in the Bureau sent me in to help her and the locals. But, since things are pretty territorial between locals and Feds, it’s on the hush-hush. Her handler, Hanson, is the only one that knows about me. And now he’s been abducted. I was telling the truth. I really was with him for coffee when he was taken. The truth was just stretched a little. He had been giving me case details and updates on how I can get worked in with Candace and have her trust me, without knowing. Our team now has people looking into security tapes and everything they can, to try and find him. We have no doubt that it was the Sirocco’s. I drive towards my empty apartment. Sure, I could go pick up a chick, have a one night stand, feel a little less lonely, but even that is starting to get old. Other than my buddies, I have no one to talk to, to make me feel alive. After this case, there needs to be some changes in my life.
Pulling behind my apartment building, I notice two very large men standing next to the door of the building. I’m not intimidated and this is a problem. I’m actually bigger than they look and men like this don’t scare me. I know I can handle myself. The problem is that I’m supposed to be a weak loser right now. Being afraid of them is something I should be. Rubbing my hand over my face, I feel the scruff growing in. I slam my fist into my steering wheel and give the goons a once over. They have to be about six foot each, matching cheap suits, bulges on their hips. They are packing. They have to be here with Sirocco, but what is he doing here while Candy is working. Slowly I climb out of my car, look around, trying to act nervous. I clutch my bag to my chest, taking small steps towards the place. The guy on the left steps forward, holding his arm out towards me. Getting a closer look, they actually look like the men that grabbed Hanson. If only I could prove it.
“Can I help you?” he asks. His face hidden by the shadows of the night, his voice sounds gruff.
“I-I, um, I live here,” I stutter, trying not to laugh. This roided out guy would probably drop with one simple hit.
“Haven
’t seen you before,” he says to me. Crossing his arms over his chest, as he steps in front of me.
“I, um, I’m sorry, who are you guys? I just moved in, I didn’t realize we have security here. Am I supposed to have a badge or something? The landlord didn’t say anything about that.” Darting my eyes between him and his friend, I shuffle backwards a step.
“What apartment,” he asks me.
“Tw-Twelve, on the second floor.” Looking over his shoulder, Meathead One looks to Meathead Two who is still by the door. Seriously, even if I knew their names, I’d never be able to remember them. That’s how non-descript these guys are. Meathead Two nods, and Meathead One steps aside, allowing me through. Brushing past them, trying to shrink into myself, I don’t need these guys noticing how big I am compared to them. Keeping my shoulders hunched and my back bent, I duck my head and scurry away into the building. Straightening back up, I take the stairs. There’s an elevator, but I wouldn’t trust that rickety old thing with my life. Besides, the stairs are healthier, and right next to Candy’s apartment. I have to walk past hers to get to mine, which is a great way to eavesdrop or scope things out without drawing unneeded attention.
As I cruise through the stairway, I notice the door to Candace’s place is open a crack. Taking little steps, I fumble with my bag, trying to make it look like I can’t find my keys. I stand there, close to the door, I strain my ears, trying to hear anything I can. The voices coming from inside are low, but getting louder.
“Tell me who it is. Tell me or you’re going to die!” A man screams, a gun goes off, but quietly. It must have had a silencer, I recognize the popping sound. Then crunching noises, the kind that only come from flesh hitting flesh, echo through the thin door. Any other person wouldn’t even pay attention to the slight whistle of noise. Only someone experienced would know what it was. Jumping to attention, I rush towards my apartment. Candace’s door flies open. Plastering my eyes to the ground, I watch my feet.
“Hey, who the fuck are you?” I turn, coming face to face with Paulie Sirocco. His eyes dart up and down the hallway. “I saw you lurking out here, you need something?” His tone is angry, I ready myself by taking a deep breath.
“I- Um,” pushing my thick glasses up my nose with my forefinger, I stare wide eyed at him. I have this guy by at least a foot. His greasy hair is slicked back in that stereo-typical way. His beady little eyes glare at me. Other than money, what the hell do women see in this guy? He’s a slime ball. Shit, I hope that isn’t Hanson in there. And if it is, he better be alive.
“I asked you a question buddy?” His finger sticks out, jabbing my shoulder. He must have noticed the muscle mass under my shirt, because he gives me a once over. I wish my long sleeve jacket was on, at least then my tattoos would be hidden, along with the ripped sleeve. Those are the only downfall to this undercover assignment. I’m easily identified after the case, by my ink. How the hell can anyone believe this cover? I mean look at me?
“I’m running late. I’m supposed to meet my girlfriend online five minutes ago, but there are some really creepy dudes downstairs who gave me a hassle over getting in the building. I mean, I live here, what the hell,” I say to him, rambling quickly, trying to sound nervous. Raising the octaves of my voice slightly, I hope it sounds squeaky enough for this guy. Nodding, his eyes still looking me over, he holds out his hand.
“Paulie, and you are?” Looking down at his hand, I stick mine out, forcing myself to tremble a little.
“Dominic. I just moved in here, nu-number twelve,” I tell him. His eyes dart to the door.
“Oh yea? My girl Candy lives here in eleven. What do you do Dom?” He steps back, crossing his arms much like the Meat Twins downstairs, widening his stance. He may as well piss on her door, marking his territory. Do they think that makes them look tough? They look more like douche bags. Assholes.
“I’m in IT. Working on computers for Big Buys. I’m that guy they send out to people’s home to set things up or fix them.”
“Yea? You’re good with computers then?” Nodding, I glance at my door, trying to signal to him I have to go.
“Well, I won’t keep you and you’re uh, special lady,” he grins at me, “But at least I know who to come see when I need some computer work, huh?” he laughs, walking away, back to Candy’s apartment.
“Yea man, see you around,” I say, turning to my door. Letting myself in quickly, I rush around, grabbing some gear I left on the table. I set up my camera with the snake lens. The small black fiber optics will fit easily under my door and be unnoticeable unless someone is looking hard. It snaps on to a miniature camera so I can take photos around a corner or in this case, under my door. It’s all digital, so I get to see the photos in real time. Kneeling, I shove it into the hallway, watching the screen. After sitting in this position for fifteen minutes, I finally hear movement. Someone’s head appears outside Candy’s door, looking both ways, making sure the hallway is clear. Snapping away, I make sure to get a clear view of his face.
I keep taking photos as they emerge from her apartment with a man draped over their shoulders. They walk with him, as if he were a drunk friend, just trying to get home safe. I can hear the groans of pain. From behind, it sure looks like Hanson, but I can’t be certain. How cliché. It’s like these guys have watched every mob movie out there and are trying to live that life. I keep taking pictures until they disappear down the stairwell. Rushing to my window that faces the parking lot, I snap some more photos of the black Lincoln Town car that they load the man into. Grabbing my phone, I call Jefferson back, giving him a plate number. Flipping open my laptop, I transfer the photos to him. Hopefully they at least get Hanson back safe. It didn’t sound like he gave up Candace. For now. There’s no way for sure to know how long he will hold out.
These assholes just beat and almost killed someone in our UC’s apartment. She’s in way over her head. Now that her apartment is clear, I get to work. The closet in my bedroom meets up with the one in hers, with a three inch gap between where wiring and pipes are. I have already scanned this area I’m cutting, to ensure nothing is in here but insulation. Since no one is there, I set about chiseling an opening between the two so we can get her out quick if necessary. We will put a piece of drywall back up that can be yanked out. Getting her into my place and down the fire exit quickly. This is the noisiest part of the job and I don’t want her to really know what’s going on yet, she can’t know who I am. I’m sure I can come up with some lie though. She believed the shit about me worrying since Hanson was my friend. Yep, that’s me, concerned citizen trying to make real life my video game. As I pull out the square shaped part of my back closet wall, I set it aside. Later I’ll screw a handle on to it to make it easier to pull out. Running to my window, I look downstairs. I make sure Paulie is gone. His car isn’t in the parking lot anymore. Per Hanson, Candy usually gets home around one. It’s eleven right now. I have time. Wiping away cobwebs between the two walls, I saw away a square on her side too. Peeling off my shirt, I’m sweating from the hard work and rushing about. I toss the shirt aside after wiping the sweat from my body. Loading my Sig into my dress pants, I refuse to be without it. You never know, especially when you’re UC.
Pushing the plaster out, I crawl through. There’s a three inch gap between the walls. The hole is big enough for her, but I have to wedge and twist my body, trying to push my big shoulders through. Parting the clothes hanging, I crawl over shoes and into her bedroom. I drag my halogen light and vacuum with me to clean up the dust on Candy’s side. I need to make sure there is no trace of me being here. I sort her shoes out on the opposite side of the closet. Dragging boxes down from the top, I move them so when I go back through, I can hide the hole. Reaching back into my place, I take a handle that would go on a kitchen drawer and screw it into the back of the plaster piece I took out. It will make it easier to slide the piece back into the wall. I grab a piece of sandpaper from my side and file down the edges of the hole and the drywall. Sanding it smooth will
make it less visible when I put the strip around it. The weather strip will conceal any light from shining through. I place the vacuum back through the hole.
Sliding the boxes directly in front of the hole, I fluff her clothes to make sure it won’t be seen. Her scent envelopes me as my fingers run over her belongings. Sweet, like cherries and vanilla. Closing my eyes, I inhale for a moment, savoring it. The soft materials cause images of them cascading off her body, to pool at her feet. Snapping back to what’s important, I stand in the middle of her bedroom and look closely. If I didn’t know it was there, I’d never see it. The front door opening in the other room startles me. Glancing at my watch, I realize I’ve been at this for hours. Grabbing for my gun, I hope that it isn’t Paulie returning. There’s no way I’m going to make it back through that hole quickly. I have to twist and turn myself to squeeze through. I switch off my halogen light, tossing it through the hole. Candy, she’ll make it through just fine, but not my big ass. I try to wedge myself between her clothes and the back wall, hoping I’m hidden. Thankfully there’s no light in the closet, just in the bedroom. Light footsteps move down the hallway towards me slowly. It has to be someone small, otherwise their steps would echo louder. Holding my breath, I keep my hand on my gun, ready to aim as the footfalls come closer. The lights in the room pop on.
