"You and I, we're done. Don't ever talk to me again," I say then turn to the officer. "I'll go with you."
"Smart choice." He lowers the cuffs then nods for me to go with him as he starts toward the street.
I follow, pissed off at Big Doug and pissed off at myself for ever doing anything that would get me in this sort of mess.
So, this is what it feels like for the past to catch up with you.
Yeah, the past is a nasty little bitch.
Nine
Kai
The undercover agent drives your average, run-of-the-mill car. He makes me sit in back and won't answer any of my questions. Big Doug doesn't ride with us, and I swear to God if I ever cross paths with him, I'm going to kick his ass. Yeah, I may not be much of a fighter, but Big Doug is an even worse one than I am.
Of course, my kicking-ass revenge plan gets shoved to the side as the undercover agent pulls up to an old building located on the edge of town near the foothills.
"Why are we not at the police station?" I ask, my guard instantly going up.
When the officer says nothing, simply parking in front of the building, I discreetly reach to the side to try to open the door, but it's locked.
I ball my hands into fist, preparing to fight.
"Will you relax?" the officer says as he shuts off the engine. "I'm not part of the local police department."
Huh? "Then what are you?"
"I work for the DEA," he tells me then hops out of the car.
I sit in the back seat, stunned. Why the hell did the DEA arrest me? I mean, sure, he said he was charging me for drug possession, but the only amount of drugs I've ever carried on me is enough for myself. However, T may have been involved with some trafficking, and I had a connection to him.
Is that what this is about?
Before I can delve too deeply into that theory, the agent opens the door for me to get out.
"If you try to run, I'll tase you," he warns as I climb out.
Part of me wants to try to see if he'll follow through with that threat, while the other part doesn't want to get in any more trouble than I already am. I just got out of trouble, and now I am back in it again, only days later. Only, this time, instead of dealing with the drama of a drug dealer, I'm walking into a massive warehouse building with an undercover DEA agent. Honestly, I'm not sure which one is worse.
"Have a seat, Kai Meyers," the agent instructs when we reach a table set up in the middle of the warehouse.
For the most part, the space is fairly bare, except for some crates in the far corner. The windows are grimy, including the skylights, but a bit of sunlight manages to slip in, a good thing since none of the lights are on.
Even though my initial reaction is to rebel, I swallow the urge to smart off and take a seat at the table.
The agent rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and sits down in the chair across from mine.
I wait for him to explain whatever the hell this is, but he just sits back, digs out his phone, and messages someone.
I start to grow restless and annoyed and am about to declare that when a woman enters the building from a side door.
She's wearing a button-down shirt and slacks and looks about ten to fifteen years older than the agent.
"Agent Thomas," she greets the agent as she sits down in a chair beside him.
"Agent Jane," Agent Thomas replies formally without making eye contact.
Tension flows between the two of them, and I wonder why. I also wonder if I can use that to my benefit, maybe play them against each other.
My wheels are turning with ideas when Agent Jane sets a manila folder on the table, along with a flash drive.
My gut tightens at the sight of the flash drive, my mind instantly thinking about what could be on it. The last time someone showed me one of those, it contained a video of me stealing a car. Kyler, Hannah, and Lynn used it to blackmail me into keeping quiet about them taking Isa.
Worry swirls through me.
Is that video on this flash drive? How did these agents get it?
"You look nervous," Agent Jane remarks, observing me. "You don't need to be. Well, as long as you cooperate."
I cross my arms, attempting to appear calmer than I am. "Cooperate about what?"
Agent Jane studies me for a beat then opens the folder and sifts through the papers inside. "You have quite the record for getting in trouble. I see you've been arrested a couple of times, but the charges were always dropped. My bet is your father made that happen." She glances up at me, waiting for an answer, but all I do is shrug. She assesses me for a moment then leans forward, resting her arms on the table and overlapping her hands. "According to Douglas Feriltor, the charges listed in your file are barely anything. That you've committed a lot more crimes than are in your file. Now, usually we don't take the word of a guy who's currently working off a severe list of crimes, but he provided us with some proof that I'm certain will help us start building quite the case against you." She picks up the flash drive.
I resist the urge to swallow hard. "How do I even know what's on it?"
"You don't." She sets the flash drive down. "And that's the appeal of this. It leaves you wondering what evidence we have of the many crimes you've committed."
She's right, and it annoys me. But mostly, I'm annoyed with myself. I wish I could go back in time and not make so many dumbass choices all because I wanted to piss off my dad and Kyler for all the shit they did to me.
"You look worried," Agent Thomas remarks, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the table. "And you should be."
"I'm not," I lie in a lame-ass attempt to get out of this. "I'm just thinking about how lame of a show this is, and I'm wondering what would happen if I just got up and walked out of here, since this isn't an official arrest."
Amusement glints in Agent Jane's eyes as she gestures at the door. "Go ahead and try." She rests back in the chair, looking way too comfortable right after I just threatened to leave.
I'm going to try, though. At least, that's what I tell myself, but then Agent Thomas retrieves a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and when he opens his jacket, I get a good glimpse of his gun holster and the gun inside it.
The move is completely intentional, and it's enough to keep my ass glued to the chair.
"So, am I going to be arrested?" I ask, confused as to what exactly they want from me.
"We could do that." Agent Jane trades a look with Agent Thomas.
Agent Thomas pops a cigarette into his mouth and lights up, a cloud of smoke circling his face as he exhales. "Or you could help us with a case."
My confusion nearly skyrockets. "Help you how?"
"By working as an informant," Agent Jane replies simply. But what she said is anything but simple.
An informant?
What?
"An informant for what?" I ask, restlessly bouncing my foot up and down. "And don't people who do that usually get … I don't know, killed?"
Agent Thomas snorts a laugh as he ashes his cigarette. "Just because stuff happens in the movies like that doesn't mean it does in real life."
I lift a brow. "I've read articles about informants getting killed."
He takes another drag off his cigarette. "Even if that's true, for that to happen, the informant probably did something that was off protocol."
I don't believe him. Plus, they haven't even explained what I'd be doing exactly, which makes this whole thing even sketchier.
I'm about to start bombarding them with questions when Agent Jane speaks.
"Until you agree, we can't give you all the details of what case you'll be working," she explains. "However, I will tell you two things. One"—she holds up a finger—"if you don't accept our offer, with the charges we have against, you're looking at five years minimum. And since you're eighteen, you'll serve out that sentence in the state penitentiary."
When I press my lips together, refusing to say anything, she slants forward. "We have records of you hacking into illega
l systems. We have video footage of you stealing a car and buying drugs. And we know that your father recently kicked you out of the house, so I highly doubt he'll be there to bail you out this time."
She's right.
I hate that she is.
Honestly, I kind of hate myself at the moment.
"And the second thing I'm going to tell you," she continues, "is that what you'll be doing won't be as risky as what you've seen on TV. You'll simply be working undercover on the Sunnyvale High School football team."
Okay, that wasn't what I was expecting her to say at all.
"And we've done our research," Agent Thomas adds then takes another drag. "We know that if you wanted to, you could be on the team, that you have in the past, so don't try to use the excuse that you can't get on the team."
"I wasn't going to say that," I lie. I was about to, but I guess I should've known they already knew I used to play football, along with a bunch of other sports, back when I was weak, when I let Kyler torment me, when I lived in his shadow.
I thought I moved past that. And I guess I did, but only to move to this.
Though, I'm still not completely certain what this is.
"What exactly would I be doing?" I ask, fiddling with a leather band on my wrist.
"Like I said, we can't give you all the details until you agree," Agent Jane says.
"But, how can I agree to something when I don't even know what it is?" I point out, frustrated.
"That's the downfall of getting yourself into a position like this." Agent Thomas smirks at me as he puts out his cigarette. "Something you should think about in the future."
"Yeah, but do I even have a future anymore?" I mumble, shaking my head.
"You will as long as you cooperate," Agent Jane insists. "If you do, we'll wipe your record completely clean. And I mean the entire thing. Even the charges filed against you two years ago."
I close my eyes as images of two years ago flash through my mind.
I haven't thought about that day in a while, refuse to, but now that she brought it up, it's all I can think about.
"That was an accident," I mutter, opening my eyes.
She shrugs. "Accident or not, a file of it still exists." She holds up the file and the flash drive. "However, if you agree to do this, all of this will be gone."
I grit my teeth until my jaw aches, furious at them, myself, and Big Doug.
Why did he do this to me? Why did he rat me out? The only thing I can think of is that he was trying to buy his own freedom, which just pisses me off more.
But no matter how angry I get, the fact of the matter is that I'm still in this mess. It won't be dissolved by my rage. Rage can't dissolve the past. Nothing can. Even if they get rid of the files on me, what I did and the things done to me will still exist. That doesn't mean I want to go to prison, though. And I could never leave Isa like that. She needs me.
And I need her.
"Fine, I'll do it," I give in. "Now, what exactly do I have to do?"
"Smart answer," Agent Thomas says. "I guess you're not as dumb as your grades make you look."
I don't know about that. Right now, I feel like the dumbest idiot that ever existed.
I had such a good thing going, and I thought it was going to last, that my past wouldn't catch up with me, but I was stupid.
The past always catches up with you.
And the shitty part is that this is just the start of all the things I've been trying to bury.
Ten
Isa
I've been trying to get ahold of Kai for hours, but he won't reply to any of my messages or answer any of my calls. I'm starting to get extremely worried as all sorts of bad scenarios flood my mind. What if T decided to go after him again? What if Lynn and my dad went after him? What if he met up with Big Doug and …? Well, I don't know how to follow that thought since I'm still not positive what Big Doug does. I believe he is a hacker, but it was never confirmed. That doesn't make him any better.
"I'm worried," I mutter to myself as I pace my bedroom, bursting with restlessness.
Indigo is at work and won't return until tomorrow, and Grandma Stephy has been talking to her boyfriend in the living room for the last two hours, hence the reason I'm in my bedroom.
Sure, Harry is a nice dude and everything, but two of them like to spend a lot of time making out. Usually, they do it in the bedroom, but they decided to hang out in the living room today. I think mainly so she could keep an eye on things.
I sat out there for a while, eating dinner with them and watching the news, but then I saw Harry try to cop a feel of Grandma Stephy when they thought I wasn't looking, so … yeah, it was definitely time to say peace out.
But being by myself has sent me into worry mode.
"I need something sugary," I mumble as I gnaw on my fingernails.
Finally, I decide to woman-up and go to the kitchen to grab a snack.
I leave my bedroom, taking my phone with me, and pad down the hallway. When I reach the doorway to the living room, I clear my throat loudly several times to subtly announce I'm going to enter the room. That way, they'll have time to remove their hands from each other and … well, do whatever it is they need to do to collect themselves.
"Hey," I say as I enter.
I mentally let out a breath of relief when they smile at me from the sofa with a cushion of space between them and all their clothes on.
"Hey, sweetie," Grandma Stephy replies, looking a bit flushed, something I try to disregard.
Harry gives me a small wave as he pretends to be fixated on the television.
I wave back then hurry into the kitchen and start raiding the cupboards for something to munch on.
"Why are you hiding out in your room?" Grandma Stephy asks as she wanders into the kitchen.
"I'm not," I lie as I open a cupboard. Inside is a box of bran cereal. Yuck.
I close the cupboard and move to the next one.
"Don't lie to me, young lady." Grandma Stephy aims for a stern tone but misses the mark. "You're hiding out, and you've been quiet ever since the phone call from your mom." She leans her hip against the counter as she watches me move to the next cupboard. "I think we need to talk about what was said."
"That's not what's bothering me," I insist, which is the partial truth. I'm also worried about Kai. Plus, I can't get that photo out of my mind.
She stares me down with her hawk eyes. "Isabella Anders, don't you dare pull that shit with me. In this house, we tell the truth."
I shut the cupboard and spin around to face her. "Really? Then why don't you tell me what was written on the back of that photo?" When she visibly pales, I feel like a jerk. "I'm sorry." I sigh. "I'm just … I don't know …" I let out another sigh then confess, "I saw the photo on your phone."
Her brow curves upward in surprise. "You were snooping?"
"No, I dropped it when I had it earlier and the photo app accidentally opened." I fiddle with the bandage on my wrist. "The girl in it … she looks so much like me."
Worry flickers in her eyes. "I know, hon."
I smash my lips together and take an inhale then exhale, trying to hold myself together. "Why?"
She shakes her head as she steps toward me. "I'm not sure," she says with remorse. "But the police are doing everything they can to find out."
"Yeah, that's what everyone keeps saying." I give a short pause. "What did the message say?"
She grows even more pale, her lips parting. "It said …" She trails off as Harry turns up the television volume.
"Lynn and Henry Anders are considered extremely dangerous," the reporter states on the television screen. "If you have any information about their whereabouts, please call the police department immediately." Images of Lynn and my dad appear on the bottom of the screen, along with their descriptions.
Seeing them …
Hearing this …
"I need to go to the bathroom," I mutter, hurrying down the hallway.
It's the second time I'v
e used that excuse today. Either I'm starting to look suspicious or everyone probably thinks I have a bladder infection.
"Isa," Grandma Stephy calls after me, but I rush into the bathroom and shut the door.
I stay in there for a while, trying to process what I just saw. But, how do you process seeing your own personal hell splayed across the television for everyone to see?
I wonder how Hannah's handling it. The thought surprises me, but I still wonder. Not that I'm going to call her and ask. Still, I'm betting she's struggling with this, struggling with the fact that everyone in Sunnyvale now knows her life isn't perfect.
As for me? I've dealt with this before. Only, this time I don't have to do it alone. I have my grandma Stephy, Indigo, and Kai.
Speaking of which …
"Why hasn't he answered any of my messages?" I mutter as I dig out my phone from my pocket.
As if he can somehow hear me, a message from him suddenly pings through.
A ball of pressure leaves my chest as I read it.
Kai: I'm okay. Some stuff just came up that I didn't expect. I'm heading there now. Everything's okay, though, right?
Me: Yeah. Well, except for the fact that the news was talking about how Lynn and my dad are wanted fugitives.
Kai: I'm so sorry, baby. I'll be there as soon as I can.
Me: No, tell Jules to drive the speed limit. I can wait a few extra minutes.
Kai: Actually, I'm not with Jules.
Confusion pulls at my brow.
Me: Who are you with then?
Kai: I can't talk about it via text, but I'll tell you when I get there.
My confusion morphs into worry.
Me: You have me a bit worried.
Kai: I'm fine.
Me: Fine is a placement word.
About a minute goes by before he replies.
Kai: I know. I'm just still trying to … process how I feel about this.
Me: About what?
After a few minutes go by without a response, I exit the bathroom and go back to my room to pace. When another handful of minutes tick by, I decide to raid the candy stash that I keep in my nightstand drawer in an attempt to distract myself. Usually, bingeing on sugar does that for me. Not this time, though.
The Year of Kai & Isa Page 7
