I hear a voice say, "Asa Jackson?"
Asa nods, but then the door swings open and several men swarm him, knocking him to the ground.
When Jon sees what's happening, he scrambles toward the back door, just as it's busted open and three men rush inside. Jon is immediately subdued and thrown to the kitchen floor.
It isn't until this moment that I realize these guys won't have any clue Dalton and I are undercover. I don't even have a badge on me to prove it. They'll just think we're on Asa's side.
The next several seconds are complete chaos.
More men appear through the doorway, guns are pointed at our heads, we're on our stomachs, faces pressed to the floor, hands being cuffed behind our backs.
I'm lying next to Dalton and before they pull him to his feet, he whispers, "Stay calm. Wait until you're alone before saying anything."
I nod, but one of the agents notices us communicating. Dalton is jerked up by his arms.
I can hear Asa being read his Miranda rights as two men jerk me up off the floor by my arms. They're barking orders, separating all of us into different parts of the house. I'm pulled into a spare bedroom off of the kitchen.
All I can think about is Sloan and how freaked out she probably is right now.
The door slams shut behind me and I'm thrown into a desk chair. There are two men in the room with me. One is taller than me with dark blond hair and a beard. The other is shorter, stockier, with red hair and an even redder mustache. The redhead is the one who speaks first. They both pull their badges out of their jacket pockets and flash them at me. "I'm Agent Bowers," he says. "This is Agent Thompson. We're going to ask you a few questions and we'd appreciate your cooperation."
I nod. Agent Bowers walks closer to me and says, "Do you live here?"
I shake my head. "No." I start to tell them what I'm doing here and that they're making a big fucking mistake, but the tall one interrupts me and says, "What's your name?"
"Carter," I say. I don't say Luke yet, because I'm still not sure if Asa is even being arrested. The last thing I need is for the fucking FBI to blow my cover.
"Carter?" agent Bowers says. "You just have one name? So you're like Madonna? Cher?" he bends forward, eyeing me. "What's your fucking last name, smartass?"
I twist my hands behind my back, trying to ease the pressure cutting into the circulation in my wrists. My pulse is pounding in my temples, partly because of the entire last few minutes and partly because I'm pissed that they're about to end everything and get all the credit. Sure, they might be here to arrest Asa. And yes, I'm relieved that Sloan is now safe. But knowing the entire last few months were for shit and that I put Sloan in danger more than once really hits a nerve.
It grows quiet and I can hear Asa yell, "Fuck you!" from another room.
Agent Thompson kicks my chair, bringing my attention back to him. "What's your last name, son?"
Little does he know I'm aware of how to conduct a proper investigation, and these assholes have already broken at least three rules. But the FBI, and even the police, aren't really known to follow rules to the specifics in situations like these. I know that firsthand.
I open my mouth to respond to them, but I'm cut off by the sound of Sloan's scream coming from upstairs. I immediately jump up, but both of them shove me back down in the chair. "Fucking arrest me, or let me go!" I yell.
I have to get to Sloan. She's probably scared shitless right now, not knowing what the hell is going on. I need to check on her before I fucking lose it, but they won't let me out of the room. "I'm on your side," I say to them, trying to keep my voice calm, when I just feel like screaming at them. "If you take the cuffs off, I'll prove it and then get back to my fucking job!"
Detective Thompson stares at me for a moment and then looks back at agent Bowers and laughs. He points at me. "You hear that?" he says. "He's a cop."
Agent Bowers also laughs, and with a heavy dose of sarcasm, he says, "Our bad. You're free to go," he says, pointing toward the door.
I could do without the sarcasm. I also know I just fucked up by breaking cover, but I'm not sitting in here for another minute with these assholes. I'll worry about dealing with Ryan later. "You'll find my badge taped underneath my passenger seat. It's the black Charger."
Agent Thompson's eyes narrow and he looks at me like he might actually be entertaining the idea that I'm not lying. He looks at agent Bowers and nudges his head toward the door, silently telling him to go verify.
I can still hear Asa in another room, yelling back at whoever is questioning him. He's demanding a lawyer now. I don't think that's going to help him at this point.
Agent Thompson doesn't ask me more questions once we're alone. I take the opportunity to bring up Sloan.
"There's a girl in a bedroom upstairs. Can you make sure she's okay when your partner returns?"
Agent Thompson nods. "Yeah, we can do that. Anyone else in the house we should be aware of?"
I shake my head. I already regret outing myself; the last thing I'm going to do is out Ryan. He can do that on his own time when he sees fit. He'll probably wait until they have Asa in custody.
I hate that it wasn't our investigation that ended things for Asa, but I'm relieved it's finally coming to an end. For Sloan's sake. Ryan, however, is probably fuming right now.
A moment later, the bedroom door opens. I glance up to see if agent Bowers found the envelope that contains my badge. I see the open envelope first, but as soon as I see who's holding it, my relief turns into one big clusterfuck of confusion and dread.
What the fuck is happening?
Asa's eyes meet mine.
What the fuck?
He looks down at the envelope in his hands and slaps it against his palm twice. He glances at agent Thompson and says, "I'd like some privacy with my friend, please."
Agent Thompson nods and walks out of the room. Before he's out the door, Asa points at agent Thompson's blue FBI jacket with the three big yellow letters emblazoned across the back of it. "It looks so real, doesn't it?" he says. He glances back at me. "I bought them at the costume store downtown." He laughs and then closes the door. "The shady actors were a little more expensive than the jackets."
No.
Fuck.
Fuck.
No.
I fell right into that one.
I can taste the bile in the back of my throat. I can feel the blood trickling out of my wrists as I struggle with everything in me to somehow get out of these handcuffs.
Asa tosses the envelope containing my badge onto the mattress, then he reaches behind his back and pulls his gun out of his pants. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, his mouth drawn tight in anger.
"How'd you like my surprise? Luke."
I'm looking straight at him...suddenly aware that I've just made the biggest mistake of my career. The biggest mistake of my life.
And all I can think about is Sloan.
I squeeze my eyes shut and all I see is Sloan.
"Have you ever seen the movie Point Break?" I ask him.
Luke is eyeing me hard--his chest is heaving, nostrils flaring. I fucking love it.
He doesn't answer me. It's funny that he's so quick to open his mouth to brag that he's a mother-fucking cop, but when it comes to me, he barely makes an effort to converse.
"I'm not referring to the new piece-of-shit remake, Luke. I'm talking about the original film with Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze. Oh, and what's his face from the Red Hot Chili Peppers? The singer?"
I look to Luke to help me out with the guy's name, but he doesn't. He's just staring me down. I don't know why I keep waiting for him to respond. I lean back on the bed and I keep talking. "There's a part in the movie where Keanu Reeves and his team bust a drug house. But what they don't realize is that one of the guys who lives there is an undercover cop. And due to their impatience and lack of planning, they ruin the entire fucking investigation for the poor guy. Months and months of hard work. You remember that part?"
"I was probably only ten when I saw that movie for the first time, but I couldn't stop thinking about that part. I obsessed over it. I always wondered what would have happened had Keanu's team only been pretending to be the FBI. I wondered how that scene would have played out had that undercover fucker come clean, only to find out Keanu wasn't with the FBI at all. He was just pretending to be in order to weed him out. Talk about a double plot twist."
Carter's eyes glance to the door like someone is going to walk in and rescue him. I hate to break it to him, but it's not gonna happen.
"Anyway," I say, standing up. "I thought it'd be worth a shot. See if any of you fuckers were really stupid enough to try and betray me, and if you were, maybe you were stupid enough to fall for the double plot twist." I tilt my head and smile at him. "You must be feeling really fucking stupid right now."
His jaw twitches. So does mine, because I have no idea how to refer to him now and it's pissing me off. Carter? Luke? Dead?
Yes. I'll refer to him as dead.
"I mean really fucking stupid," I say, laughing. "Why would you be so quick to reveal yourself? I'm no cop, but I'd assume breaking cover is not something you people take lightly."
I pace the room several times, trying to work it over in my own mind. Why would anyone be in such a hurry to get out of a situation that they would compromise their identity? It's like it was life or death for him. If he didn't hurry up and get to someone, it'd be too late.
I slowly sit back down on the bed. "Unless..." I glance over at him. "Unless you broke cover because you're the kind of guy who lets your emotions rule your actions. What do they call those kinds of guys? I'm pretty sure you and I had a conversation about this over lunch recently." I glance up at the ceiling in mock thought. "Oh yeah," I say. "Pussies."
He doesn't laugh at my joke.
That's probably good, because it might have pissed me off had he laughed.
I glance over at the door and can't remember if I locked it or not. I stand up and go check it, then turn around and face Luke again. "But the real question is, why would you be so emotional at a time like that? When you should be at the top of your undercover game? What could have been at the forefront of your mind when training and common sense should have won out?"
I take five steps toward him, until there aren't any more steps to take. He maintains eye contact the entire time, lifting his chin to hold his stare. "Oh. That's right. You were too worried about my fucking fiancee to do your goddamn job right!" I slam my gun against the side of his face. His head swings to the side. I'm pretty sure that blow was hard enough to knock a tooth or two loose, but he acts like it doesn't faze him. He makes eye contact with me again, looking a little calmer than before I even hit him.
Motherfucker.
I hate that I still like this side of him. The quiet, introspective side of him that doesn't crack from fear. It's impressive.
Too bad the only thing that makes him crack under pressure is Sloan.
I wonder how long he's been brainwashing her? Using her for his investigation? He's probably been slowly turning her against me since the day they met.
I thought the casino incident was bad. I thought unleashing on my father was the angriest I've ever been. But I was wrong. Boy, was I wrong.
Seeing Sloan look at him for instruction earlier was by far the angriest I have ever been. Ever. I've never wanted to kill someone like I wanted to kill Carter in that moment. But that would have ruined my surprise, so I had to remain patient.
I slowly lift my gun and point it against the side of his head and imagine what it'll be like when I finally pull the trigger. To watch his fucking brains splatter all over the floor. I wonder how much damage it will do to his head. Will he still be recognizable? When I pull Sloan in here to get one last look at him, will she be able to tell it's even him? Or will his whole head explode?
I force myself to pull the gun away from his head because as curious as I am to see what it's going to be like when I kill him, there are a few questions I need answers to before that happens.
I squat down in front of him and rest my arms on my thighs. "Did you fuck her?"
I know in this case, it's a rhetorical question, because he'd be stupid to answer it. But he hasn't proven to be the brightest crayon in the box today. "Where were you when you fucked her the first time? In my house? In my bed? Did she come?"
He folds his lips together, moistening them. But he still doesn't respond. His silence is really starting to get annoying. I stand and walk to the door, double-checking that it's locked. I'm not even sure why I want it locked; the guys have the house under control. One of them was ordered to go straight upstairs and watch Sloan. Four of them are split up between Jon and Kevin, although I'm not worried about either of them. They're too fucking stupid to be cops, but I like the idea of letting them shit their pants for another ten minutes or so.
I'm still not sure about Dalton. But he's in the living room with two guns to his head, so I guess I'll worry about him after I'm finished with Carter.
"You want to know what it was like the first time I fucked her?" I ask.
Since the second I walked in here, he finally responds to one of my questions. He barely shakes his head back and forth, twice. It's so unnoticeable; I don't think he even realizes he did it. He must really not want to know what it was like the first time I fucked her.
Well too bad, Carter. I'm gonna tell you all about it anyway.
I sit on the bed again, but this time I sit all the way back until I'm against the headboard. I cross my feet and rest the gun on my thigh. "She was eighteen," I tell him. "Innocent. Untouched. Poor girl had been taking care of her brother for so long she never even had the chance to be a kid. To go out, to have fun, to experience guys. Would you believe it if I told you I'm the first guy she ever kissed?"
He's staring ahead now, refusing to look at me. I can see the veins in his neck bulging. I smile and get even more detailed with my story because I like watching him squirm.
"She wasn't inexperienced because she was shy, let me make that clear up front. She was inexperienced because she didn't trust easily. Grew up with a pathetic mother, didn't even know her father. So when I came into the picture, she didn't know what to think. Didn't have any exes to compare me to, so I didn't have anything to live up to. No one to outdo. I just knew if I was better to her than her own parents had ever been, she'd think she was blessed. And I was, Carter. I was so fucking good to her.
"Thankfully, she wasn't the type of girl who wanted to take things slow. The first time I took her on a date, I kissed her before we even got to the restaurant. Pushed her against a brick wall in some alley and she liked it so much, it was like she wanted to drown on my fucking saliva."
Fucking hell. My dick is hard now just thinking about it.
"I had been to that particular restaurant before, so I knew the perfect time of night to take her so that it wouldn't be crowded. And I knew the perfect table to request so that we'd have privacy. She couldn't keep her hands off me after we sat down. It was like I unleashed this need in her that I didn't even know girls were capable of feeling. And it made me want to bend her over the table, lift her dress up, and fuck her right on top of the appetizers.
"I'll never forget that dress. It was a cute little white dress with tiny straps and yellow flowers all over it. It felt like silk in my hands and I couldn't stop touching it. She wore these white sandals that showed off her pink toes, and she had slipped the shoes off at some point during dinner. I fucking loved it. Are you a foot guy, Luke?"
He's staring at me now. Not sure when that happened, but he doesn't look as calm as he did right after I hit him.
I was right. This is the only subject that breaks him. I smile and keep going.
"The whole time we ate, I charmed her. Told her how beautiful she was, how special she was. How what she was doing for her
brother was the most compassionate thing I'd ever witnessed. And the whole time I was feeding her exactly what she needed to hear, my hand was slowly inching up her thigh. By the time they brought the dessert menu, I had already slipped my hand under her panties . The waiter had barely disappeared when my finger went inside of her."
I blow out a breath, trying to control my pulse. I can't even fucking think about it without getting worked up. "It'll be difficult describing what happened next, because you just had to fucking be there. But I'm going to try."
I sit up on the bed and run the gun across my cheek. "Her pussy...holy fuck. It was the warmest, wettest, tightest thing I'd ever touched. I wanted to crawl under the table and bury my mouth against it. And she was so fucking responsive. I guess never having been touched by a guy before, that's natural. But there was something magical...something spiritual that happened inside of me when the tips of my fingers touched her perfectly intact hymen.
"Her very first orgasm hit her in the back of that Indian restaurant with the taste of curry on her tongue, my hand up her dress, my fingers deep inside of her. It was beautiful. Fucking beautiful."
I sigh at the memory, then laugh when I realize I never even got to the good part.
"I had to have her. I needed to fuck through that hymen until she bled all over me, so I drove her straight back to my place. But of course after we made out for half an hour, she asked me to wait. Said we were moving too fast. But I had to have her, Luke. I couldn't fucking breathe. So I cuddled with her for two goddamn hours. Waited until the middle of the night, and then I started kissing her. Touching her. Running my tongue up and down her clit, working her up in her sleep so that when she finally did wake up, she'd be begging for it. And that's exactly what happened. She woke up with my head between her legs and within ten seconds, she was begging me for it. The first night, Luke. She had just gone on her first official date. Just had her first kiss. Her first orgasm. And then like the miracle that it was, I was easing inside of her, watching her wince, feeling her stretch around me. I put my hand on her stomach because I wanted to feel the pop when I shoved inside of her. She screamed when it happened. It was kind of unexpected for her, the way I just shoved inside of her and took her while she was still half asleep. I don't think she really truly woke up until that moment. And then I started fucking her. Hard. So hard, Luke. I had never felt like I wanted to be a part of someone, inside of someone with more than just my dick. I just kept thrusting, because for some reason, it didn't feel like I'd ever get deep enough. The marks left by my headboard against the wall are still there, actually. I might show them to you before I kill you."
Too Late Page 19
