by Jani Kay
Nina, I want to thank you for always being there for me. You’ve been an amazing friend and colleague. Our Gandy Candy Competition always makes me laugh! Thank you for being you.
There are so many people I’d like to thank. First, I’d like to thank Alfie, Colleen, and Eric Battershell for shooting the photos on a whim while together. The photos were so sexy and I could feel the emotion and burning jump off the photograph! Thank you for being patient when I couldn’t decide. You are my Izzy & James! Eric, thanks for snapping the photo at the perfect time. You’re photos are magic. They convey just as much emotion and depth as my words.
To my beta girls and street team. I love you all. Thanks for being patient with me and always helping me fill in the gaps. Lord knows my memory is total shit. Thank you for always going on a fact-finding mission for me when I’m writing and can’t remember shit.
Thank you to everyone who loved and embrace Izzy and James! I love all the Gallos. I hope you continue to enjoy them in the future. There’s more to come!
DEEP COVER
Case 001
A novella by
Lilliana Anderson
Copyright 2014, Lilliana Anderson
All rights reserved
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means without the prior written permission of the author of this book.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental. Any actual places, products or events mentioned are used in a purely fictitious manner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various places/products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission and is by no way sponsored by the trademark owners.
FOUR YEARS EARLIER
Prologue
"This is the third month he hasn’t reported in, Trix. They’re marking him rogue. The warrant was issued this morning," Haines informs me, his gruff voice unusually gentle as he attempts to treat me with kid gloves.
"I don’t care if he hasn’t reported in!" I cry. "He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t go against his team, and he wouldn’t do this to me! He wouldn’t leave me, Commander! I know he wouldn’t. I know he wouldn’t! Can’t you do something? Can’t you give him more time? Something must be wrong. He wouldn’t do this!"
I feel so sure of my words. So sure that the love between Drake and I is so strong, that the only reason he’d stay away from me was because there was absolutely no way he could get back. What they’re saying can’t be true. Drake would never switch sides; he’s dedicated his life to tracking down and capturing difficult criminals. There’s no way in hell he’d flip.
"You’ve read the reported sightings," he counters, holding out the file of evidence as a way to try and convince me. "Our informant–" My arm shoots out and I slap the file out of his hands, the printed pages flying about the room in a fluttering snowstorm fuelled by my emotions.
"I don’t give a fuck about your informant!" I screech, blood rushing through my ears as I shake my head, gripping at my hair as I refuse to listen. "Drake wouldn’t do this!"
"I’m sorry, Trix. I really am," he murmurs, attempting to calm me by reaching out to touch my shoulder. I flinch away, knocking his arm away from me. Then I push him in the chest to force him away from me. I don’t want to be comforted. I don’t want to be touched. I just want my husband back. I want this order to be rescinded.
"I’m sorry," he says again, backing out of the interview room he’d taken me inside to break the news. My involvement in my husband’s case is over. Another team is coming in to capture him and bring him in as a criminal suspect. Even if they do find him, his life is over. Cops gone rogue rarely get a fair trial, and they never last long in prison. Haines has basically just ripped my heart out of my chest and squished it with his bare hands.
He leaves the room. Leaving me alone to scream, wail and do all the things that a woman who has lost the love of her life does when she feels an injustice has occurred. I want them to save him. I want them to believe that he wouldn’t do the things he’s being accused of.
Slowly, my screams turn to sobs, and I slide to the floor, sitting amongst the paper that officially documents Drake’s deceit. I sit there crying quietly, for, I don’t know how long. But, it’s just long enough for it feel like my life is over when I’m done.
* * *
Present day . . .
As much as I thought I was hurting the day they issued the warrant, it was nothing compared to how much pain I’d feel a month later when Drake’s handler was found dead, and a shoot-to-kill order was issued.
And then I couldn’t have imagined the pain I’d feel the moment that kill was confirmed, and I became a widow.
I never even got to see the body . . .
DEEP COVER: CASE 001
BY LILLIANA ANDERSON
001
"Take it off," I whisper, my teeth pulling at his ear as my hands slide under his shirt, wandering over the ripples of his washboard abs, my fingers rising and falling over the ridges. I push his shirt higher.
Obliging me, he tears his lips away from my neck, and his hands from my breasts as he reaches down and lifts the shirt over his head, flashing a perfect smile at me that brightens the dim room.
He drops it on the floor, capturing my face in his hands as he brings his lips to mine. "Better?" he murmurs, slipping his tongue into my mouth as he inhales through his nose, breathing me in, his arms curling around my body and drawing me towards him.
I melt against him, my body on fire with want, a pleasant jolt between my thighs as his hands slide down my body and grip at my arse, pulling me against his hard erection.
Walking together, we aim for the bed, moving across the floor in a frantic dance of tangled limbs and eager kisses. It’s a shuffle of sorts but there’s a carnal need between us, causing us to maintain close contact. As we reach the foot of my bed, he pauses, his hands sliding upward, lifting my shirt as his fingers drag over my skin until it’s over my head, and drops to floor.
He shifts back, just enough so our chests are no longer touching, and I watch, as his eyes grow hungry at the sight of my full breasts. They rise and fall as I breathe, the flesh spilling over the top of the lace cups that barely contained me through dinner. Instantly, his hands move to knead the soft flesh and his head bows to reverently kiss each mound.
"God you’re beautiful," he whispers, his arm curling around my waist to support me as he leans over me and lowers us both onto the bed. "I want to kiss, and taste, every single part of you." He pulls the lace to the side, taking my already erect nipple into his mouth and sucks back, his tongue swirling around it and making my body feel as though it’s about to come undone.
"Oh," I moan, arching my back as my fingers slide into his sandy blond hair, curling through the thick strands as I enjoy his worship of my body and hear the first notes of a familiar song.
Do I Wanna Know? by the Artic Monkeys, plays from my phone, causing me to groan, and this time not from pleasure. I chose this song specifically for the ringtone on my work phone. Because really, do I want to know why they’re called me after I’ve gone home?
I move to sit up. "Ignore it," he murmurs, moving over to my other breast and pulling that cup down too. "They can keep ringing, this is good fucking music." His mouth clamps down on my nipple, and his hand moves downward.
My body wages war with my mind, as my head swirls with desire, and my phone continues to thump out the introductory beat of the song. I want to ignore it. I can’t express how much I want to ignore it. But I can’t. This is what being on call is all about.
"It’s work. I have to answer," I moan, forcing myself to sit up, watching as my boyfriend, Gavin, rolls off me and lets out a groan of his own. "I’m sorry. You know I’m on call," I explain, picking up my shirt and tugging it down over my body, as I hurry out of
my room to where my phone is still singing in my bag near the front door where we dumped it only moments ago.
"Samuels," I say by way of greeting as I wait for the instructions that are sure to follow. I expect that I’m getting called in to help digitally track down a hacker who’s made an attempt to gain access to a secure site and gotten further than the usual ‘hacker for kicks’ manages to get. But instead, I hear a voice from my past. A voice I didn’t expect I’d be hearing at ten o’clock on a Friday night.
"Caitlin. You need to get in here."
My brow creases, as the voice of my old commander, Grant Haines, rumbles down the line.
"What’s happened?" I ask, confused as to why my ex-field commander is calling me almost four years since I pulled back from field duty and took up my current job behind a desk in cyber crimes.
"Your old case. There’s been a development. They want you at Site Seventeen in thirty minutes."
"Why?"
"There’s a witness. They’ll only talk if it’s to you. That’s all I know."
"Will you be there?"
"I’m out of state. You’ll be fine. Commander Greer is there. He’s in charge of the site now."
"But–" I try to argue before he cuts me off with a bark.
"Just get your arse down there. NOW," he bellows, the call ending abruptly and leaving me with nothing but a dead line to argue with.
I stand there, my mouth still frozen as if I were about to speak. I want to state my case. Plead with him to leave me be–I don’t want to go back to that site. I don’t want to be dragged back into that case. I left the field for a reason, and I don’t want to go back.
"Bad news?" Gavin asks from the doorway of my bedroom, looking like a sex-god with his blonde hair falling into his eyes and his jeans hanging open, displaying that V that causes me to bite my lip and consider getting written up for disobeying an order.
"I have to head in," I pout, resisting temptation, but walking over to him and pressing a kiss to the underside of his chin to say goodbye. "You know I’d rather be with you."
Inhaling deeply, he slides his arms around me and presses his lips to the top of my head. "You want me to wait here for you?"
"I don’t know how long I’ll be."
He pulls away, pressing his lips into a small smile as he meets my eyes. "Then I’ll wait longer."
"You’re pretty amazing," I smile, forcing myself away from him as I straighten my shirt by tucking it into my dress pants then slide my arms inside my jacket. "I really have to go. They’re going to kick my arse as it is."
"Ok, go. I’ll make sure I feed those precious fish of yours while you’re gone."
Backing away from him, I pick up my bag and slide my feet back inside my low-heeled shoes. "They’re my babies. Be careful not to overfeed them. Just a pinch. And no tapping the glass," I say, pointing a finger at him as he folds his arms and chuckles.
"Anyone who’s seen Finding Nemo knows you don’t tap on the glass."
I open the door and step out, wondering exactly how long it’s going to be before I see him again, before I turn back around. "Just a pinch," I remind him, causing him to laugh as I step outside into the night air.
The moment the dark surrounds me, and I head toward my car, I’m filled with a sense of dread. A development in my old case. The only case my team never closed. The case that took my husband’s mind and eventually his life.
DEEP COVER: CASE 001
BY LILLIANA ANDERSON
002
Driving faster than I should, I arrive at Site Seventeen thirty-five minutes later.
Site seventeen is a concrete warehouse, nestled unassumingly amongst a sea of identical warehouses in a busy industrial area to the south of the city. In the very front of the building, it’s set up so it appears to be a car parts manufacturer, but once you walk past the machines to the door that’s hidden in the storeroom, you’ll find yourself heading underground to what the general public and conspiracy theorists would call a ‘black site’.
It’s a large, underground basement that is outfitted as the headquarters for high-risk cases–the cases the public aren’t allowed to know about, or the cases that the government will deny any knowledge of if things go south. It’s all ‘off the books’, but still operates within the law...well, most of the time, anyway.
There are many of these ‘sites’ around the country, and their location is on a need-to-know basis only. I have no idea of the exact number it goes up to, but I know site seventeen like the back of my hand. It’s the place that sucked all the joy out of my life.
I have to go through a security check before I’m allowed any further than the first entry point, and another five minutes has passed by the time I’m escorted to where Commander Greer is waiting for me. I’ve never worked with Greer before. But I know of him. He’s the man they call in to fix things that are broken. He’s the man who led the capture team for Drake in the first place.
"You’re late," he bellows, tilting his baldhead to indicate that I follow him as he walks briskly towards another door.
"If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even be here," I shoot back, talking tough to cover up my unease at being back inside this building. I follow behind him, my posture stiff as a keen sense of dread settles in my stomach. With every step, memories of this place begin to flood back into my mind like a highlight reel: being chosen as a part of an elite team, the excitement of our first day here, the late nights chasing down leads and pouring through information…the day he went undercover. The day he went rogue. The day the ‘shoot on sight’ order went out.
The day the kill was confirmed…
I have to swallow hard to keep the bile from rising up from my throat. Memories of Drake are everywhere I look. I want to close my eyes. I want to stop seeing this place. But I can’t stop looking. I can’t stop remembering.
Greer takes me into a meeting room where two other agents are sitting together, going over files. One of them I know, her name is Gabrielle Birdwood, although most call her Gabby or Birdy for short. I first met her not long after I came to work with the Federal Police, but we’ve only worked a handful of cases together. We were never really friends until after Drake had died. She’s one of the few people who were still kind to me after his betrayal, and as a result, our friendship flourished. She’s also the reason I met Gavin and started getting on with my life again. As for the other agent, I’ve never seen him before. He’s one of those mega tall but incredibly slim people whose face is angular, like it’s just skin sucking on bone.
When I enter the room, they both look up. Gabby gives me a sympathetic smile, knowing that this is the last place I want to be, and the other just stares at me like I’ve done something wrong.
"Take a seat," Greer instructs me, and I move to sit down.
"This is Agent Emery," he informs me and I nod at the man across the table, noting that he doesn’t do the same to me. "And I believe you already know Agent Birdwood. She’s been catching Emery up on the case before we begin discussing the new developments."
"And what new developments are those?" I ask, folding my arms on the matte black surface of the table and leaning forward.
Greer’s eyes meet mine as he lifts the small remote from the table and points it over his shoulder, powering up the monitor that is affixed to the grey concrete wall behind him. On it, the feed to one of the holding cells is delivered. It shows a man cuffed to the table, sitting stoically with his hands clasped in front of him. The camera points down on the room, so all you can see is a mass of hair and the filth on his skin in the grainy image.
"A person of interest has been apprehended." Greer turns and picks up a manila folder with the typical confidential markings on it before turning back to us. "And despite Emery and Birdwood’s persuasive techniques, he’s been unwilling to speak to anyone, unless he speaks to you first." His eyes land on me as he flicks the file onto the table. It lands with a slap and slides towards me as I clap my hand over it to stop its motion.
<
br /> "To me?" I ask. "Why?" I look around the room and get no answer from the impassive faces of my colleagues. So I drop my eyes and open the folder in front of me, the name of the man being held, jumping out at me before I see anything else. "No." I slap the folder closed and shake my head. "No, that’s not…" I glance at the monitor, still shaking my head. "No."
Greer leans on the table and levels me with his gaze. "I don’t need to tell you how important it is that we gain some sort of information from that man. Now what I want you to do is put aside any sort of personal shit you may have, and get in there and do your job."
Glancing again at the monitor, I swallow hard then nod and follow when Greer indicates that I need to. He takes me down a set of stairs to where I know the holding rooms are. Suddenly, he stops, halting outside one of the cell doors. They aren’t your typical cells for holding prisoners. These are the kind of cells that while they have cameras, they don’t have any rules.
He narrows his eyes at me, and I can see thoughts warring across his face. From what I hear by way of reputation, Greer is a man of very few words, in his mid-fifties, he’s worked tirelessly for our country by using his keen instinct and precise actions to get where he is today. When he talks. Everyone acts. Because if he talks, it’s important, he doesn’t do chitchat.
"I had to call you in here, Samuels. It’s against my better judgement to have someone so close to this working here. But I don’t think we have much of a choice. Now, I want you to get in there, and get as much information as you can. Find out what he wants and get him to talk. I’m giving you one hour with him, and then you’re out."
I open my mouth to question him, but he doesn’t give me time to speak, he just opens the door and places his large hand on the centre of my back and pushes me through.
