Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) (25 page)

Warnings & Pep Talks

ALEX TURNER

I place my foot on the gas pedal as I click off my phone.

Eager as ever, Jeremy watches me as I drive back to his place. "So, what's the update? They have had twenty-four hours to talk to that guy." He means his attacker.

Still filled with trepidation, I clench my jaw at hearing even a tinge of panic and frustration in his voice. "Jeremy, it is never that easy." I watch him take a deep breath before I continue. "Plus, Derek said he
wants to wait to tell me in person about what came up. He will be at your place at seven o'clock to help prep us for the event tonight." I have to take in a deep breath now. I don't want to blow a gasket after all the progress Jeremy and I made during this twenty-four hour lockdown.

I am trying to open up, and we are on the brink of fully understanding each other. I will try this patience thing, and take this moment by moment. I'm trying. Not only does my relationship feel fragile, but there is
also a lot riding on tonight's event. A lot needs to be accomplished in one evening, and I can't let my emotional entanglements get in the way.

"
OK," he says, "on a lighter note, why have I never seen this car? I was a little too shaken to appreciate it before."

A snake-like smile slithers across my face as I raise an eyebrow. I am proud of this baby, and I like that it makes boys jealous. "Company car," I quip.

He looks away and runs his hand over the rim of the passenger side window, his long fingers gliding over the edge, appreciating the craftsmanship. "Company car? Very James Bond-esque, don't you think?"

"Did you just say James Bond-esque?" I set my lip
s in a hard line, containing an outburst of giggles.

He stiffens, hiding his boy
ish smile. He wrinkles his nose, apparently feeling embarrassed. "Yeah?"

I bare my grin, but flash it sharply. "Maybe it is."

His eyes light up like a child with a new toy. I shake my head. "Don't even think about it, Mr. Hunt. Oh, and in case your secret agent trivia is rusty, James Bond was a British secret service agent with MI6, babe. Me?" I point at myself, trying to hold back my sarcasm. "I am an undercover agent for the United States of America."

He rolls his eyes
, and we both laugh at the ridiculous conversation. Then he turns to me, serious. "So, no James Bond gadgets?"

I wink and flash a smile. "Hey, some things are top secret for a reason."

He shrugs and continues to eye the vehicle in appreciation and eager suspicion.

How adorable.

MARCUS GIBBS

I slip my new little baggie of coke into the inside of my blazer, and notice Adessa slinking out of my bedroom. She looks regal in a fitted ruby-red evening gown with a plunging neckline that goes almost down to her navel, putting her perky chest on display. Her sleek black hair hangs over her shoulders, with a straightened shine.

"Well, look at you. You clean up real nice." She walks over to me, grabs the ends of my bowtie, and tie
s it into a perfect bow.

I watch her apprehensively, still wondering what the hell is going on. Why is she here? I don't know what she is playing at. I don't know a thing about her. Even though we are intimately acquainted, our conversations have been limited.
But maybe that's my fault; I don't know.

The trip to my lab went well, and what shocked me the most was that she knew what the hell she was talking about. I thought that I was dealing with a dumb daddy's girl by the way she dresses and
carries herself, who wouldn't know a test tube from a petri dish. I was wrong.

When we entered my
lab, she immediately requested to see all of my notes, my finished batch, along with the batch in progress. She scrutinized my notes, asked why I did what, and used proper terminology. She even examined a few of the samples under my microscope, and double-checked my work. It was baffling, and even a little hot. I was impressed, but now I am more nervous than before. She is much more than meets the eye, and I feel like I need to watch where I step.

I think back to the gun that still sits on my coffee table, and worry that her facade of innocence is like her facade of stupidity.

I can't deny the fun I have had bedding her, but I am starting to feel used
.
Not that I would (or should) complain, it just makes me feel a bit empty. I am trying to think back to the last time I felt whole, and nothing comes up.

My best friend is dead, and I am having a hard time wrapping my head around it. For some reason
, it doesn't feel real. Maybe it will when it is revealed. I also can't tell whether I'm glad. I am free, but I still feel caged.

"Marcus, did you hear me?"

Her voice pulls me back to reality. I guess I must have been daydreaming. "What?" I look down, where she is still readjusting my bowtie. Her eyes are a deep charcoal in the light of my living room.

Her red lips slink into a smile, but I want to flinch. "I said, thank you for letting me accompany you tonight, and actually, thanks for everything
." Her eyes heat.

Is she actually showing some gratitude? What? For fucking her? For letting her use me like a toy, entertaining her like the city’s jester? For taking her out like the spoiled brat she is?

I think I hate her. I hate her and her damn attractive body.

She continues, "I am impressed with you in all senses."

I find her proximity overwhelming, and I take a step back. "Thank you."

She eyes me. "Are you
all right?"

I scratch the back of my head, wanting to tell her the truth about how I feel overwhelmed, frustrated, guilty, and at my wit's end with my drug habit
, but she is not my friend. Isn't she the enemy? I feel like I don't have any friends.

Her dark eyes soften. "You can talk to me, Marcus."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "I don't think so, Adessa."

"Yes." She is crisp and demanding. As usual.

"Yes, what? You wouldn't understand."

"You look out of sorts. Maybe I can try to understand. I know I make you uneasy unless it's between the sheets, but at least give me the benefit of the doubt."

I clench my jaw. "Why should I do that?"

With her body almost flush against
mine, she reaches for my shoulders. She kneads them gently while pushing them down into a more relaxed position. "I like it when you're mad, but keep yourself in check. You put a hit out on your best friend. I might be all you've got."

Her
serpentine smile is back, and I get defensive. "How do you know that Jeremy was my best friend?"

"I know a lot more about you than you think. I'd like to think that we can be friends."

I sigh, realizing her hands feel good on me. I just don't think I can trust her, but she is right. Who else do I have? And what do I have to lose?

She sees me mulling it over, and her eyes sparkle. "Let's go get dinner, and you can tell me what's on your mind. And if you don't want to, then I am sure I can find something to talk about."

Her hint of sarcasm catches my attention. I notice she is smiling at me, and I reflexively smile back. Satisfied with the outcome, she grabs my hands, and pulls me out the front door.

What am I going to do?

JEREMY HUNT

Alex demanded I leave the room when she started to get ready for tonight. She told me that a girl needs her time, and when I told her I didn't realize she had these girly moments, she instantly shooed me out and locked me out of my bedroom. Of course, not without giving me a quick kiss before closing the door. I don't think she likes those girly comments.

I can't stop smiling as I walk into my living room. I
drape my black blazer over the armrest of the couch, and place my bowtie on top. These formal events always make me feel off. I've never been a fan of dressing like a penguin.

Maybe a drink will ease my nerves.
I must admit that I am on edge for better reasons than a silly bowtie. As if on cue, there is a knock on my door.

My whole body tenses. The last time there was a knock at my door, someone tried to kill me. I take a deep breath, aching for that drink.

However, I know who is beyond this door, and I peer at my watch. It's 6:55 p.m. The bastard is punctual at least.

I don't know much about this guy
, other than he used to date my girl, and that is reason enough to hate him. What's his name? Derek? Even his name annoys me. Maybe I am also on the fence about him since Alex tells me he is her best friend. I don't want to compete with a man like this, and I don't think I should have to.

Let's see what I am up against.
I vaguely remember him from the first time I found out about all of this craziness, and all I can remember is that he got uncomfortably close to Alex.

I take a few steps
farther, and get distracted by my surprisingly clean, cherrywood floors. Only a day ago, I watched a man's gunshot wound bleed onto that floor, and now I would never be able to tell. I wonder who had the honor of cleaning up that mess. Am I supposed to pretend it never happened? I can't help but think I will forever look at that part of my floor, and remember each frantic moment on the attempt to take my life.

I shudder before I turn to face the door. Now is not the time to let
myself be caught up in those moments.

I square my shoulders, and open the door.

The smug smirk of a man greets me. His brown hair is slicked back, and his eyes shine green. His five o'clock shadow has a stylish element to it. He's tall, though I am still taller. His broad shoulders add intimidation to his demeanor. One hand is tucked nonchalantly into his dress pants pocket, and the other holds a stainless steel briefcase, softening the look. He's wearing a tuxedo like mine, except his bowtie sits below his square jaw.

We both
size each other up. He speaks before I do. "Evening, Hunt."

It's a brash greeting with no real introduction whatsoever. I mean, I don't really know the man, do I? Other than what Alex has told me. He seems to know me.

Even though I know his name, I decide to act as if he is no one of consequence. "And you are?"

Derek looks annoyed at my obvious disregard for his identity. He sets his mouth in a hard line. "Agent Derek Matthews
." He grins. "I am sure Alex has mentioned me." I hear the hint of sarcasm, obviously intended to make me jealous.

I clench my jaw and decide now is not the time to throw down. Well, not until I have a little more reason to, beyond a greeting.

I cordially extend my hand to him. "Jeremy Hunt, nice to meet you, Agent Matthews."

His grip on my hand as he shakes it is much tighter than it needs to be, and I can't help but flash him a glare. He glares right back, and I pull away. I don't want to deal with this guy. I don't want to like him, and I've decided I never will.

"Come on inside. Alex is still getting ready."

Derek chuckles. "Yea
h, be prepared to wait a while."

As we enter my living
room, he places the briefcase on the dining room table. I eye him, and worry that he knows Alex better than I do. "She doesn't seem like the type."

Derek chooses not to make eye contact, and instead examines my apartment as he speaks.
"They never do. It's the pretty ones. You never know what to expect. She is tough like a guy, but she is definitely a giant girl." He snickers as if recalling an inside joke, which bothers the shit out of me. I don't like him calling her pretty
. Quit being an adolescent, Hunt!

"So,
Agent Matthews, how long have you been friends with Alex?"

He places both his hands in his pockets,
finally letting his intense jade eyes lock with mine as if he just formed a plan. "Friends?" Is he hinting that they had a dating history? He continues, "I've known her a long time. Since she was eighteen. We trained together at the academy, and I guess the rest is history." His eyes heat with a challenge.

His smug smile is eating me alive, and I decide I need that drink now. "Would you like a drink?" I remember my manners.

"Whatcha got, Hunt? Flashy guy like you must have some good stuff?"

He's being too chummy for my liking. It's insulting and in no way genuine. I want to roll my eyes, but decide to shrug it off. "Scotch? I've got Balvenie 21 Portwood."

"Sounds fancy. I'll take a large one. I might need it for tonight."

"Drinking on the job
, Agent Matthews?" I pour him a double.

He takes it with a grin. "In my line of work, it's always better to start off with a drink. Gets the juices flowing, and offers a little liquid courage."