Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) (35 page)

It's Almost Over

JEREMY HUNT

I took a cab to work today, not finding the energy to drive myself. When I slip out of the cab in front of the Sunscape
building, I peer at my watch. It's seven thirty. I have thirty minutes until I meet with Dyvornychenko. God, I hope he doesn't mention Alex.
I didn't sleep last night at all.

I decide that even though I am not too partial to coffee
after yesterday, I could use a little caffeine boost. I don't need to give Dyvornychenko any more reason to dislike me. He's touchy. Heaven forbid I yawn.

I walk up to the small coffee newsstand on the corner and ask for a cup of black coffee. I don't want sugar or cream. I don't want anything.

As I wait for the woman to pour me my cup, I take a deep breath and peruse the newspapers sitting on the shelves. My eye catches the front page of
The Boston Journal.

My face is on it
, and so is Alex's.

Fuck.

I grab the newspaper and bring it closer to my face for a better look. The headline reads,
Giving Hope charity event a big success,
and right below that in only slightly smaller font
, The charity's main benefactor, Jeremy Hunt, looks smitten with his new girl. It's a win-win for the charity, and for Boston's bachelor.

Double fuck.

I toss the paper down with disdain, and look up to see my coffee waiting for me. I snatch it and head to the building, making sure I toss the coffee in a nearby trashcan on my way.

I feel worse than before, but at least I'm no longer tired
—merely fueled by anger and the fact that I miss her even more now.
Is she thinking about me too?

I should have called her back yesterday, but I wasn't ready. She didn't leave a voicemail or anything.

I can't take much more of this. I'll call her when I am done with my meeting. I don't know what I will say though. I feel lost. It has been less than twenty-four hours.

I feel low. Lower than low. I don't even have an outlet. I don't have anyone to tell. Where's that asshole of a best friend when you need him?

As I stroll into the building, security greets me, but all I can manage is a scowl.

Taking another deep breath, I enter the elevator alone, knowing I do not have any choice but to get through today, or at least the morning.

ALEX TURNER

I walk up to my unmarked vehicle and shoot a glance at Derek. He's grinning like an idiot.

I adjust the holster under my leather jacket. I had hoped that the feeling of my guns against my ribs would offer some sort of solace to my aching heart, but it is a no-go.

Guns and ammo are not the cure for heartbreak, you inexperienced fool.

I roll my eyes in an effort to ignore my subconscious
, who has been doing nothing but taunting me since yesterday.

"What are you smiling at?" I ask, trying to hide my annoyance at his chipper attitude. We slip into the car
, and I look over at him.

"Nothing. I am just excited. I always get excited at the end of a case."

I try to smile but I don't think it comes across at all. I turn the engine on and pull out of the parking spot, with two other agency vehicles following behind.

"I wish I could share your enthusiasm, Derek."

He straightens in his seat. I can feel his eyes on me, but I choose to stare at the road. Derek knows, or at least suspects, what is going on. "You talk to Jeremy lately?"

Without thinking, I ask too eagerly, "Why? Have you?"

Quit hoping for the ridiculous, Turner.

Derek is quick to shake
his head and laugh. "Of course not. We hate each other."

I purse my lips into what I think is another smile and nod in agreement. "No. We haven't spoken since yesterday."

"Is everything all right?"

"Is this you caring, Derek?"

"I always care when you are concerned."

"Suave."

"Hey, I mean it. What is going on with you? I can't even get a chuckle out of you."

"It's nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothin'."

I make a sharp right turn onto the street where Marcus's apartment is. "Maybe I'll tell you later. Can we focu
—?"

A loud beeping interrupts me, and I realize it's the radio hooked on his belt. We hear static, then a booming male voice echo
es in the cab of the car. "Agent Matthews, do you copy? Over."

Derek presses the button on the side of the radio as he brings it to his lips. "This is Agent Matthews. Over."

"Main objective has departed apartment building, a separate unit will follow, but suspect Adessa Moradi remains inside. Do we continue? Over."

I
clench my teeth as I peer over at the clock, noticing it is nearing 8 a.m.

Derek sighs too, and locks eyes with me. "Yes, continue. We need to take her into custody as well. She is an accomplice. We proceed as planned, and will then continue to the Sunscape building for further arrests. Over."

I want to bang my head against the steering wheel. I did not want to have to go near Jeremy's office if I didn't have to.

"Affirmative, sir. Over." The static disappears. Derek shrugs as I look over at him. "We'll get one and then the other, Turner."

I pull into the underground parking structure, letting out my long, drawn out sigh. "Fine, but let's make it quick. I hate this bitch.” I pause a moment as I park the vehicle, pulling the parking break as I become curious. “How do you know Marcus will be at Sunscape?”

He shrugs. “I’ve been watching the Sunscape security cameras, practically obsessing over it, and that fucker hasn’t once been late to work.”

My lips want to smile, but I just can’t.

JEREMY HUNT

"Thank you for your time, Richard. I am looking forward to our business partnership."

He smiles a wider smile than I have ever seen him give, and I think back at what Alex had told me about him. Dyvornychenko is quite a likable fellow after all. I just wish I had a little more 'oomph' to my attitude.
I miss her.

"The pleasure is all mine, Jeremy. I will be back in town in a few weeks. Maybe then we can discuss that project you mentioned."

"Absolutely. I look forward to it."

We
walk toward my office door. "You look exhausted. That pretty girl of yours keeping you up all night? I tell you, if I was younger and in my prime, you might have something to worry about." He jabs me in the ribs.

It's a friendly compliment and a joke at that, so I try my damnedest to grin for the man.

"Tell Alexandra I said hello, and that my invitation still stands. Good day, Jeremy."

This time I can't manage much of a reaction as I watch him stroll out of my office and into the waiting elevator.
Could that have been any more painful?

Deciding I need some air, I walk over to the adjacent elevator. "Rebecca, I'll be back in an hour," I say without looking at my assistant.

"Of course, sir." Her clipped tone tells me she knows I am in no mood for conversation this morning.

Maybe a walk will do me good. I am pained by the fact I am bottling everything up. I've never gone through anything like this. I want to pull my hair out in frustration. Maybe I should call my
dad.

The elevator doors open
, and I step inside, rubbing my eyes, starting to feel at my wit's end. The elevator only makes it three floors down before the doors open again.

Marcus stands there, frozen to the spot. I too freeze, wondering what I am supposed to do. When Marcus steps inside
, the air feels less awkward than I would have assumed, and I clear my throat.

Marcus, with his nonchalant pose, one hand in his pocket and maybe even a little skip to his step, speaks first. "Hey, Hunt, what's eating you? You look like shit." His tone feels familiar
, and I wish I could bask in its comforting sound. He almost sounds normal.

I wish my life
were normal. I want so badly for the guy next to me to be the same person I'd shot-gunned beers with the night before exams, or the guy who almost got arrested with me when we stole a golf cart and crashed it into the dean's car.
Good times.

I heave a deep breath, and look at him for a second before answering. He looks like the same guy. He even smirks for me when I stare. "Do I really look like shit?"

"Major shit."

I can't help but actually laugh. "I'd tell you why, but you're not going to want to hear it."

I don't quite recognize the look he gives me, but it intrigues me.

"If it's about the girl, it's not a big deal."

I shake off the eerie feeling I get from his words, not forgetting when he kissed my girl, let alone when he hired a hitman to try and have me killed. My stomach tightens, and the confines of the elevator make me feel claustrophobic. I nod, deciding that he isn't the person I should talk to, even though I want to. He isn’t my old college roommate anymore. He is simply put: a terrorist. "Nah, man, forget it."

The decent of the elevator makes my stomach flip, and I press the ground floor button again, eager to get away from him. I wipe my brow while taking a deep breath. I need to get out of here now!

"C'mon. Talk to me. We don't talk anymore," he whines.

I sigh
. "Things are different."

There is an awkward pause before he continues. "Come to my lab, kick back for
a bit, and talk to me. For the sake of our friendship."

I gulp at the word friendship as I watch the numbers on the elevator count down. "Not today, Marcus." I can feel my heart rate picking up with my rising nerves.

He scoffs, and I run a deliberate hand through my hair, noticing I'm sweating. The combination of heartbreak and the disturbing vibe I'm getting from Marcus is making me nauseated.

"Jeremy, you look like you're about to pass out. Here, have some water." He extends a nearly full bottle to me. I eye it for a moment, feeling parched and uneasy. I think briefly that it wouldn't hurt, accepting the water, but I need to get the hell out of here.

To level out the rising awkwardness, I feign appreciation. "Thanks, Marcus, I think I need it." That new smile appears again, and I swear I see his eye twitch as I accept the peace offering.

I take a large sip, and then hand him back the bottle, but he raises his hands, waving it away. "No, it's all yours now."

"Thanks." I shrug and wonder what else we could possibly talk about.
Wow, have things changed.

As I watch the numbers on the
display change, I lose my balance. I try to shake it off, but it seems to make it worse. Hoping to find a way to regain my equilibrium, I take another deep breath, but my chest tightens at the attempt. Marcus leans over me to press the stop button on the elevator. What the fuck is happening?

The metal box comes to a halt
, and I gasp for air as my vision becomes dotted. "Marcus, what are you—?"

"Shut up
." He swings his stare over to me, and the eerie smile is back in full-blown HD. He swipes his ID card then presses another button, causing the elevator to reverse its journey. What is going on?

I manage a large enough breath to churn out some words. "Marcus, stop
."

He turns around to face me this time. "I don't think you are in any position to tell me what to do anymore, Jeremy."

Everything is happening so fast. I claw at my chest, feeling my heartbeat rise. I close my eyes, and with all that I have left, I say, "Are you going to kill me now?"

"Don't be silly. Adessa wanted me to make it quick and sweet, but I have other plans.
Just a simple opiate mix for now. Actually, you should consider yourself lucky. If she had it her way, you’d have maybe a day to live. I personally wasn’t willing to waste a batch of my product on you, let alone risk you finding the cure. I have something far more finite planned, but I want to talk to you first. Let's get you to my lab first, shall we?"

With that, my dotted vision becomes one full silk screen, and I feel my lower body buckling under my weight.

My consciousness fading, I feel Marcus's grasp holding me up. I want to tell him to fuck off, but everything goes black.

Assumptions & Satisfaction

ALEX TURNER

I drag my feet as I follow my team down the hallway of closed apartment doors. I feel like a petulant child while everyone around me seem
s tense and on his or her game. They stand with backs straight, shoulders squared, and hands ready to grab for their weapons.
Real professionals.

I, on the other hand, look the exact opposite.
Shame on me!

I have no interest in this woman. Well, I guess that's a lie. She is at the top of my shit list, but that has nothing to do with this case, other than the part where she put her grimy paws on Jeremy.

Oh, Jeremy.
Even thinking of him like this sends a pang of hurt that starts at the top of my head, and echoes down to my toes.

An elbow jabs sharply into my gut, and my head whips up to lock eyes with Derek's piercing green stare. He looks to be in no mood to deal with my bipolar swings, and I can't blame him.

"For fuck's sake, would you please get your head in the game?"

I owe it to him to do the job. Hell, I owe it to myself. I buck up, take a deep breath, and to show him I mean it, I pull out my gun
and offer him a forced grin.

He nods, accepting the motion.

What am I thinking? Isn't this the outlet I need to feel better? I'm letting myself drag too closely to the vortex of my emotions. Derek is right to be annoyed.

Now I want to prove to myself
that I can do this. I move passed my three other team members to the front, leading the way to Marcus's apartment.

I swear I hear Derek whisper as I pass him, "Attagirl." Even though the encouragement is nice, it makes me feel twelve.

I let a weak smirk peek through my lips as I stop in front of the door. I peer back to see Derek coming to my side, while my team gestures to confirm their readiness. I pat my pocket, checking for the paper warrant, and pull it out. I feel a familiar tingle at my fingertips as I knock.

Nothing happens
at first, and I look at Derek as I lean into the door to listen. There is definitely someone in there. I can hear a voice.

"
This is the F.B.T.C.P. The Federal Bureau of Terrorism Control and Prevention. I am Special Agent Turner, and we have a warrant to enter the premises. Open the door!" I say loud enough for the person to hear.

Still
nothing. Doesn't this bitch get it? It's over. It's all over.

Without hesitation, Derek tries the door handle. It opens
, and I fight back the urge to let my mouth hang open in surprise. I pull up my gun, covering Derek's back as he pushes the door open.

What shocks me the most about the scene is that Adessa is staring right back at us from the end of the hallway, a permanent sneer marking her graceful features. She's speaking into a phone.

When she makes eye contact with me, she rolls her eyes, sighs into the phone, and mumbles in perfect Arabic, "Father, they are already here. I won't be making the flight. I would put a rush order on the attorney, and money."

Money for what? You're going down.

Arabic is the one language that Derek and I both know, and he looks to me for a moment before turning back to face her.

He is the first to speak. "Adessa Moradi, you are under arres
—"

She cuts him off with a pointed smile. "I'm aware of the charges, Michael, but that isn't your real name, now is it?"

I find my shoulders tensing at her words, because she obviously remembers their tryst last year. Not to mention, she is taking this a lot better than I had assumed. I thought that maybe she would go down kicking and screaming.

Derek wolfishly smiles as he strolls up to her. "It's Agent Matthews, actually. Nice to see you again, Adessa. Sorry about the circumstances, but you know how it goes."

I follow close behind, hoping I don't have to speak much. My three team members linger a few steps behind me, casing rooms for any other people.

I tuck my gun back into my holster, fold the warrant up, place it in my pocket, and grab the handcuffs on my belt. I watch her, disgusted, as she shamelessly lets her eyes drag over Derek.

"I'm fully aware what is happening, Agent Matthews."

I hand off my cuffs to Derek, not wanting to get close to her.

As he steps over to her, he wiggles his finger in a way to suggest she turn around. "I think you know the drill, Miss Moradi."

She lets a small cackle escape her lips. "I am well versed in how handcuffs work, Agent Matthews, but that doesn't mean I've ever been arrested."
Gag me. Please.

Derek cannot hide his smirk as he handcuffs her behind her back, and though I want to punch
him, I refrain, rolling my eyes, and instead take in the contemporary, artsy decor of Marcus's Fenway bachelor pad.

As if Adessa caught my rolling eyes
, she snaps, "Do you have an attitude problem, Alex?"

Hearing my name on her lips, I whirl around to lock eyes with her as Derek forces her to take seat
. "Excuse me, but I don't think you are in any position to be talking about attitude problems."

Her voice drips with contempt
. "I remember you, you know. You were a sad, lovesick puppy back in Dubai. I remember your doe-eyes. They looked sad then, and they look sad now. Who has upset you this time, darling? Did Agent Matthews give you mixed signals again? Or is it your beau, Jeremy Hunt? Honestly, I am so sick of seeing men you involve yourself with doting on you. Even Marcus is obsessed over the idea of you. Doesn't seem professional, Alex."

My blood starts to boil. I don't like the fact she knows my name, I don't think she deserves to mention Jeremy's name in my presence, and she doesn't have any idea what professionalism means. She knows nothing.

"I would really bite your tongue, Adessa. You don't know anything about me."

This time she huffs, rolling her eyes. "You and Marcus could be two peas in a pod if you allowed it. He was always saying the same thing. I know more than you think, Alex. Was it really fair of you to wander into the arms of Jeremy Hunt when you had Marcus waiting on the sidelines?"

I grit my teeth, feeling my temper rise. I have been known to have violent tantrums, and they never end well.

"Easy, Turner. She's a criminal. Don't let her get to you."

I look at Derek, trying to take his advice, but when she sees me looking at him, her mouth slithers into a knowing smile.

"Yea
h, Alex. What would I know about the men you involve yourself with? Jeremy Hunt is a delightful dancer by the way, such strong hands."

At the mention of Jeremy's name, I feel my body tense, and I clench my fists this time as I stare at her.

Derek raises his hand to me as if to halt anything that might be coming. "Turner. She is messing with you."

This time I shake off his words and take a deliberate step toward the horrid woman. "Adessa, you are well-versed in men, many of them I am sure."

She grins, staring at me from her chair. "You don't intimidate me, Alex. As far as I am concerned, you are nothing but a blip on my radar. An inconvenience, if you will."

"Funny, considering you're the one in handcuffs. You might want to be intimidated."

A burst of anger escapes her. "You'll keep me in custody for forty-eight hours max! Do you even know who my father is?"

"Daddy's little girl, always going to rely on daddy's money and connections. Grow the fuck up, Adessa."

This petty elementary school bullshit has gotten me nowhere, and I decide to turn around and walk away while I still have some of my cool.

"How is everything with Jeremy? Have you spoken with him today by chance?"

I whirl around on my heels, only because her tone is deadly.
Excuse me?
"Do me a favor, and stop saying his name."

Ignoring my words, she purses her lips as if holding back a laugh, knowing she is getting to me with the topic. "I never did figure out how he managed to survive the first attempt, but you must have been around. That makes the most sense."

"What did you say?"

"Jeremy was supposed to die, but I think you know that."

I lean into her, and Derek is quick to put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me away. I give in to it to humor him, but I feel my skin tingling with rage. I do not take the topic of Jeremy's safety lightly.

"What do you know about it? Is this all because of you? You and your
dad in it to ruin anyone that gets in your way?"

"Turner, cool it," Derek
blurts beside me.

I whip my head to look at him. "Shut up, Derek!" Then I turn my attention back to Adessa.

"Oh, you're feistier than I assumed."

"Generally, I think you make a lot of poor assumptions."

She continues as if she hasn't heard me. "Jeremy must like them feisty. So does Marcus, I think. Maybe once Jeremy is gone, you could give Marcus a go. He's kind of a love-sick puppy like you, you know."

Her words are not lost on me. I grab her shoulders, forcing her to freeze, but it does nothing to her snake-like smile. "What are you talking about, what about Jeremy?"

"He's going to die, of course, and it will be your fault."

I freeze
, staring at her. "Why? Tell me."

She laughs. "Before I tell you, I'd like to tell you that I hate you. I despise you. Why is it that every man I have ever encountered in your circle can do nothing but talk about you? When will I be good enough? When I get out of
here, I will make it a point to track you down. There is nothing special about you."

I can't help but roll my eyes.
What is she talking about?
"I'm not scared of you, Adessa."

"You should be." She throws her head back to let out another smug laugh. With one final attempt to get to me
, she says, "Too bad today Jeremy will die. I'm sure he's amazing in bed. Wish I could have had a taste." She has the audacity to wink.

Before I realize it's happening, I slug Adessa across her dainty jaw. The pain in my fist is more satisfying than shooting off my gun the day before. A cathartic release only I would appreciate. The glee-inducing sound of her ghoulish shriek is the only thing that has made this assignment worth it.

"Turner, what the hell do you think you are doing?" Derek shouts, and he grabs my shoulders, flinging me back. I swing right back toward her.

"
You tell me where Jeremy is!"

With her hands handcuffed behind her
back, her face is puckered, still trying to absorb the pain from the punch. She manages a devilish smile. "He's with Marcus Gibbs as we speak, of course, but I doubt you will get there in time."

My
stomach plummets as I begin to understand. This indescribable amount of fear washes over me as I yank my body out of Derek's grasp and turn to look at him wide-eyed. "Derek, meet me at Sunscape as soon as possible."

Before he can get a full sentence out, I turn and sprint out the door.

"Turner, wait!"

The only thing I manage as I run is, "There's no time!"

****

I throw myself into my car and make it out of the parking garage in record time. With my government
plates, I am guaranteed not to be pulled over, and with that, I floor it.

I slip my phone into the
Bluetooth stand embedded into the dash, and a digital click confirms its connection. I dial Jeremy's phone, letting it ring and ring. It switches over to voicemail.

I hope that he is still just mad at me, and not otherwise detained. His anger I can
fix; the other circumstance I can't.

I speed through downtown Boston, knowing that the Sunscape building is just
five more blocks. I swerve out of lanes, weaving around cars. My eyes water, but I won't let my tears fall. I won’t. I am fueled by anger, and the fact that when Adessa spoke, it was clear to me: I am fueled by love. Love for that stubborn man, who told me he loved me because he didn't want to waste time, because life can bring unpredictable things. He told me he loved me because he was worried that he might miss the opportunity.

Like me. I missed the opportunity.

I am undeserving.

I have screwed everything up. If I don't get my ass to his building at this moment
, I may never be able to tell Jeremy that I love him. I love him with everything I have.

I dial Jeremy's phone again, getting more anxious.

I shout to myself in the car, "Please answer your God damn phone, Jeremy! I love you. I need you. I am so, so sorry."

MARCUS GIBBS

"For fuck's sake, Marcus, when are you going to realize that that shit is driving you over the edge?"