Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) (9 page)

Jeremy shouts down the hall, "Marcus, wait!"

"No, Jeremy, forget it! I'll get over it. I always do. Just add it to the list, bro."

With that, Jeremy stops and turns around to look at me. His face falls with some unknown emotion, and I wonder what Marcus means about
adding it to the list,
but Jeremy's stricken expression tells me he needs me. I grab his hand, pull him back inside his apartment, close the door behind him, and do the only thing that I think can make this better.

I take his face between my hands
, and kiss him long and hard. He wraps his arms around me in our first warm, endearing embrace. He hugs me tighter as if he doesn't want to let me go, and he is so sincere that I don't want to let go either. I just need to be there for him.

Reluctantly, I pull away and lead him back down the hall to his bedroom. We crawl into bed to wait for the pizza guy, wrapping ourselves around each other. This is the only way I know to calm his busy mind, and even still, it's
only a guess.

"I'm sorry for getting between you and Marcus." I have to say the only thing that is on my mind.

He shakes the statement off, and brushes a piece of hair behind my ear. "Don't be sorry. It's not you. It's the timing. It's just that, in general, I have been a shitty friend to Marcus. He deserves better, ya know?"

No, Jeremy, you're wrong. Your best friend wants to wipe out populations of people for money, and is doing it right under your nose.

I nod as if I understand, and I think a series of different thoughts and questions as I gaze into Jeremy's glacier blue eyes:

I need to call Derek to set up
a meeting to discuss my current predicament.

I am falling
for Jeremy
hard
, and I can't understand how it is happening.

Can I
care for Jeremy and at the same time use him as an angle for this assignment? Is that fair?

Will he still look at me the same way when, or if
, I reveal the truth?

Can I turn this all around?

Where is the damn pizza?

Losing Control

MARCUS GIBBS

I let my knee wobble up and down as I sit on this lumpy leather couch taking in the surroundings. I am in some kid's dump of an apartment in Southie.
Shitty movie posters plaster the walls. The carpet looks stained from repeated bong water spills, mixed with cigarette burns. The air reeks of stale smoke and incense.

"Care for a line?"

"Huh?" Is he talking?

"I said
, do you want to hit this?"

My eyes bounce up and
meet Steve Wilkinson's spry, crisp stare. I watch him bob his cigarette between his smug lips. I always have the urge to beat the shit out of this guy, but I don't turn down his offer. I am on edge from my withdrawal, even though it’s only been around eight hours.

"Yea
h, sure. Thanks." I grab the rolled up twenty-dollar bill.

I lean down and use it to inhale the crystal white line
off his clean coffee table. It's the only clean surface in the apartment. It's obvious what he finds most important.

His eyes are a sky blue, and between that and his attitude
problem, he reminds me of Jeremy. I think that is what annoys me most about him. He gets a lot of ass. Most days when I pick up, there is a new blonde leaving his apartment.
Must be nice, douchebag
. Although, maybe they're drug addicts too.

Steve is young, younger than
I am at twenty-three. He's built like a linebacker, but his wit is as sharp as a knife. This kid has done every drug from marijuana and acid to cocaine and DMT. He is a nut job. He dropped out of Tufts University because he figured he could make more money, and get more girls, selling drugs. He's smart as hell with numbers, but dumb as fuck. His deep, cocky voice always irks me, because he acts as if he has it all, but it’s all a matter of his stupid perspective. His apartment is a shithole, but his pride and joy is that bright red Corvette in the driveway.

He has the same dominating presence
as Jeremy too, which fucking bothers me about the guy, but at least he can be funny as hell, and I think if he didn't remind me so much of my back-stabbing best friend he might be a fun replacement. Besides being a drug-addicted college dropout, of course.

Today though, I
am aching for more coke and to get into some trouble.

"What's eating you, man? You seem on edge."

On edge? On edge? You have no fucking idea, asshole.

"A girl twist ya' balls or somethin'? A broad break ya' hea't?"

Steve's thick Bostonian accent mixed with his smug assumption makes me think horrible, terrible things. I look at the table, see his pocketknife, and consider teaching this kid
a lesson by running the blade across his arrogant face.

Did I just think that?
I shake my head and try to focus.

"No. Just a lot of work issues
." In a manner of speaking.

"Wo'k is ova'rated, trust me
." He snickers. "That'll be fifty bones, buddy."

Buddy? The urge to strangle him is mounting with each passing moment
. I hand him two twenties and a ten in exchange for my new bag of snow.

As I tuck the baggie into my
pocket, I get a flashing image of that whore in Jeremy's doorway. My heart wrenches at the memory, and I think,
No, she is not a whore. It's Jeremy who is the whore!

Jeremy a
lways gets what he wants, and takes it when he wants it. Prick. He always wants what I want, and guess who ends up with the short end of the stick? I wanted that girl wearing
my
boxers. I wanted her smile to be because of me. It. Is. All. Jeremy's. Fault!

S
weat forms on my brow as anger overwhelms me and sets my heart racing.

"Take these
, bro."

I look up at Steve. His blue eyes make me want to break his face.
Stop staring at me!
"Take what?"
Asshole.

"It’s on me
." He tosses me a baggie of white pills as I rise from the couch.

"What are these?" I ask
, shaking the bag. Pills are not my thing.

"It's Xanax. You look like you could use
'em. Consider them a gift. Take a couple now and you'll be feelin' good, my friend. And hell, you a loyal customa' so if you want mo'e come on back." He snickers, which, I think, is just the way this guy laughs.

I shrug and make my way out.

"Thanks."

I make it to my car
, and all I can think is,
You fucking prick. I have had enough—enough is enough dammit!
Jeremy, you are a fucking asshole, and you will pay.

I decide to pop two Xanax and
head to my lab.

The Meeting

ALEX TURNER

I stir the coffee in front of me as I wait for
Unit Chief Alvarado to arrive for our impromptu nine o'clock meeting this Monday morning.

I can't believe I am doing this
. Is this all really because of some guy
?

It's a silly
thought, but Jeremy's lips on mine have left a searing memory. They have tingled with desire ever since I left his place yesterday evening.

I have to confess: I think I miss that arrogant bastard.
I don't believe in that bullshit—love at first sight—but I do know that I don't want to throw this one away. Is that enough of a reason to do what I'm about to do?

I want a cigarette, but under Derek's watchful, judgmental eye, I can't. I am trying to quit, really I am. This past weekend was such a wonderful distraction that nicotine didn't even cross my mind, but sitting in this sterile conference room at headquarters, I want that fix so bad
ly.

"What the hell is going on
, Turner?"
Derek practically shouts at me, slicing the thick silence. He knows it is out of character for me not to tell him things. I used to tell him everything
.

I turn my head toward him. "What?"

"What the hell is going on? Why won't you tell me?" His eyebrows scrunch up as he says it, and for a moment, I see it as a familiar, endearing facial expression. Derek has only ever been annoyed with me, but that is how we are. We piss each other off to keep each other in line.

Derek is a distractingly
good-looking man, and he is a
man
. At 6'2”, built broad with striking emerald eyes and short brown hair, he’s hard to miss. His looks get him into a lot of trouble too. He is thirty, old enough to know better, but I think he enjoys it. Mental and physical scars mar his body and soul, just like my own. He's been my partner since I got out of the academy. I would say we make a perfect team, but lately, we've had a hard time grappling with our domestic issues.

Maybe it wasn't him kissing his ex that ended us. Maybe it was because we are both so bad at dealing with real emotional shit. We couldn't manage our personal and professional lives so we (he) slipped up.
In a way, I am not even mad anymore.

I notice he didn't shave this morning
, and the stubble on his strong jaw distracts me. Shaking myself from the inappropriate analysis of his features, I snap back, "Because it's complicated."

"You think I don't know how to do complicated?"

He is on the verge of being angry, because if anyone knows complicated, it's Derek. I roll my eyes even though I know I shouldn't.

"Dammit
, Turner!" His tone makes me jump.

I look into his piercing green eyes, and guilt
teases my insides. He is not going to want to hear the truth.

"I'm sorry," I sputter, because underneath it all
,
I really am.

"That's it? All I get is an I'm sorry?"

I let my lips set into a hard line. "For now, yes."

He sighs, running his hand through his dark brown hair, exasperated with me.

"We used to talk. We used to be close. I wish you'd tell me. You were so cryptic on the phone about why you called this meeting."

"Things haven't changed. I just have to handle this a bit differently. Trust me, dammit."

This time Derek rolls his eyes, and tosses his hands up in frustration. "You've either really fucked up, or have something really big to tell ... or both!” He knows me too well.

The door swings open
, and Chief George Alvarado struts into the room holding a mug of coffee and a notepad. Alvarado is a burly man in his mid-fifties, with a worn face and a permanent five o'clock shadow. He has watched over me since I entered the academy at eighteen, and has always been the father-figure type. He, along with Derek, taught me a lot while I was in the academy, as well as out in the field. In a way, I owe him more than I am giving him now. My guts clench at the thought.

"Good morning
, sir," I stutter. His nose twitches at my politeness. He knows something is coming too.

"So, what's happening? Why the meeting? Give me news. Have we made any progress with Gibbs? Time is of the essence
, people." He lifts his coffee mug to his lips. His tone is brusque, and I wince at the mention of Marcus Gibbs.

Well, here goes
.

"I think we should take another angle on this case, sir."

I don't turn my head to see it, but can sense Derek's whole body twitch toward me in response. "You what?" he says in an accusing tone.

I square my shoulders, getting annoyed at him. "I said, I think we should go another direction."

Alvarado continues to sip, stoically searching my face for answers. "Go on, Agent Turner, I'm listening."

I decide to go for it. Alvarado is not a man to dick around. I take a deep breath. "I think we should use Jeremy Hunt for this case."

"His father, William, was specific about not involving him."

I know this, but I also know I have to be honest with him.
Deep breath.

"Jeremy Hunt has
kind of
gotten in the way, and because of this, going directly for Marcus Gibbs has been compromised. I think Hunt would be the better angle, and a better use of our time than trailing Gibbs. We can use all of his security access, making things much easier for us to get the evidence we need. He could physically get us into Gibbs's lab with no questions asked. Gibbs is not going to take the bait; he’s already being too difficult. Jeremy would be easy to convince too." I exhale.

Not bad.
I don't need to mention the fact that Marcus caught me in the act and won't be answering any of my texts anytime soon.

Before Alvarado can
respond, Derek's hand comes down on the table with a loud slap. I whip my head around to stare at him.

"Security, so what?" he scoffs
. "There has got to be more to what you’re saying." He acts repulsed, as if he suspects something.
Shit.

Alvarado cuts in, "More? How can you assume that
, Agent Matthews? We do need more security access, and maybe we have put the option off for too long. At some point, you have to look at the more obvious options. William Hunt cannot put stipulations on a terrorist issue."
Wow, thank you, Chief. You did half the work for me.

Derek's eyes burn with frustration. I know it is because of me, but he shoots the heated stare at the
chief, which I think is a bold move—and in a way stupid.

He clenches his jaw before he begins again. "Sir, with all due respect, don't you think it's a little suspicious that all of sudden Agent Turner wants to switch objectives? I agree, yes! More security access may be necessary, but I think she might have more to her story."

Derek raises his brows as he looks at me, and I get the sinking feeling that he may know my secret. My whole body tenses as if I have been struck by lightning as I wait for him to continue.

"I think Hunt is getting in the way because Turner let him. She missed two of my phone calls this weekend when I gave her direct orders to call me with an update. With an assignment like this, she shouldn't be missing phone calls. There is shit on the line, and I thought
, this isn't like her, and then it hit me." Acting as if Alvarado isn't sitting there, he turns to talk to me, those emerald eyes searing me with anger. "Maybe Agent Turner feels guilty. When she feels guilty, she gets evasive. Also, if there’s one thing I do know, it's that Turner has a weakness for fast-talking guys."

What? Like you
, Derek?

And just like that, my
cheeks heat and my remorse evaporates. The void pools with a rush of anger, because even if what he is saying holds some merit—
whatever
—his tone is insulting. I stare daggers at him. How can he say things like that? We are supposed to be professionals, God dammit. Hell, we are supposed to be friends.

Before I can get a hold of
my anger, Alvarado barks, "Is this true, Agent Turner? You didn't answer your phone?"

I swallow as I process my plan of action. Do I confess? I can't
.
"Yes, sir, I did not answer my phone."

"That is dangerous and compromises you, and could potentially compromise your
entire team."

"Yes
, sir. I am sorry. I
was
trying to work." I wince at hearing my words, because it's not even partially the truth. Sleeping with someone who is involved in your case is not considered working.

I hear a stifled chuckle from Derek, and he has that evil glint in his eye. I can tell he is pissed and jealous. He is going to take no prisoners, the asshole. Is this to get back at me for that time I told the
chief he slept with that girl in Dubai?

"Excuse me,
" Derek says, "but that's bullshit, and I think Turner knows it. I think someone got a little careless Friday night, and let Mr. Charming Billionaire distract her."

He turns back to me again, and is really going for it as he says
, sneering at me, "Is it the money, Turner? Does it turn you on? Did he bat those big ol' blues your way, and you succumbed like every dumb girl in his file? Could you not keep your pants on for one night? Did he make ya feel good? Did he tickle your fancy? Are you all gaga because he hit you in
just
the right spot?"

"You are being a jealous fuck, Derek
." Without thinking, I leap across the table, seething with anger, and grab the collar on his dress shirt, yanking his head toward the surface of the conference table.

I almost get away with it. He whips his head up before it slams into the table. I swing at him with my other hand, only one goal in mind: nail him good.

These are the games we play. We always have.

He takes a swing too, shoving me back. He's being an asshole and he knows it. What ever happened to being a team player,
the jealous bastard? We look like either two star-crossed ex-lovers or two bickering siblings.

Alvarado looks flustered as he shouts, "Would you two get a fucking grip
? You look like fools! You don't look like some of my top agents; you look like two dumb kids in a scrap!"

He stands up
and points his calloused hand in Derek's face. "You, Agent Matthews, we both know what's eating you, and you better leave that personal shit at the door. You are also on the verge of compromising this assignment." He swivels to include both of us in his tirade. "You too, Agent Turner. Both of you need to sort your personal shit out, and stop wasting my valuable time. Follow through with using Jeremy Hunt. No questions asked. Not because you suggested it, but because I said so. We are running out of time on this." He turns to look at me alone. "Agent Turner, inform Hunt that we meet tomorrow to make him an offer. But first, meet me in my office in fifteen minutes. Quit wasting my fucking time, the both of you! This is serious fucking business."

With
that, he grabs his mug and notepad, and walks out of the conference room, slamming the door behind him.

Derek and I let the silence hang in the air for the moment, waiting for the proverbial dust to settle. He takes in a deep breath
. "I'm really sorry, Turner. That wasn't how I wanted that to go."

"Go fuck yourself, Matthews."

I glance sideways at him, refusing to look him in the eye. He smirks at my response. Reflexively, I want to smile too, but his overall attitude bothers me. However, this is who Derek is. He is a hothead, who says what he wants, and lashes out when he wants to. It's practically the reason we are friends. No one is safe when Agent Derek Matthews is on a rampage, especially me.

That is what you get for sleeping with your best friend.
Actually, Agent Turner, your sex life seems to be a general problem as of late. Maybe you do need to learn to keep your pants on.

Shut up
, subconscious.

I turn away from him so I can’t see his face, but I can practically hear his eyes rolling as he says, "Well, regardless, it looks like it's going to work out for you. Alvarado's golden child at it again. Turner asks and she receives
.
" His tone is condescending, and I can't take it anymore.

I fake lunging at him, and he flinches. I sit back down
, smirking and feeling satisfied. "Jealous much, Matthews? Is it because I'm a favorite, or is it because you still want me?"

"Maybe it's both, but in case you forgot
, I am not afraid to hit you either."

This time my head bounces up to
look at him. He exudes this sad sense of remorse.

"Why do you say shit like that to me?" I pout.

"Because I'm worried that I won't ever get the opportunity to again. I care about you, is that so wrong?"