Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series)

by Rosa, A.

  "I don't know what you are up to, but you have an incoming at your seven o'clock, Turner." Derek's voice interrupts me.

  I assume he means Marcus, but when I tear my gaze away, I see Jeremy stalking toward me. I grin as I lock eyes with his glacial stare, and though I see his lips twitch, he reveals nothing as he joins us. He places his hand possessively at the small of my back. It sends that familiar electric current up my spine and down each thigh. I swallow at the connection and try to memorize his wonderful body in that perfect suit.

  "There you are. Hello, Richard." His tone is cool. The two men make eye contact with one another, and I notice Richard's warm stare fades into indifference. Interesting.

  Richard answers back in perfect English, "Good evening, Jeremy." Well, at least they seem to be on a first name basis.

  Richard turns to me, saving his smile for me, switching back to Russian so Jeremy can't understand. "If this is the date you spoke of, then I am not surprised about his blatant disregard. He doesn't know what he has, or how lucky he is to have you on his arm tonight. Would you like me to tell him?"

  I can tell Richard means it as a joke, and I don't hold back my laughter at the kind gesture, and compliment, not to mention the implied distaste for Jeremy. I reply in Russian, still trying to mask my amusement. "That won't be necessary. He'll be hearing it from me later, trust me."

  This causes him to laugh too as Jeremy watches, perplexed by the exchange.

  I continue once more in his native tongue. "You know, he really isn't that bad. I don't waste my time with people who aren't worth it. He is in it for good, I promise."

  Richard's eyes glitter as he realizes my ulterior motive. "Oh, business? He must be the reason you didn't want me to know. I've been hoodwinked by a beautiful woman."

  I bow, igniting Richards's solid, hearty laugh. "I was willing to give Jeremy a chance. Maybe you could too?"

  "Clever woman." He wags a knowing finger at me. He eyes Jeremy before continuing for my ears only. "Always business, Alexandra? Maybe for you I could try and give him a chance, then?"

  I grin. "Isn't it truly business that brings us all here anyway? It really was a pleasure meeting you, sir."

  He takes my chin, tugging at it as you would a child's. "Mllaya moyna." It's a Russian endearment meaning my sweet. I pull away as he continues. "Please, always call me Richard. If you ever find yourself in Moscow, my dear, you must let me show you around the city." I nod in appreciation, and using one last bit of Russian, he says, "And for you, I will try. Pleasure meeting you, Alexandra."

  My work here is done. The conversation was more enjoyable than I thought possible. I turn to Jeremy, smiling. I am rewarded with a pantie-dropping grin that makes my mouth water. So handsome.

  I can feel Richard watching, so I try to make this quick. Jeremy wants to ask what is going on, but I beat him to it. I press my lips to his, and then bring my lips to his ear. I answer his unspoken question. "I'm giving you more reasons to trust me."

  Feeling accomplished, I walk away, leaving the two men to discuss their big business. I can hear Richard speaking in English with an impressed, wry tone to Jeremy. "You have a clever girl, Mr. Hunt."

  Jeremy is quick to respond. "I am fully aware of that, Mr. Dyvornychenko, but maybe more so than I thought."

  I can't help but smile as I walk through the throngs of people, unsure of my direction as I keep my eyes darting around the room, trying to reset my focus.

  "What the hell was that, Turner?" Derek says in my ear.

  I roll my eyes so that he'll see it no matter where he's standing. "It's called building trust, Matthews. You might want to take notes."

  I hear him sigh, but before he responds, my breath catches in my throat. "Marcus is here,” I gasp, “and he isn't alone."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Jealousy, Apologies & Cigarettes

  ALEX TURNER

  A gasp isn't what I expected to come out of my mouth, but I couldn't help it.

  My shock transitions into seething anger at the sight of Marcus Gibbs, and I remember my gun strapped to my thigh. The impatient agent in me is ready to pull it out and nail him between the eyes without a second thought. Wouldn't that solve all of this? Nip it in the bud, because there is more at stake. Ergh.

  When you hurt the people I care about, I tend to get vengeful. It may be childish, but it's another unfortunate fact of my flawed personality. I have a tendency to become erratic. Agents like me thrive on instantaneous reactions. It's how we get jobs done efficiently.

  I look Marcus over and realize I'd almost forgotten what he looked like, but he seems different since our last encounter. On the surface, he's still a handsome young man with lean, classical features. His shaggy sandy brown hair frames his oval face and complements his green eyes. He's tall and not too muscular, but still has a striking posture that implies confidence. However, upon closure inspection, you can see his high cheekbones are more prominent, verging on gaunt, and his eyes seem sunken into his handsome face. He's lost a bit of weight.

  Is it stress? Drugs? Or a bit of both?

  I only get a glimpse of his profile as he weaves through the crowd, which makes it more difficult to gather details about his mystery dinner guest. Something catches my eye as I watch him move. Even though their arms are linked in what one would assume is a close gesture, I think the truth is rather the contrary. Marcus makes a point of making sure his body maintains a gap between him and his date. My job is to be a professional observer, and I know when someone doesn't want to be touched. I, too, suffer from the affliction.

  The long, sleek black hair, in combination with her ruby red dress, is all I can make out of his date. I'm brimming with frustration. Who is she?

  "Turner, what is happening? Where is he?" Derek says, hearing my huff.

  "Nothing is happening. I can't get a good look at the date he brought. My gut is telling me it’s the woman from the surveillance video. He just entered."

  "I am coming to find you."

  The couple disconnects, and the woman heads down a hallway. This overwhelming need for information engulfs me. "Derek, she is heading to the bathroom. I am going to follow her. I want a solid look. Keep an eye on Jeremy; we didn't manage to discuss seeing Marcus."

  "Don't do anything stupid, Turner."

  I smirk, hoping that Derek is watching from afar. "No promises."

  I skip off, following the red hourglass figure down a secluded hallway.

  JEREMY HUNT

  "Well, Mr. Dyvornychenko, I am glad you have reconsidered. I hope we can discuss the rest of this over lunch and sign the contract."

  Ever since this conversation began, Richard has had a smug look on his face. "You should really be thanking your wonderful date, Alexandra. She is quite delightful. Beautiful girl, who speaks Russian with a regal air, quite amazing indeed. She told me to give you a chance, as she did for you. And for now, I am glad I did. Don't make me regret it."

  I chuckle, thinking, isn't it me who gave her a chance? "She is something, isn't she? And I won't let you regret it, Richard. We both have bright futures, and I look forward to the partnership."

  He raises an eyebrow at my words as if questioning their authenticity. "Well, as I told your girlfriend, was it?"

  I can't help but grin at the title. "Yeah, she is my girlfriend."

  As if impressed by my reaction, his eyes glitter. "As I told your girlfriend, if you ever find yourself in Moscow, please visit. Good day, Jeremy, I will be expecting your call." I shake his hand, and he wanders off into the crowd.

  I stuff both hands in my pockets as I watch him walk away, shrugging my shoulders in disbelief at the chain of events. Well, I'll be damned.

  This overwhelming need to put my hands on Alex takes over, and I realize I have no idea where she is. I peer at my watch, realizing I have a little over an hour until I have to give my speech.

  I glance upward, looking for her golden eyes and cascading curls, but find my eyes darting back and forth with no si
gn. Instead, I catch a glimpse of someone I should have anticipated. My breath catches in my throat, and my core heats with anger.

  Marcus stands there, smug, sipping on a drink, talking with our friends David and Jake, laughing at some stupid joke. He looks normal and unconcerned, carefree even, and it makes me fume. That asshole.

  I want to give him a piece of my mind. I pull my hands out of my pockets, clench my fists, and begin my angry stride with determination.

  What will I say to him? Hey, asshole, thanks for trying to have me killed. You wanna take this outside? Or how about, oh, thanks for trying to have me murdered, and by the way, how about you pass on the biological warfare thing?

  My stride picks up with each step. Before I can make it ten feet, Derek comes careening into my view, puts his hands flat against my chest, and pushes me back. "Keep it together, Hunt. Now is not the fucking time."

  My crystal gaze collides with Derek's surprisingly determined green stare.

  "Matthews, I got something to say to that asshole."

  He shoves me one last time, and I notice a couple people are staring, so I take in a deep breath and quit pushing back to appease the spectators.

  "I bet you do, but, Jeremy, listen to me. You are smarter than this. Your best friend tried to have you killed, and you want to kick his ass. I'd want to do the same thing. You need to remember there is a little more at stake here than that, right? If you are on our side, you gotta keep your cool, plus I think you can work this to your advantage, don't you think?"

  My eyebrows furrow in confusion. Trying to keep my cool, I straighten out my bowtie. "What do you mean?"

  "Don't go in guns blazing. I would walk over there as if you have no idea what is going on. It will freak him out. He thinks you're dead." I grin. "See? Doesn't that sound better? You can go in there and work this thing to your advantage. I heard that you, too, can be a slimy, arrogant fuck, naturally.” He jabs be in the arm to show he approves. "Now, go work it to your advantage. Alex and I will do the rest. Got it? Freak him out and mess with him a bit. But for the love of God, do not give anything away." He jabs his finger into my chest to drive the point. "Do you understand me, Hunt?"

  I squint at him, annoyed, but I know he's right. I take a deep breath. "I understand."

  "Now, you got this. Keep your cool, and take this."

  Derek hands me his half-empty flute of champagne. I take it from his hands, and down the rest of it in one gulp. "Liquid courage, Matthews?"

  "Of course. Now go say hello."

  I can't tell if this means we're friends, but I will accept this mini pep talk for what it is.

  ALEX TURNER

  I make my way to the bathroom door, listening to Derek and Jeremy talk through my earpiece. I roll my eyes before I enter, whispering for Derek's ears only, "Thanks for that, but you don't need to egg him on either."

  In that moment I hope Jeremy never makes it Marcus, because I don’t trust his temper, not when it comes to his estranged best friend.

  Though, I do appreciate over hearing Derek and Jeremy’s pow-wow, and the one thing I am hopeful for is for them to be friends someday.

  Friends? Really? My subconscious quips, while rolling her eyes.

  Okay, obviously a long shot, I know.

  Derek’s voice pulls me back to reality, pulling me out of my wishful musings. "Don't worry, Turner. He will be fine. What is your twenty? I can't see you."

  I open the swinging door, regaining my focus. "Just now entering the woman's bathroom." Deep breaths.

  I walk into the lavish room and absorb the sight of the marble countertops, designer sinks and faucets, and the large mirror lining the wall above.

  No sign of the woman. I step up to an available sink and pretend to fiddle with my makeup. I pull eyeliner and mascara out of my small clutch, waiting for the mystery woman to emerge.

  Sure enough, only a moment goes by before the fiery dress comes out of a nearby stall. I drag the eyeliner across my eye as I watch her come to stand two sinks away from me, meticulously fixing long strands of inky black hair. As she studies her reflection, I am finally given that perfect view. I grab a mental snapshot.

  Her menacing dark chocolate eyes, pointed nose, high cheekbones, and flawless mocha skin are familiar. You're kidding me.

  She notices me staring as the memory flares in my mind. I tense, realizing who she is. It's an odd combination of feelings: anxious anticipation, relief at solving the mystery, familiar anger, and jealousy from the history that this woman may not realize we have.

  I tear my eyes away, finishing my makeup, and decide I'm leaving now. I need to before I blow another gasket.

  I try not to look like I am running, and wonder if she remembers my face too. Although, I don't think we have ever had a face-to-face encounter.

  I need to get to Derek as soon as possible. We might have a problem. I must not lose my temper. This is taking a weirder twist than I anticipated. Just keep cool.

  I follow the sound of the band to the gallery where everyone is mingling. I hit the crowd at full speed, then slow my pace, trying to seem normal. I wipe my face of emotion, replacing it with a mild smirk as I weave through the crowd.

  Where is Jeremy? I listen through my earpiece, and I gather that Jeremy was diverted from his quest to confront Marcus by a guest. I hear him talking about his speech with what sounds like another woman.

  Really? Will my jealousy ever take a rest? It's engulfing me.

  Sighing, I feel a hand grab my elbow. I twist out of the person's grasp, but the person's hand grabs at my waist in a way that calms me, and I realize it's Derek.

  He grins, but I'm fuming. I jab my finger in his chest. "You!"

  His thick brows rise in mock confusion. "Me?" he questions. "What did I do now?"

  I open my mouth to respond, but he yanks my body forward. "Turner, let's dance, shall we?"

  I step out of his grasp. "Derek, no. I saw who that woman is."

  He grabs my elbow again, and pulls me toward the dance floor. "I want to dance with you. Tell me everything then."

  What is he doing? Now is not the time to lay on the charm. I gasp, struggling to respond and protest, but he swivels my body around, placing his hands at my waist and my hands instinctively wrap around his neck. He fluidly leads me to the tempo of the music. It has a classical edge to it, with a wonderful combination of violin and acoustic guitar. I try to let the music calm me, but it isn't working.

  "Derek, this is not playing fair. Listen to me, please."

  He rolls his eyes, as that smug smile plays on his lips. "Have I told you how beautiful I think you look tonight?"

  I squint in disbelief. "Who are you right now? You are in no position to try and get into my good graces."

  "I am trying to calm you."

  "Well, you're lucky we are in public, or I’d have no qualms making a scene."

  The music slows, and he brings me a bit closer to him. My anger tingles at the surface of my skin. "You have my attention now, Turner. What is it?" he whispers in my ear.

  I inhale, feeling his humid breath on the length of my neck. I'm conflicted by the sensation. It's comforting, yet it fuels my anger. I realize it's misplaced, but I have kept it buried for so long.

  "Derek, I know who that woman is. It's Adessa Moradi."

  He pulls away to look at me, still confused. "Who?"

  I exhale, annoyed that I remember her and he doesn't. I roll my eyes. "Men are absolutely ridiculous, and you are officially proof."

  "Why are you getting so effing peeved at me? Who is Adessa Moradi?"

  "Remember Dubai, about a year ago?"

  "Of course. It was a great case, though the guy got released due to some sort of jurisdiction bullshit."

  "Anything else you remember from that case? I got a bullet in the shoulder because you couldn't keep it in your pants."

  His brows furrow, but he's holding back a laugh as he swings me around the dance floor. "Your point is? I remember taking a bullet for you not too
long ago in Prague, huh?"

  "You're missing the point, Derek!"

  "Jeez, what the hell is the point, then?"

  "Remember how I ratted you out to Alvarado about sleeping with that girl?" I raise my eyebrows at my last words.

  The lines around his eyes tense. "Oh yeah, Alvarado threatened to suspend me, but that chick wanted me so bad, and she was hot. Didn't realize she was the daughter of—" His eyes bug out of his face as the memory floods his brain. "Moradi? Did you say Adessa Moradi? As in Sharif Moradi's daughter?" A smug grin fills his face. "In all fairness, she just blew me in the bathroom."

  I shove Derek away, catching a few people's attention. "I do not want to hear this."

  He grabs my hand, swinging me back so I am flush against his body. "Turner, why the hell are you so pissed?" He really is confused. I clamp down on my bottom lip, brimming with embarrassment and a desperate sort of anger. "Tell me, Turner. I am forgetting something big, aren't I? What did I do? I must have hurt you, didn't I? I hurt your feelings back then?"

  I shake my head, realizing his words sting. "That was a long time ago, and I am embarrassed for bringing it up."

  "Then why are you acting so mad?"

  The answer slips through my lips before I have time to edit it. "Because it is more proof that I never meant as much as you meant to me. You dicked me around. It's stupid and in the past, and I don't want to get into it. I don't know why it bothers me, seeing that stupid bitch's face. You never treated me the way you should have. That is why we will never work. And even now, hearing that you don't remember pisses me off. But like I said, I am being dumb. I don't know why every bit of layered jealousy I have in my life is creeping back to me tonight.”

  Derek's eyes widen in shock. "Turner, what the hell?" he whispers with concern, and I feel his arms wrap around me in a tender, friendly embrace. "Why didn't you tell me that when all that shit went down? You never tell me how you feel!"

  I pull away, smiling now. "Derek, you never wanted to know how I felt."