Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series)

by Rosa, A.

  "Ah, perfect. My father will be pleased that it is ready early. I forgot to ask you before, do you have the transportation equipment for the product, or do I have to order it?"

  "No, I have everything. Even the equipment you need to dispense it. It's easy though. I remember you mentioned putting it in the local water source; that would probably be the easiest."

  "Yes, I agree. Well, I will be back shortly. I'll see you soon. If you're not careful, Mr. Gibbs, I might actually miss you."

  "Adessa, please."

  "Hmm. We will visit the lab tomorrow and make preparations."

  "Goodbye, Adessa."

  "Bye, Marcus."

  The neon green line goes flat once, and I press the stop button.

  "Enough evidence for you, Agent Matthews? We have to move on this as soon as possible if they are planning on transporting it tomorrow!"

  "You've got your wish, Turner. Write up the warrant for arrest. I think we have enough to move in. Let's get Alvarado to sign off on it, and I'm sure he can call in a favor with Judge Mills to sign off on it tonight, considering what is at stake. Let's plan on getting to Gibbs's apartment at eight hundred hours tomorrow."

  I grin for the first time all day. "You got it, boss." Let's wrap this up so I can focus on other pressing matters. I pull out my cell phone, noting it's already noon, and the fact that Jeremy hasn't called me. Did you really think he would?

  Nervously, I peek over at Derek, who is getting up from his seat. As he gets up, he points a deliberate finger at me, and for some reason, the gesture causes my stomach to somersault. The image of Jeremy pointing at me and calling me out on my fears flashes in my mind, and I gulp.

  "Turner, write up that warrant. I gotta go call Alvarado, but this conversation isn't over."

  I bite my lip, knowing exactly which conversation he is referencing. Now I'm not sure if I should talk about it. All I can manage is another nod.

  Derek strides out of the room, and I claw at my gut, wondering what this is that I am feeling. My subconscious is quick to respond. It's called heartbreak, you idiot.

  I let out an exasperated sigh and stare down at my phone. I become angry at my subconscious’s disapproving tone. She hates me right now, and I hate myself too.

  Frustrated with the overwhelming feelings, I decide on a whim to call him. But what am I going to say? I have no plan of action.

  I press the call button on Jeremy's name, and bring the device to my ear. My breathing and heart rate accelerate, and I swear I am chewing my lip raw. You can do this. Tell him how you feel, tell him you lov—

  After the fourth ring, it switches to voicemail.

  My stomach plummets. I get the urge to cry, but I can't let that happen. There are people around.

  I decide I need to focus on other things. I have to, or I'll end up a sad puddle of mush on the floor. I force myself to get up to get some work done.

  What the hell am I supposed to do?

  My subconscious retorts, suffer!

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  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 echoes 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 t
o.

  "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.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  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 seems 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—"