by Loren, Celia
“You too, Dom.”
She waved at him as he left, and quickly hopped into her car. She sped out of her driveway and headed directly for the FBI. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say to David, but she knew she needed to talk to him. She needed to work things out, and let him know she was making progress. She would leave out that she knew the exact location of the warehouse and that her brother was involved. Maybe she would warn him of the operation that Harry was heading up, and promise to uncover the details. That would at least throw him off Jagger’s direct trail for a little bit.
She pulled up to the building and took a deep breath before turning off the engine. Britton had decided to let David know that she would have to go dark for a time, allowing her to fall deeper into Jagger’s crime syndicate. She knew that would also give her more time to decide how to proceed with her case, and who should be targeted.
She stepped out of the elevator and only acknowledged a few agents as she made her way into David’s office. She ran in, just as he was hanging up the phone.
“Britton, you’re okay.” David sighed as he saw her.
“Hi.” She was winded; she hadn’t realized that she'd been holding her breath.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“This doesn’t look like nothing.”
She caught her breath. “No, everything is fine, I just wanted to tell you that I was at their warehouse today.”
“You’re a genius. I’ll put in a request for a warrant. Where is it?”
She stopped, weighing the options. “I don’t know. I was knocked out.”
“He hurt you?” David was angry.
“No, I mean I was blindfolded.” She needed to get her stories straight.
“Well, which was it?”
“He sedated me on the way there and blindfolded me on the way back.” She needed to stop talking. She was going to end up getting herself in trouble.
“How far away was it?”
“I don’t know, I was still woozy from being sedated.”
“Britton, what is going on?” He knew she was hiding something. What could it be?
“I wanted to tell you that I’m in. I’m totally in. He trusts me. But I need to go dark for a bit. I was able to steal away today, but I don’t think the opportunity will come up again.”
David hated this proposal. He didn’t like the idea of her going silent for a few hours, let alone however much time she was requesting now.
“You promise you’re all right?”
“Yes.”
“You can handle this on your own?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, I’ll allow it, but I think we can end this sooner than you think. I just got off the phone with the DEA. ”
“What?” Her body tensed up. Were they coming in from a different angle?
“They intercepted a shipment of cocaine that they are pretty sure belongs to the Harbingers of Sorrow. It’s on its way here now. One of their agents is here to talk to us. Let’s go.”
Britton rose out of her chair and followed closely behind David. Another agent was leading a man with a DEA jacket into the conference room. He was balding and a little on the bigger side. He turned to shake hands with the agent, and Britton got a glimpse of his face. It was Hank, the man she had met at Jagger’s warehouse. He was DEA.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Britton raced back into David’s office and slid down the wall, out of sight. She didn’t know how to escape without Hank seeing her. How could he be DEA? Would he be happy to know that she was undercover as well? Or was he dirty? She knew Jagger could pay him much more than the government could, but was that enough for him to stray from his morals? How long had he been helping Jagger out? And wouldn’t Jagger have done his research on someone he was bringing into his circle? He could’ve easily found out that Hank was DEA. Then again, he didn’t know she was FBI.
Britton looked around, trying to find an escape.
“Agent Ramirez?” She heard David calling for her. “She’s probably still in my office. Here, I’ll introduce you.”
No. She had to hide. Britton couldn’t risk her cover being blown. She wasn’t ready to be taken away from her operation. She wasn’t ready to be taken away from Jagger.
She crawled to the back corner of the office and slowly opened a cabinet door. What was she thinking? She couldn’t hide on a shelf amidst a bunch of files. She quickly scanned the rest of the small office. Under the desk would have to suffice. It seemed so childish. It was like she was playing hide and seek.
“Agent Ramirez, are you still in there?” He was much closer. She hurriedly crawled under the desk and pulled the chair back in, making her body take up as little space as possible. She held her breath, praying they wouldn’t take more than three steps into the office. Her heart rate quickened as their footsteps grew louder. They stopped.
“She must have run out. Sorry about that. “ He spoke in a quizzical, hushed tone, presumably to Hank, though she wouldn’t dare to risk a quick peek.
Britton heard the office door shut. She was safe. Now the only thing she had to worry about was David telling Hank that he had an agent undercover in the notorious motorcycle gang. Maybe she could text him? Would he question her request, or trust that she still had everything under control? She would have to risk it. She slid her phone out of her pocket and typed the plea. “Please don’t tell him I’m undercover. I’ll explain in time.”
Now she would have to sneak out. Hopefully they had gone into the conference room and shut the door. She crawled out from under the table, and stayed low, hiding from the open office window blinds. She glanced out, planning her escape. They were talking outside the door. She saw David apologize and reach in his pocket. He was reading her text; it was obvious by the pure confusion on his face. He quickly looked around and escorted Hank into the conference room. It was the perfect time for her getaway. She silently opened the office door and rounded the corner of its frame. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure exit back out of the conference room.
“Are you Agent Ramirez?” It was Hank. He hadn’t seen her face, but she would need to respond, wouldn’t she? Maybe she could pretend that she hadn’t heard him. “Excuse me…” He was still calling at her. She quickened her pace. Was this really her plan of action: just to run away? How did she ever make it to ‘special agent’?
“Sorry, in a rush!” She called, lowering her voice below its usual timbre.
“Do I know you?” He wasn’t backing down.
Now he was following her. She could hear his paces growing closer as she sped up her stride. She would take the stairs; the elevator was too risky. She opened the stairwell door and slammed it behind her. She made it half a flight down before she heard the large door open above her. How could he be moving so fast? Britton continued to race down, fearing that she would trip over her own feet. She knew of an escape on the fourth floor, but if he caught her taking that exit, she would never make it to her car without him seeing her face.
She reached the fifth floor and looked up the stairwell. He'd gained on her. All her weight went into pulling the fourth floor door open. Britton raced around the cubicles, desperately trying not to knock anything over and cause a racket that would draw him closer. She saw her destination come into view; the corner office had a fire escape. She threw the window open and continued down the ladder. She cursed herself, wondering how she'd gotten herself into this situation. It was like a scene out of a movie.
As she reached the bottom of the fire escape she jumped off the ladder and sprinted toward her car. Where was Hank? Maybe he gave up. She found her keys and fiddled with them, attempting to steady her hands. The car door unlocked and she climbed inside. Hank was nowhere to be seen. Of course he would be suspicious. Who was this random agent running from him? Would he be able to get on the FBI server to track down a picture of her? She would need David to handle the mess she had made.
Britton’s heart rate stayed steadi
ly racing as she made her way home. Her fantasies of being undercover had not prepared her for the dangers she might face. She would need to find out more information about Hank. Whose side was he on? Could she trust him? Could David trust him? Could Jagger trust him?
She stepped up to her front door and reached out her hand toward the knob. It was open. Who was inside? She didn’t have her gun on her. What was happening? She pushed open the door and quickly hid her body, keeping safe from any sneak attack. Nothing.
“Hello?” She called inside. Still nothing. She took two steps in and peered around the room.
“Is someone there?”
No one answered her question, and she made her way around her house, tip toeing around each corner. The kitchen was empty. She proceeded down the hallway, peering into her empty bedroom. Had she been careless and left the door unlocked herself? The sound of papers shuffling stopped her in her tracks. Someone was in her office. What did she have in there?
“Who the fuck's there?!” She jumped into the doorway, yelling her command.
Jagger turned around, holding a piece of paper in his hands. His face showed apprehension. He didn’t speak, just stared at her.
“Jagger… what are you doing here? You scared me half to death.”
He continued to look at her, unsure of what to say.
“What are you doing in here? Are you going through my things?” Britton was getting worried now. What was he holding? What did he know?
“Where have you been?”
“I was just running errands. What is in your hand?”
“You have no bags.”
“What is in your hand?” Her tone was strong, demanding his answer. It was the only way to hide her worry.
Neither of them spoke. They only stared into each other’s eyes, searching for the answers that neither of them would answer.
Britton’s phone rang, breaking the silence. Her eyes widened as she looked at the caller ID. It was David.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Jagger snatched the phone out of her hands and read the name flashing on the screen.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I don’t know what it’s about. I swear I haven’t spoken to him.” She was so bad at lying to him. Would he believe her?
Jagger answered the phone.
“David, good to hear from you.” His voice was low, and he refused to break eye contact with Britton.”
“Yes, she’s with me, but I don’t believe you have any reason to talk to her any longer…I understand closure, but you’re just going to have to pretend that you got it, because I forbid you from ever speaking to her again…I can forbid you because she is mine…Yes, you heard me right. If you try to contact her again, I will find you, and you won’t like what I have in store for you.”
Britton’s body raged. Who did he think he was? Did he really think he could just come in here after ten years and completely take over her life? Did he expect her to simply stand by and take it? What kind of woman would she be if she allowed her decisions to be made by a man?
“No!” She grabbed the phone out of his hand. “You cannot treat me like a piece of your property.”
“Really?” He grabbed her wrist and lifted her arm to the air. “Give me back the phone, Britton.”
“No.” She was determined.
He pulled her arm even higher, forcing her to rise to the balls of her feet. She tried to kick him, but lost her balance, forcing her weight into her outstretched arm.
“Jagger,” she cried, “you’re hurting me.”
He saw her eyes glaze and her lips purse. He felt heaviness on his heart as he realized what he was doing to her. Jagger dropped her arm, allowing its weight to return it to a resting place. “I’m sorry.” He disappeared into the hallway, still holding the paper he had taken from her desk.
“David, I’m sorry, are you still there...Yes, I’m fine…Yes…No…”
She was answering his questions as cryptically as possible, so as to not alert Jagger to the situation with Hank. She was able to clue him into the fact that she had met him before and that it was while she was with Jagger. She did not know whose side he was on, but couldn’t risk getting caught. David told her that Hank had returned to the conference room, winded, but unaware of her real identity. It was all the information she needed to know for now. It was time to completely break contact with him.
“David, you cannot call me…No, not ever again…This is goodbye.”
She hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Now she had to smooth things over with Jagger. She stepped down the hallway but didn’t see him. She turned into her bedroom. He was sitting on the floor, his head against the wall.
“Where were you, Britton?”
“I told you. Running errands.”
“Now tell me the truth.”
He stood up, towering over her. He began to walk forward, cornering her into the wall. She looked around for an escape, but her attempts were fruitless. She would have to deal with him.
“I said tell me the truth.” He handed her the paper. It was a bank statement.
He was getting angrier now. His hands made their way to her shoulders, his thumbs brushing her throat. He wasn’t hurting her, but she wouldn’t put it past him to close his hands around her neck if she didn’t start talking soon.
“Why do you have my bank statement?” She asked innocently.
“Where is that money coming from?”
“Excuse me?”
“You do not make that much money at the casino. Where is it coming from?”
“How do you know how much I make?”
“I make it my job to know these kind of things. Britton, what are you hiding from me and where were you just now?”
She obviously couldn’t tell him she was at the FBI, but what would he believe?
“Seeing my brother was…weird. I started to drive to clear my head, but had nowhere to go. I ended up by my old apartment.”
Did he believe that? Was it plausible? She had passed by her childhood home a few weeks earlier, when David had wanted her to scout out a possible drop location for a different crime syndicate in the area.
“What did you think?”
“When did it catch on fire?”
“About two years ago.”
“How?”
“It wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re thinking, Britton. I believe it was just faulty wiring. The building was condemned years earlier, so no one was hurt.”
“Good…Good.” She ran her hands through her hair, preparing to ask the next question. “So why are you looking at my bank statement?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Are you serious?”
“Tell me first where the money is coming from.”
“Investments.” Was that really all she could come up with? It was vague, which was good, but was it believable?
“These are some good investments.” He pointed to the statement.
“I have a lot of spare time to study up on the market. I only work part time at the casino.”
That did make sense. He would have to trust her: a thing he was not accustomed to doing. There were a number of things that were confusing him about her before. Why the casino? Why was she back in his life? How did she know he would be in the high roller’s room? Wouldn’t it have been some sort of conflict of interest for her boss to drop his name when promoting her? He was stalling with his thoughts, but knew he had to say something.
“I have this guy who is helping me out with something, and he thought he saw you.”
“What? Where?” Her heart began to race. Maybe Hank had seen her.
“At the FBI.”
She began to laugh. “Are you kidding me? What would I be doing there? And what was he doing there? Did one of your guys get arrested?” She was desperately trying to play innocent, awkwardly asking any question that would come to her mind.
“No, it’s not like that. I…are you sure you want to hear this?”
&
nbsp; “Yes, Jagger, you can tell me.”
Could he? He still wasn’t a hundred percent certain that it wasn’t her at the FBI. He had no way of truly knowing. He wanted to believe her more than anything. Maybe things weren’t adding up because he was being overcautious. Maybe she did just happen to fall back into his life. She had obviously been by her old apartment, knowing that it had burned down. He'd already said she was too educated to only be working at the casino. Playing the market seemed logical. He shook his head. He was just being irrational. She wasn’t part of some undercover operation to take him down. That was only a silly thought of his. How could he be so untrusting of the woman he had loved for so long?
“I had this shipment come in and the FBI confiscated it.”
“What kind of shipment?”
He paused, weighing the consequences. “Cocaine.”
“Oh…oh, so you…are you a drug dealer?”
“Britton.”
“I don’t know anything about this.”
He pushed her further up against the wall and ran his fingers over her shirt. He attempted to make it seem sexual, but he was actually looking for a wire. Nothing. Trust her Jagger, he repeated to himself over and over again.