Owned: An Alpha Anthology

by Jani Kay

  "Makes me glad I was there for the actual case," I tell them, taking a sip of coffee as I watch Emery reading a document as if his life depends on it. He still hasn’t acknowledged my presence. He’s just moving his head from side to side, as if he’s a typewriter moving from the end to the beginning of each sentence.

  "He’s in the zone," Gabby explains. "I’m sure he’ll have a hell of a lot of questions for you when he’s done."

  "Are they thinking of calling in Commander Haines at all? He’s the expert on all this."

  She shrugs her shoulders. "I have no idea right now."

  Taking off my jacket, I hang it over the back of a chair and pick up a folder, to look inside. It’s full of surveillance documents and photos that we collected on Le Doux himself. Just looking at them, reminds me of what life was like back then, working with the man I loved. Even the boredom of surveillance could be a good day.

  Ignoring the tug at my heart, I close the folder and place it on the table, about to pick up another when Greer enters the room with some paperwork in his hands. The air around us suddenly fills with a tension that wasn’t there before and even Emery looks up to give Greer his full attention.

  Greer looks pointedly at each of us, then holds the paper up in display before he speaks.

  "Glucose," he states, his rage barely contained as he throws the report on the crowded table. "FUCKING SUGAR SYRUP!" he roars, his face turning red as his voice seems to catapult out of his chest and buzz angrily in our ears. "Explain yourselves!"

  "I don’t know what to say," I start, feeling completely shocked and once again, betrayed by something my ex-husband has done. "Drake assured–"

  "Drake is a fucking dead man. The next time I get my hands on him." He holds his hands in front of him and mines a neck squeezing motion.

  "Emery, my office now. Birdwood, clean up this mess, and Samuels, you’re fired. Get out of here, now."

  He spins on his heel and storms off, with Emery following closely behind him.

  "I’ll bet he’s like a pig in shit right now. He never wanted me here anyway," I say through gritted teeth as I reach down and pick up my jacket and bag with a furious tug.

  "I’m so sorry, Cait," Gabby offers.

  I hold up my hand. "It’s fine. It’s fine. I didn’t want to do this anyway."

  "But your job. If there’s anything I can do…"

  I step toward her, knowing that I don’t have long before I’m escorted off the premises. "Actually, there is," I say quietly. "I have something. It’s actual evidence," I look over my shoulder to make sure no one is within earshot. "Evidence that proves Drake didn’t kill his handler. It’s one thing that bastard gave me that is actually legit. But I need someone to enhance the video so we can see who did it. Are any of your contacts capable of that?"

  Gabby’s eyes are wide and her mouth is open as I reveal this information to her. If I didn’t trust her, I’d never to tell her as she is now well within her right to put me in a holding cell and go and search my house. But she doesn’t do that. She looks over my shoulder to double check we’re alone as well and then meets my eyes.

  "Why didn’t you tell us this before?" she whispers.

  "He said not to show anyone else. But after that drug fiasco, he can go and fuck himself."

  "Ok. Send it to me in a locked file. I’ll see what I can do."

  "Thanks, Gabby. I’ll see you around–probably when I’m court marshalled," I attempt to joke, although the possibility is quite real.

  "Cait?" she calls out to me as I turn to make my way out the door. "Did he give you anything else?"

  "An encrypted file. He said it was a payroll. Although I don’t know for sure because I can’t crack it. I’ll send it to you though."

  "Thanks," she smiles, and I lift my hand to wave as my escort calls me from the door. This time I have to go through security checks to exit the building, leaving without a badge, a weapon, or an income. Was there anything else Drake could do to ruin my life?

  DEEP COVER: CASE 001

  BY LILLIANA ANDERSON

  009

  As I head out to my car, I check my phone and see a message from Gavin, asking how I’m feeling after a good night’s sleep. I chuckle bitterly to myself, thinking that if he only knew what really happened last night, he might not be feeling so nice toward me, and I really do dislike that I can’t tell him anything. Even though I’ve just been fired, I still can’t talk about any of my cases.

  I type back that I’m fine as I don’t want to worry him with my current job status. I’ll tell him about it when I see him next. I head home, planning to send the files Drake gave me to Gabby so she can deal with him from now on. The man just made me look like a fool for the last time, and this time, he cost me my job. Drake Jefferson can rot in hell for all I care. That man has ruined me.

  Glancing at the surveillance team outside my house, I make my way inside, and as I shut the door, I finally feel safe enough to let my upset wash over me.

  What the fuck am I supposed to do now? I just lost the only job I’ve ever had. What the hell am I going to do? I can’t even put ‘special operative and hacker for the Federal Police’ on my resume. All I’ll have is ‘data analyst’ and ‘law enforcement officer’. What the hell am I going to do with that?

  My body heats with my anger, and I walk straight to the kitchen and pull the bottle of wine out of the fridge, then I put it straight back in, deciding that wine isn’t strong enough in this situation. Instead, I pull the whiskey out of the cupboard. Drake’s four hundred dollar a bottle whiskey that I’ve kept as some sort of homage to him. Fuck that.

  Using my teeth, I pull out the cork and spit it on the floor, tipping the bottle up and drinking more than a few standard shots straight from the neck. It burns as I gulp, and I grimace, forcing the liquid down my throat where it heats my belly and mixes with the three cups of coffee I’ve already consumed today.

  After only eating a pop tart, the alcohol reacts with me almost instantly, and it only serves to make me feel even angrier with Drake. I look around the house, trying to find something that was his. I want to break something he cared about. I want to show him that he means nothing to me–that he’s ruined my life and that I’ll never forgive him.

  Tipping the bottle back again, I gulp down more whiskey. It doesn’t burn as badly this time. But it doesn’t taste much better either, and as I drink, my eyes shift toward the fish tank. Drake’s fish tank. The fish I’ve taken painstaking care of for the last four years because I knew how much he loved them.

  Without giving it a second thought, I slam the bottle down on the benchtop and walk straight toward the six-foot tank, picking up a dining room chair along the way.

  With a strength I didn’t think I possessed, I swing the chair at the tank. "Fuck you!" I scream, crashing it into the glass and shattering the pane. I drop the chair and stumble back, watching as a torrent of water and fish spill out of the gaping hole. And I stand there, heaving, my eyes burning from unshed tears and my head spinning from too much alcohol too fast, and I watch the water spread as the fish flip, frantically on the floor.

  "Oh god," I cry, the dam of my tears finally bursting as I feel horrible for what I’ve done. Rushing to the laundry, I grab a bucket and pull as much of the remaining water out of the tank as I can. Then I systematically, pick up every fish that is flapping on the floor and place it in the water to save it. "I’m so sorry," I whisper. "None of this is your fault."

  "Are you all right, ma’am?" an officer asks from behind me as I continue to pick the fish up. I didn’t even hear them come in. "We heard a scream."

  "I’m fine," I say, trying to keep my voice calm and steady. "I just fell into the tank," I lie, now suddenly embarrassed by what I did. "You can go. I’m fine."

  They do a check of the house and radio in their actions before leaving me alone again, in a drunken haze, trying to save the bloody fish.

  DEEP COVER: CASE 001

  BY LILLIANA ANDERSON

&nbs
p; 010

  When I’ve cleaned up the glass and the water on the floor, and turned the bathtub into a makeshift aquarium, I take out my laptop and send the files through to Gabby, letting her know that I don’t want to know a thing about the result of this case. Whatever happens with Drake from this point on, I don’t want to know. I need to try and pick up the pieces of my life and they don’t include Drake. There is no scenario in my life where any contact with Drake is ever going to work.

  Then, when I’m done, I take the rest of the bottle of whiskey and proceed to get obliterated in front of the TV…

  Bang, bang, bang, bang.

  My eyes open with a start, and it feels like the world spins and tilts when I move. "Oh god," I slur, moving my cottony tongue around my mouth as I uncurl my stiff legs from where I’ve obviously fallen asleep watching TV, hugging the bottle of whiskey to my chest.

  Bang, bang, bang, bang.

  I place the two-thirds drank bottle on the coffee table and call out for the doorknocker to hang on. But I’m not sure it sounds that way. My mouth is moving slower than normal, and I’m not too steady on my feet.

  Stumbling over, I flip all the locks and frown. "That had better not be you Drake," I yell, deciding that I’m going to knee him in the balls again if it is. I can’t get my fingers to work the last lock. "You cost me my job you mother fucker." Finally getting it to turn, I reef open the door, ready to give him a piece of my mind but instead coming face to chest with Gavin.

  "Drake?" he says immediately. "And what’s this about your job?"

  "Oh. shit. I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you," I ramble, swaying a little on my feet.

  "No. Sorry isn’t going to fly this time. You just told me plenty. Give me the unclassified version." He reaches out and steadies me. "Are you drunk?"

  Frowning, I can’t seem to stop my thoughts from tumbling out of my mouth. "My dead husband isn’t dead, and he gave me some bogus information that ended up getting me fired. And yes, I do believe I’m quite drunk."

  "Holy shit, Caitlin," he says, scooping me up in his arms and taking me to the bathroom. "Why is your bathtub full of fish?"

  "I smashed the tank."

  "Ok, well that explains why you smell weird. Can you stand for a shower? It’s going to be cold."

  He places me in the shower recess before I can even answer and blasts me with cold water while I’m still in my clothes. I shriek from the cold, suddenly feeling very awake and very sober.

  "What are you doing!?!" I yelp, holding my hands up and fighting the spray of water as he directs it over my body.

  "Getting rid of that smell and giving your system a shock so you can sober up. Now come here," he says, switching off the water and helping me out of my freezing clothes as I shiver in front of him. He wraps me in a towel and rubs his hands over me to warm me up.

  "Feeling better?" he asks, to which I nod.

  "Surprisingly, yes."

  "Ok, get yourself into some clean clothes and I’ll grab you a bottle of water and some aspirin. You’re going to have a killer headache when you wake up in the morning."

  "I’m so sorry, Gavin," I say as he walks away.

  "Don’t mention it," he replies, pressing his lips together in an accepting smile, and despite the shitty day I’ve had, I suddenly feel very lucky.

  After getting dressed, I drink some water and take the pills, lying down in bed as Gavin sits down beside me, tucking me in as if I’m a child for the second time this week.

  "Now, sleep. I’ll call you in the morning," says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I nod, or at least I think I do, because I’ve closed my eyes and I’m pretty sure I’m already asleep.

  DEEP COVER: CASE 001

  BY LILLIANA ANDERSON

  011

  I wake up during the night due to extreme thirst to an empty, quiet house. As I sit up, my head aches as if my brain is sliding around inside it and bashing against my skull and I groan, forcing myself to move to get more painkillers.

  As I stand in the kitchen, drinking and self-medicating, I can’t help but notice my laptop open and on the kitchen table. I’m sure I didn’t leave it there…

  I head over and hit the space bar, bringing the screen to life before entering my password. And I almost drop my water glass as I see the encrypted file, sitting open on the screen. "What?" I ask myself, wondering how in the world I did this and figuring I must be a better hacker drunk than I am sober. I scroll through the names, my mouth wide open and my headache forgotten as I see the money that’s changed hands with names I recognise of people I respect… people like…

  "You didn’t tell me you cracked the file," a voice says from behind me, and slowly, I turn around and come face to face with Gabby, the woman who is supposed to be my best friend, and she has a gun trained on me.

  "What are you doing, Gabby?" I ask, although I know exactly what she’s doing. I realise that the figure from the video that I believed was a small man, was actually her. I knew it the moment I saw her name on the list. Suddenly, I understand why she was so friendly to me after Drake was reported dead. She knew he wasn’t and was staying close to me, waiting for the day he returned so she could finish the job.

  "I can’t let you share that information with anyone, Caitlin," she explains, pulling a silencer out of her pocket and screwing it to the barrel of her gun.

  "I really wasn’t going to. I only sent it to you. You’re the only one who knows."

  "I hope so. I’m not a huge fan of this…clean up work. But it’s a necessary task, I’m afraid."

  "You’re the one who shot Agent Eric Blackwood, aren’t you?" I ask, trying to get her talking so I can think of a way to get out of this.

  "He found the payroll too. And he wouldn’t leave it alone. We couldn’t let him live, I mean, you just saw how much money is at stake," she says, moving around the house to make sure I’m really here on my own. "No Drake visit tonight?" she asks. "I thought you two were getting cozy together again."

  "No. No Drake. Just me."

  "That’s a shame. I would have liked to tie that end up too. But, no matter, I’ll just be sure to pin your death on him as well. One more felony isn’t really going to matter to a man like him, anyway," she laughs, cocking the gun and taking aim.

  "Wait," I yell, my brain searching for something to keep her talking. "Who was it with you in the video? Emery?"

  This earns me a laugh. "No. Emery would never stray from the cause. He’s one hundred percent a straight arrow."

  "Then who?" I ask and she shakes her head.

  "This isn’t a movie, Caitlin. You don’t get to find out everything before you die. Sometimes. You just die."

  I see movement behind her. Drake. My eyes go wide and I try so hard not to watch him and alert her to his presence. She points the gun at my head. I hold my breath and close my eyes.

  Bang.

  DEEP COVER: CASE 001

  BY LILLIANA ANDERSON

  012

  My eyes slowly flit open, and I’m keenly aware of the fact that I’m not at home anymore. I’m also keenly aware of the fact that I’m not dead. I swallow, my mouth so dry that I begin to cough and sit up, looking around for water.

  "Easy. Easy," a female voice says softly. "You’ve been out for quite some time. Seems that you fainted when Drake shot that woman who was attacking you."

  "Is she dead? Where the hell am I?" I croak, reaching out my hand to accept the glass she hands to me, gulping it down quickly.

  "She is, and you’re somewhere safe," she tells me, running a delicate hand through her dark blonde hair as she sits on the end of the bed. In the low light, I can see that she has piercing blue eyes, porcelain white skin and a full mouth. If I’d met her under any other circumstances, I’d think she was some sort of a model.

  "Who are you? How did I even get here? What’s going on?" I ask.

  She smiles. "Quite the one for questions, aren’t you?"

  I narrow my eyes. "That isn’t an answer."

  "Drake and
Jared brought you here. They saved you."

  "Jared? Who’s Jared?"

  "You know him as ‘Gavin’. But he’s a friend, and he’s been watching over you for some time."

  "He what?" I ask, my mind reeling. "What are you talking about? Are you trying to say that Gavin was sent to me?" I ask, feeling my body begin to shake as I feel a wave of anger at yet another male deception in my life.

  "Jared was, yes. He was sent to watch over you by Aiden. Aiden was hired by Drake."

  "Aiden who?" I demand, and her smile tells me everything I need to know. "Aiden Price?"

  "You are as smart as he says you are," she grins. "Are you hungry? Can I get something for you?"

  "You can get me out of here," I demand, tears threatening my eyes as I realise that what I had with Gavin, or Jared, or whoever he is, isn’t real either. "I just want to go home."

  "You can’t do that right now. Your house is a crime scene."

  "What? Oh god. Of course it is. I can’t even…" I shake my head and close my eyes, feeling the last of my strength slip away.

  "I’ll get you a sandwich, and perhaps some tea," she says, completely ignoring my distress as she rises from the bed.

  "Wait. You didn’t tell me your name," I state before she reaches the door and she turns back, leaning against its frame as she meets my questioning gaze.

  "No. I didn’t."

  "Am I a prisoner?"

  "That depends on if you try to leave. I’ll be back shortly with something for you to eat. I’m sure you’re starved."

  And with that, she leaves, closing the door behind her. Immediately, I stand, my legs feeling wobbly, and my bladder full. Off to the side, I see a door that I assume is a bathroom, and I head inside to relieve myself and splash some water on my face.

  When I’m done, I make my way to the main door of the room, fully expecting it to be locked. But it isn’t.

  Pulling it open just a crack, I look out into a well-lit hallway–it kind of looks like a dormitory, with concrete floors and plain with walls that house doors to at least nine other rooms. I step out cautiously, looking both directions before deciding to go to my left.