The Russian (Federal Hellions Book 2)

by Gray Gardner

  “How so?” Connor asked, on the edge of his seat. You couldn’t make this stuff up.

  “Yes, so, he used brute force he to get her to cooperate.”

  “Well no wonder she doesn’t trust anyone who is in any kind of position to help her!” Connor yelled, standing up. “I would have the same attacks she has if my fears were exploited by authority figures like hers were!”

  “I understand,” Ferguson nodded, rolling up his sleeves. “But we quickly rectified the situation and got her to calm down and help us without too much resistance.”

  “What do you mean too much?”

  “Oh, there’s so much more,” Ferguson sighed, rubbing his neck and popping it. “Let’s call for lunch and continue after a short break.”

  “I’m afraid of what’s next.”

  “You should be,” Ferguson sighed, hands in his pockets as they waited for the lower ranking agents to bring them food. He knew more about Baylor than she did. More than her parents being murdered, her aunt being murdered, a terrorist attack targeting her family and killing hundreds, their first but not final introduction, and the RPP’s continued attempts on her life. He knew it all, which was why he hadn’t been the biggest cheerleader for bringing her into the CIA.

  Repossession

  Burton crouched down to the sidewalk and rolled towards the street. She kicked her leg up and nailed the man attacking her on the side of the knee, but it didn’t take him down. She quickly rolled over and tried to leap to her feet as he reached down to grab her, but then found herself totally defenseless in the dim lighting of the street lamp behind her as the man slammed her back with his foot, stood up straight and placed his hands on his hips.

  “Lights!” he called. Fluorescent lighting blinked on in the large room, revealing the street set surrounding Burton and making her a little more relaxed. She was getting impatient with these trivial drills. She wanted to learn how to fight back.

  “How do I make you stop?” she asked, still lying on her back in her white scrubs and heart monitor belted around her chest.

  “I’m here to teach defense, not offense, sweetheart,” her instructor replied.

  “Please,” she begged, giving him a helpless look. She was so tired of feeling that way.

  The instructor sighed heavily and rubbed his lip as he looked at the ground. She had a way about her that would make guys melt, and he was no exception.

  “All right,” he finally said, holding out his hands. “Find a weapon of opportunity.”

  They fought for another hour before the instructor stopped and caught his breath, commending her on her skill. He offered to continue when she flat out asked how to kill without a weapon at hand.

  “You’d really be willing to take someone’s life?” the instructor asked, popping his neck. There was hope for her yet.

  “I didn’t join our armed forces to pet kittens,” she replied, trying to mask her insecurity with humor, as usual.

  Nodding, he replied, “Let’s see how you do with sharp objects then.”

  Feeling more and more confident as the hours turned into days, Burton even began to believe she could accomplish what everyone was insisting: she could be a convincing spy. They even allowed her to see Connor a little more often, which made her feel more confident about him, too.

  “They taught you some new moves,” he mumbled late one night, pinned to the wall after she grabbed him around a dark corner and flung him back. Her kisses were welcome as his cock ached to break free at the sight of her.

  “Yeah,” she replied, distracted with removing her pants. She wanted him so badly she thought that she might explode.

  “Don’t you think we should—” Connor was interrupted as she reached into his pants and gripped him tightly. “Fuck, Baylor.”

  Reaching under her thighs, he lifted her up and flipped around, pinning her to the wall and sealing his mouth over hers as he released himself from his pants and sank into her.

  “Yes, please fuck Baylor,” she moaned, the feeling of him inside her, thick and hard, making her even more desperate for him.

  “I’ll always give you what you need, baby,” he said, rocking his hips into her warmth and kissing her hastily, desperately, like they may never get the chance again. “Only me.”

  “Yes,” she groaned, knowing that for her, it could only be him from then on.

  It was what they both needed to continue on. They needed each other. They needed the distraction. And they needed the calm wash of post-orgasm euphoria before the agents assigned to train them appeared around the corner and brought them back to their respective tasks.

  Captain Connor spent the next few days holed up in the forum room with Agent Ferguson, learning more and more about her past and becoming increasingly horrified as the hours progressed. It seemed that this radical group, the RPP, wanted her dead more than anything, and even up until the last terrorist was caught, they insisted that one day they would take her life. All fifteen of the known members were either dead or rotting in an undisclosed prison, but it scared Connor nonetheless.

  Was it because she knew something? Was it revenge killing? The Red Patriots of the People seemed dead set on ending her life, and with a grandfather like Leon Trotsky, it could have been for any number of reasons.

  Late one morning after studying the faces of the RPP members they were interrupted as a gray suited agent quickly stuck his head inside.

  “Hey, we need you now!” he called to Ferguson, tapping the frame and turning to leave. He paused and looked at Connor. “You’d better come, too.”

  The other agent flipped a door open to the medical station and they found Burton thrashing around on a bed.

  “She’s freaking out, but she won’t wake up.”

  “Did you give her anything?” Ferguson asked, watching in horror as she arched her back and screamed.

  “I’m not a doctor.”

  Connor knelt next to her and grabbed her hand, placing his other on her forehead. He calmly spoke into her ear, telling her she was safe, asking if she would come back to him. She was dripping with sweat when she finally went completely limp.

  “Get a doctor!” Connor ordered, glaring back at the other agents crowded around her. He had to admit, it was a little Linda Blair, and everyone looked a little frightened.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “It’s a recurring nightmare she has,” he answered, annoyed. And she was lucky that was all she had after the horrible life she’d led.

  Her eyes suddenly popped open and she sat up, grabbing for anything to support her and gasping for air. She jerked her head around in surprise as the men and women looked down at her. She finally found Connor kneeling beside her and threw her arms around him.

  “It’s okay,” he sighed, squeezing her. “It’s over.”

  “I was drowning,” she cried, voice muffled in his shoulder as she squinted her eyes. She didn’t want to close them for fear of the nightmare returning.

  “I know.”

  “No, it was different this time,” she whimpered, still catching her breath as she sat up. Her chest felt heavy. There wasn’t enough air.

  She hadn’t told him about the evolving dream, yet.

  Connor frowned. He thought the dream had been exactly the same since the moment he’d met her.

  “I was sinking to the ocean floor and I couldn’t swim because I was tied up. I swallowed the salty water, I could taste it. I felt myself drown.”

  Ferguson quickly looked over at Agent Eubanks with a horrified expression that he couldn’t hide. This was always a possibility, he knew. He also knew that this intensive training could certainly bring her memory back. He couldn’t hide his panic as he looked at Eubanks.

  “What is that?” Burton asked, swinging her feet to the side. “I saw that, what was that? What do you know?”

  “Baylor.” Eubanks sighed.

  “No!” she screamed, flying towards him and grabbing his suit jacket. “You know something. I can read it all over
your face. Tell me! Tell me what you know!”

  She was desperate. It had meant something, she knew it, but it was out of focus and just out of reach in her memory.

  Connor grabbed her and pulled her away as she reached out for Ferguson.

  “Why did you both just look like you’d seen a ghost?” she shouted. “Please! I feel like I’m living in the dark, here!”

  Eubanks looked unmoved as Ferguson shook his head. “I’m not sure we’re the ones who can answer that question.”

  Burton shoved Connor’s hands off of her and pushed her way out of the room, her bare feet slapping on the tile floor as she stomped away. She couldn’t listen to this cryptic shit anymore. She either wanted answers or she wanted to leave.

  “Baylor.”

  “Stay away from me,” she demanded, as Ferguson, Eubanks, and Connor all quickly followed behind her in the wide tiled hallway.

  “Where are you going to go?”

  “Anywhere but here,” she muttered, turning a corner and sprinting for her room. This was too much, and she’d reached her limit. She burst inside and pushed the button on the wall, the door whizzing shut. She hit the lock and leaned back against it, trying to compose herself. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she scrunched her eyes tightly and tried to forget the horrible dream. No, she needed to remember, so why couldn’t she? Her head began to pound. It was all too much for her.

  “Listen to me,” Connor began, as the three of them stood outside her door. He wished the other two would just go away.

  “Captain,” Eubanks began.

  “No, for once you listen to me, damn it! She is at a breaking point, you know? Now if you bust in there demanding that she has to do this and she has to do what you say, she’s going to shut down. Get it?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I know her!” he snapped, leaning in. And that was true. He’d gotten to know her well, by watching her, being with her, loving her.

  “How do we get her to cooperate then?” Eubanks asked, sighing in annoyance.

  Connor glanced back and sighed, “Tell her the truth. It’s the only way.”

  “She can’t know the truth,” Ferguson huffed, loosening his tie and looking away. It was a guilty movement.

  “Then she’ll leave,” Connor nodded. “Or face whatever consequences you give her. But I guarantee you, she will not work with you.”

  The other two agents looked at each other for a moment.

  “She can’t know what happened,” Ferguson began, “because we readjusted her memory of what really happened.”

  “Excuse me?”

  There was a short silence between them.

  “Without getting into medical jargon and going too technical, we essentially brought her in, medicated her, and removed of few things from her memory,” Eubanks mumbled, raising his brow.

  Connor shook his head slowly as he peered over at them. “How do you remove things from someone’s memory?”

  Ferguson exhaled loudly. “Actually, we do it all the time.”

  “Oh my God,” Connor moaned, turning and folding his hands behind his head, his hair growing a little longer without his weekly military haircut. “And so, what, sometimes pieces of the ‘readjusted’ memory come back?”

  “Unlikely, but maybe if there is some kind of shock that might trigger it, I guess, but this is a little unprecedented.” Eubanks sighed, typing into his phone.

  “How so?” Connor asked, totally infuriated yet totally intrigued.

  “Usually after we do it we never have contact with the subject again,” Ferguson sighed. “With Baylor, it was entirely different. I mean, you know her, you’ve fallen for her. She’s enchanting and, I had to be with her. She and I were in love, and I took extra care to not stimulate any of those memories. Then by chance Eubanks and Payne were on the army base and needed a spy to go under in Russia and she was at the top of a short list. It was done completely wrong. I’ll admit we knew the risk.”

  “Christ,” Connor replied, widening his eyes. “You have got to tell her. You have to.”

  Ferguson rubbed his lip as he looked over at Eubanks. It was what he’d wanted all along.

  “Yes?” Eubanks asked, bringing his phone to his ear. “We’ll be there in five.”

  “Is she going to do it?” Ferguson asked him.

  “She’s ready,” Eubanks replied, putting his phone in the breast pocket of his jacket.

  “Who…” Connor began to ask about the “she” they were referring.

  “The hypnotist,” Ferguson sighed, knocking on the door. “We going to try and recover these memories so that Baylor can…move on. We’ve had some success with agents in the past. Never victims, though…”

  “You are such a self-serving prick,” Connor sighed, as he listened to Burton’s sobs on the other side of the door.

  The dark wood paneled room was dimly lit and warm. Everything was silent at the moment. Burton had complied. She wanted to reclaim her memories. She wanted to reclaim her life. It was hers, her prized possession that no one else was supposed to have. She nodded at the hypnotist.

  The hypnotist was a middle-aged woman who looked more like she belonged in a coven than the CIA, but the agents seemed to trust her and her scarf wrapped head, so Connor and Burton did, too.

  “You are in your safe, peaceful place. No one else knows about it. No one ever goes there. You feel warm, and curious. I’m going to count backwards from ten, and when I’m finished, you’re going to be looking down on yourself, like in a dream. No one will be able to see you as you hover, but you’ll be able to see everything that happened to you. Ten, nine,” and she counted down from there.

  Connor watched nervously from a leather chair across the room as Ferguson chewed on his thumbnail and paced on the carpet behind him. This hypnotist seemed a little wacky, but Burton was eager to recover any memory she’d lost. She was tired of her nightmares and ready to move forward.

  “There. You’re there. You’re safe. How old are you, Baylor?”

  “I just turned eighteen,” she replied, a smile drawing across her face.

  “Where are you right now?”

  “Sitting in Aunt Nina’s living room. Well, I guess it’s my living room now.”

  “Why?”

  “My Aunt Nina is dead.”

  “Who is with you?”

  She opened her eyes and Connor and Ferguson stiffened. The hypnotist held her hand up at them and they all waited silently. Burton continued as if they weren’t even there, like she wasn’t there anymore.

  “These detectives and some kind of agents, I guess. A fat man with a mustache named Chilton. A woman in a dark suit named Reddy is sitting next to me. This totally hot one named Ferguson.”

  Connor heard him sniff in amusement and rolled his eyes.

  “And Dustin, some old Irish agent who chased me and slammed me against a wooden crate on our dock. Ouch!”

  She looked down at her hand as she held it out, palm up.

  “What’s happening, Baylor?” the hypnotist asked.

  “Reddy is pulling out splinters. I got them from the crate. Dustin made me bend over it and spanked me.”

  Connor was shocked at how detailed the memory was. He was skeptical and not too sure if he actually believed in this hypnosis stuff, but Burton really seemed to be recovering a memory.

  “What do these detectives and agents want?”

  Burton’s head bent down. She looked ashamed. “They think the terrorist attack on the ferry was my fault.”

  “That’s not true!” Ferguson declared, stepping forward. The hypnotist quickly threw her hand up at him gave him a look of warning as Connor pushed him back with his hand. “Well, it’s not true! We would never let her think that.”

  “Maybe she thought it was true when she was eighteen!” Connor whispered. “Now shut up!”

  Burton seemed undistracted by them. She really was back in London, a lonely eighteen-year-old, scared yet determined.

  “The
y told you that they hold you responsible?” the hypnotist asked in a steady drone.

  “I can tell,” Burton replied, wringing her hands in her lap. “They look really mad. And they chased me in my yard and spanked me and wouldn’t let me leave. Now they’re asking me all of these questions about my parents and grandfather and Aunt Nina and me. I just know that they have concluded that somebody wants everyone in our bloodline dead. The terrorists will do anything and kill anyone along the way. And I know they blame me.”

  “No,” Ferguson said, shaking his head. He had no idea that she had thought those things. It was all totally untrue. They just wanted to protect her. Her life had been in serious danger and their job was to protect her.

  The hypnotist pressed her lips together and glared at him. Connor nodded at her and held his hand up at Ferguson.

  “When did the detectives and agents leave your house?” she continued steadily.

  Burton shifted around uncomfortably in her seat and didn’t answer. Ferguson knew why.

  “Did they ever leave?”

  “Well,” she began, trying her best to justify her actions, “they were scaring me and I-I thought that they were going to hurt me. I mean, they were in my house when I got home from school. So, I kind of tried to leave first. I tried to run away.”

  “Listen to this,” Ferguson whispered in amusement as he slapped Connor’s shoulder. He remembered this like it was yesterday.

  “Go on.”

  “So, they want me to give them the diary. That’s what they keep saying. And I keep asking what diary, and they say that I know what diary, and I have to give it to them. See, I thought that they meant my journal and that’s private, you know? So I’m telling them I’ll show them and lead them up to my room, with absolutely no intention of actually giving it to them. So I run. I’m furiously pulling on my school coat by the front door when I see someone emerge from the back hallway. I think he’s just as surprised to see me as I am him, because we’re both frozen.”