Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) (26 page)

I smile at the comment, but still watch him as if he were a threat. We take a sip, not taking our eyes off each other until we hear rustling from down the hall.

I exhale, feeling the warmth run down my throat. I shoot my eyes
toward the sound, hoping that Alex will stumble out, easing this awkward conversation.
Nothing happens.
Must have been her getting ready
.

"
Hey, Hunt." Derek's tone is sharp, capturing my attention. I turn to him as he finishes another sip of his scotch. The look in his eyes is serious.

"What, Matthews?"

"You hurt her, I kill you."

My eyebrows furrow. "Excuse me?"

"I said, you hurt her and I will personally have the honor of ending you. And if you haven't figured it out yet, our type of people are kind of professionals at it."

He nonchalantly takes another sip. I want to snatch the glass of my favorite, most expensive scotch out of his hand, but I manage to resist. "So, you are threatening me?"

"Well, for being such a big shot, I thought you might be quicker."

I am not going to be intim
idated by someone who has no power over me. I have already had my life threatened once this week, and I think I'm getting used to it. "I would watch yourself if I were you, Matthews."

"No, Hunt, I would watch your back. That girl has been through too much for you to destroy her world on a whim."

What does he mean by that? What has she been through?

"Destroy on a whim? I would never. Who do you think you are talking to? I am not going to hurt her. It's the last thing I want to do."

"Well, your file says differently. Do you think Alex doesn't know who you really are under that penguin suit? Don't you get why she avoided you in the first place? We've all read your file. We know how many girls you've fucked, who you associate with, and the crowds and places you frequent. Your file isn't at all that impressive in the relationship department. And I am warning you, because I don't want to have this conversation again, you hurt her, and I end you."

I want to punch this guy
square in the jaw, but settle on a more stealthy approach.

I finish off my scotch
, and place it on the kitchen table. "Funny, Matthews, it almost sounds like you're a little on edge. Didn't you and Alex date? Oh, that's right; I think she mentioned you guys didn't work out. Shame. If Alex has read my file and is continuing to see me, then it still looks like I win. It's funny, isn't it? I think Alex is a big girl, and she can personally end me if she wants to. She obviously knows who she wants."

His jaw clenches as he sizes me up again.
Sore subject, Matthews?

He takes a deep breath as if accepting defeat. "That past is between
Alex and me, Hunt." He looks almost remorseful, but hides it quickly. "Testosterone aside, don't hurt her."

"I told you, I don't plan on it." I notice his drink is finished too. To offer some sort of truce
, I say, "Care for another drink?"

"I think I am going to need it
." His eyes heat in anger again as they collide with mine. I think we have just agreed to be amiable enemies.

Works for me. Just don't touch my girl.

ALEX TURNER

I take a deep breath and wonder how long it's taken me to get ready. I've enjoyed the quiet time in Jeremy's lavish bathroom. I've showered, shaved my legs, and lotioned my body in preparation for this bizarre night on the town. I just needed to clear my head.

Little does Jeremy know that I have had to attend many events like this all over the world, cavorting with different types of people. Some dangerous, some politically powerful, and some downright dirty men.

This means my closet is not shy of costumes for an event like this. I say costume
,
because my true motives are a far cry from social gain.

Maybe someday Jeremy and I can go to one of these functions with nothing hiding beneath the surface. I could be his pretty accessory to high-end events, and for
once, I could relax and focus on my smile rather than manipulation.

I look up at my reflection in the mirror and sigh. I look tired and worn-down after the past day's events. I rub some concealer over my skin to give it a fresh glow. I've never been a fan of dressing up, but secretly
, I love makeup. I brush some onyx eye shadow over my lid, and top it off with a jade green. To finish the smoky eye look, I put on a thick layer of defining eyeliner. After applying the last touches of mascara and blush, I feel finished.

Oh, pretty dirt.

I examine my hair one more time. My long black locks have miraculously curled the way I wanted, and they cascade in loose curls over my shoulders. I want to be pretty for Jeremy. He deserves pretty.

I lock eyes with myself in the mirror
, and I start my usual pep talk between me, myself, and I.

You can do this. Even though you feel like you have more riding on this than other cases, stick to what you know. You are a professional. Slip into that event, bat those lashes, and smi
le. This event should be a cakewalk. Dazzle them, Alex, like you always do. Be aware that more attention will be on you than normal with a high profile date like Jeremy Hunt on your arm. Move swiftly and stealthily, like a breeze moving through the crowd, and find Marcus. Find a way to get him to confide in you. Keep an eye on Jeremy; he needs to stay safe. Prep him, but don't forget to be a good date as well. You have to live up to his reputation. Keep everything in perspective. Be a good agent, and at least try to be a good girlfriend, whatever that means.

I adjust my long, black
, sweetheart dress, pulling the edge up over my cleavage.
Let's try to be decent and classy, Agent Turner.

Of course, subconscious.

I slip my feet into my black Jimmy Choo pumps, and then run my hand under the long slit of my dress to my thigh, adjusting the pistol attached to the inner portion. Running my fingers over the cool metal reassures me, and I can't hold back my smile.

I'm ready as I'll ever be.

I want Jeremy by my side right now. I'm a bit nervous about tonight, and I'm eager for him to put his arms around me. It's a confidence boost I'm not used to, especially in relation to work, but I'll take it.

I take another breath, and make my way to the living room.

As I walk down the hall, a gasp escapes Jeremy's lips. I can't help but grin, giddy at the wonderful sight of Jeremy.

He looks handsome in the perfectly tailored suit that shows off his lean, muscular physique and broad back. As always (and little does he know)
, I find his beauty distracting. I stop mid-step, drinking him in. He is so good looking that he takes my breath away.

Jeremy puts down his glass, the glint in his eye making me blush as he strides toward me. "You look stunning, Miss Turner."

I grin as his hand comes up to cradle my jaw. "So do you," I whisper for him alone to hear, feeling cherished as his eyes devour me. He leans in, pressing his lips to mine as if he can't resist.

"Excuse me? I hate to interrupt." Of
course, Derek is here already, and he sounds absolutely pissed off.

I am an idiot. How could I forget he was standing there?

I step out of Jeremy's grasp, and see his jaw clench in disapproval.

I size Derek up
, and make contact with his angry emerald gaze. "Derek, what are you doing dressed like that?" I point at his dress shirt, blazer, and bowtie.

He grins, but without dropping his heated, angry
glare. "Guess who's joining the party for a little extra reconnaissance?" The bastard has the audacity to wink.

I set my mouth in a hard line. "You would."

"Hmm." His eyes lazily drag up my body. "You look good, Turner, as always."

Derek has seen me like this dozens of times. I peek at Jeremy, who seems to be containing himself, but looks to be seething under his cool demeanor. I didn't anticipate this.

Derek seems to be enjoying the mood shift—mainly in Jeremy—and he smirks. "Turner, I have to update you with some intel. We got some news on the hit on your boyfriend."

Jeremy flinch
es, and I suspect it is to hold something back, as if trying to remain composed.

"What's that?" I am too interested in the whys and the whats to have time to deal with Jeremy's teetering temper, no matter how impeccable he looks.

"Oh, you're going to like this."

It's Going to be
OK

ALEX TURNER

"Tell me."

Derek's eyes dart over to Jeremy. "I think we should talk about this in private. It isn't his
deal."

This time Jeremy cannot restrain himself. "You're not serious? The guy tried killing me. If that isn't my deal, then I don't know what is."

Derek rolls his eyes before locking them with mine, pleading with me to tell Jeremy to leave the room. I'm torn. I used to know how to solve problems immediately. Now I have hit a gray area. I tap my heel a few times, deciding what to do. The result is a huff of frustration. I don't have time for this.

"I am not picking sides here, but Jeremy can hear what you have to say. It's fine. If he is in on this, then I can't imagine you saying anything that he shouldn't hear."

Derek's face shifts into a frown as if he has a bad taste in his mouth. "Fine, but he isn't going to like what I have to say."

"Just spit it out, Matthews
!"

"The attacker's name is Ricardo Silva
—"

"That sounds Portuguese, Brazilian? Or Spanish? I thought the terrorist groups we were dealing with were
—"

"I am not finished yet, Turner
. Slow your roll. The man is really of no consequence anymore. Besides, he is dead."

My eyes go wide. "Dead?"

"Wait for it. We got him back to headquarters where he woke up about forty-five minutes after pick up, and he let us question him for about an hour. Very cryptic, and spoke little to no English. Too bad you weren't there. All he could blurt out was Portuguese gibberish, so we had Luis from Unit 13 come in and translate. Long story short, it was a professional hit. The guy has a rap sheet that would dazzle even you. He's been linked to hits around the globe. Remember that hit on the oil tycoon, Mosa Farhadi? That was him. How and why he was in the U.S., I don't know. I don't think this hit was the reason. Word on the street was that he was lying low. Interpol has had him flagged for about eight months, and I don't know how he managed to get here. The only thing we were able to squeeze out of him after offering lenience was that he was paid five grand to do the hit. Doesn't seem like the amount of cash this guy is used to, but who knows, maybe someone called in a favor. Regardless, after that, things started getting weird. I think he realized he was a dead man anyway for not finishing it. Then everything went to hell. He started babbling some religious bullshit that we couldn't make out between his confessions. He kept begging for forgiveness and all that. Just when we thought he was about to tell us who he's working for—he dies. Turns out he had a cyanide capsule hidden in a back molar. He bit down on that sucker and was a goner before we could get anything else."

I stare at Derek. "Did you say five thousand dollars for the hit?"

Derek grins. "Bingo."

My eyes go wide
, and there is an unspoken understanding between us. "That's why he transferred the money? And Luc?"

"Well, it's hard to say. He seems to be a link, so he might have hooked it up for him."

"Shit." I chew on my bottom lip, processing this new information.

"Shit is right.
You have a lot to deal with tonight. I would not trust that bastard for anything. And get this, the asshole even called Jeremy's P.A. to see if he made it into the office on Friday. What a fucking idiot."

I think back to the gun strapped to my leg, and I realize I want nothing more than to put a bullet right between his
—

"
Excuse me.
I am standing right here, you know. What in the hell are you saying? Who paid the five grand to kill me? What about my P.A. Rebecca? Who called? And do you mean Luc Olivier? Tell me!"

Jeremy is exasperated double-time as he runs both hands through his unruly blonde hair. His eyes are wide, and he looks about ready to kill someone himself as his glacier eyes shoot daggers at both of us
.

Derek responds before I can, and of
course, he has no filter. "Marcus Gibbs paid someone to kill you, and Luc Olivier is helping him. The rest is still up in the air, but we are going to figure it out."

Jeremy's lips part in shock, but he closes his mouth as his eyes empty of emotion, and his face flushes pink.
He looks utterly lost. Reflexively, I walk up to him, and bring my hands up to his face. I tangle my fingers in the back of his hair and force him to look me in the eyes.

"Jeremy, it's going to be
fine," I whisper, wishing that Derek would leave the room.

His eyebrows furrow in sadness, and it's heartbreaking, but the moment is brief. His face hardens in anger
, and his eyes frost dangerously as he makes eye contact with me.

"I didn't think Marcus would try to
kill me." His face is chiseled with anger, but his tone tells me he is wounded.

"I know, babe, he just isn't the Marcus you knew anymore. That Marcus is long gone. He is losing it and needs to be stopped. He is willing to hurt you, and thousands of other people. He is deranged. I will take care of this." My high heels lift me to a better height, and I press my lips against his. He accepts them, and as always
, the pain and tension ebb through his lips. This time my lips don't seem to soften his temper.

He pulls away, eyes still frosted over. "I'm hurt, and I want him gone."

"That's why I'm here." I smile and receive a glimmer of hope as the corner of his mouth twitches.

"I think we should get you two wired and ready to go
." Derek has no shame about interrupting the moment, but maybe he's right. There is work to be done.

JEREMY HUNT

Derek opens a metallic briefcase, revealing all sorts of gadgets. Normally my boyish side would have fun playing secret agent, comparing the reality to the many movies I've watched, but not this time. Not right now.

While Alex is preoccupied, I let my eyes glide over her magnificent body. The dress looks incredible on her. Despite being a basic, sleek black, it brings out the flecks of gold in her eyes, making her look catlike, and sexy. It is formfitting, accentuating her curves in all the right places. I love that the dress is sleeveless, showing off her wonderfully slim shoulders on her dainty frame.
Dainty?
She is far from it, but she plays the part well.

No one would notice the faint scar on her shoulder on first glance, but for some reason
, I want nothing more than to kiss it again, and bring her close—for my reassurance, not hers. I want to run my hands through her thick hair, smelling the sweet calming lavender, and fall asleep. I feel like a child in need of his security blanket.

I don't want to play secret agent. I want to pretend this isn't happening.

However, this isn't child's play. This is an adult problem, which requires an adult solution, not to mention an adult attitude.
Fine.

I must admit, beneath my cool demeanor, I am livid, but I am also beyond hurt at the extent my
former best friend has gone to.

Kill me? Was that really the answer
, Marcus? Who does he think he is? He will not get away with this, that ungrateful son of a bitch.

I feel a bit like a shell of a person right now. I can't even manage a grin for Alex when she occasionally glances at me. I am already exhausted
, and the night has not even begun.
How can I show Alex that she is the only thing I need right now when all I can feel is anger?

"Ready to be wired with a mic?"

Alex is standing right in front of me with bright smile and glittering eyes. She is excited. The thought fills me with dread.

Instead of
responding, I set my lips in a hard line and nod.

Her eyebrows furrow, but she doesn't push it. "This"
—she holds a small white dot on her fingertip in front of me—"is a molar mic. You won't need to hear us, but we need to be able to hear you. You clip it into your back molar. See if it fits." She passes it off to me on my fingertip. "Try putting it in, and please make sure you don't swallow it. That's a lot of tax dollars right there."

I eye the dot for a moment. "James Bond-esque?"
I try to be witty, but my tone is flat.

She smiles warmly and nods. "Kind of."

I stick my index finger in the back of my mouth, and struggle to find a suitable molar. Sure enough, the gadget clicks in smoothly. I'm relieved. I poke at it with my tongue, challenging its strength, but it doesn't budge.

"It's in," I quip.

She squints. "Let me see. Open your mouth."

I open wide as if I'm at the dentist. She gives it a once
-over, sticking her finger in my mouth. I flinch. She laughs and says, "Don't be a baby. Let me see."

She's holding back her laughter, and I am in no mood. I pull away. "It's fine. It fits." My tone is harsher than I would like.

Her face hardens too. "OK, fine."

I take a deep breath. She is watching me like a science experiment.

I lean down and kiss her on the lips. They are wonderfully soft and inviting, and I ache for more, but I resist. "I need some air. I'll be on the balcony reading over my speech."

Her eyes go wide. "Jeremy? What speech?"

I flinch, realizing I should have mentioned it. "I am the biggest benefactor to the charity. I wrote the speech weeks ago before you and me …" I get choked up. Things were different weeks ago. That was before I met Alex.

Her jaw clenches, and her eyes turn to stone. Before I can correct
myself, she cuts me off. "I think you should go get some air, then."

I'm
sure that is code for I think you should leave me alone right now.

I sigh, feeling not only irate and hurt,
but also terrible. I didn't mean anything by referencing the time before we met. Things were just simpler then.

I want to kiss her again before I turn away, but her eyes tell me not to.
So, I turn around and make my way to the balcony, wishing I had another glass of scotch and hoping Derek minds his own fucking business.

ALEX TURNER

Jeremy walks out onto the balcony
, and I have a myriad of thoughts flowing through my mind.

What did Jeremy mean
by before he and I met?

Why didn't he tell me he was speaking at the event? Doesn't he understand that he almost died? And that stepping on stage might not be the best idea?

Why must he be distant now? He is closed off. How do I handle this?

I take a deep breath.

"Let him take a few moments, Turner. He'll come around."

I swivel around to lock eyes with Derek. They are surprisingly warm. "Thanks for the advice, but I don't know."

He hands me my earpiece as he eyes me. "C'mon, Turner, the man just found out his best friend tried to have him killed. That's a lot to process. And now he has to go face him."

I eye him apprehensively, wondering why he is being so supportive, but take it for what it's worth. "Maybe you're right."

He grins. "I am always right." There's the overbearing asshole I know and love.

I roll my eyes, put the earpiece in my ear, and watch him do the same. "Check one-two, check one-two
. Can you hear me, Derek?"

He presses the earpiece in his ear. "Loud and clear. Surveillance
unit, do you copy?"

I hear a rounding, "A-firm. Ten-four," in my ear, confirming our team already stationed at the event can hear us as well.

I listen in my earpiece. "I can't hear Jeremy."

Derek laughs
. "It's because he isn't talking, dummy. He isn't practicing his speech out there."

I sigh as I peer through the sliding glass door and see Jeremy's wonderful profile. Sure enough, he is stoic and silent, looking out into the night
, pondering who knows what. Although, I have some ideas.

"Are you ready for this, Turner?"

I take in another deep breath. "Yes."

"Are you armed?"

"Of course." I smirk.

He grins at my response. "That's my girl. Here, take this and give this one to Hunt."

In the palm of his hand are two rectangular microchips with tiny antennas in the corner.

"Tracking devices?" I ask.

"To send a distress call, just in case. When you press the button, a team will be there in ten minutes, fifteen if there is traffic." He winks.

I laugh, nodding and taking the devices from his hand. "Where's my cell tracker?"

His eyes gleam with excitement. "New device for you." He slips what looks like a small sticker out of a sleeve from the briefcase. It can't be bigger than a dime.