Have you ever wondered what would happen to an angel if she visited hell? Would her feathers wilt under the heat? Or would she be protected by a bubble of goodness too strong for the most profound sins to penetrate? Those were the questions that popped into my head when I spotted Rae on the stage for the first time weeks ago. She was smiling like every other dancer, but her smile wasn't to entice money. It was genuine and unique, a smile that revealed she'd survive the depths of hell without a single feather being singed.
She’s the reason I stalled our sting the past month. I was sent into Substanz undercover to determine if they were the operative responsible for the shipment of illegal firearms and drugs from Africa the past year. The only illegal thing I spotted was an excessive amount of cleavage. . . until I was approached on my way out.
I should have walked away. I should have pretended Dwain’s offer wasn’t as insinuated, that he was simply asking if I enjoyed the show enough to tip generously, but the motion-activated camera in the button of my shirt ensured I couldn’t ignore his proposal.
My superiors witnessed what I witnessed. They heard what I heard. I had no other option but to act on the oath I swore. Substanz may not be running drugs and guns, but they are overseeing another illegal operation: prostitution.
Things have certainly changed since I left the academy. My first assignment was a sex trafficking ring run by a Russian association on the West Coast. None of the women looked like Rae. The life in their eyes had vanished within a week of being "recruited," and their skin was blemished with bruises and scars.
Only one girl’s eyes held the same esteem as Rae’s: it was Katie, a pretty redhead with milky white skin and big doe eyes. I fought my superiors for months to let me break cover to save her from the lifestyle that was slowly killing her, but they always offered the same argument: “One woman’s life will never be more valuable than many lives.”
I understood what they meant, but the plea in Katie's eyes couldn't be felt through surveillance images. Their impact in person could take down the strongest man. I nearly succumbed numerous times. The only reason I didn't was because I am not a man. I am an agent. My job comes before anyone—even the dancer who stole the air from my lungs with a can-can kick and bright smile.
Exhaling sharply, I return my focus to the task at hand. With the dark sedan’s dangerous speed gaining them an impressive advantage, it will be a long range shot for me to take them down, but my marksmanship skills are the best the academy has seen. I’m confident I’ve got this.
As my finger creeps back on the trigger, a blur of blonde captures my attention. I adjust my vision, sharpening it so profoundly, the rare speckles of black mottled through Rae’s green irises can be seen from a distance. She is staring straight at me, begging me not to shoot.
I remind myself that she is a target, a criminal, a person who sells her body for profit, but no matter how loudly the facts are screamed at me, nothing forces me to squeeze the trigger. Even with my wallet being five hundred dollars lighter, I believed her when she said she only works at Substanz as a dancer. The way she holds herself backs up her claims, let alone the honesty in her eyes. I don’t know the premise behind her ruse tonight, but I trust my gut. It has never let me down. That singlehandedly has me lowering my gun.
Regrettably, I’m not the only agent in pursuit.
“Don’t fire!” I scream, waving my hand in the air to alert the agent dressed head to toe in riot gear to stand down. “They’re civilians.”
Agent Dane relaxes his stealthy stance before raising his face visor. I knew who he was before he revealed himself. If the tattoo on his hand didn’t give it away, I can smell his taco-laced breath from here. I swear, from the day we met as freshmen in college, I’ve seen him consume a minimum of three tacos a day.
Dane and I were recruited to the agency straight after graduation. His laidback attitude has hindered him climbing the ranks as rapidly as me. Not that he minds. He believes everyone can achieve greatness no matter how slow their pace is.
I'm taking the reckless, steep track. He's choosing the safer, more boring option. Although I doubt he'd have an issue taking my place if the Bureau discovered I let two suspects flee without using my exemplary weaponry skills.
After housing his weapon, Dane lifts his icy blue eyes to mine. Our eyes, cut facial features, and identical height often have us mistaken for brothers. It is only Dane’s inky black hair keeping the rumors at bay. I do have a brother in the agency, just not anywhere you’d suspect.
“If they’re civilians, why are you injured?” Dane drops his eyes to my right ear.
I run my hand across the area he’s glaring at. Air hisses between my teeth when I discover a thin but deep gash running from my right temple to just below my earlobe.
“It’s barely a scratch. When I heard rustling in the bushes, I dove through the fence to check it out,” I murmur like it’s not a big deal. “Must have cut myself. Doesn’t hurt.”
For a man trained to lie, I’m shit at it. An average man would hear my deceit a mile out, let alone one who knows me better than family.
“Let the medics take a look at it. We don’t want anything happening to your pretty little face. Barbie will get upset if she discovers her main squeeze isn’t made out of plastic.” The deep hum of his voice is hindered by laughter.
My eyes roll skywards before I give him a curt nod. Nothing he is saying is new to me. He was the one who started the Ken doll rumors at the academy. Sometimes I wish I were made out of plastic, then I wouldn’t face moments like today. You can’t feel conflict if your insides are hollow.
I trained for years to ensure I see nothing but the truth when I look at someone. Criminals are criminals regardless of their gender, age, looks or social status. It shouldn’t matter if my heart had an elongated beat at my first glance into Rae’s eyes or that the music dulled to barely a buzz when she smiled. A criminal is a criminal. That is it. No further deliberation required.
After scrubbing my hand down my face in frustration, I trudge back toward the flashing lights on the horizon. It’s time to face my actions like a man instead of the coward I portrayed tonight.
My brisk pace slows when Dane calls my name. When I spin around to face him, he gives me a smirk. It is more of anI’m your brother even without the bloodsmirk than one of a rival. He’s not peeved about my advancement in the academy. He’s proud.
He throws a chunky field laptop into my chest before jabbering, “If you’re leading with the civilian story, you better wipe her from the data first.” He drops his eyes to my chest, his brief scan halting at the exact button housing my hidden camera. “Wipe my roguishly handsome face while you’re there, will ya? I don’t want my measly paycheck sliced even more. . .”
His lopsided grin lowers half an inch as the width of his pupils double. He stumbles forward, his face whitening with each jagged step he takes. I stare at him, stunned into silence. He’s acting as if he’s been. . .Oh fuck.
“We’ve got shots fired on Mulberry Hill,” I roar into my radio before grabbing Dane by the scruff of his shirt to drag him behind a thick tree on the edge of the roadside. Because he is in the process of dropping, we exit the clearing extremely fast. "An officer has been hit. I repeat, officer down; send medics!"
Blood splatters Dane’s chin when I push my hands on the massive stain oozing out of his vest. He must have been shot with a high caliber weapon as the bullet shredded his bulletproof vest. It’s left a hole the size of a penny in the upper left quadrant of his stomach.
“Come in heavy. Looks like a sniper.” My demands are remarkably strong for how hard my heart is hammering. “Bullet is a through and through. Wound is puckering.”
