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Nicole and I were never really friends. We’d been paired together by Interpol and stationed here in New York City. The United States government knew of our existence and I often worked with them to assist matters of international crime. Antonio Vitale was one of those projects.
Markos Varela wasn’t. I’d done that all myself. Interpol hadn’t even known that I’d taken an interest in him. If they did, I would have probably been shipped off to some project in New Zealand or something.
I had learned his name at a big meeting between Interpol and the CIA. Ever since then, I’d kept every newspaper story, every picture, even just the briefest mention of his name in an online article about the wine industry. I’d felt pulled to him and the more I learned, the more I felt he was a very bad man.
I’d known that, and still I had continued my self-imposed mission.
I sat down at the table beside Nicole and kept my eyes low, but I could feel her watching me, judging me for my odd behavior. I took a sip of my coffee and coughed at the bitterness. Looking down at it, I realized I hadn’t even added cream. Shaking my head, I stood back up and walked to the fridge. I grabbed some vanilla creamer and poured it in, watching as the inky blackness swirled into a lighter color.
Nicole snorted behind me.
“So, feeling any better?” she began, her voice still as cold as ever.
She and I had always been at odds. Over the past few weeks it had been way worse because we were volleying for the same promotion. I swallowed heavily and shook my head.
“Must have been some crazy nightmare,” I eventually answered. Taking another swig of my coffee, I dutifully avoided her gaze.
I’d have to be careful. Nicole would literally do anything to discredit me in order to secure the promotion instead of me. She was always looking for weaknesses in me, always trying to point out inconsistencies in my work and for the most part, my superiors ignored her, but sometimes, they didn’t. She’d gotten me in trouble a handful of times and I had no doubt that she would jump at the chance to do it again.
“Well, do me a favor and let’s not wake up the entire apartment complex next time you have a bad dream,” she replied, still very much peeved at the whole thing. “And that still doesn’t explain how the hell you’re here. Care to fill me in, Kassandra?”
She spat my name and the animosity in her tone was unmistakable.
I was going to have to make something up, just to get her off my back. I literally had no choice.
“My mission was cancelled. I hopped on a plane yesterday evening and slipped inside early this morning. I was as quiet as I could be, so I don’t think I woke you,” I lied. I avoided her eyes. She was well trained in interrogation skills.
She huffed, and I briefly glanced up at her before looking down at my coffee once more.
“I’m sorry about this morning. I don’t know what came over me,” I said, apologizing in hope that she wouldn’t hold it against me. Last thing I needed was her telling my bosses that I was insane, suffering from outlandish nightmares and unqualified for my position. I wouldn’t put it past her.
“Yeah. Whatever. Just try not to do it again. I’ve got a really long day of trailing some gangbanger with Lewis. God, that man is a bore,” she complained.
“Now that’s bad luck getting paired with him.” I chuckled uneasily, although entirely grateful for the subject change. We drank our coffee together then, talking over mundane things like who would go to the grocery store and which bills needed to be paid before it was time to get to work. Thankfully, she seemed to have dropped the whole nightmare episode.
Together, we took the elevator down to the ground floor and made our way to the subway. Our commute was thankfully short, and we arrived at the office building in less than fifteen minutes. Walking inside, we traveled up the elevator to the penthouse offices, where we worked and watched over the city of New York. She sauntered off quickly, but stopped when I ran into our boss, Lynn Graves.
“Kassandra, what the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be investigating Antonio Vitale?” Lynn demanded.
“I…” I started, seeing Nicole begin to grin off in the distance.
Shit. I needed to think fast.
“I didn’t find anything at the villa. Antonio got bored, so he sent me away. He doesn’t like doing business with a woman around, so I came back home,” I blurted. Lynn narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Crap.
“Huh. I seem to recall that you’re exactly his type,” she replied. “Come to my office later. File a report and we’ll talk about it.”
I nodded curtly, and she looked away, giving me leave to escape. Rushing off to my office, I shut the glass door behind me, leaned against it and sighed heavily with relief.
I shouldn’t have come here. I had made a mistake.
Slowly, I convinced myself to move away from the door and sit down at my desk. I powered on my computer and logged in, pulling up our database on international criminals. First, I checked the date. It was May nineteenth, just one day after Markos’ gathering. I hadn’t lost any time then. Next, I pulled up my own profile. There was a blurb that popped under my profile indicating that I was deep undercover and was expected to be for the next few weeks. Only somehow, I was back in New York. And I had no idea how I got there.
I was in deep shit. I had nothing to report to Lynn.
I’d been working my own angle on Markos. I hadn’t gathered anything on Antonio and I was going to have to pull something out of my ass just to please her and not get fired.
I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to my desk, groaning. Eventually, I pushed myself back up and reluctantly got back to work.
