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10
LIAM
WE LEFT MIKE and Jen’s place around eleven last night and started driving. After an hour, we found another car and continued on the way to the headquarters of G3. One of the only two handlers I have ever been in communication with, Rafael, was the one to shoot me, and even though I made sure he didn’t make it back to his boss with my identity in hand, there is always a chance they still know who I am. As such, I’ll have to play it extra safe.
We’ll camp out nearby until I can find solid evidence to send to the FBI. They don’t trust me anymore, and granted, I haven’t spoken to them in quite a while, so it’s a valid concern on their part. It wouldn’t be the first time someone got too deep into the crimes and just switched sides, deciding this life was better than being the spy who took them out. The money was better, the work easier, and I could understand the reasoning, but I wasn’t a bad guy. I was a good one, and no matter how it happened, I was going make sure these bad guys never got a chance to sell, smell, or touch a drug ever again.
Margaret fell asleep after a couple hours, and the silence fills the car. It’s almost strange after being around her for so long. She can’t stand the silence, I’ve noticed, likes to fill it with her chatter. I take the time to think, to figure out where I slipped up and got her caught up in this mess.
I was tracking G3 through the city when I realized they were stalking a particular person, not meeting with buyers like they normally did. They were too focused, too anxious, and I knew I was caught when I discovered the person they were following was Margaret.
They knew who I was, or were at the very least suspicious of me, but what tipped them off? I can’t pinpoint a time where I could have given myself away, but now I am a bad guy on both sides of the fence. While I don’t really care what that means for me, it does put Margaret in danger, which was the only reason I went to her and took her with me. She couldn’t be left alone because if they got her, they’d use that against me.
As hard as my exterior seems, I knew I wouldn’t be able to let her go with them, because they would kill her without hesitating.
I feel like I am barely keeping a grasp on myself, shoved into this new territory of having to watch over someone else while trying to stay on top of my mission, of ending this tortuous job I’ve been stuck in for years. One date was all it took for me to develop feelings for her, something I never, ever do, and if I think back to that night where I decided to let go of all my control and let myself be with her, despite all it’s led to, I can’t say I wouldn’t do exactly the same thing again. The only difference might be the morning after, if I allowed myself to do that, if I could allow myself to be with her in some real sense, which I couldn’t.
I still can’t.
I need to sort through a plan, one that makes Margaret feel like she’s a part of it. She puts us at even more risk, but she is stubborn, which is both infuriating and fascinating. Not wanting to be bossed around and pushing back makes her interesting.
Her telling me she was going to set off on her own without me was the tipping point for me. My protectiveness kicked in, and I wanted—no, I needed to protect her. This is my fault, and I have to fix it.
I just need to plot out exactly how this has to play out. I have to figure out what G3 is planning, who they are using to angle against me and what they know about me. Ricardo is the only other man I ever saw or spoke with whenever I purchased product. It’s how they operate to keep from being infiltrated: every person who buys has only one or two specific handlers. Ricardo had quite a few clients, and there are dozens like him doing the same job.
I don’t know how deep Ricardo is in, or if he is even alive. I also don’t know if Rafael has been talking to him about what he thinks, about who I am.
He never knew who I was or that I was reporting to the FBI about them, but I did think he was getting suspicious, acting nervous around me whenever we’d meet up for a deal, so I slowed communication with the FBI because I didn’t want to give myself away.
It wasn’t easy. For the last year, I have been completely on my own, using burner phones for everything, even that stupid app, and not having any contact with my family. Admittedly, that was the hardest part of the whole thing.
Now, as I drive us into another dangerous situation, I look over at Margaret peacefully sleeping and wonder how I’m going to get us out of this alive.
“This is it?” Margaret asks, leaning in to look over me. A waft of her scent infiltrates my nose, and I keep my hands down at my sides. We’ve finally made it back into the city, and we’re a few blocks away from where G3 sets up, watching and waiting.
Truthfully, I’m not sure what they know, and I’m also not sure what I’m going to do with them when I can finally take them all the way out.
My priorities have shifted slightly due to the woman who is currently leaning over my lap to get a look at the building. My hands twitch, wanting to touch her again the way I did before, but I refrain, knowing that’s the fastest way to get us both in trouble.
“This is it. I’ve got to make a move, but I wanted to be sure they hadn’t changed locations yet.” I finally decided the only way to make this happen was to send Ricardo a message and set up a meeting. That way I can find out, one, if he is alive, and two, what they’re after.
“What move are we making?” Margaret asks without looking away.
“We aren’t making a move. I am,” I say pointedly. She turns to glare at me, but I don’t back down. “You are going to stay somewhere far away and safe.”
She huffs out a breath. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not going anywhere without you?”
“You don’t seem to understand how dangerous this is,” I say, looking at her face. She’s not someone who hides her emotions; they all play out across her face plain as day. She looks pissed right now, but there’s a vulnerability there as well. “I promise what I’m doing will be quick. You won’t be alone for long. Plus, you’re my backup. If I don’t return, you call the only number in that phone.” I nod to the one in the cup holder that I gave her for emergencies.
“I’m not afraid,” she says, puffing out her chest. My eyes are immediately drawn to that spot, and I can’t even help myself. Margaret smacks me in the arm and I look up, giving her a small smirk. “Fine. I’ll stay away, but this is the only time I’m allowing it.”
I smile at her ‘allowing’ me to do my job. “Trust me, Margaret.”
She doesn’t look reassured, but I don’t let it bother me. Margaret doesn’t know the half of what I’ve done in this life. She was thrust into it without warning, yanked out of her average life working in retail.
I knew what she did before I met up with her—I never meet up with anyone without finding out who they know, where they work, and what they are after.
She doesn’t reply to what I say, just folds her arms across her chest and sighs, turning away. I can tell she’s still upset, but she’s not going to tell me she is. She’s a woman who knows exactly how to manipulate the situation to make it harder than it needs to be.
