10. Matthew
10
Matthew
I haven’t really been to this part of New York before. Lena’s apartment is located in a medium-sized condo at the edge of Wave Hill, and the good news is that we don’t have our tail of agents with us anymore. We slipped them at the shopping center four blocks down under the guise of privacy. They agreed to wait in the parking lot, and as long as we phone them every thirty minutes, they will continue to think we are off picking supplements and underwear for me. It took a bit of creativity, but Kieran convinced them that the CIA didn’t need to know what preferences I have.
Making sure we don’t look like we sprinted, Kieran and I enter the brick mid-rise. It’s keycard and security controlled so we don’t get far before the man at the reception desk waves us over. To his right is the barrier and two elevators, and to his left are the mailboxes.
“Let me do the talking, okay?” Kieran says with his hand on my shoulder.
I cross my arms. “Gee, you make it sound like I couldn’t do it myself.”
“That’s not it. It’s just…” He peeks at the oldish man leaning on the tall part of the desk, who doesn’t look particularly happy to see us. “I assume your aunt’s friend isn’t expecting us, so it might get tricky to convince him to let us in.”
“Can’t you just wave your secret services’ badge at him or something?” I suggest helpfully.
He chuckles, doing that pleasant thing with his fingers where he runs them through the longer portion of my hair like he’s petting a cute dog. Not that I am a dog. Or cute. I’m the epitome of attractive and sexy as sin manliness. A true alpha male. I’m just lacking in the height department.
The caress does feel very nice though, to the point where I’m positive I’d be wagging my tail if I had one. Woof.
“I could. But we are doing this little investigation under the radar, so it’s best if I didn’t rely on my CIA credentials unless we hit an actual roadblock.” He examines his shirt and then gives me a contemplative once-over. I feel my cheeks go warm, but before I can overthink his action and actually flush, he’s moved onto smiling at the glaring security guard. “We should probably disguise ourselves, too. And come up with fake names. If it comes to it, it will make it a little less straightforward for the Agency to figure out what we were doing.”
It hits me then, how sensitive and tricky the situation we are in truly is. In a way, we are obstructing a CIA investigation. We should stay put in that house until the higher-ups tell us what we are supposed to do. That was the deal. But we aren’t. I would take responsibility, but this time it’s not solely my fault. It was mutually agreed that we are going rogue.
Part of me wishes I had more than a smart mouth and a pretty face to offer, so I didn’t have to fully rely on Kieran keeping me safe. My hackles rise. I’m in danger, that hasn’t changed, but I just try not to think about it. I’ve been a little out of it since that night and I suspect that no matter how much time passes, I won’t really calm down until it’s over. And that could take months.
I step closer to Kieran, resisting the urge to wrap myself around him by tucking my hands in my pockets. Maybe I could ask him to teach me some basic self-defense when we get back to the house. It won’t make me a badass ninja overnight, but it will help me not feel completely defenseless.
I exhale slowly, feeling some of the pent-up tension leave my body. It will take a lot more for me to feel normal again, but it’s a start. “You look like a Jack to me. Thirty-one. Car mechanic. You know Lena because she comes to your shop when her bike needs fixing.”
“I do not look thirty-one,” he protests, nudging me toward the desk. The man standing there looks like he’s getting impatient. “ Danny . And you better have all the invoices in order, or we’ll be getting a visit by the IRS again.”
The fact that he raised his voice means that the guard was supposed to hear this. Okay, I guess we are rolling. But while I make an amazing sidekick, I don’t really think he needs me.
“Hi there, buddy,” Kieran says to the graying and scowling man, plastering on a friendly grin. “How’s it going?”
The guy grumbles an unimpressed hello and asks us who we are. While Kieran explains, I fish out my phone and pretend I’m taking a call as I pace over to the mailboxes for some privacy.
“Sorry, it’s my ma. I need to take this. She can’t find her pills.”
They both nod and return to their conversation as I get to work.
There are sixty mailboxes in total, organized in ten rows of six. The paint has begun to peel off sometime in the last twenty years, which tells me that they are pretty old. And pretty old is exactly what I was hoping they would be as those types not only have the number, but also the name of the person who lives there.
“Okay, Lena. Let’s see where you live…”
I find her name next to the box numbered thirty-one. Sweet. Mission accomplished.
“Sure thing, ma. I’ll double-check next time,” I say and join Kieran.
The security guard looks even more pissed off than earlier, so whatever Kieran told him, clearly didn’t work. “I’m afraid that unless you get hold of Mrs. Kaminski for a confirmation, I can’t let you up. Even if she is your aunt.”
I throw Kieran a look. Ah, so that was his grand plan? What an amateur.
“C’mon, Bobby. It’s her birthday. If I call her, my surprise visit won’t be a surprise anymore, will it?”
Bobby still looks unconvinced, with the added bonus of definitely wanting to kick us out. I think our attempt to get in this way is busted.
“I can’t let you in unless you call her. Sorry.”
Kieran opens his mouth to say something, but I beat him to it. “No worries, man. We don’t want to get you in trouble. Guess we’ll just have to hang out by the entrance until she walks out.” My suggestion has the man’s frown deepen just as expected. “Unless… Maybe you can let us in the yard, so we don’t look suspicious? I saw there were some benches and a gazebo.”
After a couple of seconds of consideration, he nods. He doesn’t seem to be thrilled by the idea, but it’s not like we can get inside the building unless he or a resident lets us in.
As we are led to the yard, I nudge Kieran. “Next time, let me handle the talking and you can be my sidekick.”
“I had things under control, pumpkin. You didn’t need to butt in.”
“Oh, yeah? Is that why he looked ready to call 9-1-1?”
“You can sit and wait there.” The guard points to the bench by the giant rose bush.
“Thank you so much.” I pull a chocolate bar from my second pocket and hand it to Bobby. It’s the one I stashed away so I could snack on it later, but a sacrifice is needed. Plus, food always makes people more likely to believe you.
Once the guard is back inside, I turn to Kieran who’s already scoping the surroundings. I think he’s likely just had the same idea I had—if we can’t go in through the front door, then we have to get creative. And, fortunately for us, the fire escape stairs are right there by the side gate.
“She’s in apartment thirty-one,” I say, tilting my chin at the metal construction we are about to climb.
“Let’s go.”
The ladder we have to pull down shrieks like a seagull in the middle of mating season. We both freeze, locking gazes with each other before focusing our attention on the door to the foyer. My heart runs a whole marathon while we wait to see if the guard heard the commotion we made. Kieran’s hand rests on the holster of his gun, hidden under his jacket.
“Please don’t shoot the guy,” I blurt out, wincing internally at myself. I’m a ‘the end justifies the means’ kind of guy, but I don’t want to off an innocent person just because he walked in on us as we were about to trespass illegally.
Kieran snort-scoffs and aims those pretty brown eyes my way. Suddenly I’m okay being an antihero. I mean, I’m totally in my morally gray era already.
“It’s a habit,” he says, watching me with nerve-wrecking intensity as he strokes the gun. It’s as if he’s searching for something. Fishing for a reaction. Provoking me. It’s sort of thrilling.
“Uh, what?” I whine when I can’t take his scrutiny anymore.
“You don’t seriously think I’ll just shoot a random person, do you?” He begins climbing up when it becomes obvious that we haven’t been busted.
I follow him, getting an amazing view of his ass. He’s wearing cargo pants and a shirt today, but unlike me, he seems to know his size, so they are a good fit. An extremely good fit. It’s distracting, forcing upon me images of me burying my face between his ass cheeks so I can get smothered by them. I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst way to die, especially if I manage to sneak in a bite as well.
“Matt, you with me?”
“Huh?” I blink up at him. He’s craned his neck, frowning as he studies my face. “Oh, yeah, sorry. It’s just you secret services folks are infamous for being trigger-happy, no?”
“That’s just a stereotype.” He pulls himself up to the landing, then offers me his hand. I take it and allow him to lift me up the last few rungs. “We are trained to de-escalate things first. If that’s impossible, then we shoot.”
Knowing the world we live in, good luck de-escalating anything. But I keep that to myself.
We climb two more floors until we reach the third. Using the fire exit, we slip inside a stuffy and dim hallway.
“You were checking my ass out earlier, weren’t you?” Kieran whispers as we head down the hall in search of apartment thirty-one.
There are cameras mounted at the corner, far end and by the elevators. I hope Mr. Guard is too busy stuffing his face with the chocolate I gave him to be keeping an eye on the feed. From the peek I got of his desk, he only had one monitor, so I imagine the size of the camera feeds is relatively small. Unless he was paying attention, it would be easy for us to go unnoticed. We just need to act normal and not like we are two thieves sneaking about in someone else’s building.
“In my defense, I’m an ass connoisseur and you have a very nice specimen. Your pants were doing very little to hide that.”
“Thanks. Yours isn’t half-bad either.”
I halt in front of apartment thirty-one and wave him over as I ring the bell. No one answers. “And how would you know that?”
He shrugs, trying the knob. It won’t turn. “It’s your fault for walking around the house in just underwear.”
So I didn’t imagine it. I really did see him when I went to the lounge to get the bag of clothes in the morning. I forgot I put it there when I went in for a shower, so I had to jog around in my underwear to retrieve it.
“Would you prefer for me to do it naked? If you ask nicely, I’ll consider it.”
A bark of laughter rings around the corridor as we try the bell again to no avail. He unbuttons his jacket and holds it open, fishing for something in an inside pocket. “Can you at least be serious while we’re committing a crime?”
“I am being serious,” I argue. And because I want to prove how true that is, I knock again and say, “FBI! Open up!”
Kieran’s snort is immediate. “I’m technically with the CIA , not the FBI.”
I wave him off. “Same shit. Plus, ‘CIA, open up’ doesn’t sound the same.”
“I suppose you have a point,” he allows, nudging me in the flank after he’s donned a pair of gloves. “Now scoot over and let me work.”
With no further protests, I comply and give him enough space. But curiosity gets the better of me soon enough and I lean in so I can see what he’s doing with the metal pin he took out.
Biting on the left side of his lip in concentration, he slowly pushes the thin tube inside the lock and begins turning it. He does that until we hear a click. When he tries the knob again after putting away the tool, the door opens willingly.
I let out a wolf’s whistle. “Since when are CIA agents break-in specialists, too?”
He chuckles, herding me inside the gloomy apartment and handing me a pair of gloves. “Since they conspire with the witnesses they are supposed to protect in order to solve a mystery under the Agency’s nose?”
Smiling, I put the gloves on. Once I’ve looked around the hall, I slowly make my way to what looks to be a disorganized living room. It’s stuffy and stale, and I can see dust motes dancing in the air where a shaft of sunlight sneaks in through a gap in the curtains.
“Lena?” I call out, searching for the light switch.
Kieran finds it first as I receive no response. An electrical hiss precedes the lights turning on. They reveal how big the mess in the room is. Boxes and furniture are scattered everywhere, some of them overturned. The bookshelf is in disarray. The cupboards in the kitchen area are all left open, and some of their contents are on the floor and counters. The TV, which is across from the couch with the ottoman, hangs off its stand, and there are marks on the wall behind it that look like someone tried to drill a portion of it off.
“Um, is it me or does it look like this place was ransacked?” Even the rug is turned over.
“What, you didn’t have a grandma to visit or something?” At my roll of eyes, Kieran raises his hands in a placating manner. “Okay, this wasn’t funny. I think you might be onto something.”
The bedroom is in a similar state and so is the bathroom. On top of that, there’s dust everywhere. I’m pretty sure that whoever made a mess out of Lena’s apartment did so a while ago. And, clearly, she hasn’t returned to clean up.
“Do you think the CIA beat us to it?” I ask even as I know the answer.
“No. This isn’t the CIA’s work. It was someone else. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’d have heard about it if they brought your aunt’s friend in for questioning. Whether it was recently or some time ago.”
I pick up a glass figurine of a black dragon from one of the shelves and rub the dust off it. “What do you think they were looking for? Whoever was here.”
“It’s anyone’s guess.”
He’s right. But he’s also wrong. I have a gut feeling that we weren’t wrong to come here, and I tend to trust those. “If—Maybe Lena had something to do with Molniya ?”
He grabs one of the books that are scattered on the floor and nods. It’s a special edition of Alice in Wonderland with foiled edges. “That’s a possibility.”
“In that case, they were maybe looking for the asset? Like, if they thought she had it.” I frown, staring at my reflection in a handheld mirror that’s propped against a motorcycle figurine on the shelf above the dragon. “Do you think maybe they kidnapped her?”
“Nah. It doesn’t look like there was a struggle. They came in, searched and left.”
“Maybe the security guard had something to do with it,” I deduct. “He didn’t want to let us in.”
Kieran walks over to me and picks up the motorcycle figurine. “Nah. The guy was just doing his job. I don’t think he knows someone was here. Or that Lena hasn’t been. I’m pretty sure he’s new.”
“How exactly and when did you figure that out?”
He flashes me a row of teeth. “He didn’t know the postcode.”
“Okay. Well, Sherlock, then we have no one we could potentially kidnap and question. What do we do?” I toss, planting my hands on my hips. “We don’t even know what we are looking for. What if whoever was here already took it?”
“Maybe.” He moves on from the bookshelf to the TV, fingering the wall scratches. “Or maybe not. What more can you tell me about this Lena?”
I plop onto the couch and sigh. There is a bent motorcycle magazine on the seat, so I pick it up and start skimming. Words are highlighted in yellow across the pages, most of them having to do with bike parts and brands.
“I told you already. I didn’t actually know her. She was friends with Chrissy, but I don’t think they were close. And she knew my parents before they died. And”—I hold up the magazine—“evidently, Chrissy didn’t lie about Lena riding bikes.”
“The file with the random letters, you think that has anything to do with her?”
Oh. I’d forgotten about it. I was so focused on the coordinates, I didn’t really examine it. And then I recognized Lena’s area, so it slipped out of my mind completely.
“I don’t know. I kind of forgot about it. Do you have it so I can have a look?”
He comes over and hands me his phone. Or one of his phones. I’m pretty sure that’s the one he bought yesterday when we got the laptop. “Yeah, I made copies. It’s mostly gibberish though.”
I hate to admit it, but it takes me about ten minutes to recognize what I’m looking at. And it’s most definitely not gibberish.
“Oh, shit!” I shoot up from the couch, buzzing with adrenaline and excitement.
“What?” Kieran sprints over from the bedroom where he’s been looking for clues. His eyes are wide and his breathing is elevated. “Did you find something?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. We are in the right place, I can feel it. We were meant to come here!
“Matt! What did you find?” he insists, striding over to me and snatching the phone from my fingers.
“Nothing!” I beam at him. “Yet. But I know what these letters are.”
His eyes go from wide to wider and then to expectant. “What are they?” he demands impatiently, squeezing my wrist. He also yanks me slightly toward himself when he shakes me, but I don’t think he realizes he’s done it.
His warmth floods me and his aura surrounds me. I catch the scent of pomegranates and smoke. He smoked while we drove here, and I guess the smell stuck to him. I shiver in delight as his hand begins tracing my arm absentmindedly. I do like being close to him. His solidity and size make me feel safe. He smells nice. He’s helping me and I am helping him. We are a team. I’ve never been part of a team before.
“Matt!”
His stern voice drags me out of my daydreaming episode before I can do something stupid like hug him or hump his leg or lift up his shirt so I can sniff his sexy abs.
“Yeah, sorry.” I smile, my head spinning a little from the overload of inappropriate thoughts he elicits in me. “The letters? They aren’t random. It’s a word game. One that I used to play with Chrissy when I was younger.”