15. Marcus
Marcus
Dean still wouldn’t tell me about his assignment, not even a tiny hint—aside from mentioning the Twin Cities A-Mill and as annoying as it was having Dean borrow my car this morning to meet with Derek, it gave me an excuse to sleep in before work.
Madison had left our apartment shortly after Dean to get her perfect ass back to her townhouse so she could get ready for her shift in the ED, leaving me alone in bed, thinking about nothing but her.
I was obsessed with Madison. From the moment she let me through her front door, I had never wanted a woman more in my entire life. I may have been catching feelings deeper than simple lust and desire for her, but I knew that obsession was at the forefront of it all.
I was nothing more than an addict, just lying here, waiting for my next high —
A loud bang startled me from my thoughts, and I flew out of bed, falling to the floor as I searched for my phone, my ankle tangling in the sheets, preventing me from finding my balance. What time was it? Was Dean back already? Fuck …
The insistent banging continued, and I hauled ass down the hall to answer the door, again almost tripping over myself as I shoved my legs into a pair of gym shorts I swiftly snatched up off the floor on my way out of the bedroom.
It took me a moment before I realized that if it were Dean, he would have just let himself in— why would Dean knock?
When I opened the door, I was surprised to see one of Minneapolis PD's SWAT officers standing in the hallway—bulletproof vest and all. Clearly, this guy and his angry knuckles had the wrong unit.
“Look… it’s nearly eight, and I need to get my ass dressed for work. Whoever you’re looking for doesn’t live here. Try further down the hall, dude.” I ruffled the hair at the back of my head with a yawn before shifting to slam the door in his face.
The officer’s hand shot out, preventing me from closing the door, and I narrowed my eyes on him, forgetting I was still groggy from sleep.
“The fuck, man?” I sneered at the audacity.
“You haven’t a clue who the fuck I am, do you kid?”
Kid? Who the fuck was he calling a kid?
This guy was an arrogant fucking asshole, that’s for sure.
“By your attitude, I’d have guessed an overly entitled cop who can fuck right off from my apartment.” I barked, baring my teeth at the overconfident and arrogant asshole blocking my doorway.
“Close, and I’m not leaving until I get what I came here for; now, step aside and let me in.” He pushed, shoving me back with the force of the door. Goddamn, he was strong.
This guy was built like a tank. Standing at least six-two, with broad shoulders and muscles that looked as if they would tear through his uniform if he so much as moved wrong.
Generally, men didn’t intimidate me, but when they looked like they could rip me in half like a fucking grizzly bear, then yeah, I was scared—to say the least.
I backed further into the apartment to maintain a decent distance between us. The last thing I wanted this morning was to end up in the ED for reasons other than to surprise Madison with a little intimacy break. A broken Marcus probably wouldn’t be as attractive.
Whatever this officer wanted couldn’t have been that serious if he had shown up alone—
Wait, could he be here for Madison? Oh fuck…
I clamped my jaw shut, waiting for the unfriendly SWAT officer to speak as he closed the door behind himself, and the entire atmosphere in the room shifted.
Don’t ask about Madison; please, for the love of fuck don’t make this about Madison…
My heart was nearly beating out of my chest, and I could feel the sweat starting to bead down the center of my spine. It took everything in me to reel in my nerves and keep a calm and collected facade, even though, deep down, I was ready to buckle under the pressure.
“You live here with Dean Holt, correct?” He asked as he crossed his arms over his chest in a commanding stance, blocking my only exit.
Why couldn’t we have had a unit with a window fire escape…
This guy didn’t even need to try to be terrifying; he was fucking scarier than Derek skipping lunch.
I did the only thing I could think of in this kind of situation—puffing up my chest and pretending to be my usual cocky and arrogant self. I mirrored his position and forced myself into a don’t fuck with me guise, hoping to God that it would work in my favor.
“I’m not saying shit until you tell me who the fuck you are and why you’re here.” There you go, Marcus, play his game.
At least he wasn’t here for Madison if he was inquiring about Dean, which made it even easier to maintain my fuck you attitude.
The officer sighed, running an agitated hand through his short, dark hair, his shoulders relaxing from their tense state.
At least now, he didn’t look like he was about to fucking eat me anymore.
“Sergeant Alistair Drake. But you can just call me Drake.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I’ve been informed by precinct one that Dean has been asking questions about the abandoned flour mills, and I need to speak with him directly.” Interesting …
Was this regarding his classified assignment? Oh, it’s fucking payday, baby!
“He’s not here. Most likely already at the CIA.” I coolly shrugged, even though I knew precisely where Dean was—at the mill with Derek. “But I can relay your message when I see him later.” I arched my brow, hoping he would take the bait.
“I don’t think so, kid. I’ll catch up with Dean at the CIA instead.” Drake huffed as he dropped his arms and turned to reach for the door handle. Fuck!
“Stop calling me a fucking kid. I’m twenty-fucking-four.” I shouted.
So what if I was pitching a fit over nothing? It was either this or sitting behind my desk all day scrolling through security footage that I’ve already seen a million goddamn times.
Drake glanced over his shoulder at me, running his tongue along the front of his teeth.
“And I’m thirty-four. You’re a fucking kid and are throwing a tantrum like one, too.”
“Dean won’t tell you shit about what he’s doing, he’s loyal as fuck to the CIA. You’re better off working with me.” I rushed out, realizing just how much of an asshole I sounded like with that sentence.
I truthfully had nothing against Dean, but if he wouldn’t tell me— his best fucking friend —about his classified assignment, he sure as shit wouldn’t disclose the details to this guy.
“Are you saying you’re not loyal?” Drake arched his brow in question .
“No, I—That’s not what—” Fuck sake. “What I’m trying to say is that I could be of more use to you than him.”
I was desperate for something more exciting—adrenaline-inducing, than what Conrad had already assigned me, and the fuck if I would give up the opportunity when it barged right through my front door like an open invitation.
Drake stood there momentarily, his back still facing me as he contemplated my offer to work with him. I watched as his shoulders sagged, and he sighed a curse.
“Fuck it, fine. Let’s go then. We’ll talk more at my office.”
I rubbed my hands together, reveling like I had won the fucking lottery right before looking down and realizing just how fucking stupid I looked.
“Might need a change of clothes, kid,” Drake smirked as he turned the handle and nonchalantly opened the door.
Accepting my luck for what it was, I immediately took off towards my room to get dressed, not even bothering to waste a single second arguing over the fact that he called me a fucking kid , yet again.
I assumed Drake would be taking me to precinct one, seeing as that is where he received his information on Dean. But when I exited his blacked-out Ford Explorer, we were on the complete opposite side of the city .
“What’s this?” I questioned as I got out of the SUV and stared up at an old red brick building that looked like an old apartment complex that hadn’t been used in at least the last ten years.
The lower-level windows were boarded up with plywood, blocking prying eyes from seeing inside, and the upper-level windows had old, stained, and weathered newspapers taped to the inside.
Classy . I mean, at least if you really wanted to know how long this building had been sitting here abandoned, you could just check the date of the papers.
“This—” Drake gestured to the doors before stepping past me. “Is where my team and I are currently working. Hidden from those attempting to interfere with our plans.” Plans? “Inside… I’m not saying anything more until we are in a secure area.”
“What part of this old-ass building could possibly be considered secure ?” I mocked as I followed him through the door, taking a sharp left down a dark, cement staircase.
Why did disturbing and exciting always walk hand in hand together?
This building gave me the creeps. It was eerie, like a haunted house—or something out of a Silent Hill movie. I was just waiting for Pyramid Head to pop out from around a corner and drag me to hell.
I need to stop watching so many horror movies at night…
A shiver trailed down the back of my spine as the heady smell of mold and mildew assaulted my senses the lower we descended. I still failed to understand why we were here and not at one of the actual police precincts .
“Before you say anything stupid, which I already know you are thinking—” Drake started, and I immediately fisted my hands at my sides, resisting the urge to sucker punch him right to the back of his skull.
“My team has been using this building for the past seven years. We may all work for Minneapolis SWAT, but down here, we are a completely different division. One I thought necessary to bring into action.”
There's nothing better than feeling as though I just bit off way more than I could chew. What the fuck kind of assignment did Conrad put Dean on that would catch the attention of a secret, underground division of law enforcement?
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Drake turned around another corner, bringing us to a long, dimly lit cement hallway. My stomach shot straight up into my chest, and I swallowed hard.
I wasn’t scared, but I wasn’t fucking calm either. My heart rate accelerated as I watched Drake approach the only door with light leaking out from underneath it.
“Are you coming? Or are you just going to stand there questioning when I’m going to turn around and murder you?” Well, that was a fucking morbid statement.
I groaned, my legs disagreeing with my every decision as I dragged my heels down the cold hall, imagining if this was what it would feel like if hell froze over but still existed.
“For the record. Secret hideouts are childish.” I mocked when I stopped beside Drake, waiting for him to open the door so we could get out of this sinister fucking hallway and into a room that I assumed— well hoped , would be far less daunting and hazardous to my health.
Drake scoffed, rolling his eyes as he held a black metal card up to the sensor pad, turning the handle once the light had shifted from red to green with an audible click.
Pushing the door wide open, Drake gestured me into a bright room filled with computers and monitors displaying cameras from around the city in what appeared to be a dispatch center—only it wasn’t.
Everyone in the room was geared up in full SWAT uniform; not a single body in here looked as though they worked for a standard call center. They didn’t even acknowledge my arrival, too busy with their heads bowed, scanning whatever was on their screens.
“Welcome to Alpha-Six. Ready to get to work?” Drake chuckled as he shoved past me and swaggered to the doorway of what I assumed was his office, residing at the far back of the room.
What. The. Fuck.