5. Fiona
Chapter 5
Fiona
By the time I get home, Rosalee has already gone out for the evening. She stopped inviting me a long time ago, so I take no offense. I heat some leftovers and settle onto the couch, flipping open my laptop and logging into the secret forum I created several months ago.
After my father kicked me out of the church and I had the blindfold ripped from my eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder how far the rabbit hole of lies went. After talking to Rosalee, who’d been away from the church for years, I realized we weren’t the only ones Infinitum discarded.
It didn’t take long for others to come forward once I presented a safe opportunity. I called it ‘Infinite Freedom,' and hundreds have been flocking to the forum for months. Anonymity is the top priority, and I use every skill I have to protect anyone who joins. It would take an experienced and motivated hacker to discover anyone’s identities. Besides, Infinitum has better things to do with their time than worry about a support group for the excommunicated.
I find an article titled Superheros and the Chosen: Fact or Fiction, posted by a man who goes by the name Rogue. He’s a regular in the forum and seems to have inside information. I suspect that he’s still in the church, working undercover, but I’d never ask him about it and for safety, I didn’t add a private message option. He’s gathered evidence on the stories the church leadership perpetuates about the people they call The Chosen . I met their general for a few minutes the day he married Deanna. My mouth puckers like I sucked on a lemon. Rosalee is convinced Deanna had something to do with my bachelorette night, but I don’t have any way to prove it, and I can’t figure out a motive. I haven’t heard from her since, which suits me just fine.
“Infinitum has secret labs all over the country. I don’t know if every Insidatrex building houses The Chosen, or how many exist, but I’ve seen their abilities with my own eyes. They scrub any evidence and kill whoever threatens to reveal their secrets. However, I came across this video taken a few years ago. ”
I click on the link and watch as a hooded man walks through the streets of San Diego. One second he’s there, and the next he’s gone, a lone piece of garbage floating by in a breeze. It repeats, this time slowed down frame by frame until it’s just a blur of motion streaking into the distance. Not conclusive, yet still compelling.
I return to the article and scan to the end. “If you have any evidence, please post it on this thread, even if it’s anecdotal. I promise you’re not crazy. These people exist, but they aren’t sent from on high to save us like Infinitum claims. Infinitum created them somehow, and they’re planning something big, something dangerous. Stay awake.”
Stay awake . I don’t remember who started it, but it’s become our slogan in the forum to remind us we’re all free. I wish I paid more attention to what Andrew was working on for Insidatrex. His dad, Dr. Roger Chen, has been in charge for years and if anyone knows about these secret labs, it’s him. My skin crawls knowing that I almost tied myself to him. I can’t say for certain if Andrew is involved, but if not, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.
I set my empty bowl on the coffee table and stop scrolling at a question post by user ConspiracyWitch : Anyone else confused about the sudden death of Victor Angelo? They’re saying it’s a helicopter crash, but I checked manifests and there’s no evidence Victor was on a helicopter that day. Super suspicious, if you ask me.
FreedomFighter : There were rumors that Victor Angelo hated James Reilly. I have a hard time believing he’d leave everything to Reilly Tech.
GreenPatch : I thought for sure Victor was The Commander. If it’s not him, then who?
The Commander’s identity is Infinitum’s best kept secret, though I could never figure out why. Maybe it’s not just one person. There’s a committee that appears to make most of the decisions, but the Commander is always the final vote, so nobody knows who’s in charge. I suppose it keeps everyone paranoid since you never know who could be watching. Regardless, the Commander must be someone high in the church leadership.
I make a post welcoming the newcomers and reiterate the purpose of the group. So far, everyone has played by the rules. Anyone who was in the church knows how dangerous they can be. More than a thousand have joined since I started it six months ago, and we get newcomers every day. I scroll through the thread where people share their stories or what made them decide to leave. It breaks my heart how much terror and sadness the church I once loved is responsible for. Some stories even make my stomach turn, like the one where they impregnated a woman against her will.
The photo at the top of the forum is of Barbara Davenport. She’s become an icon for the abandoned. When she live-streamed her murder, I bought into the narrative that she was just crazy. Now I know better. Barbara’s attempt to warn us was a tipping point for more than half of the people in the forum. She started a movement, and I’m continuing her mission.
When my eyes grow heavy, I close the laptop and drag myself to the bathroom to get ready for bed. And I certainly do not think about a pair of blue eyes and a cocky smirk.
I’m the first to arrive the next morning. Determined to not let Clay get to me, I stopped at a bagel shop on the way and set the box on the table. It’s time to get on the right foot, so I don’t flush my career down the toilet just because he’s an asshole. I’ve been through too much to let something so stupid affect me so much. Of course, that doesn’t stop the flush from heating my cheeks as Clay enters, his hair still damp from a shower and slicked back. He looks damn good in that black suit. If I’m forced to endure him, at least he’s nice to look at.
He eyes me and then the box on the table. “What’s that?”
“I brought fresh bagels from the Polish bakery near my house.”
Paul grins as I slide the box towards him and he selects an Asiago and goes to town on the onion and chive spread. “Thank you, Fiona. These are my favorite.” He takes a bite and hums in approval. “Perfectly baked.”
Clay peruses the selection as Dylan takes the cinnamon raisin. “Thanks,” he says as he takes a bite of the dry bagel.
Clay sighs and grabs the plain bagel, leaving the blueberry for me, which is my favorite. I take my opportunity as he spreads his bagel. “I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday.”
He takes a huge bite and watches me as he chews, taking his sweet time before he swallows. “And you think a bagel is going to fix that?”
I blink at his blunt response. “No. I uh–”
“What he means to say is he’s sorry for being a jerk. Right Clay?” Paul says, earning a glare from the man.
“Actually–”
“Clay. Thank Fiona and get to work,” Dylan barks.
Clay rolls his eyes like a teenager getting called out by the teacher. “Thank you for the bagel, Fiona,” he says, infusing his words with sarcasm and a fake smile.
He shoves the bagel in his mouth to free his hands and starts typing. I take my bagel as far away as I can while I seethe. Why is he being so difficult?
Paul offers an apologetic smile.
“Have you always worked in security?” I ask, using the distraction to settle my anger.
“In one form or another.”
“What’s it like protecting Emilia?”
He smiles. “Best boss I’ve ever had. She gives me full access to her kitchen.”
“Do you like to cook?”
“I love to cook. You learn a lot about people based on their food preferences.” He takes the last bite of his bagel and smiles after he swallows. “Take Clay for example. He prefers the spicy and sweet variety.”
Clay snorts a laugh. It must be an inside joke I’m not privy to. Not surprised.
Emilia passes the room, and he excuses himself to join her in her office.
“Fiona, why don’t you and Clay continue with yesterday’s exercise?” Dylan says.
Clay doesn’t react, but I nod and sit beside him. “Try to keep up,” he mutters. I glare at the side of his head. This is going to be a long day.
A few hours later, laughter gets our attention and footsteps approach. My insides recoil when Deanna appears, talking on the phone. She does a double take as she glances into the room and I drop my gaze, but it’s too late.
She ends her call, tucking her phone into her designer handbag as she stops in the doorway. “Fiona? Is that you?” she asks like she’s greeting a long-lost friend.
I stand to greet her, keeping my face neutral. “It is.”
“Gosh, what’s it been? A year? The last time I saw you was…” she trails off, her face falling. “Oh. Dear. That’s right. How could I forget?”
I refrain from snarling as she air kisses my cheeks. “I guess I shouldn’t be talking to you, but I always thought that practice was so archaic. Don’t you agree? Please tell me there’s no ill will between us after that night. I never—”
I put my hand on her arm, desperate to stop her from airing my dirty laundry in front of Clay. “It’s fine.”
Deanna glances behind me, narrowing her gaze at Clay. Both men appear alert, like house cats watching a mouse. I’m surprised they aren’t licking their lips while they’re at it. Men .
“Have we met?” she asks Clay. “You seem familiar.”
He approaches, ignoring me as he extends his hand. “I’m sure I would have remembered meeting someone so…” he looks her up and down, taking his time, “exquisite.”
Deanna grins, resting her hand on her exposed decolletage. “Why thank you. I’m Deanna Hamilton, Edgar’s daughter.”
She takes his hand, and he steps into her space, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “Officer Fox. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His voice is low, his eyes drinking her in, and something deep inside of me kindles with a rage I’ve never felt before. Which makes zero sense. I didn’t even react like this when she flirted with Andrew.
Deanna licks her lip, her pupils dilating. “A gentleman and a soldier. Just my type,” she whispers, twirling a strand of her hair and bringing attention to her breasts. Did she take a class in seduction? Because Clay’s eyes go right where she wants them. I want nothing more than to rip them out of his stupid, pretty face. Not because I want him to look at me the same way. That’s absurd. It’s the principle of the thing.
Deanna pulls out a business card and hands it to him. “I may need your services. Call me and we can set something up.”
He tucks the card into the pocket inside his suit jacket. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Deanna grins at him and looks at me like she forgot I was there. “I have to run. Daddy is waiting for me. Don’t be a stranger, okay? Talk soon.” She air kisses my cheek again, sauntering from the room and tossing a sultry look in Clay’s direction, which he returns with interest.
I chuckle under my breath as I shake my head, and he narrows his gaze at me. “What’s so funny?”
I shrug. “It just fits.”
“What fits?”
“The raging bitch and the narcissistic asshole. It’s a match made in hell. I’m sure your babies will be adorable if you can ignore the forked tongues.” My hand itches to cover my mouth, but I’ll be damned if I let him see me falter.
The corner of his sensuous mouth curves. “Jealousy looks good on you.”
I scoff. “Please. In your dreams.”
He rakes his gaze over my body, similar to what he did with Deanna, but somehow more intense, and my breath catches. I know he’s doing it just to get under my skin, and I hate that it works. Dylan clears his throat and moves to the laptop near the projector. “If you two are finished flirting, maybe we can get back to our jobs?”
“Sorry, boss,” Clay says. He’s anything but, yet he remains silent as he returns to his seat and types the code into the laptop. I reluctantly join him.
Flirting? How could Dylan suggest anything so vile? I’d rather flirt with a corpse.
“I’m sure you would,” Clay mutters and I realize I whispered it. He doesn’t look at me, but the comment catches me off guard. I’ve given him no reason to have such a low opinion of me, yet he acts like I killed his dog or something. Prickly bastard .
I take an annoyingly long time to calm down after Deanna’s surprise visit. I fidget, spinning the pen in my hand as I remind myself that she is no longer a part of my life and can’t do anything worse than what’s already been done.
Hours pass as we go through the bare bones of our system. Clay finishes his second cup of coffee and sighs. “This is taking too long.”
“If I had some idea of what they were after, it would speed things along.”
He glares at me. “You tell me.”
I blink at him, and Dylan interjects for the thousandth time today. “That’s a great idea, Clay. Fiona, put yourself in the criminal’s shoes. What would they want from the system?”
I chew on my inner lip as I contemplate. “There are two options. Either proprietary information, or money.”
They share a glance, and Dylan sits on my other side. “What would they need to get either?”
I rub the crick in my neck and do a double take when I find Clay staring at my movements. He looks away, finding sudden interest in the computer screen.
“I’m a firm believer in the easiest answer to be the truest. They must have inside knowledge.”
Clay stands abruptly. “I need a break,” he grumbles and disappears.
Dylan watches him go, then meets my gaze. “I think you’re right.”
My eyes widen. “You think it’s an inside job?”
His gaze hardens a fraction. “I do. Let’s take a break. Meet back here in twenty,” he says, pulling out his phone as he leaves the room.
If that’s true, then one of my coworkers is a traitor. But who?