Chapter 2
Morning for me comes too quickly, leaving me unrested and hungover. Way too hungover. I swear a small band plays inside my brain with booming bass and screaming lyrics.
Fuck.
The downside is, I tossed and turned, wanting to puke my brains out the moment the sun rose and peeked through the windows.
And the worst part? I'm aching to do it all over again when I realized what city I woke up in.
Greenwood.
So much for a good start to the day. But what else do I have to do?
Jonathan is going to hole me up in this hotel room until we hopefully leave on Sunday and I learn my fate.
Dread sits heavy in my stomach at the prospect.
What will my uncle have me do? I have an inkling, but I don’t want to believe it. Not yet, at least.
"Good morning, Sunshine," Jonathan quips when I zombie walk out of my bedroom and slump at the small, round table near the kitchenette. “Or should I say, good afternoon?” He smirks, checking his black wristwatch and chuckling at the time.
Two P.M.
Whatever. I needed the rest. Despite my shitty sleeping situation.
I wave a hand. "There's nothing good about this morning or afternoon," I groan, rubbing my temples, willing my damn hangover to go away.
I need fucking coffee inserted straight into my veins before I can even think about our discussion.
"How about some coffee while we wait for room service to drop off the French toast and eggs I ordered you?" It's like he read my mind. Of course, he’s my uncle. My family.
Jonathan wasn’t around much when I was a kid.
I have vague memories of him visiting my dad, playing poker with the other Viotto brothers, and drinking into the night.
Something changed, though. Maybe it was when Jonathan got into the military, trained, and was forced overseas for an extended period of time.
It must have changed him and his mentality.
When he came back around, he was a completely different person.
More rigid. Calculating. No longer the carefree, youngest Viotto son.
After his stint in the military, he was assigned Veritas—a secret agency—and was outcast from the Viotto family forever. A man in a government agency wasn’t welcome in the criminal underworld of California. They all turned their backs on their brother, keeping him out of their businesses.
So, he did the same and stopped attempting to speak with them.
Well, until he came and saved me. My question has always been, why, though?
Why save me? I was a part of that world my entire life.
Of course, not by choice. I was forced into it.
But then Jonathan stepped in, helping me recover and treating me like the daughter he never had.
Unlike my own father, who split the moment trouble was on the horizon.
I guess he learned his lesson after attempting to overthrow some of his brothers and take their territory.
After that incident, he was cast from the family and came to Franco to work by his side.
And then? Well, I haven’t seen or heard from him in over five years.
Good riddance. I hope I never have to lay eyes on him ever again.
I peek an eye open the moment Jonathan sets down my coffee cup in front of me, and the smell of Southern Pecan Coffee hits my nostrils. It's heaven in a cup. Also, very suspicious.
He’s never this nice in the morning. Or ever, really. He's buttering me up for the slaughter.
"You're being awfully suspect. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to butter me up for the big case reveal." I narrow my eyes, zoning in on him as he casually refuses to look me in the eyes.
He doesn't say another word; instead, he ventures back to the coffee pot and makes another cup for himself before sitting down across from me.
"Now, why would I need to butter you up?" he asks, arching a brow.
"Because you know being back here is a goddamn nightmare," I grumble, sipping my coffee before I chew him out.
The moment the sweet pecan hits my taste buds, I sigh with satisfaction.
God, it tastes just like the pecan pie my mama used to make.
"Besides, you never buy me my favorite coffee. You said it tastes like ass."
He scrunches his nose, putting his cup on the table.
"It's not awful," he grumbles, getting to his feet as a knock sounds at the door and our food is wheeled in on a fancy cart with covered dishes.
"Thanks," Jonathan says, slipping the girl twenty bucks, and she retreats.
"Now, let's eat, and then once you're human again, we can talk. "
We quickly and quietly eat our breakfast at the table.
My mind goes in circles on what he's about to say.
He's not usually this cryptic about the details.
Never worried about telling me the truth.
Right now? He's avoiding it at every turn.
Delicious breakfast? Check. My favorite coffee he never drinks? Check. What's next?
This could be something small or something so big, it sets off my career. I've always been a dutiful soldier, investigating every case they put me on with enthusiasm.
Well, mostly.
“You're going to East Point Prep as an undercover student. We've been tracking murders, and it's coming from inside the school. Cult-like activities are happening. Live streams on the Internet. We're having a hard time tracking them. They're sophisticated,” Jonathan, AKA Agent Zero, demands of me.
There's no asking me if I'm ready for my first mission out in the field. I've been training through my entire recovery. Faster. Stronger. Smarter.
“Yes, Agent Zero,” I say, lifting my chin.
“Here's your assignment paperwork. It will have an outline of what's expected of you. Your cover name. Your wardrobe. Names of everyone we need you to get close to. And finally, your list of suspects.”
I nod, flipping through notes. “Espie?” I question, swallowing hard. “You want me…”
“Your mother would be honored if you used her name.” He gives me a stern look, folding his arms.
But I see the affection in his gaze. He always loved my mom, even though she married his idiot brother on her own accord. For the most part, Viotto’s take arranged marriages. But not Raphael Viotto. Nope.
“It's a way for you to be close to your past and a name you know. Later in your career, we'll give you challenging identities.”
“So, I'll be back in high school?” I wrinkle my nose at the thought. The last time I was in high school was with them. They protected me from everyone in Greenwood.
My first case in the field was solid. A bit of a shit show in some areas, but I made good strides toward my overall goals as an agent. From that point, I was in the field for months at a time, going from one job to the next. There was no stopping me.
Well, until...
I cringe, thinking about my last disaster of a case.
"Liv?" Jonathan questions, putting his plate back on the cart with a worried expression.
I shake those thoughts from my head. "I'm fine." My new mantra to get through life.
How ya doin, Liv? I'm fine. How's it hanging, Liv? I'm fine and fucking dandy. All day. Everyday. Forever.
At least, I can pretend.
"How many little bottles did you manage to consume last night?" he asks, sitting and sipping his coffee again, giving me a judgmental glare.
Prick.
Is it frowned upon to injure your superior for daring to speak and ask questions so early in the morning? Yeah, probably. Plus, I’d be down an uncle and friend. I don’t have many of those lately. Well, Jordy. But he’s a completely different story.
My uncle may not be my full-blooded family, but he’s been there for me when no one else has.
Hello, six other Viotto uncles who I haven’t seen in over seven years.
They didn’t even come to my funeral. Maybe because we were ousted like my father.
Even though we didn’t turn our backs on the family.
Whatever. Jonathan has been nothing like his brothers, and I’m thankful for that.
"Just a few," I say, shoving the last piece of French toast into my mouth without telling him it was about ten. "Now, can we talk about the case?"
"Is the curiosity killing you yet?" Yes, yes, it is. I'm more curious about what I'm about to face than anything ever in my life.
"Maybe." I shrug, drinking the rest of my coffee, and setting the empty cup on the table.
Finally, the caffeine spikes through my veins, and my hangover slightly lessens. Only slightly, though. It still bangs around in my skull, making bed seem more and more appealing. I wonder what my uncle would do if I stayed in bed all day to recover?
"Are you feeling more human now?" Jonathan asks, eyeing me cautiously.
No. I’m definitely not. But fake it til you make it and all that jazz.
"Definitely less zombie-like now.” Anticipation runs through me when he nods and reaches for what I can only hope is my newest case. If I don't find out soon, I’m going to claw his damn eyes out. On second thought, I might need more damn caffeine for this.
Jonathan nods and retrieves his laptop and a manila envelope from beneath the table and sets them in front of him.
“Greenwood has had some massive changes over the past five years since you've been gone.
Franco has expanded his empire into a multitude of casinos, amassing a net worth of over thirty million dollars.
" He slides the folder to me. "These papers contain your undercover ID. "
I swallow hard when he doesn't let the paper go. "What exactly aren't you telling me?"
"Four years ago, Franco and a couple stakeholders heavily invested in Greenwood University. So much so that he's now on the board of trustees.”
I tense. "Okay... Why did he do that? I'm assuming there's a reason he would invest in something so… normal."
"Strange, right? Why would a gang leader invest in education and become a vital part of running it?”
I swallow hard, sitting on the edge of my seat. Where is he going with this?
"Why?"