16. Alana
Alana
The kids and parents made it back home last night—except for Izzy and Lance who flew out to Europe a few days ago.
Everyone's happy, and the kids got a good night of sleep before Family Day at school. I’m excited to see them, but I won’t get a good breakdown of their adventures until dinner on Sunday night.
I’m re-reading Grae’s text messages from this morning. Is he cute? Does he make me feel cute too? Yeah. If we can keep this thing a secret for the rest of our lives, maybe it could work. Then a notification from my dad pops on the screen.
Dad: I’m picking out burial plots with your mother tomorrow.
I blink at the message a few times. Um… Okay…
Me: Why?
Dad: I’ve got one foot in the ground. I’m archaic, a fossil. I went food shopping today. You know why I love the grocery store?
Me: The in-store music plays all your favorite bands.
Dad: It’s the best concert around. But today, I didn’t recognize a single song until I hit the yogurt aisle… and that’s only because it was Lena’s!
Dad: I’ve aged out of the music.
Dad: Bury me under a tree.
How is my dad the most melodramatic man in my life? I’m sure there’s some deep-seated reason here that’s responsible for my attraction to Grae, but I’m not about to dive into that right now. No time for an existential crisis.
Me: Do you want me to buy the grocery store and force them to play only your favorites?
Dad: It could be my Christmas present.
Me: If you live long enough to make it to Christmas, your organs are basically dust. Love ya.
I toss my personal phone to the side and open my laptop. Focus on work. Alana has a career and people who depend on her, I can’t get sucked into Kinsley drama. I’m in the middle of purging my email when Markus knocks on my door and pokes his head in.
“You got a minute, Boss?” I’ve known him for years, saved his life in Russia and he’s been a loyal and fabulous employee. Hell, he was riding shotgun when we went to save the kids from being abducted. And I know what he wants to talk about.
“Sure. Come in, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Uri.”
He has on his suit jacket—he’s on Siren’s shift tonight so he’s got to appear professional. After he takes the seat across from me, he glances around the room and asks, “Can you do that sound proofing thing?”
Oh yeah, I’ve been waiting two years for this conversation.
“Absolutely. Cone of silence.” I push the button on my desk, and as the walls white out, I close my laptop and lean back in my chair.
“You have my full attention.” But he settles in the chair and stares at me.
Okay, I guess I’ll talk first. “Oh, how’s Uri handling his training?
Do you think he’ll be ready for field work, or should we keep him in the office? ”
“He’s still struggling with the fight or flight instinct.
” Markus pushes his glasses up his nose.
“He’s been a fighter his whole life, so it’s going to be a hard habit to break.
” I figured that would be his biggest issue.
But it’s also very common with my guys, especially if they came from law enforcement or the military.
“Will he be field ready?”
“Yes, give him two months. He’s going to tail Ricco for a few days since he doesn’t cover anyone in the music industry, that’s his weak spot.”
“Oh, I know, he’s been a Chaser forever.” Chasers are Amanda Chase super fans, and you never want to cross one of them. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
He clears his throat and glances around the room.
His focus falls on my Deviant Murder Board.
Then he shifts in his seat and drops his gaze to the 3D printed elephant on my desk.
Avoiding eye contact? Hmmm. Finally, he says in a nervous tone, “I’ve been reading the office code of conduct, and there are rules about agents having romantic relationships with clients.
But there’s nothing in there prohibiting agents from having relationships or... ”
“Yes.” I cut him off, “You should start dating Uri. My God, glaciers move faster than you two. I’ll have him switched to a different trainer by the end of the day.”
“What? No. Uri and me? Whhhhhaaaattt? That’s wild, nuts.” He rubs his neck as beads of sweat form on his hairline.
“Uh huh.” I’m getting sick of this ‘will he, won’t he’ shit.
“Well… that doesn’t make anything I’m about to say easier.” He pushed the corner of my name plate on my desk to straighten it. “The manual doesn’t mention rules about administration dating clients either.”
Hmm?
His chest rises and falls a few times, and his voice drops to a whisper, “I know things I’m not supposed to know.”
“I’d hope so, you were a spy for several years.” I lace my fingers together, so I don’t start tapping them or doing any of my tells. But my stomach is bubbling, and I’m not sure I like where this is going. “Continue.”
“Yesterday when you texted me about work, you left the geotag on. And your phone pinged in a cell tower in Iceland.”
“I wanted a cinnamon roll.” Which was true.
“Cool. That’s cool. A little lavish for a pastry, but you do you.” He swallows. “We had a client fill out a travel form this morning, also placing him in Iceland at the same time.”
Oh shit. A wave of terror starts at my back and wraps around my chest in the worst anxiety hug ever. I knew this was too soon, but I thought I had more time. I open my mouth, but he puts up his hand. “It’s not against any rules–the rules you wrote.”
“Be very clear about what you’re about to say next, Markus.”
He exhales, “I know you had a personal relationship with Phoenix in the past.”
I shift through the people who know: Lance, Thiago, Monica—then it clicks. Through gritted teeth I say, “Lena.”
“Yeah. She mentioned it to Uri when he was sent to move the VIPs back to home base a few months ago.”
I tighten my grip on my fingers, squeezing them to a painful point. Why would Lena say anything to Uri? That doesn’t make any sense. The corners of Markus’s eyes tighten, and his jaw locks. It’s not a look I see on him often, but I know it well—jealousy.
But… oh fuck. I lift my laptop lid, and the default wallpaper of a mountain range flashes on the screen.
I click on the client NDA files. Grae has been very discreet.
Three years ago, about a week before he had the Majesty attack, there’s an NDA.
I don’t want to click on the form. Uri’s my friend, and Grae is…
Grae. But my finger clicks on it anyway.
Oh, come on! What are the fucking odds. I push my laptop off to the side as I thump my forehead against the desk. Uri used his mother’s maiden name on the form, which is why our background check didn’t flag it.
“Poor Uri.” I guess this is why Uri’s been so weird around me. I thought it was because I almost died. Nope. He screwed my ex-boyfriend. I should be way more pissed about this, but clearly, I have no self-control with Grae, so how can I expect anyone else to?
“Um…huh.” Markus clears his throat, and I can imagine the look on his face.
Still talking directly into my desk I grumble, “Uri hasn’t had many relationships, and then he slept with Grae, who’s like, the Kobe beef of men. Most guys are like three-day-old Micky D’s left in the backseat of a minivan.”
“This didn’t go the way I expected.”
I lift my skull from my desk to see Markus’s frown. “The fact that I didn’t kill you with a stapler, or my reaction to Uri and Grae? Or that I am saying openly that you should be with Uri instead, but now you have to live with the knowledge that you’ll never be as good as his first lover?”
“Yeah, all of that.”
“I’m kinda surprised myself.” I roll my head onto my arm and look to the side. “Threats won’t work on you, and loyalty goes a long way with me.” He sat on this information for months and only came to me because he thought it could eventually be a problem.
Markus sits quietly like the white noise of the sound proofing. When he gathers his thoughts he says, “I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around this. Not that you’re with Grae, but why haven’t you been with him since the beginning? Why did you two break up?”
Trillion-dollar question.
“I don’t know. I will not be taking follow up questions on that topic.”
“Was this always the plan when you wrote the office code of conduct?”
I’m slightly offended, but after all, I am a mastermind. Weaving webs and connections and moving people in the exact positions I need them to be is sort of my thing. Writing a manual that created a loophole to reconnect with an ex is something I would do… for someone else.
“No,” I say with the certainty and authority I’ve spent the last decade building.
“Good.” He nods a few times. “Because it would be hella shady if you did.” Markus pushes himself out of the chair. “I assume you aren’t ready to tell people yet and deal with that fall out?”
My shoulders stiffen as my chin juts out like a snooty old lady.
“There’s no reason to tell anyone. He only has ten more days left on his trial, and if this is the shit I’ll have to put up with, I'm not subscribing to his service.” I’m annoyed that potentially it’s going to be an issue.
But at least it’s only Mastodon who knows.
If the outside world found out, Grae would be in danger. And I can’t let that happen.
“Out of everything you said, that's the only thing I don’t believe.” Markus opens the door, and the sound proofing vanishes. He knocks on the doorframe and adds with a smirk, “When you’re ready, I want to hear every detail.”
We would need a case of wine for me to tell that whole story.
I huff a little, “Thanks buddy.” But as soon as I said it, he freezes then reboots and walks away. It’s Markus. He’s loyal, and Grae’s safe. That’s what matters. I repeat that to myself until semantic satiation occurs, and the words themselves are a jumble of letters and sounds.