The Agent
Getting out of that game room was like coming up for air after being held underwater.
His stare alone always held me in an iron grip, but paired with the cold mouth of a gun against my temple? That was a different kind of chokehold
I should’ve never let him pull me in there. I should’ve made a scene the moment he approached me at the bar and tagged in Gabriel to help restrain and cuff this guy.
But, for some stupid reason, I didn’t want anyone else intruding on us. I was becoming too familiar with the ticklish trembles the sound of his voice sent down my back and the thumping of my heart in my ears when his body heat clashed with mine. Part of me was even beginning to like it.
Which is absurd considering his long-term goal was to rinse his hands in my blood.
Sure, I had his attention, but I’d never have his affection.
Reaching the end of the hall, I was thrown back into the moderate crowds of the casino. Their chatter and the music playing through the speakers pulled me out of my flight mode.
My eyes scanned over the crowd, searching for Gabriel’s head of curly hair. I spotted him near one of the slots. He was sitting on the stool with his hand on the knob, but his eyes everywhere but the screen. Our gazes met from across the room, and he immediately abandoned the game.
I weaved through the people wandering around the room towards him.
He met me halfway, grabbing me in a tight embrace. “Jesus Christ, Simone,” he whispered into my hair. “Where the fuck did you go?”
“I… He… We…” I hadn’t realized how uneven my breathing had gotten. My chest bobbed up and down, catching air but not able to maintain it.
Gabriel’s brows stitched together in worry. Placing his hands on either side of my head, he said, “Look at me, look at me. Breathe. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”
I stared into his brown eyes, the warm color and the familiarity in his voice slowly bringing me back down to the ground.
“Let’s get you some water.” Keeping a tight hold on my arms, Gabriel led me back towards the bar. He ordered ice water and commanded me to take slow sips.
I obeyed, allowing the cold water to ease the cramps in my throat.
“What happened?” Gabriel asked once I’d calmed down a bit.
“He was here,” I murmured. “We…we played Russian Roulette.”
“What? Why would you do that? Did he force you?”
“No.”
“You could’ve died!”
“I know.”
“You know or you don’t care? Because I’ve never known you to act so recklessly.”
“I know it was stupid, but I… I just…” There wasn’t a reasonable explanation for my actions. We both knew that. But, I couldn’t say the truth aloud. If Gabriel knew about the rush, the thrill, I felt in this dangerous stranger's presence, he was dragging me straight to a shrink.
“This case is getting to your head. Maybe it’s best if you drop it.”
“But, I can’t! If I do, he’s just going to continue murdering other people!”
“I’d rather that than watch him kill you.”
Unless we catch him, he’s going to do that, anyway, I thought, but didn’t say aloud.
Gabriel sighed at the frustration on my face. He set his hand on my forearm and gave a soft squeeze. “Look, Simone, I understand you want to save the world, but we’re not superheroes; we can’t stop every villain in the world.”
I lowered my gaze. “Yeah, but it’d be really nice if we could.”
He put his finger on my chin and brought my eyes back up to meet his. “Promise me you’ll drop whatever obsession you have over this guy. For your own sake.”
“I will,” I murmured. I hated lying straight to Gabriel’s face, but I had no other choice.
This situation wasn’t something I could just throw in the trash and forget. Especially not after I’d crossed his boundaries. My “secret admirer” was coming back for me. I just didn’t know when.
And for the time being, I did my best not to worry about it.
After the weekend trip, Logan threw us a new case and Isabelle was blowing up my phone with more wedding talk and dress preparations for her father’s company’s annual charity gala.
Between working and spending time with her, the only time I had reserved for him was at night.
The shadows of my dreams have become his new favorite place to hide.
I barely got any sleep with the echo of his voice in my head.
By the end of the week, I was damn near burnt out. My body ran on caffeine, and my mind hadn’t slowed down since the Russian Roulette game.
I needed air. Silence.
On Saturday morning, I decided to go to one of the few places I was able to find peace.
I stopped at the local florist shop to buy some flowers before driving to the cemetery. My sneakers crunched against the dying grass as I hiked up the hill towards my father’s gravestone.
“Hey, dad,” I greeted as I approached it.
A transparent vision of him appeared at the sound of my voice. Not a day older than the last time I saw him, he smiled up at me and patted the space beside him.
I knew he wasn’t really there. Just a figment of my imagination; something my brain conjured to cope with the grief. But that never stopped me from sitting beside him. I curled my legs up to my chest and laid my chin on my knees. The cool air kissed my cheeks as I stared up at the gray, cloudy sky.
What’s wrong, baby girl? My father’s voice whispered in the wind. Talk to me.
I told him everything. Covering for that stupid assignment. Witnessing Lorenzo’s murder. Getting caught in the crosshairs of the assassin behind his death. Struggling with the thin line between hating and enjoying the deadly games we were playing.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted once the story was through. “I know I need to catch him, but I don’t know how. I mean, what would you do?”
The soft howl of the wind replied, but there was no advice within it. None that I could comprehend, anyway.
God, I wished my dad was still here. He’d know what to do. In all his years of work in law enforcement, he must’ve dealt with something like this at some point.
Wait a minute…
His work notes. I still had all of them.
My mother wanted to throw them away after he died.
She hated that he hoarded them in the first place and couldn’t wait to finally get rid of them.
But I pleaded until I was black and blue in the face to keep them.
It was one of the few mementos I had left of his voice. There was no way I was letting them go.
I kissed my hand and pressed my palm against his headstone. “Thanks for listening, dad,” I told him. “I’ll visit again soon.”
I hurried back home and climbed up into the attic where I kept his things. All it took was one look at the mountain of boxes containing all of his notebooks for my hope to deflate. The only saving grace was that they were marked with ranges of years. I just didn’t know where to start.
My eyes landed on the box marked with the last year of his career.
I’ve always wanted to look through it, but never could.
With the others, it was easy to imagine my dad alive and in his prime.
But with these, it was documentation of the last few months he spent alive.
They’ll be the most painful to read, but could be the most important.
Sighing, I lifted the box up and hauled it into my study. I flipped through notebooks, nicely labeled with each case number and year, until I reached his final one.
I bought it downstairs, made myself a cup of tea, and settled into my lounge chair. Once I was comfortable, I flipped open the first page and started the story of the last criminal he ever chased.