42. Olivia
Olivia
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” JJ hisses across from me at the study table in our private room.
“You’re going to the fights? As yourself?
A woman? Do you want to draw attention to yourself?
Do you want the wrong people to find out you’re still here?
” JJ asks with irritation, trying to snatch the ID back from me.
Rude. I get his frustrations. I really do. But I have something that I need to get back, and he can’t know anything about it.
I frown. “Hey! I have to go to it!” For reasons he won’t find out. “And I can’t go as Oli, or Mack will murder me in the damn ring. And do you want that on his conscience? Or yours?” I cock a brow, driving my point home.
JJ narrows his eyes at me. “That’s not playing fair.
Of course, he’d hate himself if he set you up again.
He’s already going to lose his shit that he did it the first time,” JJ sighs, slumping in his seat.
“But this? Do you have to? You’re going to kill me,” he groans dramatically.
“You’re seriously going to give me a damn aneurysm, and I’ll be in a grave next to your empty one! ”
Ouch. Right. My empty grave. Poor guy. This must be eating him alive to keep my secret so close to his chest.
I shrug. “You’re being dramatic,” I deadpan with a huff. “Just go with it. And don’t try to take this back. I need it.” This time, I pull out all the stops and bat my eyelashes and pout my lips. He can’t resist me when I do this.
“Stop that,” he grumbles, waving a hand.
“So, you’re going to what? Waltz into the fight all alone as Claire?
” He tilts his head, realization sparking through his brown eyes.
He curses under his breath. “No, you’re not, are you?
Simon knows what you’re hiding under there.
” He shakes his head. “Fuck. It’s a bad idea, Spitfire,” he says in a low voice, leaning over the table.
“An epicly bad idea. No way I can talk you out of it?”
“Nope,” I say, tucking my newest ID into my pocket before he can confiscate it from me. “I’m going. That’s that.”
“Stubborn-ass woman,” he growls. “You’re going to get yourself hurt or killed. Again.” He tosses his hands in the air. “Are you ever going to tell me why you’re…” He gestures to my Oliver mask, pleading with me to confide in him.
I eye him wearily. Should I spit it out? “Oh, hey. I’m a secret agent!” I think not. One day, I’ll tell him why I’m here. One day, when I’m sure they’re innocent of the crime, my mind vividly remembers.
“One day,” I whisper with a nod. “And I’ll be fine, I promise. I’m a big girl. I’m tougher now. I can handle this.” I’ve done this before. Successfully, might I add.
This is the only damn case that’s thrown me for a loop in my years in the field.
He doesn’t have to know I need my damn glasses back from Malic before it’s reported to Jonathan, who somehow hasn’t found out yet.
Somehow, Dave has kept his mouth shut. He’ll kill me if he discovers I’ve messed this case up even more than it already is.
Or he’ll call me a damn failure. Which I am, by the way.
An epic fucking failure at this case. I haven’t gotten very far, and I’ve been found out.
But you know what? I’m getting closer and closer to my truth, shattering the lies everyone has told me for years. The lies surrounding the fire and who did this to me.
And that’s all I’m after at this point. The truth. I ache to see it before my eyes. Because who wants to live life thinking the three men they loved the most actually killed them? I don’t. I don’t want to hold onto this rage and pain. It twists into something I don’t want to be.
“Fine,” JJ grits out, opening his laptop with a huff. “But I’ll be there to keep my eyes on you. At the first sign of trouble, I’m escorting you out of the damn fight, whether you like it or not,” he growls confidently. Like I’d actually let him do that to me.
“Is that a threat?” I raise a brow.
“No. It’s a fucking promise. I won’t let anyone fucking touch you at the fights,” he says, blowing out a breath.
“It’s hard, Spitfire,” he whispers, running a hand down his face.
“It’s so hard watching you here and not being able to step in and protect you from whatever dangers there are.
Or sleeping next to you again. Or telling Hux and Mack that you’re here and they can stop grieving now. ”
A lot. There’s a shit ton of dangers lurking on this campus. Only, they’re mostly invisible.
“I can handle myself, trust me on that,” I say, leaning forward and staring directly into his eyes. “I’ve trained for situations like this.” Not that I’m going to dive into the details of that.
He shakes his head, dragging his laptop in front of him with a sigh.
“I’m trying so hard to take your word on that,” he grumbles.
“Here, these are the files I told you about.” He slides a small memory stick in my direction.
I place my hand on top of it, and he places his on mine.
“This is everything, okay? Do whatever you need to do to prove that it’s all real,” he says softly, squeezing my fingers.
“But I promise that we didn’t do this to you.
” Tears swim in his eyes again until he squeezes them shut and a shuddering breath runs through him. “I swear, Olivia.”
“Thanks,” I say, clearing my throat and darting my hand out from under his.
I quickly put the memory stick into my pocket and remind myself to text Carter later so I can send it to him for reassurance.
He’ll know if anything has been doctored.
“I’ll look into it, okay?” That’s all I can give him right now.
I can’t let him know I’m crumbling on the inside. That everything is closing in on me and that I can’t tell up from down anymore. That’s all I want to do is dive headfirst into a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and drown out the fucking world because I’m so close to the truth, my chest hurts.
You want this. You want the truth. And the thing about the truth? It fucking hurts sometimes.
With JJ’s interaction still on my mind the next day, I sigh as Simon gawks at me for the millionth time since I told him my genius plan.
“So you’re going to go into the fight as Claire?” Simon asks again for the second time since he parked his fancy car in the parking lot of the large mall on the other side of town while staring at my newest fake ID.
He’s given me an unconvinced look every time he says the name Claire.
Like, he couldn’t believe I was throwing Oli to the side for a night and becoming my other alter ego.
I get it. It’s probably odd to have a roommate named Oli who moonlights as Claire sometimes and changes the style of their clothes.
The cool air conditioning blows on our faces as we sit back in our seats, listening to the end of a song that Simon couldn’t bear to get out of the car before it ended. “Burning Down” by Alex Warren blares through the speakers, sending goosebumps down my spine.
How ironic.
This song hits way too close to home for me. And Simon? He’s singing the lyrics at the top of his lungs like he’s lived through them time and time again. And me? Well, I’m inhaling the words as they rush through my ears and letting them settle on my brain.
“Yeah,” I clear my throat. “I’ll be Claire for the night.” I offer him a weak smile, unable to truly explain myself to him.
“Cool,” he offers back with a grin, swaying to the music blasting through the speakers louder than before. “God, I love this song. It speaks to me, you know?” His eyes squeeze shut as his hand rests on his chest.
Am I completely convinced this plan will work out for me?
Absolutely not. In fact, I’m sure it’ll go tits up like every other fucking thing I’ve done on this campus.
It’s only been a few weeks, and I haven’t gotten any closer to the actual case I’m supposed to be investigating.
Everything has gone off the rails for me.
But I’m trying my fucking best, okay? And my best is all I can do in these circumstances.
Even if I am recognizable tonight as I parade around as Claire with a fake ID, girls’ clothes, and makeup on my face, I’ll get this done.
I need my damn glasses back. Just last night, I received a message from Dave, the stupid IT guy from Veritas, that my glasses weren’t uploading anymore and he needed me to reset them.
Immediately. I told him I’d do it once they were charged, so I know I can’t stall anymore.
I have to get this done.
Or I’m fucking toast.
So, Operation: Seduce Malic Into Bed With Me So I Can Snoop In His Room begins tonight when the fights commence.
Dangerous territory? Abso-fucking-lutely.
Necessary to keep myself safe from my uncle’s wrath?
Yes. Because I have no doubt that if he finds out I fucked up again, he’ll have a severe punishment waiting for me that doesn’t include extracting me from Greenwood and this case.
Nope. He wants me to suffer right where I am.
Simon waves a hand. “I like your style, Oli,” he chuckles, handing me my fake ID back. “Claire, I mean.” He grins more. “Is that who you are right now?” He points to the clothes I’m wearing.
For the first time in months, I was able to walk out of my dorm in my normal clothes.
My clothes. No one spared me a second glance as I walked beside Simon in tight jeans, a graphic T-shirt, and tennis shoes.
And a bra! I never thought I’d be so damn excited to wear one of those again.
I mean, they strangle my tits uncomfortably.
But I’d take my bra over the binders, right now.
So, thank you, Jordy, for your contributions to my sanity.
For once, he was helpful. But I won’t tell him that.
Ever. He’ll never let me live it down. That boy’s ego is enormous.