Chapter Eleven
TRISSA
M y eyes flicked open as the rumble of an engine filtered through my subconscious. I rubbed at them, hating with each swipe how it felt like sand was trapped beneath my lids.
Where am I?
This wasn’t my bed.
Reality crashed in as I remembered.
Killian’s yacht.
The party. The drugs.
The memories of tonight flooded my mind, each one arriving with a stab of disappointment, leaving my heart wounded and making me wish I’d never come aboard. I’d been pissed when Killian left me behind and expected Max to take me home, but what I’d seen here tonight was much worse.
I laid there listening to the boat docking and the music dying down. When the engine cut out, I assumed guests were exiting the boat. Indecision kept me on the bed for longer than I wanted. If I didn’t wish for Killian to know I was here, I had to slip out with the crowd.
It was now or never. Time wasn’t on my side if I wanted to leave without being caught.
The second I moved off the bed, someone rattled the doorknob. I’d at least had the foresight to lock it.
Thank God for small miracles.
Before I could react, the door cracked and splintered open as a loud thump sounded on the light wood.
A weird, garbled squeak escaped my mouth. I quickly covered it, and my teeth clenched to stop any other sounds from escaping me.
I had to hide.
Quickly.
No one kicked in a door for no reason.
Fuck.
What was happening?
I dove to the far side of the bed and onto the floor, cursing that I couldn’t crawl under it. Although, in every freaking horror movie, the person that hid under the bed always got killed.
Why didn’t my brain work faster to find a better spot?
My heart hammered against my ribs so loud I was sure whoever was out there could hear it. Sweat dampened my forehead and slicked my palms. I wiped them on my jeans, trying to calm my ragged breathing.
How the fuck was I supposed to get out of here?
Before I could make a move, heavy footsteps pounded into the room.
I had nowhere else to go.
Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me.
The mantra repeated in my head, a desperate prayer to whatever higher power might be listening. Each thud of the boots on the floor sent jolts of terror through me.
A large man in a black outfit appeared above me and pointed his gun at my face. “Hands where I can see them.”
Curled up on the floor frozen, one part of my brain told me to comply, but the other had deep dived to where only fear remained, and I couldn’t move. My muscles locked up, refusing to obey the screaming command from my brain.
This is it. This is how I die.
Regret filled me. Regret for waiting so long to tell Peter how I felt and for letting Killian stay away for the last ten years. Regret for all the words left unsaid, all the chances not taken.
“Ma’am hands in the air where I can see them. Now.” That last sharp word propelled me into action and I raised my trembling hands. “Stand slowly.”
“Okay,” I squeaked, not even sure he could hear me. My voice sounded foreign; small and scared.
“Keep your hands up,” he barked, his gun still leveled on me when they dipped.
It took me a few seconds to figure out how to stand without using my hands to push myself off the floor. In a far-off place in my brain, all I could think of was how ridiculous I must look, awkwardly rolling on the floor. Eventually, I landed on my knees and pressed my shaky legs upright, praying they stayed put. He had to know I wasn’t a threat.
The man in black approached while the two others fanned out on either side of him. One moved forward to yank my hands behind my back, and, before I could shift, heavy duty zip ties were applied to my wrists. The bite of the plastic against my skin suddenly made this nightmare terrifyingly real.
I blinked owlishly at them, my mind struggling to process what was happening. This couldn’t be real. Any moment now, I’d wake up, safe in my bed, far away from Killian and this mess.
As the man pushed me along and out of the room, it occurred to me that Peter might not be the reason Jareth fired me. When he found out I’d been arrested, there was no way he’d retain me, regardless of our discussion in his office.
Now that my fear receded, the tiniest bit of sound came back to me. Voices yelling along the hall, asking if they’d found something. The crackling from the radio attached to the man escorting me off the boat.
A dark bag was placed over my head, and in that moment I knew these men were not the police.
My blood ran cold in my veins, and the disappointment I’d felt for Killian turned to disgust. He wasn’t just a user. The truth hit me and I stumbled. How full circle his life had become as he followed in his father’s addiction footsteps.
And now I was going to die because he screwed up.
It all happened so fast. In a blur, I was off the boat and inside an SUV. Surreal. Like my body was there, but my mind watched it all happening. At least they removed the bag from my head once we were in the vehicle. The city lights winked at me in the distance through the heavily tinted windows. In my numbed state I realized there were no flashing red and blue reflecting off nearby walls and windows. I must not be in a cop car.
I rested my forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window. A wry laugh escaped my dry throat. My gaze swept the street, and the dock in the distance. No cameras or reporters, but that didn’t mean anything. Often, they were hidden.
Who were they and where were they bringing me? Where was Killian? Was I being kidnapped? Why?
Today really sucked.
I was surprised when we pulled into the local police station and they cut the zip ties. I was sure it had been bad guys that abducted me. With a heavy hand, one of the men yanked me out of the car and pushed me toward the entrance. I was taken inside without a word spoken. It was unnerving and creepy.
I opened my mouth then snapped it shut. Each time I wanted to talk to fill the void, I held my tongue. I had no idea what I was going to be charged with. I hadn’t been in possession of drugs or taken any during the party, but clearly, I’d been caught on a boat that had an unknown quantity of drugs.
What if they used my nervous ramblings against me?
I’d expected there to be more people crowding the lobby as the man in charge pushed me through to the back. Or that some kind of paperwork would need to be filled out. My mind raced with possibilities, one more awful than the next.
If there was no record of me arriving at the station, did that mean they could do whatever they wanted to me and no one would know? Would they send me to one of those underground locations thinking they could torture me for information?
What if they just made me disappear?
With each new thought, the chill that had started in my extremities engulfed every inch of skin. My teeth clacked loudly with uncontrollable shivers. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms to warm them, but the attempt was useless.
The man who’d pointed the gun at me opened a door off a long corridor and motioned me to enter. “You can take a seat. Someone will be right with you.”
I had no idea where my purse was, but they hadn’t taken my jewelry or searched me. Didn’t they do that first when they booked you? I also didn’t remember getting my Miranda warning. Now I wish I’d paid more attention to the crime shows I watched.
A tiny whimper escaped my mouth. I was a pumpkin spice latte, fluffy mattress, fuzzy slippers, mani-pedi kind of girl. I wouldn’t survive in prison.
The door opened again, and Killian was shoved inside. His back was to me, but I’d recognize that lean, muscular build anywhere, as well as the tattoo that peeked out from his shirt collar, now visible with his hair pulled up into a man bun.
Killian. My heart lurched. Half of me wanted to run to him for comfort, the other half wanted to strangle him.
“Fuck you, asshole,” he shouted and rubbed at his wrists.
I must’ve made a noise because he whipped around. He took a step forward and stopped short when he realized it was me. His face paled and he looked back at what I assumed was a two-way mirror. “Tink,” he whispered. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I was on the yacht,” I said, my voice sounding far more normal than I expected.
His eyes widened. “No, Max was supposed to?—”
“I jumped out the car, ran off, and snuck on board.” I fought the urge to take his neck in my hands and squeeze his throat, demanding an explanation. I still couldn’t get past the fact that he had allowed himself to get caught up in this. He was better than what he let his life become.
“I’m going to fucking kill him. He’s fired,” Killian growled.
“It wasn’t his fault.” Anger surged in my veins. The numbness and chill finally wearing off. “I can’t believe you. You… you… ” I stood, my finger jabbing the air, pointing at him. “Drugs!” I sputtered. “How could you?”
How could you become everything you hated? I wanted to hurl those words at him, but my emotions were on overload, and the words stuck in my throat.
“Tink, I?—”
“Don’t Tink me.” If I could have breathed fire, he would have been charred ash on the ground. “After everything you went through growing up. Why would you do this?”
He stood there and crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”
I wanted to scream, say something else. Anything. Give me a reason to believe in you again.
“That’s all you have to say?” The tiniest thread of hope I held that this was a mistake crumbled.
He shrugged. His shoulders were tight. His body impenetrable. His eyes cold, with tiny licks of flames appearing. He opened his mouth a few times, but shut it just as quickly.
Clearly, I didn’t deserve an explanation.
“I hate you, Killian,” I hissed at him. “And when I die in prison, I’ll find a way to haunt your sorry ass.”
He pressed his lips together into a tight line, but not before I saw the smirk he tried to hide.
“You think this is funny?” I was across the tiny room in seconds, my fists beating against his chest. It was ineffective in hurting him, but it made me feel slightly better. “This. Is. Not. Funny.” I punctuated each word with a pounding.
He didn’t even flinch, which only made me want to hurt him further.
The door swung open, and a familiar face appeared.
“Judd?!” My breath whooshed out of me. What was our foster brother doing here?
He gave me a wry smile. “Tris. It’s good to see you, even under these circumstances. It’s been too long.”
Over a decade. “Are you a cop?” I stumbled back a few steps until my knees hit a chair, and I thunked down onto the uncomfortable metal.
“In some capacity.” He clapped Killian on the back. “You did well tonight, brother.”
I hissed out a breath. “Oh. My. God. Are you a dirty cop?” I whispered, even though he wasn’t quiet about his statement and clearly didn’t care who heard.
I was surrounded by criminals.
My eyes scanned the room to find the camera that was always visible in most of the crime shows.
“Killian, I think you should take a seat,” Judd suggested.
Killian shrugged and moved closer to me.
I held out my hand. “No, I don’t want him anywhere near me.”
Killian’s shoulders tensed further, but he stopped. “I’ll stay here if you don’t mind, Judd.”
Judd sat across from me. “You’re going to be okay, Tris. We need to talk about what happened tonight.”
“Is that a two-way mirror? Are we being recorded? Am I on video? I don’t want to go to jail. And just so you know, I’m so not covering for your sorry asses.” I crossed my arms over my chest. The second the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to groan. My stupid temper that had been absent for years had chosen this moment to unleash itself. I hated that after all this time, the reappearance of Killian seemed to fire it back up.
If Killian and Judd were in on this together, they didn’t have to put me in jail. They could probably find a way to kill me and leave no evidence.
The fight in me quickly dissipated. I slumped in my seat, doing my best to control the panicked pants that were making it hard to breathe. “Are you going to get rid of me … so that I … I can’t tell … anyone that you’re both … you’re both … in on this?”
Judd’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, Tris. You’ve always had a great imagination, but we won’t hurt you, never mind kill you. I can’t believe you’d think that of me.”
“What the hell, Tink?” Hurt flashed for a split second in Killian’s eyes before he hid it. The skin around his mouth tightened. “If it had been Peter?—”
I cut him off. “What am I supposed to think?” Everything felt weird. Their words. Their expressions. Their actions.
Killian rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I’m working with Judd, but not how you think I am.”
Judd rested his hands on the table.
I shifted away.
His keen eyes noticed, and he placed his hands in his lap. “I work for the DEA. Killian agreed to help us and use his connections to infiltrate various drug rings around the state or those trying to enter it.”
“What?” I breathed out the word, struggling to comprehend this weird twist. “But I saw you … ” I accused Killian. I didn’t want to say what I’d seen in case we were being recorded.
His nostrils flared. “I need to make it look good, Tris. Otherwise, how would they believe I live the lifestyle?”
Judd explained. “There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else on board besides Killian when our team swept the boat after it docked. We thought we’d given enough time for everyone to exit. You were a snag we didn’t expect.”
Killian braced his palms on the table leaning in toward Judd. “What the fuck happened tonight? You were supposed to monitor us, and track them. Not blow this out of the water with our first major deal.”
Judd let out a defeated sigh. “I tried to call you. You didn’t answer. Someone fucked up. By the time I realized what was happening, I couldn’t stop them.”
“Couldn’t stop them?” Killian straightened and swept his arm toward me. “She could’ve gotten hurt tonight. Or worse.”
The warm sensation I felt when I saw the anguish in his eyes quickly evaporated when he turned his fury on me. “What the hell were you thinking, Tris?” he growled. “I told you this party wasn’t for you.”
I rubbed my hands over my arms as another chill swept my body. He was right. I never should’ve been there, but I wasn’t entirely sorry I had been. Killian’s life was smoke and mirrors and I was finally getting a glimpse at what lay beyond them.
The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words and years of history. I looked at Killian; really looked at him. The tension in his jaw, the worry lines around his eyes, the fear that hadn’t been there before.
What had this undercover work cost him?
Judd cleared his throat. “We need to debrief and figure out how to handle this complication.”
I bristled at being called a ‘complication,’ but the fight had drained out of me. “What happens now?” I asked, my voice small.
Killian’s eyes softened for a moment. “We’ll keep you safe, Tink. That’s what happens now. You get to walk away from this, and no one needs to know you were there.”
Safe? From what? The drug dealers?
Or from him?
As Judd started explaining the next steps, I couldn’t help but wonder how I’d gone from wanting Killian to be my love coach to being caught up in a dangerous undercover operation.
My animosity at Killian warred with the relief of knowing he wasn’t involved in dealing drugs. But that relief was quickly overshadowed by a new fear. If he was undercover, that meant he was in danger. The thought of losing him just when he’d come back into my life sent a fresh wave of panic through me.
The night wasn’t nearly over, yet I felt things were about to become much more complicated. As Judd continued talking, my gaze was drawn to Killian. Our eyes met, and for a brief second, I saw a flicker of the boy I used to know. It was enough to make my heart skip a beat, even as my mind warned me to be cautious.
I was in way over my head, caught between my past and present, between anger and love.
And I had no idea how to find my way out.