Chapter 5
Zayne
I don't have the same sense of purpose I usually do after leaving the meeting.
It's not that everyone wasn't welcoming, well, maybe except for that Nyx guy. He seems like the type that would slit your throat just to see if your blood looks different in the moonlight.
I'm just feeling a little off and can't pinpoint the reason.
Well, that isn't true. I know Frankie has everything to do with why I can't seem to get my mind in the right place for this new job.
I don't know what I was expecting, but I also didn't think that far past me walking into the house and seeing his surprised face at my presence.
I didn't take a minute to consider the fallout from joining Cerberus.
It's stupid of me, really, the idea that I could show up, turn around the next day, and get to work on the same team as him without it affecting me in any way.
My shower doesn't rejuvenate me the way it normally does, and by the time I towel off and get dressed, I'm once again thinking that maybe putting myself in front of that man just to get this reaction was possibly the dumbest thing I could've done.
My work is important to me on a visceral level, and now I'm hating my choices because of what they could mean for my work. My life and his will literally be on the line if I can't get my shit together.
I pull in a deep breath as I lean in to look at my reflection in the mirror, hating that I can't help but wonder what the man thinks when he sees my face.
Years of hard work have left a faint roadmap of lines on my skin.
Despite only being in my early thirties, I can't help but notice the speckle of gray hair at my temples.
I feel exhausted, as if I've spent a lifetime fighting for my existence only to purposely put myself in another stressful situation.
I stand to my full height, drawing in a deep breath, and conclude that Frankie not wanting me here doesn't make my ability to help others any less. What I struggle with is knowing just how hard we'll both work on this mission, which increases the chance we’ll be paired together on another job.
I may not know who the man has become, but I spent enough time with him in our youth that I know he won't let whatever hatred he has for me get in the way of doing what he's supposed to do. And I'm too stubborn not to give a hundred and fifty percent to any job I take on.
"You got this," I tell my reflection before turning around and walking out of the bathroom.
The walk to the other cabin is slow, filled with less determination than I tried to muster just moments ago.
Letting the self-doubt sink in any further is thankfully thwarted when I see Casper walking out of one of the other cabins, a girl in a long, fluffy robe smiling after him in the doorway.
This is the same cabin where the women were having such a good time yesterday evening when I arrived.
The man would never do well in an undercover position, given the shock on his face when he spots me walking toward the other cabin.
"Little afternoon delight?" I ask with a wide grin on my face, grateful for the distraction.
His hand immediately grips the back of his neck as his cheeks turn pink.
"I-umm—"
"Don't worry, man. I won't tell a soul."
He dips his head in thanks. I fully expect him to clamp his mouth shut and keep walking, but he pauses, glancing over his shoulder at the other cabin before turning his attention back to me.
The girl is long gone, no doubt heading back inside to gossip with her friends about her little tryst with the guy next door.
"I don't have much time to myself," he explains.
I hold my hands up by my ears to let him know that he doesn't have to explain anything to me.
"She's not married, is she?"
His eyes widen as if he never even considered it.
"Fuck. I don't think so?"
"That sounds like a question."
"I didn't ask."
"Was she wearing a ring?"
His brow furrows.
"You didn't look at her left hand?"
He shakes his head, giving the cabin another look. "I wasn't paying any attention to her hands."
He jerks when a laugh bubbles past my lips.
"What's done is done," I tell him, slapping him on the back to urge him back toward his cabin.
We have work to do, and there's no sense in getting lost in something he can't change now.
"I just figured," he continues after we start walking, pausing when I stop to pull open the cabin door. "These people are tourists. I'll never see her again."
"Never see who again?" Lark asks.
Casper freezes again, surprise on his face at someone standing right there.
Yep, this guy would never make it undercover. I almost feel bad for him, but watching this drama unfold is taking my mind off all the other shit I have going on, so I'll take what I can get.
Casper looks to me, but then turns his attention back to Lark, his head hanging a little lower than it was just a minute ago.
"I hooked up with one of the girls next door," he says in a way that makes it sound like he's confessing a mistake to his dad or something.
"That cabin?" Lark asks, stepping around him to point at the cabin Casper just made his walk of shame from.
"Yeah. I figured I'd never see her again, so it's not a big deal," Casper explains.
"That cabin?" Lark repeats. "With one of those women?"
Unease fills Casper's eyes.
"Yes. Why?"
"Never thought you'd see her again?" Lark continues, and I can see where this is going from a mile away, but Casper continues to look lost.
I roll my lips between my teeth and clamp down.
I don't know any of the dynamics between these guys, but I can tell Lark feels comfortable giving this guy a hard time.
This can play out in two ways. One, Casper takes the ribbing in stride, or two, he gets mad, and Lark doesn't care.
What I know of Lark, however, suggests he's not a hateful guy.
"Those women come here once a month for a long weekend," Lark clarifies. "At least they have been since I got here."
Casper's eyes widen dramatically. "What?"
"Yeah," Lark says, giving the cabin one last look before turning his full attention to Casper. "They're like a divorcée support group or something."
"That answers your question," Casper says to me.
"It does," I agree, trying to hold back a laugh that's threatening in my throat. "It's no big deal. Two consenting adults and all that."
Casper frowns. "It is a big deal. The entire reason we're situated here is that people come and go. It's all short-term rentals. It’s not supposed to be known that we actually live here."
"They think we have a boys' trip once a month," Lark tells him. "If you don't want to see her again, just don't go outside on the second weekend of the month."
"That makes no sense," Casper mutters. "We have several women living here with us now."
"And that lie was told before any of the women, but Zara was here," Lark explains.
"Logistically that—"
"It doesn't matter," Lark says. "What's done is done."
"That's what I said," I add when Casper scoffs and walks away.
"Maybe we should have designated days off so the guy can get laid without it being a girl next door."
"The criminals wait for no one, my new friend. Come look at this disgusting couch I found. You're going to love it," Lark says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and guiding me deeper into the basement of the cabin like we've been friends for years.
The familiar stench of used furniture hits me right in the face when we walk into the movie theater in my cabin.
It's filled with supplies, used furniture, and a small cache of weapons.
On the table to the right are several boxes of military-grade packaged meals, a staple in any paramilitary organization.
I'm looking through a box of clothes when Lark speaks.
"Casper hooked up with one of the girls next door."
A chuckle runs through the group of guys, and I refuse to look up at the familiar laugh, even though I never heard it very often when we were young. Frankie didn't have much to laugh about in those days.
"Someone from the divorcée group?" Jersey asks from the far side of the room.
"How does everyone know who they are?" Casper mutters as he types something into his tablet.
"We don't live in a cave," Jersey answers. "You should get out more."
"Can we just go through this stuff so we can get it loaded up?" Casper asks, trying to divert everyone's attention.
"Was it the redhead or the blonde one with the really big—" Lark asks, holding his hands out in front of his chest to indicate breasts.
"The brunette," I answer with a grin, trying to fit in and feel like one of the guys.
"The one with the little butterfly tattoo right here?" Echo asks, pointing to the corner of his lower stomach.
Silence fills the room as we all stare at him.
"What?" Casper asks, slowly lowering his tablet to the table.
"Pretty smile, bright blue eyes?" Echo continues.
Casper tilts his head slightly, as if sizing up the other man.
"How do you know about the tattoo?" Lark asks Echo because it's starting to look like Casper isn't going to.
"I might've spent a little time over there last month," Echo says with a wink.
"You mean you fu—"
"Are we going to stand around and fucking gossip, or are we going to get this shit handled?" Hemlock growls from the doorway.
I turn to explain what's going on, but the look on Hemlock's face tells me this isn't the time or the place.
"The tackle box looks too new," I say as a distraction, pointing to the corner of the room. "If the rods and reels are old, the box needs to be just as old."
"Noted," Casper says, typing a note on his tablet.
Jersey laughs at how fast the man is trying to move on from the previous conversation.
"Some of these will work," I say, pulling a prescription bottle from one of the boxes.
"But it would be better if you had bottles with scripts from multiple people who appear unrelated.
If someone goes so far as to come into the house and raid the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, that will tell the snooper that we aren't afraid to steal to get what we want.
That could open the door for them to trust us a little easier. "
Casper makes another note before I move on.
"We have a computer for you to use before you make contact with anyone from the LOL, but I had one of the guys grab some of these," Casper says. "I read online that they're important."
I look at the stack of books and printed manuals and give him a nod of appreciation.
"Most of these groups are very low tech.
I mean, most of the members are expected to be, but the leader will have all the latest shit he can manage.
It's a way not only to keep tabs on his guys but also to stay up to date on the world and threats to his organization.
He's definitely going to have tech if he's running a trafficking business.
It would be expected of us to have survival guides because we wouldn't have quick access to the internet," I explain.
"Plus, many of these guys are firm believers that the internet would be the first thing to go down if the shit really hit the fan globally, so they like to be prepared. "
I feel a sense of belonging when I look around the room and see everyone, even Frankie, paying attention to what I have to say.
Knowing I have a lot of experience with this sort of job and deferring to me are two very different things.
I can feel pride start to swell in my chest as I move around the room, going through every prop one by one, because there's nothing worse than someone finding something they shouldn't and trying to come up with a reason for it on the fly.
That could fluster even the most skilled undercover person, and I'd like to avoid it at all costs.
We spend the better part of the morning going through everything as the other guys, all but Casper, Hemlock, Frankie, and me, cycle in and out of the room.
I explain the need for each item and have Casper note any changes, additions, or removals.
Not because I want to sound more knowledgeable about this, but because the Frankie I know wouldn't have spent the time to do his own research or read information provided to him.
This new man, the one who somehow looks better with age, could be totally different.
He could be well prepared, but his surprise at my appearance last night tells me otherwise.
Besides, both our lives could be on the line at any given moment, and I'd rather not die because pride stood in the way, keeping me from explaining to my new partner how these guys operate and exactly what they'd expect from the backstory we give them.
"We'll have another meeting this afternoon to go over the finer details," Hemlock says when I wrap up.
"The other guys will load all this shit up for us.
Tomorrow, you'll become two very different people.
Spend a little time wrapping your head around that, and I'll see you in the conference room in two hours. "