Occupational Hazards

I'd gotten maybe two hours of sleep, but it was in bits and pieces.

Most of the night had been spent tossing and turning. The only time I was really out, I'd dreamt of chasing Nikki through the club. Holding her against the wall in that bathroom hallway. Demanding she tell me about Hunter.

Being so near I could almost taste her scent on my tongue. The sound of her soft cries of surprise making my heartbeat quicken. Desire awakening deep within at the noticeable swell of her breasts pressing against her blouse.

Then I woke up. With a hard-on.

My throat felt like I'd been drinking liquid fire. Maybe I'd had more than my usual intake last night. I could remember getting up to refill my glass at least twice. After that, everything was a little hazy.

Though I did recall pacing. A lot. Wracking my brain for how I could make this mission work. Because honestly, I was in a huge predicament.

To continue with it went against a strict protocol. Everything I knew. Who I was now.

I would have to lie. To Director Davenport. The Council. Even to myself. All because I had been compromised. Fuck. Why had I gone to that club?

But deep down, I knew that even if I'd done the practical thing and stayed home after my debriefing, there would have still been a conflict. The knowledge of it just would have been delayed. Probably with grave consequences.

It had only taken Nikki a few seconds in a lowly-lit back hallway to recognize me. It would have been damning to have her call me by my real name if she saw me undercover while pretending to schmooze with her boyfriend. It was better this way, as much as I hated to admit it.

My professional-thinking mind said that I needed to contact my boss immediately and step down. I was putting not only myself in danger, but her also. Not to mention my team. But a little voice reminded me that Nikki was already in danger. And his macho, bigger brother stepped up to say there had to be a way to save both the girl and the mission.

Talk about having a complex.

I knew it was wrong, but I rationalized that I could at least do the initial half of the observational phase. There was minimal—if not zero—risk of being discovered. I'd take the weekend to get as much intel as I could, and then I'd recuse myself Monday morning.

Figuring there was no chance of getting any more rest, I showered and dressed. Forty minutes later, I was driving down an alley across town to set up camp in a foreclosed house caddy-corner to Hunter and Nikki's that the Council had temporarily secured. The plan would be to use it as a home-base for my team throughout the mission. But now...

My chest constricted knowing I wouldn't be able to see this through. That I was going to have to let everyone down. Better that the job be successful, though, than to have anyone else die because I couldn't set aside my ego.

I refocused on the task at hand and got down to work. Sitting. Watching. Waiting.

For many agents, this part was always tedious. They were so eager to get right into the action. To take down the bad guy.

Where they lacked in patience, I excelled.

For most of my career, I had been just like them. Zealous with the need to make wrong right again. But six years ago, I had gone undercover for eighteen months. It had changed my entire way of thinking. Taught me the importance—the benefit—of biding my time. The power of observation. It was the only part of the mission I'd retained. The rest, I'd suppressed.

Or at least until yesterday. In the space of mere minutes, Nikki had unknowingly broken the rusted lock and pried the lid open on that forbidden box. I just wasn't sure yet how that was going to affect me going forward. Hopefully, not at all.

I spent the morning drinking instant coffee. Making note of the cars and people nearby in case my disguised cameras did not catch everything. Where they came from and went to. How long they lingered. It was quite the busy street.

Yet in all that time, there was no activity at the house where I'd dropped Nikki off.

There was a dark purple sports car parked in a section of gravel between that house and the one next door. It had been there last night. But I'd been a little preoccupied by a mysterious, beautiful woman at the time to consider that it was Hunter's. Review of his file had confirmed it, though.

In daylight, I could also see the house was gray with peeling paint. Quite literally a box. Only two rooms wide based on what I'd observed last night and right now as I noticed only a smaller window to the right of the door.

Two more windows were on the east side of the house. The one closest to the front of the building was ninety degrees to the one facing the street, indicating that was probably the bedroom. Dark curtains were drawn on both the picture window and that corner room.

The casement at the rear was much more narrow and not as tall. A bathroom. Leaving the kitchen to be in the opposite corner behind the living room.

The yard was no more spectacular than the building situated on it. Mostly yellowed grass with muddy patches, it was maybe five feet around each side between the neighbors. And that was stretching it. The backyard appeared to be about twice the size of the house, and it ended at a chain-link fence that surrounded the property behind it.

Nikki's dream castle. I groaned my sympathy for her. No wonder she didn't want to come home, abusive boyfriend not withstanding.

I imagined there was nowhere for her to go in the tiny dwelling. Hunter was probably right by her side all of the time. So she resorted to hanging out at clubs with friends who could care less about her just to escape. Even if she hated every minute of it.

My mind wandered as I watched the neighbors going about their Saturday, probably having no clue that a drug dealer and potential murderer was living and sleeping amongst them. Did they know about the abuse? Did they turn a blind eye to keep the peace? Surely they would hear if he raised his voice.

But Hunter could be the silent type who just had to glare or raise his hand to control her. Even though my time with her last night was brief, I didn't see Nikki as someone who would fight back. She would rather submit. That bothered me. And yet the thought caused a delicious shiver to race up my spine. I stomped down the latter feeling.

I took a break to hit the head and make a sandwich from the cooler I'd stashed in the kitchen. When I returned, the only thing that had changed was the movement of the sun peeking through the clouds overhead. I hunkered down and resumed my watch, sipping the remnants of a soda.

Rest came easier that night even though I was in a sleeping bag on the dusty hardwood floor of an empty house, surrounded by electronics aimed outside that kept constant watch when I couldn't. I was so worn out, I figured I'd finally get through the night in peace. But my dreams were even stranger than before.

I knocked on Nikki's door and forced my way inside when she answered. Backed her into the wall. Insisted she tell me the truth about Hunter so she could leave this life.

The way her eyes stared up at me as I towered at least six inches over her showed she was surprised. Scared. But also relieved. Her mouth hung open, as if to speak. I had other plans.

Just as I leaned down to kiss her, I woke up. Shaking. Sweating. And fucking hard.

When I drifted off again, I dreamt that I walked in on Hunter and Nikki. He had her tied to the bed, face-down, a riding crop in his hands. I called out her name. When she turned her head to me, I saw her mouth was gagged. Her face wet, eyes bloodshot, as if she'd been crying. For quite some time.

Although she was apparently naked, my mind didn't see her body. Instead, it focused on the red welts crisscrossing the backs of her thighs. Hunter lifted the switch, aiming it at me now. I raised my hand to block its descent only to find out I was carrying a syringe.

The dream faded into other non-related nonsense. Clips from previous missions. Many I wish I could forget.

And then I was awake again. Desperately needing relief. To which I eventually did get, but not without some trouble as I refused to think of Nikki.

I passed Sunday in the same way as the day before. Observing. Thinking about Nikki's plight. Wondering if the profession had finally gotten to me. If I was having a nervous breakdown.

I'd had a few girlfriends during and shortly after high school, but nothing serious. Then my job had taken precedence. I'd met women throughout my undercover missions. Beautiful, seductive ones. Who were very blunt that they wanted me to screw their brains out. I'd obliged in some cases. I hated to let my guard down, but sometimes the temptation was too great to resist. At least that's what I told myself to feel better.

Never had I had such intense feelings for any of them, though. So why this particular woman? And in such a short amount of time?

After several hours, I wanted to punch a wall. It was as if God had derailed my plans because we both knew I was breaking the rules. Like yesterday, the house appeared to be uninhabited. The Dodge Charger hadn't moved. No one came in or out. The bedroom curtains hadn't parted. There was no movement in the living room window.

After two days, I had no actual intel on Hunter. I'd wasted my time.

What bugged me even more was that I knew they were home. Review of last night's footage confirmed that they hadn't left. So what the hell they had been doing all weekend?

###

First thing Monday morning, I was in Davenport's office.

"I'm surprised."

It was the only thing he had said since I'd relayed why I couldn't continue with the mission. And he'd said it five times in the same amount of minutes. Each time, he shook his head after several moments of silence.

His head started to move again.

I'd remained silent thus far. I couldn't take it any longer. "I'm sorry, Sir. I know you didn't want to be let down. I just can't continue, in good conscious for—"

He waved his hand at me. "Yes, yes, I know. I'm just..."

I clamped my mouth shut. Refusing to be that rebellious kid who had to finish his parent's words with sarcasm. But I said the word in my head as he said it aloud.

"Surprised." Davenport's demeanor belied his apparent shock. His posture straight, his hands clasped on top of his desk. Ever the professional. His shoulders rose up for a moment, as if he were holding his breath, and then they lowered. His gaze downcast, he pursed his lips then said, "I'm glad you came to me. Better to be safe than sorry. The Council will understand."

"Thank you, Sir." I handed over the folder of notes I'd taken and a small bag that contained all of the digital cards of video during the past 48 hours. Stood and shook his hand. Then finally turned to leave so he didn't have the chance to read the lies in my eyes.

"Hey, Ben?"

My hand on the doorknob, I kept my back to him. "Sir?"

"See Julie if you want to take a trip somewhere. There's no telling when this sting will end. Or how long it'll take to reassign you. Might as well pass the time in paradise."

"Thank you, Sir."

I walked through reception at my normal pace, my heart pounding in my ears. Tipped my chin at Julie, Davenport's secretary, who gave me a smile. Traveled silently in the elevator down to the parking garage while three other people argued about where to go for lunch.

Once I was locked inside my car, I realized I was shaking. I gripped the leather wheel, watching my knuckles turn white. Breathing hard and fast now, I rolled my head back and forth against the padded rest. Let out a moan of agony.

I had never lied to my boss before. Ever. And yet this time, it had flowed out so smoothly, like a fine cordial. As if it were the truth.

I'd told Davenport that Nikki's name seemed familiar after reading it in Hunter's file. But it hadn't been until this morning that I recollected why...that we'd gone to high school together. Per company protocol, I needed to report the conflict and be removed from the mission.

Not a complete lie. The facts were there. I'd just rearranged them a little.

It was several minutes before I no longer felt like I was going to hyperventilate. I drove around town, trying to think of what to do next. My subconscious must have been on autopilot as I found myself sitting outside of my old alma mater. Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. Wondering how I was going to explain why I was visiting if I went inside.

I was a professional hitman for a secret part of the government. My life depended on being cool and collected. Focused. Which I was ninety-nine percent of the time.

Right now? I was that other one percent.

Maybe it was my guilt from lying an hour ago—and knowing I was going to be doing it again in just a few minutes. But I felt like I was asking out a girl for the first time. My palms were sweaty. My heart was racing. And I feared that the surprises I'd received the past two mornings would not be the last.

When I'd gotten out of bed—after relieving a fucking hard erection while trying to visualize a stripper I knew—I had finally seen some activity at the dilapidated dwelling. Someone in a red coupe picked up Nikki. Probably a co-worker. Hunter's car had left fifteen minutes later. He was such a dick he couldn't even give his girl a ride to work.

I passed the red car on my way to the section of the lot marked for visitors. The school seemed eerily silent. I guessed the bell would have rung over an hour ago. Everyone would be well settled into their daily schedules by now.

A weak plan in place, I took a deep breath and got out. The crisp air bit my cheeks. And I shivered as I adjusted my coat collar. Not because of the weather but because I caught sight of the clock on the tower rising from the administration part of the school. I had done this same motion on Friday. At this exact same time.

I pressed on, ringing the bell outside the door marked for visitors. There was a brief pause and then a buzz and click as the door was unlocked. Inside where it was warmer, I relaxed a bit.

I expected to automatically go into mission mode. My eyes searching for my target. My ears taking in the sounds around me then filtering them out once I'd found what I was looking for.

Instead, I was back in high school. And not just the literal building. I was a student, standing in the office, waiting for the principal. I hadn't been a bully, I'd just found that I could stand up for myself in this environment. Unlike at home where my father drank too much and hit my mother. My older brother. Myself. Which was probably why learning about Nikki's situation stirred me so deeply. It was definitely why I'd gotten into the profession of taking down the bad guys.

"Sir?"

I blinked and snapped back to reality.

"Uh, hello." I gave the blonde-haired woman a grin as I brushed my hair back from my face, and her cheeks seemed to pink up. After a second look, it hit me that she was the ringleader from the group at the club. I struggled to keep the disdain from reflecting on my face, remembering what Nikki's co-workers—not necessarily friends—had done to her. I wondered if Blondie would be a hindrance or of any assistance.

She rested her hands on the counter and cocked her head. "How can I help you?"

I wanted to smack the flirty smile right off her face. Somehow, my voice stayed even. "I'm looking for Nikki Talmadge."

Her blue eyes widened. "What did Hunter do now?"

"What? Who?"

"Hunter. Her no-good boyfriend." She crossed her arms, losing the smile. "Are you a cop?"

"No." It was mostly true. I wasn't a police officer per se. Nor a detective.

"Does she know you?"

"Yes, ma'am. We went to school together. Here, in fact."

Her eyes narrowed.

I cleared my throat. "I saw her Friday night. At a club."

"Name?"

"Twisted Cocktails, sort of like the movie." I didn't add that I had seen her, as well.

Her lips pressed together for a moment. "Your name."

"Oh. Um, Ben Hoskins." Real smooth, pal.

She turned away without another word.

I absently tapped my fingers on the countertop until another lady—possibly a student worker by how young she looked—sitting at a typewriter of all things caught my eye. When I smiled at her, she just lowered her gaze. I stuck my hands in my coat pockets and passed the time reading the announcements on the bulletin board.

When Blondie returned, she was alone. I straightened my posture.

"She said she doesn't want to see you."

Damn it. "Listen, I just wanted to apologize."

She gave me a stiff nod. "I'll pass it along."

"Preferably in person."

Blondie raised an eyebrow at me.

I noticed a pad near a telephone on the counter. I grabbed a pen and scribbled down the name of a diner just up the road. "Fine. Can you at least give her this?"

She didn't even look at the slip of paper I pushed toward her.

"I'll be there for the next hour." I walked out without waiting for a response.

At the diner, I silently cursed myself over a good cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes. I was sorry for Friday night. Partly for drinking too much. But mostly for screwing up a relationship before it had even started. At the least, I could have been a true friend. She definitely needed one. Especially knowing what I did now about her bully of a boyfriend and her lovely coworkers.

When Nikki didn't show—which I half expected—I paid my bill and went back out into the damp air that had stuck around after the weekend storm. It felt more like November than April. What the hell had happened to the warmer, spring weather we'd had a week ago?

I was watching the ground as I walked across the parking lot. Something I didn't normally do. It was bad to be out of touch with your surroundings in my line of work. But damn it, the woman distracted me to no ends.

I staggered back when I did look up and saw Nikki standing next to my car with her hands in the pockets of her coat. The wind blew her hair around her head. She didn't even try to tame it. It looked so wild and free. So unlike the woman it belonged to.

"Hey." I cleared my throat. "You should have come inside. It's freezing."

"I-I just got here."

Her bright pink cheeks and the way she shivered belied that truth. But I let it pass. "I'm sorry. For Friday. I have no excuse other than I was a jerk."

"I'm sorry, too." She lowered her eyes to where she was digging the heel of her shoe in the gravel. "I was kind of a bitch."

I wanted to tell her she was entitled to act bitchy after what I'd observed, but then she would know I had been watching her. "So we're even?"

She nodded. "I have to get back to work."

"Can we meet after?" I almost said I wanted to 'catch up,' but that was stupid given our history. Or lack thereof. So I simply said, "I'd still like to talk."

"I can't."

"Whenever you're free then."

She let out a big sigh. Gave me a slight shake of her head. "It's not a good idea. I have a boyfriend." Her forehead furrowed on that word.

Yeah, I know. He's a dick. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too."

I raised an eyebrow. So maybe there was still hope? Easy, boy. "I was serious when I said I could help. Whatever you need. Whenever..."

"Thanks. But I'm a big girl."

"So I guess giving you my number is out of the question?"

She gave me a sad smile that I took as a no.

"My offer doesn't expire. You can find me at the club when I'm not working. But that's usually during the weekend. If I'm not there, ask for the manager. He knows how to get ahold of me. No matter the time." Man, I had it bad. I wanted her to feel comfortable reaching out to me, not repulsed by my desperation to jump to her aid.

The other corner of her mouth turned up, and her eyes glossed over. She had that dreamy look she'd had in my car Friday night when she'd laughed and said the situation was ironic. The look that said she had a secret.