CHAPTER 14 -- SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL
I woke up with a splitting migraine, lying on my back atop a hard surface. Groaning in agony, I lifted my hands to my throbbing forehead. My arms were heavy as lead and I felt as if I'd just finished running a marathon. My head ached so severely that I could barely open my eyes. Through blurred vision, I could see aged wooden rafters above me and the sound of running, splashing water could be heard.
Disoriented and confused, I began quickly retracing my steps to determine where exactly I was and how I'd gotten here. Waking up unclear of my setting and circumstances had become something of a routine as of late.
With great effort, I lifted myself into a seated position. Still in too much pain to fully open my eyes, I squinted into the dimly lit room, studying my surroundings. It only took me a few seconds to recognize that I was in the boathouse, seated on a long wooden bench against the wall. Confused as to how I got here, I swung my legs to the side and placed my feet on the dank wooden floor.
This boathouse had always been something of a secret hideout for me. A place on the quiet side of the lake where I frequently brought boyfriends, girlfriends, booze in my misguided youth. The best thing about this particular hideout was its privacy. It was basically a large wooden shed built atop of two adjacent boat docks. The dock floor was U-shaped, leaving the water exposed on the south side. So, even when the entrances were locked up, we were always able enter and exit by swimming underneath the walls.
I was suddenly snapped out of my stroll down memory lane as my eyes made out something move on the other side of the room. Startled, I dropped my hands from my head and scurried backwards on the wooden table. A cold chill ran down my back as I made out the silhouette of a person against the light that shone through the wooden planked walls.
"Who's there?" I asked in a shaky voice.
"Easy," a male voice, replied. "You're safe, now."
"I said, who's there?!" I shouted. Projecting my voice only caused my headache to spike.
The silhouette moved forward, prompting me to slide backwards on the wooden bench. Just then, a streak of light from a crack in the boarded up window fell across his face. The moment that the light caught his eyes, I instantly recognized him. It was the blond-haired security guard from Sycamore Market. The one who... stuck a fucking needle into my neck!
"
You
," I said in a lower voice.
Silently, he raised his hand, offering what looked like a thermos to me. Steam billowed up from its lid.
"Drink this," he replied softly. "It'll help with your headache."
"Who the
hell
are you?" I insisted, speaking in a louder voice.
"I'm the one who saved you from your predicament at the market," he answered camly.
"Saved me?" I retorted incredulously. "You drugged me and abducted me to a fucking boathouse."
"It was the only way I could get you out of there without raising too many red flags," he explained. "I set off the alarm and then knocked you out in order to justify relieaving you from the remainder of your shift. The shop owner believes I took you to the emergency health clinic."
"So, you decided to take me to a floating shack in the middle of nowhere?" I asked, suspiciously.
"I wanted to bring you somewhere we could talk freely," he replied softly. "You can leave any time you'd like. I won't stop you. The bag by your feet contains all of your belongings."
I glanced down at a tote bag on the floor with my clothing folded neatly inside. It wasn't until that very moment that I realized that I was still wearing the golden catsuit and straps from the market. This also meant...
I quickly pressed my hand against my sex, not so subtly double-checking the occupancy of my pussy and anus. To my relief, the dildo and butt-plug were no longer inside of me. But that
relief
instantly turned to affront as I contemplated
how
they'd been removed. My eyes shot wide open as I directed my focus back toward the blond-haired guard.
"Did you-" I started to ask in an accusatory tone.
Seemingly guessing what I was about to ask, he interjected, "Would you have rather I left the dildo and butt-plug inside of you?"
I stared back at him with my mouth open. He wasn't wrong, but the thought of him deciding on his own to
un-penetrate
me while I was unconscious was disturbing, nonetheless. As I contemplated how to reply, I suddenly noticed that the man was no longer attired in a security guard uniform. He now wore jeans, a casual grey jacket, and a New York Knicks ball cap. Despite my reservations, I couldn't help but notice how attractive and well-built he was.
"So, are you going to tell me who you are, or not?" I asked, changing gears back to the most pressing matter.
"We spoke on the radio yesterday," he replied, as he slowly placed the thermos on the far end of my bench. "You know me as Alpha."
Lost for words, I merely stared back. It was
him
.
"I hope my intrusion didn't mess up any plans you may have had," he continued. "From what I could tell, your reactions to the shop owner as she was setting you up gave me the impression that you weren't exactly a
willing
participant."
I hesitated before mumbling, "I was being blackmailed." As thankful as I was to be off that podium, I needed more convincing before I threw this guy a "thank you" party.
"How did you know I was there?" I asked. He didn't reply, prompting me to follow up with, "Were you following me?"
"I was," he replied bluntly. "But then again, you
were
on public display without a hood for 45 minutes. I'd have seen you from the street whether I was following you or not."
"And
why
were you following me?" I probed him.
"You know why," he replied flatly, his face looking solemn. "For the same reasons I told you yesterday."
"Refresh my memory," I countered, indignantly.
"You have something that has the power to save a lot of lives. Earning your trust is the only chance I have to gain access to it," he explained. "It's simple, Alison. I need that suitcase."
Hearing the man called Alpha use my real name sent shivers down my spine. It was a subtle reminder of just how much power he held over me. If he'd wanted to, he could expose my true identity at any time. While I never got the impression that he would take this action, I'd have been naïve to not consider the possibility.
"A lot of women's lives depend on this operation's success," he added. "Success is impossible without the suitcase."
I exhaled slowly, turning my face away from him. Nothing softened my resolve quite as adequately as the invocation of innocent lives. Every mention of them pushed me closer and closer to spilling the suitcase's location...
But I still had more questions. Questions that Alpha would have no obligation to answer once I'd given up my leverage. Turning back to face him, I decided to begin my interrogation.
"What did you inject me with?" I asked.
"A low dosage of horse tranquilizer," he answered. "Completely safe."
"Where'd you get it?" I pressed inquisitively.
"Stole it from storage at the stadium," he replied. "Secured by only a simple lever-handle lock."
"And the guard's uniform?" I asked him, skeptically.
"Made it," he replied matter-of-factly. "Bought a sewing machine from
The Supply Chest
my first day and completed the ensemble by day two."
"And this... suitcase-" I probed. "What's in it?"
Alpha shook his head. "I'm afraid can't tell you that," he replied softly.
"Can't or won't?" I challenged.
"
Won't
," he replied bluntly. My eyebrows raised, prompting him to elaborate. "If those details were to end up in the wrong hands, it would effectively
end
the operation. Every protocol, every contingency would be shot. It would amount to certain failure."
"And what's the ultimate goal?" I asked. "If your mission succeeds, what'll happen?"
Alpha took a deep sigh, clearly weighing his words carefully. "The objective... is to expose the degenerates who fund and operate this trafficking ring. It's far bigger than just
The Kingdom
. We're talking about an organization with ranks in the thousands. The
goal
is to pull them all from the shadows and hold them accountable so they can't hurt anyone else."
He suddenly turned and walked to the bench against the opposite wall. Taking a seat, he leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. It was at this moment that I realized how exhausted he appeared. He looked as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
"It's why time is of the essence. I'm the only remaining operative who hasn't been captured," he said softly. "Foxtrot and the others may be the toughest in the world, but a soldier can only withstand so much. Especially at the hands of the kind of people we're dealing with. If any one of my operatives cracks, it could mean game over for
everyone
."
I shuddered to think of what kinds of torture his
operatives
were currently facing. As horrible as Brandy, aka
Foxtrot
, was to me, it gave me no satisfaction to imagine her current state in Annabelle's custody.
For several seconds, neither of us said anything. Unsure of what to say, I rubbed my still-throbbing temples. Glancing down at the steaming thermos, I finally broke the silence. "What's in here?"
"Camomille," he replied. I took a sip of the piping hot tea as I studied Alpha's body language. Slouched forward, Alpha had the look of a defeated man who had officially run out of ideas. Whether his demeanor was genuine or by design, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
"Say that I
did
know where this suitcase was," I said. "And I
were
to tell you where to find it." Even in the darkness of the boathouse, I saw Alpha's eyes flick up toward me, suddenly looking alert. "What's to stop your trail from leading authorities right back to me if you get caught?" I asked.
"Simple," Alpha quickly replied. "You'd have my word that I won't make a move on the suitcase until you've had time to leave the fairegrounds."
