The Exposure 1

Prologue

I had moments in my life I regret just like anyone else, so you can't really hold that against me if you wanted to. I've had promises I've made and broken; secrets I've said I'd keep then gossiped; people I loved but lied too, and moments where I stand tall and confident but on the inside I'm screaming my head of and wanting to cry.

Everyone has these moments.

But not everyone has the same reasons to cause these effects. Not everyone is like me. Because people like me are supposed to make promises then turn their backs on them; we are supposed to keep secrets then tell the most important ones to others like ourselves; we are supposed to lie and act like someone else, we are supposed to be the ones in charge.

Any idea of what type of person I might be, because if you can't figure that out, it's good to know I can still keep a few things of myself a secret.


Cover

I drove my black jeep into the dark night, my black short dress matching the sky perfectly and my long white-blonde hair fell just shy above my hips. My comms unit was on, and running and even though I was alone by sight, I was never unaccompanied.

I couldn't see them but I knew they were there; my teammates flanking me on each of my sides, staying invisible.

Over and over again, I clenched and unclenched my hands against the steering wheel, wringing my wrists over and over again. My palms were getting sweatier with every inch I took; every moment I got closer to what could be my greatest success – or my death.

"Picasso," my coms rang in my ear, "Picasso, do you read?"

I slowed the car down to a crawl, sighing into my comms. "Zach, stop calling me Picasso. Call me Chameleon!"

He went on like I hadn't said anything. "Picasso, remember, just because you can't see me, you still know I'm here, and just to let you know, you aren't looking too good. Relax, Picasso."

"Zach!"

"What?" He said, getting all defensive. "Fine, Cammie, have it your way. Just listen to me, got it? Listen. You have to play the part of your cover. You have to talk, and look and act the part of a slinky, sexy, young, lost, and naïve girl. Everyone else is doing their part in this mission, Cammie, and if you can't do yours what's the point of us even being here?"

I really hated it when he made sense.

I swallowed hard, just as he started talking again, "I mean, if you want, you could turn around now and find me and I'll try to fit in that dress and I'll try to act all hot like you."

The thought of Zach, his thick fringe of dark hair and icy blue eyes with his lean muscular body, posing in a black mini dress and high heels swiveled around in my thoughts; sometimes he was just too dang funny.

A smile creped across my face. "Uh, maybe not, Zach, but thanks for the offer."

"No prob, Cammie. Anytime." Then the coms went dead.

That was the moment I knew it was my turn to do my part.

I started to drive faster again, the tension building up deeper and deeper in my stomach as the valet took my car and parked it.

Lights bleeded into the night as I approached the mansion, where a security guard stopped me before entering through the door. "Name, Miss?"

"Olivia Love," I say, in a sexy, all-too relaxed voice as I tucked a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. "I was invited by Crash."

His eyes darted up and down my body, repeatedly landing on my chest; I suppressed a sigh of irritation and smiled up at him as he pulled his gaze from me to look at the long party list. "Olivia Love, of course. Mr. Crash is right inside, go ahead on in." He nodded at me.

"Thank you," I said playfully as I walk with big steps inside the house, moving my hips in a motion that would make a Gucci model run crying to the nearest plastic surgeon. Lying came so easily when I was on a mission. I could still feel the security guards eyes on me as I left him.

The floor was a shimmering bronze marble, the walls a beautiful tan. Fine music rang through the halls; laughter and the toasting of champagne glasses echoed in all the rooms.

Crowds of people were inside; young and old, beautiful to down-right ugly. But it wasn't really about their appearance that mattered tonight. What mattered was how rich they were. That was all they cared about.

Just as I'd planned, the clock struck eleven-o-clock, exactly the time I'd wanted to be here. And then, his booming voice hushed the swarm of people.

"May I have your attention, my good friends," Crash said, rounding up everyone. His skin was tinted with age and his eyes were a bleary sea-blue. The Ralph Lauren ensemble that he was wearing was clearly not picked out by himself due to the fact of his normal lack of style. Although Crash was thirty-six years old (twenty years older than moi) it was still all I could do not to gape at his unbelievable good looks. He was older than most people would assume, but that didn't mean that every girl in the room wouldn't sell their sole to have him spend a night with them.

He was a complete and utter creep.

"Thank you all for attending my gathering tonight." His smile was welcoming to the men then way too friendly once his gaze landed on any of the women, "Now, if you will all fallow me into the Grand Hall . . ." His voice traveled off as him and everyone else – including staff – fallowed him through is luxurious house.

I, on the other hand, strayed behind. Just as the last few people were leaving my comms turned on again, "Cammie."

"I'm alone," I responded.

"Listen to me; remember that memory card that we implanted in the heel of your shoe?" He asked.

"Yeah," I said, already tugging at my shoe to come off. "I'm about to take it out now."

"Good," he said, clearly more pleased than he was when we'd spoken a few moments ago. "You remember what to do with it, right?"

"'Course," I said.

The comms went dead again.

My gaze swept the room until it landed on a heating vent that was twice as big as me. "Perfect," I heard myself whisper.

It really wasn't that hard to get the screws undone from the heating vent; the hard part was trying crawling through it without making a sound.

Each time I passed another vent, I looked through the prison-like vents, peering into the events that took place down below.

Finally I came across the vent I was searching for. Where Crash had lead everyone from the party.

"Well, as you all know," Crash said to his friends who were in awe himself, "the organization that I have created has made great success."

My coms came on just as I was about to turn it on. "Cammie, are you getting this? You better be recording what he's saying . . ." Zach's voice trailed off through out the venting system, and I prayed to God that no one could hear me.

"Already a step ahead of ya." I'd already been recording since I gave the valet my car. "If I can get it on tape," I muttered to myself, momentarily forgetting Lucas could still hear me, "then I can get 'em in prison."

"Yeah," Lucas scoffed.

"Now, what organization am I referring to?" Crash asked the crowd and they went wild, shouting out answers at a random speed. "Hahahaha!" Crash bellowed with laughter. "Now, now, settle down. The organization of eternal life!"

There was a click as my jaw dropped open in astonishment. I checked the little green light on the recorder. It was thankfully still on and transmitting everything to my team. "Zach? Are you getting this?"

There was silence.

"Zach?"

"Uh huh," he finally answered.

"Gawd," I murmur to myself as I turned back to the commotion below me.

Crash had gone silent and was studying his crowd of people with great curiosity. "It's just so nice being youthful."

"Yeah!" The crowd cheered, starting to go into hysteria.

"We still need him to explain what he's doing," Lucas said, "and how?"

"On it," I said crawling back out the venting system and then finding my way to the room where Crash and everyone else was. There, I raised my hand as if I had a question, and had every freaking eye in the room turn to stare at me with their beady eyes.

So much for the "under cover" term.

Oopsie daisy.


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