Chapter 1

The Morning After

The mid-July sun shone brilliantly. Its rays beating down upon a jogger, causing sweat to bead down his face. To any passerby, the handsome man looked like any other mid-twenties, athletic, Californian. It was this unassuming charade that allowed him to go about his daily rituals without interference. What the chattering people walking up and down the beach did not know, was that this young man was actually an undercover F.B.I agent named Michael Warren. His morning runs were an attempt to burn off the rage and torment that his career caused him. On this morning, he ran to escape the feelings of anger that consumed and threatened to tear him apart.

The previous night, Mike and his friend and roommate, Paige Arkin, had ended up sleeping together. They had always harbored feelings for each other, feelings that they had suppressed for more than a year. After a few drinks, they finally allowed the mutual attraction to overcome them, over and over again until they were reduced to a jellified mess of limbs. However, when Mike tried to confront Paige about their tryst that morning, she had acted like it meant nothing. She said, "We just had some fun, Mike. Don't read too much into it." Her noncommittal response to their relationship caused Mike's temper to flair, forcing him to take refuge in his hour long trek down the Pacific coastline.

Most of the suffocating feelings had lifted by the time Mike skidded to a halt before the beach house that he shared with Paige and their four other roommates. It was a massive structure with an avant-garde post-modern flair. It was known as Graceland and it had come to be a flophouse for three different government agencies: the Drug Enforcement Administration, Immigrant and Customs Enforcement and the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Paul Briggs, Charlie DeMarco, Johnny Tuturro, and Mike were all FBI agents and Paige and Dale Jakes were the only representatives of their divisions, DEA and ICE respectively. They all worked together despite the interdepartmental rivalries and generally got along very well. Hence, romantic entanglements were usually frowned upon. The last time Mike had tried to maintain an intimate relationship, even though the girl was a civilian, the other agents, especially Paige, had discouraged it. Deep down, Mike had always felt that Paige had been secretly jealous of his ex-girlfriend, Abby. She had even gone so far as to tell him that unless Abby began to commit crimes; he should not stay with her.

Why then, when they had the opportunity to be together, did she treat him like a one-night stand?

As Mike entered the house, his mind a whir of thoughts, he caught sight of his friend, Johnny.

"Trying to run off those endorphins, Levi?" Johnny asked with an insinuating smirk.

Mike did not particularly care for the nickname that he earned during one of his first undercover cases, but it had stuck regardless.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mike said, grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator.

"I saw Paige leave your room in the middle of the night."

"We were talking, so what?"

"She likes to talk to you in only a bra and panties?"

"What were you doing up?" Mike asked, not denying the accusation, but trying to redirect his one-track minded friend, nonetheless.

"I was watching a movie. What does it matter?"

"What kind of movie?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow.

Blushing Johnny said, "Ah, shut up dude. It wasn't one of those."

"One of what?" Paul Briggs, Mike's former training agent, asked effectively diverting Johnny's attention.

"Johnny was telling me about all of the pornography he watches at three in the morning," Mike said, gulping down the rest of his water.

"I was not," Johnny said defensively, his voice a couple of octaves higher than normal.

"The Bureau isn't paying you to watch dirty movies, Johnny," Charlie said, her Bronx accent making his extracurricular activities seem all the more nefarious.

Mike smiled broadly at Charlie's teasing and winked at Johnny, who just shook his head in exasperation before shoving a spoonful of cornflakes into his mouth.

"Um Mike," Briggs said, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," Mike said, his stomach dropping. Was Briggs going to ask him about Paige too?"

Following the senior agent out onto the veranda, Mike leaned against the railing, watching the waves lap up against the shore.

"The Bureau's got a shiny new case for us, Mike," Briggs said, resting his arms on the wooden railing. "How do you feel about going undercover with the Vory v Zakone?"

"The Russian mafia?" Mike asked incredulously. "Didn't Lauren already burn our bridges with them?"

He was referring to Lauren Kinkaid, a former Graceland resident and DEA agent who had almost blown her cover in an attempt to seek revenge for her partner, Donny.

"No, her cover held up," Briggs said, squinting against the sun's glare. "Besides, this is a different ring altogether."

"What's their story? Drugs? Black market organs?"

"Human sex trafficking," Briggs said, causing Mike to shiver despite the ninety degree weather.

"Sex trafficking? Why are we getting involved then? Isn't that Jakes' territory?"

Smiling, Briggs said, "That's why you're getting a partner."

Mike's brow furrowed in confusion, "A partner?"

"Her name is Alexandra Petrova. She's an ICE agent. The Bureau wants us on the case as well because they believe not all of the girls are foreign, some might be American."

"Wow," Mike said, stunned by Briggs' revelation. "When did you find this out?"

"About five minutes ago."

"Well, when does she get here?"

"When you go and pick her up." Briggs replied, looking down at his wristwatch. Harrumphing, he added, "Actually, her plane will be landing in thirty minutes…"

"Are you kidding me?" Mike cried. "Who planned this?"

"Don't look at me, I'm just the messenger."

"Damn it," Mike cursed, jumping into action.

"You'll have to beat Johnny's speed record, if you want to make it in time, Agent Warren," Briggs jested as Mike rushed off to retrieve his keys.

Surprisingly, Mike made it to LAX in record time. He should have contacted Guinness for an application; so he could make it into the newest edition of their book. No traffic lights had hindered his progress and his blatant disregard for the speed limit had gone unnoticed by L.A.'s finest.

Once inside the crowded terminal, Mike scoured the crowd for a woman that looked like she could be a federal agent. He couldn't help but smile at his naivety for he of all people knew that you couldn't judge a book by its cover.

After what seemed like an eternity of standing awkwardly in the middle of everyone, Mike noticed a young woman staring at him. Jumping on the hunch, he decided to venture over to her. What could it hurt? If it wasn't Alexandra; he would just play dumb.

The young woman beat him to the punch, "Mike Warren?" she asked, her green eyes wide and bright.

Taken aback, Mike asked, "How did you…"

Holding up his picture, the young woman smiled, "My case manager gave this to me."

Chuckling, Mike said, "He couldn't have found a more flattering picture? It looks like a mug shot."

"Kind of," the young woman laughed, putting the picture into her purse.

Mike could not help but notice how beautiful his new partner was with her large eyes and cropped red hair. She looked like a character straight from a Celtic fairytale. Upon closer examination though, Mike could see the prominent bone structure and slight almond eye shape that alluded to her Slavic heritage.

With a broad smile, the young woman held out her hand, "I'm Alexandra, but please call me Alex."

"It's nice to meet you, Alex," Mike said, grasping her hand.

He was impressed to note that her handshake was firm and confident as was her posture and general demeanor.

Dressed in an elegant black pantsuit, Alex radiated professionalism and class. It was an extremely attractive combination.

"Shall I take you to your new home?" Mike asked, offering to take her bags.

"Just lead the way," Alex replied, though she politely refused his gesture. She was a fiercely independent woman and desired to keep it that way.

The return to Graceland took significantly longer than the exodus, but it gave the two agents time to talk. Apparently, Alex's case manger had informed her of every nuance of the mission. She was extremely surprised to learn that Mike knew next to nothing about their roles.

"Do you mean to tell me that your training officer told you nothing?"

"He gave me the Reader's Digest version, but no…I don't have a clue."

"Well, essentially, we are going undercover as a couple. I'm a mail-order bride from the Ukraine and you are my American husband. My goal is to get hired as a maid for Mikhail Krysikov, the head Vor. He has a penchant for red heads; so I've been told. It shouldn't be too hard to…well, for lack of a better word, seduce him. After that, I will try to secure you a position in Krysikov's inner circle. Even though you aren't Russian, he should be able to utilize your services."

"He'll want me to pick up the girls."

"You're quick," Alex said. "They told me you were the top of your class at Quantico."

Smiling, Mike said, "That seems to be the only thing that anyone seems to care about."

"Don't worry," Alex said with a sarcastic flair. "I'm not so easily impressed."

As they rolled to a stop in front of the house, Alex's eyes widened in awe.

"What?" Mike said, grinning at her fascination. "They didn't give you a picture of the house too?"

"No," Alex said, her voice taking on a reverential quality. "And, I never expected anything quite like this."

"It does take some getting used to," Mike said, removing his key from the ignition. "Come on; let's meet your new roommates."

As usual, the house was deserted upon entry, everyone having dispersed to their various assignments.

"Charlie and Johnny are probably in the phone room," Mike said, leading Alex upstairs. She was still slack jawed at the equally impressive décor inside of the house.

The sound of ringing telephones, pinpointed the direction of the appropriately named room. Entering the small office, Mike placed a finger to his lips as - who Alex assumed was - Johnny answered the phone and began speaking in rapid Spanish. The other agent in the room, a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties, just grinned lazily in their direction.

"No tengo," Johnny said, his tone indicating an argument with the individual on the other line. Finally, he concluded the conversation with a curt, "Adios," before slamming the phone down on the cradle.

"Damn, Mexicans," Johnny cursed.

"JT, you're Mexican," Charlie said with a smirk. "Why you gotta be so hypocritical."

"I'm sick of dealin' with these gang bangers. They're low live thugs and I'm not gettin' anywhere with them."

"Excuse our friend here," Charlie said, standing up, "You must be, Alex." Holding out her hand, she continued, "I'm Charlie."

"Nice to meet you," Alex said, shaking her hand. "And you must be, Johnny."

"Did you single me out based on my good looks and charm?" Johnny asked with an exaggerated wink.

"No, I pretty much narrowed it down when Charlie called you JT."

"Whew, thank God," Charlie said. "We have another smart ass in the bunch. When they said you were ICE, I figured you'd be some tight assed misanthrope like our buddy, Jakes."

Laughing, Alex said, "Oh, I'm a misanthrope alright, just not a tight assed one."

"Where's Briggs?" Mike inquired after they had a good laugh.

"Where do you think he is?" Charlie asked rhetorically. "Finding Buddha or surfing… I can't keep track."

"Huh?" Alex asked raising an eyebrow.

"Briggs is a yoga loving surfer," Johnny said. "Sometimes he cramps our style, but we still allow him to live here."

"Where is everyone else?"

"Well, Paige is hiding from, Mike," Johnny said, ignoring Mike's pointed glare. "And Jakes is probably off brooding somewhere, you'll meet them later."

"Where's Paige?" Mike asked in exasperation, directing the question at Charlie.

Of course, Johnny took it upon himself to answer anyways, "I told you, she left. She's still upset over your lover's quarrel."

Sighing, Mike turned to Alex, "First rule about Graceland, don't listen to anything that Johnny says."

"Noted," Alex said. "Are you a shit stirrer, Johnny?"

"Who me?" Johnny asked in mock horror. "Of course not. I am just a peer mediator, trying to help out my friends."

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe," Alex said with a chuckle.