FUTILITY
After leaving Donovan's office, Loralei walked back toward the apartment building. It was time to pack up the equipment and leave the luxury apartment. Spying on Donovan hadn't gotten her anywhere. In fact, it worsened her entire existence. He wasn't the target. She had been wrong about that, wrong about a lot of things. As she strolled easily down the sidewalk, her mind began to wonder. Loralei had seen Donovan days before her chance meeting with him. She hadn't lied when she said she didn't know who he was, but she had found out sooner than she said. It happened not long after she spotted him walking down the busy city street. He stood tall and confident, sexy and self-assured. She watched as a young woman followed him. She couldn't make out the color of her hair because it was all tucked beneath a fashionable black hat. As she told Donovan, she was almost certain that this person was the killer. She found herself following behind the other woman. When she veered around a corner, Loralei lost track of her, but she didn't immediately stop following the tall stranger. She wanted to see where his destination was, to find out if he was the next wealthy fly for the cruelest black widow of them all.
The man walked briskly toward a building and took the front steps two at a time until he was out of sight. She had recognized the building; of course, it was federal, just like her own. She immediately went back to headquarters and started digging for information. If he was to be the intended target of BHK, she wanted to immediately set up some type of surveillance and protection. He would have to be informed of the potential danger. Of course, she didn't quite have the proper security clearance to uncover the man's profile. She had then voiced her suspicions to her superiors. Within moments, she had learned his name and his address. She had intended to follow through legitimately, to contact him agent to agent. However, her plan backfired [as was often the case].
She had created her cover as an overwhelmed doctoral student while sitting behind the wheel of her rented Jag. She had even gone so far as to check out dozens of books ranging from criminological theories to actual profiles of serial killers. As she sat and pondered her next move, her clumsiness prevailed. She had gotten out of the car to dig for her cell phone in the backseat of the passenger's side. In the process, she knocked out half her books as well as her directives. Before she knew what was happening, her 'mission' was right in her face, helping her, saving the day. Her attraction had been instantaneous, flustering her, confusing her. She didn't like feeling that way, she liked to have and maintain control. She tried to tell herself that she accepted his unexpected dinner invitation due to her job. However, that was not exactly true. She had wanted to be with him. There was something about him, something special.
The day after she met him, she immediately began to dig for information. It was at that time she learned of his special agent [SA] status. He was former FBI, but for reasons known only to the federal hierarchy, his records were sealed. She had hit another brick wall. Of course, her mission was not yet complete, and although she had thought about breaking their date, she had to feel him out, learn his routine, so that she could set up proper surveillance. When she met him for dinner, she had genuinely lost her mind. When he kissed her later, she realized she had gotten herself in a terrible mess. He continued to see him, lying to herself the whole time, denying that she wanted more from him than to 'protect' him. Even after she felt her hunch was wrong, she continued to linger around him. She had fought valiantly against his advances for three weeks, but he finally won the battle. She had given in, she couldn't resist.
Loralei couldn't express the utter devastation she felt whenever he touched or kissed her. She thought of nothing but him day and night; she couldn't wait to see him. In the back of her mind, she knew she was only supposed to be doing her job. In her heart, something altogether different was going on. How many times had she been snuggled next to Donovan aching to tell him the truth? How many times had she tried to leave, but couldn't? She had wanted him so much, she still wanted him.
She didn't realize she had walked past the apartment building until the doorman spoke to her. Dazed, she turned around and walked back. There was a lot to do before she met the UC team tonight. She had to drive thoughts of Frank Donovan out of her head before she ended up shooting herself in the foot.
Her partner seemed to be awaiting her. "What the hell is going on between you and that SA, Kadin," he demanded.
Although Loralei had uncovered more information about BHK than anyone in the Bureau, Jackson was her superior. He was deemed lead agent before she was even given a shot. It was also her first real case, and she had already failed. However, she had a good relationship with him; he was like an overprotective big brother. "There's nothing going on, Bart. Really." She had learned early in her career how to lie effectively. She had held Donovan captive to her lies for weeks.
"Don't lie to me. Remember, I trained you. Donovan found the bug. He shouted out a nice petulant 'fuck off' before crushing it. What's going on?"
She ignored Jackson for several minutes and worked on tearing down the camera equipment. If she told him what had happened, she would never be taken seriously again. The Bureau frowned highly upon behavior such as hers. How worse can things truly get, she thought. Donovan hated her, and she couldn't blame him. In fact, she probably hated herself more than he did. She was tempted to take the equipment and hurl it out the high-rise window. It had been responsible for her poor choices and broken heart.
"Kadin," he said, "are you going to answer me?"
Loralei flung a tripod violently across the room. It hit the couch on the left with a soft thud. Jackson said nothing. He had seen this type of tantrum before, and he knew from experience not to interfere. "What the fuck," she whispered with resignation. "I told him everything," she said. "I had to. I screwed up, Bart, I fucked up everything. He wasn't a mission or a job. He was my lover."
"Oh God, kid, please tell me you didn't," he groaned.
"I'd be lying if I did," she said. A bitter laugh escaped her. "I do that so well."
"Forget it now, Agent Kadin. We won't deal with it until we have who we came after. We have to work with Donovan and his team. We cannot do this without them."
She nodded. "I know this, Bart," she whispered harshly. "It was the same thing I told Frank. I fucked up so very thoroughly, and if we had time, I'd back out."
* * *
Loralei, Jackson, and Donovan all sat together awkwardly awaiting the arrival of the other agents. Donovan was finally able to keep his gaze averted from Loralei's face, but it was difficult all the same. He still couldn't get his mind off their conversation earlier. He had the greatest urge to simply bridge the widening gap between him and Loralei. She had touched him, rocked his foundation. Yet, his stubborn male pride had locked away his practicality. He wasn't listening to his heart anymore. Look at the trouble it had gotten him in. Although he had sworn off gazing at her, Donovan couldn't help glancing at her. She was nervous. It was obvious in her body language. She was fidgety and kept chewing on her thumbnail. If she didn't calm herself, if she didn't learn to control her nerves, she wouldn't last long. She felt his eyes on her, and for a moment, she met his gaze. His eyes seemed to strip her naked, and she immediately felt vulnerable.
"Tell us who you are," a voice suddenly asked.
Both Donovan and Loralei took their eyes off each other and fixed their gazes on Bart Jackson. He had felt horribly caught in the middle of some awful lovers' quarrel, and he needed to get the focus drawn away from the tension and back onto the assignment. There was no room for this. A man was set to die, and they had to stop it. After, they could fuck like bunnies if they wanted.
Donovan silently thanked the agent for breaking the tense silence. The 'script' was hideous, of course, but would only be used if the red haired fiend with the crooked teeth approached him. "I'm Baron Gunnar Holden," he said, affecting a passable German accent. "The family business is oil and diamonds. I'm forty years old and own a castle in England and five mansions in Scotland." He fixed a stony gaze on Loralei. "My weakness is redheads."
She looked away from him for a moment and focused her eyes on her hands. How in the hell did she think she could work with him? How would she ever earn his trust again? Would he simply keep looking over his shoulder the whole time?
"It wasn't difficult to memorize," Donovan said, cutting his eyes at her again. "I think I can act. I have watched and been with the best."
He is vicious, utterly, coldly vicious. She stared at him, throwing daggers, knifes, swords, razors, and on and on. "Agent Donovan, is there a problem," she asked through clenched teeth.
He shook his head. "Not at all," he said, cruelly exaggerating his innocence in the matter. "It's a shame the killer isn't a man. If he were, I think you would make an excellent seductress."
"I think you might make an excellent human being once you dig your head out of your ass," she said through a glittering, bitter smile.
Oh God, Jackson groaned inwardly. Why didn't the two of them go off in a locked room and duke it out already? Or perhaps they'd rather settle things between the sheets? He didn't care which they chose, because this was getting ridiculous. The longer he stayed between them, the worse the tension grew. He wished the other agents would fucking get here so they could meet, disperse, and do their jobs.
"I need to take a smoke break," Jackson announced suddenly.
Loralei watched as Jackson left the conference room. She had done it again. They had to get past this. She looked over at Donovan, and he had finally looked away. He had propped his elbow on the table and hooded his eyes with his hand. His head ached sickly. He couldn't get past the anger or hurt. He couldn't get past wanting her so badly he ached. He was a goddamn professional, and he had allowed a woman to screw up his ethics. Her lies and his hurt and anger weren't at issue. The death of innocent people was the only important thing here. His focus was shot now, and he wasn't sure how long it would take him to get it back.
She moved away from the table and stood. She couldn't stand to be near him. If she could play the game again, she was certain she would do everything differently. If she could only go back and erase the last few weeks, it may not have gotten so fucked up so quickly. If only…
"I'm sorry," he said without looking her way.
"No you're not. You're not sorry about any damn thing. Just admit it, Frank, it's okay. I'm a fuck up, go ahead and say it. I know that's what you're thinking," she spat.
He looked at her, fixing her with a gaze she had come to love, a gaze that had the ability to boil her blood. "How could you possibly know what I'm thinking," he demanded. "We've been living a lie for the past month, Loralei. How do you know anything?"
"You're such a self-centered…man," she spat, unable to think of anything sassy to come back at him. She approached him and stood over him, suddenly feeling that she had the upper hand for the first time since he had discovered her secrets. "I didn't lie about my feelings. I didn't lie when I was making love to you. Call it fucking if you want, you man, but we both know what we had was more than that. But if you want to play that game, knock yourself the fuck out, Frank Donovan. I'm sick of you, sick of your juvenile prick behavior. Looking at you now, I'm not even sure what drew me to you. How stupid was I to even think you were anything more than the typical testosterone driven…MAN. I can't even begin to explain what I liked about you, because right now, I can see nothing."
Loralei stepped away from him, finally relieved to have had her say. She noticed that he had kept the same look on his face throughout her tirade. Slowly, he stood up, not taking his eyes off her once. She wasn't altogether sure if he intended to slap her, shake her, or throw her out the window. She didn't back away from him; she stood her ground and challenged him. With her eyes, she dared him to touch her. She wasn't stupid, she knew he could easily overpower her, but she was a trained fighter and could give him a run for his money. With one swift move, his hands clamped down on her upper arms. He stared down into her eyes, and she waited patiently before making a move. She was tense and alert, her heart pounded sickly in her chest. She had never felt like this before. She readied to strike.
"I know what you liked about me," he said before mashing his mouth down onto hers.
His unexpected kiss caught her off guard. Never in a thousand years would she have anticipated it. She struggled against him and tried to prevent his insistent tongue from invading her mouth. He didn't loosen his grip; he pressed forward brutally, forcing her lips apart, conquering and dividing. She was helpless, caught in a trap that she really didn't want to escape. She could no longer fight; she no longer wanted to fight. Her lips softened against his, and her arms relaxed. Instead of trying to slug him, her arms were fighting to go around him. He didn't release her, as he didn't quite trust her yet.
Crazily, she felt her body spinning and then the edge of the conference table was digging at the small of her back, just a couple of inches above her buttocks. At that point, he finally loosened his grip on her arms. He broke the kiss and stared down at her hungrily. She once again saw images of the wolf and the rabbit at the final showdown. With an animalistic snarl obscuring her face, she took hold of his lapels. For a moment, he thought she was going to punch him. Instead, she jerked him forward and gave him a taste of his own medicine. She kissed him hard, nibbling at his lips, biting them. Her kiss was so intense, he felt as if she were trying to suck every bit of air out of his lungs.
When she finally broke the kiss, her chest rose and fell rapidly. She wanted nothing more than to make love to him until there was no fluid left in his body. Yet, that wasn't to be. They had kissed. Big whoop. It didn't matter that they had nearly devoured each other in the process. Nothing was resolved, not really, and there was no time for it. Without a word, she pushed him away and moved past him. He shook his head in disbelief. What the fuck? His lip was bleeding from where she had bitten him.
* * *
"Jake? Where are you going," Zara asked.
He was sitting up on the side of the bed, trying to get dressed. He kept glancing at his wristwatch. He was late. Donovan would kill him, and probably do so creatively. Zara was getting a little clingy. He was with her seven days a week and had hardly had a break. She was pushing him to move in with her. He wasn't ready for that kind of commitment yet. The sex was great, but there was nothing more. Thoughts of breaking it off with her had entered his mind more than once.
"I have to go to work, baby," he said. "Go back to sleep. I won't be home for a while."
She sat up and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Do you have to go?"
He nodded. "Yeah, but I'll be back." He removed her arms and turned to face her. "I need to talk to you when I get back. Okay?"
She smiled. Zara was sure he was going to ask her to move in. "Okay." She placed a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you."
This would be difficult. "Go to sleep," he said.
* * *
Jake was the last of the BHK crew to show up. Everyone else was seated around the table. He expected Donovan's wrath to fall at any moment. However, he didn't say a word. He was sullen and brooding. Oddly, his bottom lip appeared to be swollen just the tiniest bit. His eyes quickly went to Loralei. What the hell?
"Glad you could make it, Agent Shaw," Loralei said.
He ignored the biting sarcasm in her words. "What's the plan?"
Loralei sighed, purposely avoiding Donovan. He had fixed his eyes on her again the moment she began speaking. "We're throwing a party."
