Page 75 of Toy No More

The male agent leans toward me, his expression serious and brows furrowed. “We have an informant in the organization, but no one nearly close enough to the core to provide any useful information.”

No. Nope. No fucking way.

I shake my head. I know what they’re going to ask and there is no way I could even consider that.

He pauses, glancing at the woman. She takes over.

“Listen to me,” she says, and her firm tone pulls me in. Keeping my lips in a thin line to hide the slight quiver, I meet her determined green eyes. “You’re the only person in Jasper’s inner circle who doesn’t have any criminal record. Somehow, you’re not like the rest of them. And not just because you’re an omega, or because you’ve avoided punishment.” She lowers her voice. “We noticed that. I can see it right now,” she says, studying me firmly.

This is wrong. This is all wrong. She has no idea what she’s talking about.

“All the others who surround Jasper Zane are criminals. We know their names, their stories, their records. You are a child of a broken woman, who’s serving time for her crimes, partially thanks to you. You care for your little brother and for your mother’s childhood friend. Besides some disciplinary actions in school, which would be more than understandable considering your circumstances, you are by all accounts a decent person. We know you got into this by working for Carlos Wilson, and we know that you were handed over to the Zanes when Wilson retired. You care deeply about your family, Kobe. That much is clear. Think about what could happen to them if you died on the job, or if you went to prison. If you keep living this life. Being lucky and being decent can only get you so far…”

I want her to stop talking and disappear. Closing my eyes briefly, I desperately order my brain to ignore her words, but they are too heavy and important to just let go.

This had to come eventually, right? Criminals get caught. That’s the truth of life.

“If you cooperate with us, we will guarantee you protection. For youandyour family. You’d be given a new name, a new life, and so would they. You could start over and right every wrong you might have committed in your time. I’ve done this for a while, and I can tell by looking into someone’s eyes when they’re a good person at heart.”

I draw my brows together, suppressing a bitter snort. Who does she think she is? A main character of some crime drama? “I doubt that,” I mutter, glancing back at her.

Those ghosts haunting my conscience would disagree. The man I killed with my own two hands would, too. I’m not innocent, and I can never be innocent. This must be just her way of softening me up. She’s playing the good cop, clearly.

Her chuckle surprises me. Tilting her head, Agent Evans has a surprisingly soft expression. “There’s guilt all over your face, Mr. Saber. That’s something we hardly get to see in evil men. In people who are beyond redemption.”

I stare into space somewhere next to her, too paralyzed by fear and doubt and frustration to do or say anything. My entire body is growing hotter again. Like the stress of them coming here and springing all of this on me undid all the recovery I managed in my sleep, I feel on the verge of passing out.

My silence must be more than a confirmation for them, even if they already know all there is to know. But what is there to say?

The agent claps her hands together with a sigh, indicating to her partner they are done. They both stand up, startling me a little. “Anyway, we promised it would be quick, so we should get going. I will leave this card here,” she says, placing the white business card with names and phone numbers on the coffee table in front of her. “I ask you to think about what we said. Consider the proposition. And if you have questions, don’t hesitate to contact either of us. We would be more than happy to find a middle ground and help each other. Please. Think about it.”

I stare at the card. If someone followed them or saw them come in—hell, even if someone saw this card alone—I could get carved like a pig for that. Swallowing hard, I nod, acknowledging it without blinking or moving in any other way.

“Thank you for your time,” Agent Colton says, stepping around the couch to head for the door. I hold my breath, counting the second until they’re both gone, when the woman pauses on as she passes me.

“You really don’t look too good, Mr. Saber. It might be your heat playing up with your hormones. I’d take some medication and get some proper rest if I were you.”

A hint of care in an otherwise professional tone takes me aback. She seems genuine in her concern. With a nod, I flash her a thankful smile before she turns and heads for the door.

I can’t believe they’re actually gone even when it shuts behind them. The silence in the apartment after they leave makes my knees buckle. With a loud, exhausted exhale, I collapse into the recliner and finally let out that panicked whimper I’ve held in the entire time.

“Fuck,” I whisper, rubbing my eyes. Tears push in, and so comes the trembling in my hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

The card stares at me from the table, its pristine whiteness almost radiating.

What the ever loving fuck am I supposed to do now?

Chapter 20

Apollo

IthoughtIalreadyhated working enough and would enjoy some time off. But as it turns out, I hatenotworking almost as much. When Jasper said he would shut down the Dollhouse for two days to let things settle—and so that he can pretend to mourn and plan to avenge his father—I figured it was great. After everything that happened, it would be a chance to wind down and grow close again.

Of course, I didn’t realize it meant he would still go in and leave me at home alone. I don’t like being at home alone. Doing nothing. Nothing but thinking.

And my stupid mind is not a good place to be…

The TV doesn’t hold my attention. Neither is playing around with my makeup. I clean half of my brushes before the motivation leaves me completely and I end up on the window bench, staring out into space. Everything and anything my head allows me to focus on is what happened. I keep replaying each second of the past two days, scene by scene, trying to figure out what the hell I’m feeling and how to deal with it.

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