Page 25 of Protecting His Brat
Geoff reappears at the sliding glass door, only he’s not holding a plate full of food as I would expect. He’s wringing his hands in front of his stomach, and keeps shifting his eyes behind him, like his mom is going to jump out and bust him with a girl or something. “Dude. You need to come in here.”
Ignoring him, I pull out my phone and dial Lacy.
“Seriously, there’s someone here to see you.” Geoff glances back into the apartment, and I follow his eyes to a severe looking woman standing in the center of the living room.
The phone rings and rings, but Lacy doesn’t pick up.
Dread raises up like flood waters in my chest. Something isn’t right.
The note clutched in my hand, I stalk back into the living room. If I wasn’t so terrified, I would laugh at the rest of my bandmates, all sitting on the sectional with their hands in their laps staring at their feet like the principal is about to tell them off.
“Mister Flores, my name is Agent Christine Templeton with the Federal Bureau of Investigations. I’m looking for Lacy Falluci.” Severe isn’t a strong enough word for this woman. She stands stock straight with her hands poised at her hips where a gun is holstered on one side and handcuffs on the other. As if she’s prepared to arrest you at any moment. Her dark skin is totally free of makeup, and a jagged scar slashes across her face from left temple to right jaw. Black hair pulled back into a tight bun so tight, it pulls her face taut.
I notice these facts about the woman while my heart speeds to dangerous levels and my body prepares to fight whatever threat is being leveled at Lacy. “She’s with Agent Rose.”
Templeton doesn’t utter a word, but her eyes say this isn’t good. “Did she tell you where she was meeting Agent Rose?”
Words stick in my throat, and I’m afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll vomit them and my lunch up onto the floor. Instead, I shake my head and hand her the note.
Her eyes scan it once. Twice. Three times before she turns to two men I hadn’t noticed standing sentry at the door. “Get tech on the line. We need to locate a phone.” She turns back to me. “I assume you have Ms. Falluci’s number. I’m going to need it to ascertain her current whereabouts.”
“What are you talking about? Just call your coworker and find out where the fuck he’s meeting her.” Anger rises in me like hot steam, searching for any way to release, and unfortunately for this FBI agent, and maybe my continued freedom, it seems to be coming out directed at her. “What the fuck is going on? You assholes steal her life, threaten her with imprisonment, then traumatize her with photos of her father and those poor girls, and now you’re pretending like you don’t know where she is.”
“I’m not pretending, sir. Agent Rose was suspended from his position with the FBI over a month ago. He has no reason to be meeting with Ms. Falluci right now. That means she is in grave danger, and you need to give me her phone number, so we can feed it back to headquarters, and they can track her location.”
All that hot airs leaves me at once as I rush to recite Lacy’s phone number. One of the agents at the door repeats the digits into a cell phone, then we all sit around and wait what seems like forever but is probably only thirty seconds.
“GPS and cell towers confirm her phone is at an office building in the Meatpacking District.” The blank faced FBI agent at the door turns in unison with Agent Templeton and the other guy who has yet to speak, and I follow close behind.
“Where do you think you’re going Mr. Flores?” Agent Templeton places a palm in the middle of my chest, and I sidestep her touch. Anyone else’s touch besides Lacy makes my skin crawl. Especially now with not knowing where she is or if she is in danger.
“I’m coming with you to get my girl.”
“That is very Liam Neeson of you, but no, you’re not. This is a delicate situation. We will call when we have Ms. Falluci safely in our custody.” The agent isn’t a large woman, but she has a commanding presence which brokers no negotiating.
We’re wasting time.
“Fine. But if you don't call in an hour or less, I am alerting all of Lacy’s social media followers that she has been duped by the FBI. Millions of people follow and love that girl. You may not care who we are, but I guarantee none of your bosses wants to deal with that public relations disaster.”
Templeton sniffs and turns to exit the building.
Behind me, I hear four sets of feet shuffle up the hall. “You really not following them?”
“Fuck that.” I give the agents exactly a thirty second head start before the band and I climb into Geoff’s SUV parked at the curb and head toward the Meatpacking District.
Chapter Thirteen
Lacy
This isn’t right.
The second my Uber pulls up to the address Agent Rose sent me to, I know something is off. Before I can tell the driver to keep going, to get me the hell out of here, Rose has stomped out of the dilapidated office building and is wrenching open my door.
“Out.”
“I’d prefer if we did this at headquarters. Like last time.” True, the last time I met with Agent Rose, he ushered me in through a backdoor and straight into an interrogation room, but I figured he didn’t want the paparazzi to get wind that they were questioning me. Now it’s me who is questioning everything.
Did I see any markings in the dark hallways and interrogation room to indicate I was truly in the FBI field office? The building we had been in was near Federal Plaza, but Rose said they didn't do actual FBI business in the building everyone thinks of as the center for FBI in New York. He said I was silly for thinking all those important people would be housed in such an obvious building, with its address listed on Google.
