CONTAINS CONTENT:
Mild sexual content
Shortly after they finished eating, Vincent insisted on being returned to his room, where he quietly took up reading Dracula again.
Klara tried talking to him several times, even though he still refused to respond to anyone other than Marielle. She asked, “You’re smart, right? We’ll have to work together sometime.” Klara was this way with everyone. “In fact, there’s something I’ve been working on that I think you’d like.” She chuckled. “Or I don’t know, maybe you’d just see it as a toaster.”
He gave her the softest smile and glanced down but said nothing as she removed his cuffs and locked him in his room again. Marielle could tell something was on his mind, although she couldn’t put a finger on what it was.
As promised, Marielle gave Klara a portion of her sandwich that had been left over. She ate ravenously, wolfing it down like she hadn’t had anything to eat in the last day and giving Marielle a thumbs-up for the great cuisine.
Barbara was there the moment Marielle stepped off the elevator, arms crossed and an expectant look furrowing her brow. Liam wasn’t far behind her with Sabine right on his heels and Austin in the rear.
“Am I supposed to receive everybody in the building?” Marielle chuckled.
“Don’t talk to anyone but me.” Austin popped around Barbara like a fly buzzing around a trash heap and grinned salaciously. “What’d he say?”
“A lot,” Marielle replied flatly despite the grin spreading across her face.
“We’ll talk later?” He winked as Barbara pushed him out of the way, annoyed. He tripped over her feet as he rounded her body. Marielle tried to quell a laugh behind her fist—Austin was just too much fun. Sabine obviously thought the exact opposite and rolled her eyes as Austin tripped by, laughing.
“Ms. Chaenes, can we speak with you?” Barbara asked.
“I suppose,” she replied, trying to hide her disdain.
Barbara gestured for everyone to head to a meeting room. Inside, coffee was made, and they all sat around the table with empty chairs spaced out between them. They sipped for several long minutes as Barbara skimmed through a file.
“He still won’t speak with anyone except you, Ms. Chaenes…”
“As we’ve all witnessed,” Sabine interjected, draining the last of her coffee.
“What has he told you?” Barbara demanded, tossing the file onto the table.
Marielle waited only one beat. “Not much. I’m still getting him to trust me.”
There was a prolonged silence during which Liam glanced from Barbara to Marielle and back again, stroking his chin. “You’re getting him to trust you, are you?”
“It’s a bit of both,” she admitted with a nod of the head one way, then the other. “But he doesn’t trust anyone except himself. That’s what he said today that stood out to me.” She paused; everyone was waiting for more. “He misses food from home.”
“France?” Austin interjected.
She nodded. “Yeah, and his wife.”
“He’s married?” Liam asked incredulously.
“Well, he’s a widower.” The room was silent for a moment. Austin looked down dejectedly, and Marielle tried to work out why. This seemed like more than ordinary empathy toward someone who had lost a spouse. Sabine also looked away; no one in the room understood that pain better than her. “He told me he’d explain more tomorrow.”
“Let me guess, if you cooked for him again?” That was Sabine. She was still avoiding eye contact by looking out the window.
“Yes,” Marielle answered without looking at her.
Barbara tapped the table with her pen for a few moments before glancing at Austin, who gave an exaggerated shrug as if to say that he didn’t know. “We think it’s time for you to start carrying on the grounds, Ms. Chaenes.” Marielle’s eyes widened, first with shock, then excitement. “As long as you’re talking to him, we want to make sure you’re protected at all costs.” Barbara cleared her throat. “We think he’s playing some kind of game.”
“Well, so do I… but I also think he’s telling me the truth.” She glanced around the table at everyone. “I feel that I have enough of a reading on him at this point to know when he’s lying and when he’s not.” She drummed her chin in thought. “He’s not trustworthy”—she paused—“but he does want to tell me something, and he will tell me if I make him food. That’s what I have right now.”
Barbara stood and tapped the table a few times as she began to move out. “Issue her a weapon,” she told Liam, sliding the folder across the table to Marielle.
She opened it slowly. The top page listed all of the people who had died in a research facility explosion associated with Kingdom. Marielle knew little about Kingdom, only that they were a research and development corporation whose goal was to discover new ways of using radianite to advance technology and produce energy. Both Liam and Klara had been briefly involved with Kingdom at one point, although both had left in a hurry for some unknown reason.
Marielle swallowed and sat back, putting her trembling hand to her mouth as she tried to contain the bile that threatened to emerge. There were so many names, and the implication was that Vincent had done this. She scanned them quickly, along with the little blurb next to each one. She only managed to read a dozen or so before it became too much for her, but she knew there were more names on the next page.
The folder fell from her hands onto the floor. Several papers slipped out and scattered as she drew a shaky hand down her face and turned to look out the window in thought. Sabine was standing at that window, staring at the courtyard Marielle had just come from. She cut her eyes to Marielle, then quickly looked away again. Marielle’s stomach twisted with the knowledge of her growing feelings toward Vincent and what this revelation was doing to her psyche.
Everyone was silent. Finally, Liam nodded, signaling the end of the meeting; she’d been told what she needed to be told.
Marielle felt a hand on her shoulder and started; it was Austin. “Let’s go talk,” he whispered in her ear, then flicked his eyes to hers and smiled. She nodded and followed him as he exited the room and turned right to go two doors down to his office.
He sat down and gestured for her to close the door, even though she was already doing so. “I want you to know that I’m here. Even though you don’t know me very well, I’ll treat you the same way you treat the agents here. You can tell me anything and trust that it’s a secret. Also, because we’re similar in many ways, I consider you a friend. I feel a deeper connection with you, Marielle, than I do with most of the other men and women in this facility, and I see that you’re suffering.”
She swallowed and looked down into her empty lap. She wanted to tell herself that his speech was staged. It sounded stilted and rehearsed, and yet… she could tell that he meant it.
“You like Vincent,” he continued. “I don’t need you to explain it. It’s obvious to me—and to him.” Austin paused, lacing his fingers behind his head. “He can use that against you, whatever his game is.”
“Aren’t you doing the same thing right now?” she hissed, then drew back a bit apologetically. “That move is too obvious to be spontaneous,” she said under her breath, referring to his posture at present.
He tilted his head and gave her a boyish, knowing smile, then dropped his hands. “For sure. I knew instantly that you were attracted to me. However, I’m not trying to seduce you, Marielle, just get you to like me… because I want to be your friend. You do like me, don’t you, Marielle?”
“Yeah, I do,” she whispered. “I also recognize that you’re using guided conversation by insisting that I feel or think a certain way.” Her last few words came out as a growl.
Austin put his hands on his chest and twiddled his thumbs for a minute. “Let me guess… Vincent told you not to trust me,” he said with a smirk. She was silent. “That’s a yes.”
She took in a deep pull of air and met his eyes. “Okay, Austin… Yes.”
“And you trust him, don’t you?” She let the air out. “As I said, you like him. No one’s cheeks get that red and puffy around someone they’re ambivalent about. You like that he’s dangerous. It gets you off.”
She shook her head and closed her eyes, a smile forming that she wished she could keep back. Austin leaned his temple on his fingertips and continued, “Because you’ve never needed a man. You’re strong enough on your own, aren’t you?” That was true. “So the fact that it feels like he could take you and do”—he got a wild look in his eye that was obviously lustful—“whatever he wanted with you excites you, doesn’t it?”
She covered her reddening face. “What are you, his wingman?” She chuckled.
He stood and moved to the front of his desk, leaning back on it. His smile matched hers and more. “Nah, we’re not like… friends.” He laced his fingers behind his head again as she eyed him warily. “But you do like him. And I think the moment you admit that to yourself, the easier this will be for all of us.”
Marielle sat, thinking on his words for a moment. “Is that an official diagnosis?” Her cheeks felt uncomfortably hot.
Austin laughed as he got up from his desk. He approached her more quickly than she had time to register. “Marielle,” he said in mid-step, placing a hand on her left shoulder, “cool off.”
She gasped as a jolt of icy energy shot through her entire body, causing her to feel like she was standing naked in a snow-covered field. Every hair on her body stood up and her flesh broke out into goosebumps, including her breasts, which she suspected was his intention all along.
Austin continued to the door, and when she whirled to give him the kind of look that playfully said, “How dare you?” he gave her a mischievous smile with a hint of salacious intent. She put her arms around herself and bit the back of her finger, waiting for the chill to pass. Then she jumped up and hurried after him. He was already most of the way down the hall, entering the stairwell to the kitchen.
“Austin!” she called after him, but he didn’t turn. He had reached the landing by the time she reached the stairs, so she jumped the first six steps and landed right behind him. She could sense his smile as they went down the last few stairs and through the door to the right. They stopped at the fridge, and he opened it and pulled out a beer. Turning to her, Austin cracked it open, tossing the top to the counter with a metallic plink.
“I’m not satisfied with any of this,” she growled. However, despite her disdain toward Austin and curiosity about this situation, she couldn’t quell her smile.
His response to her statement was obvious in his beaming eyes and drawn-in chin. Satisfied, huh? She rolled her eyes at him.
He took a long swig off the bottle, put it down, and lifted his arms high as if to say “What?” Then he gave her a small half smile with his mouth still full, which seemed a poor attempt to bridge the silence between the two of them. It didn’t work.
“Okay, test then… You know the drill. Twenty-five questions: five lies, twenty truths.” He lifted his arms again as if in surrender, then crossed them over his chest and gestured with his head to the beer, offering her a sip. “You can’t trust me if you don’t know me.”
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, picked up the bottle, and drank. First a small sip, swishing it around in her mouth, then a much larger swallow, feeling the weight of what she’d learned about Vincent bearing down on her.
Marielle and Austin leaned over opposite sides of the counter island, glaring at one another as a staring contest ensued. Austin narrowed his eyes at her playfully but refused to blink. Marielle couldn’t help but grin and chuckle silently. She was about to open her mouth when her attention was drawn to the left.
Both of them had rushed in so quickly they hadn’t noticed that the door to the second fridge was open. It closed, revealing Mateo’s little buddy, Wingman, with his arms full of bananas, several packs of cookies and chips, and a couple of sodas. The yellow creature looked at them, then turned and waddled away, presumably heading back to his master. A banana fell from his grasp on his way out of the kitchen, smacking onto the floor. His little clawed hand reached back around the door and grabbed it.
“Being here is so beyond weird sometimes.” Marielle sighed heavily and rubbed the space between her eyes with her fingertips.
Austin chuckled silently. “Where do you think he’s going?”
“Oh, he’s definitely taking all of that back to Mateo.”
“That’s a lot of food,” Austin noted, gazing after the little creature.
“Well, he’s a growing boy,” Marielle replied, and no sooner had she said this than a woman’s screech came from the hallway. Someone had run into the little guy. They heard silence for a second, and then Wingman continued to squelch away.
A moment later, Tala entered the room and headed for the fridge Wingman had just vacated. “Don’t mind me, I’m getting a be-er,” she said in a singsong tone with a wave of her hand.
“You’re not old enough to dri-ink,” Marielle sang back.
“Don’t mind me, I’m getting a Co-oke,” Tala corrected.
“Bet-terrrr.”
Tala marched off, chugging the soda, and disappeared around the corner. Fading footfalls told them both that she was gone.
Marielle turned back to oh-so-attractive Austin and squinted at him in thought. “Anything?”
“Anything. Open book,” he said, and something in his facial expression promised her this was dangerous, like looking into a dark cave where a bear or dragon lurked inside, even though you couldn’t see it.
“No tricks?” He opened his hands in a gesture that implied honesty. “Okay, twenty-five questions.”
He took another swig, then set the beer down, put his hands on the island, and nodded. Ready.
There was a pregnant pause, then she spoke. “What’s your real name?”
“Austin Michael Rancor,” he replied quickly.
Truth. She zeroed in on him, his body language, his tone. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-two, but I’ll be thirty-three soon.”
True. “When’s your birthday?”
He put the bottle to his lips. “September 4th, 2038,” he said before taking another drink, lingering slightly on “fourth.”
False. She wasn’t sure which part was false, the month or the day, but one of them was. “Lie…”
“I’ll tell you at the end,” he murmured, flicking his eyebrows a few times at her. He turned and grabbed the last banana, peeling it. This was about to become more difficult for her.
“What’s your favorite color?”
He lifted the collar of his loose-fitting, button-down shirt. “Teal.”
True. He took a small bite off the end of the banana and chewed. She tried to shut out the image and focus only on his eyes and the sound of his voice.
“Dogs or cats?”
“Dogs.”
This was false. He was definitely a cat person.
“Are you a profiler that works for the United States Government?”
“Yes.”
True. And yet, there was something off about that answer. She let it go for now.
“Nineteen to go,” he whispered, and gave another roguish smile that she found far more attractive than she wanted to admit.
“Are you wearing a teal shirt?”
“Duh,” he said in a singsong tone, looking away, then back to her.
She was amused, but quickly cleared the emotion from her expression. “Are you prideful?”
“Very,” he said, taking another small bite of the banana.
Marielle eyed the yellow fruit for a moment. “Do you like bananas?”
“Not at all.”
This was hard to assess; his actions said yes, his reply said no, and neither was completely clear in her mind. The possibility crossed her mind that he was eating the fruit as a way to distract her, which was quite probable.
“Do you smoke?”
He leaned back on the counter behind him rather than the island. “Yup.”
Lie. She smiled and eyed the fruit again. “Are you eating that banana to distract me?”
“Yes, I am.” His eyes lit up with delight. His enjoyment of this game was written all over his smug, blemish-free face.
Drawing a deep breath, she took another sip from his beer. That was true. “Do you think it’s working?”
She wouldn’t have believed it possible, but the blue in his eyes became bluer and icier, reflecting even more delight than before. “Mm-hmm.”
True. Another small bite. She drummed her lip in thought. “Are you altered?”
“Yes.”
She paused for a moment. Time to get personal. “Do you think I’m beautiful?”
“Hot,” he replied quickly.
Totally true. “But you’re not trying to seduce me?”
“Not presently.”
That banana was almost gone. What was he going to hide behind next? “But you would sleep with me without hesitation if I asked you to or showed that desire?”
“Yup. It’s just who I am. I like to have my fun.”
True. “Were you a player in high school?”
“Yes. You know how this goes, Marielle—our ability, I mean. We see someone’s weakness and we exploit it. We don’t need to be told when someone is attracted to us or likes us.”
He was right, and he was telling the truth. “You think I’m attracted to you.”
“You are,” he said directly. “And who could blame you? But you don’t go home and think about me. You think about him.” He gestured to the left with his head, indicating Vincent.
“You didn’t cheat on your wife, did you?” He’d already confirmed this, but she wanted to hear him say it. “And by cheat on, I mean have sexual intercourse of any kind with another human being.”
“I didn’t, no.”
True. A pause; she knew this meant he’d probably done other things like porn or strip clubs, even though he hadn’t actually slept with another person.
He held up five fingers. Only five questions left to try to figure him out a little more.
“Have you ever been out of the country?”
“Uh…” He exhaled through closed lips, and his eyes widened as he appeared to be mentally counting. “Three times.”
False. It was definitely more.
“What are your thoughts on the statement ‘boys will be boys’?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her head to one side.
“C’est moi,” he teased.
“You speak French?”
A brief pause. “Fluently.”
Now she was curious. This was true, but it made her nervous. Had he heard any of the conversation she’d had with Vincent yesterday in their native tongue? Could he have read their lips from so far away? He was trained, after all, and well. Maybe he had read their body language? From what he’d already revealed, it seemed likely.
She paused, wondering if she should press the next question. What the hell, she’d put everything on the table. “Did you like what you did to me in there when you… uh…”—she fought for the word—“iced me?”
He beamed. “Definitely.” He turned and threw the banana peel away in a silver trashcan.
She felt herself tingle with discomfort and minor interest. “Have you ever committed a crime that could get you sentenced?”
He dug something out of his teeth with the tip of his tongue, probably a stringy bit of banana. “No,” he replied, shaking his head.
True.
“Are you more dangerous than you’re letting on?”
Beaming again, he used both hands to sweep hair behind his ears. “Oh, yeah.” He grabbed the bottle and drained the rest of it before turning back to her, clapping his hands once and rubbing them together.
“Okay…” She paused. “I trust you a little more.” She thought for a moment. “But you only lied four times.”
“Did I?” he taunted, that devilish smile spreading across his teeth like the jaws of a crocodile opening. He was so secure in his stance and expression that her heart sped up a little.
Was he lying? Where had she missed the lie? Had it been something to do with the banana? She knew she’d put too much thought into that damn banana. Maybe he liked bananas? She was confused now.
He came around the counter to stand near her, his movements slow and purposeful. “You see, that’s the problem, Marielle. This is not an exact science, and Vincent might know how to throw you, the same way I do. So it’s best not to lie to one another, Marielle…”
She noted the second use of her name. It was guided conversation again. Using someone’s name opened them up to more vulnerability. Then Austin leaned in toward her ear, a gesture that made her maddeningly uncomfortable.
“He’s found your weakness,” he whispered, separating each word as if speaking to a child. His breath came out icy once more, and his eyes glowed white with a touch of blue. “As have I. Be… careful.”
His last statement was less intimate and sensual, more serious and genuine. Austin held his position close to her, but somehow it felt like he’d backed up a little bit. “He’s already used it against you,” he added in a low tone, no longer whispering. “You like him. Admit it to yourself, and to me.”
She nodded her agreement. “Why are you trying to put certain thoughts in my head?” she dared.
“I told you, I want you to like me.”
True.
He tilted his head down at her. “I haven’t lied to you, except during this little game .” A pregnant pause; she knew what he was about to say. “Vincent has.”
He started to walk away, and she was left thinking for a moment.
“It was the shirt,” she said. “You drew attention to the shirt to reinforce your statement a little too comfortably.” Marielle turned to him, watching his back. He stopped walking. She thought of the photos on his office wall. “Your favorite color is red.”
He turned to her, biting his bottom lip and drawing his brows in briefly in an expression that possibly indicated arousal. “Ooooh.” He grinned, his eyes reflecting how impressed he was. “Good girl.” Then he walked away.
***
To blow off steam, Marielle went down to the training room, where she found Tayane and Jamie. She walked to her locker, which had been spray-painted with the name “Gall” in dripping white. She’d forgotten who had done that shortly after she’d come to Valorant, but it had occurred after a few training sessions during which she had repeatedly leapt out into battle with seeming fearlessness. She had to stop and look at it for a moment before she remembered that was her. Her agent name—if she ever became an agent—would be Gall.
“You like that he’s dangerous. It gets you off.” Austin’s voice echoed in the back of her head. “You’ve never needed a man. You’re strong enough on your own, aren’t you?”
Yeah, she was.
“Well, hello, Gall,” Tayane said from behind her as Marielle opened her locker and put her bag and a few other things inside.
Tayane was sitting on a bench, tinkering with one of her many machines. She knocked on it a few times, put it on the ground, and watched it Roomba itself across the floor, only to smack into the lockers and fall apart. This was a pretty normal occurrence when it came to Tayane’s bots.
Every time Marielle saw Tayane, she tried review what she knew about her from her dossier and their brief interactions because they never spent any time together outside of counseling sessions. Tayane was from Brazil, and she was dating Klara. She had a fondness for bots, explosions, and paint.
That’s right, Marielle thought. She was the one who spray-painted my locker. Tayane’s agent name was Raze, and Marielle remembered making a note of her tendency toward spontaneity when she’d spent some one-on-one time in her office with her. She also wondered if Tayane had some form of ADHD or an audio processing issue since she often wore headphones.
“Hey, Tayane,” she replied. “How are you?”
“Eyeing you because you’re feeding Klara the best food she’s eaten in her entire existence,” she teased, readjusting the orange baseball cap that sat backward atop her dark head. It was obvious she was joking, and both women laughed.
“Don’t worry, your girlfriend is safe. Totally hetero.” Marielle raised two fingers, then added under her breath, “Although I obviously have a long-standing love affair with Sabine.”
Tayane nodded. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. What is it between you two?”
“It’s a long… No, a very long story.” She sighed, her eyes widening briefly as she took her police gloves out of her locker. “One I’m not going to tell.” She slipped into her gloves and put her earpiece in.
Jamie walked into the room, a burned smell preceding his entrance. Smoke rose from his white leather coat.
“That doesn’t look pleasant,” Tayane noted.
“This?” He gestured to the jacket. “I buy these by the dozen. Are you going in there, Marielle?”
He turned to her as she adjusted her earpiece and pulled both of her pistols from the upper shelf. They weren’t real, only laser tag replicas that had been given to her for training, so they didn’t need to be stored in any particular way. If she wanted to do a more intense round, she could check out a real weapon from a selection of them kept in a hidden room behind a nearby wall. Usually, someone was watching that room, ready to rent out weapons.
“No, I’m just dressing up like this because it’s pretty,” Marielle replied with a wink as she tucked her chin into her left shoulder.
Jamie grinned wildly. “Come on, let’s go!”
***
After about an hour of target practice, Marielle left the building. She followed Vincent’s directions to Gonnal Street, where she sat on the bench, explored the end of the armrest until it came loose, and pulled out an envelope. When she opened it, she found no less than five thousand dollars inside, all in hundreds.
Gasping, she tucked it into her cleavage. “How many meals does that man want me to make for him?” she wondered, glancing around to make sure no one had seen her. The rest of the world seemed oblivious.
Then she hurried to the subway and went to the little shop that carried all of her favorite ingredients. She paid for everything in cash, racking up another receipt for a hundred and fifty dollars that made her grateful for the money, and rushed home to start cooking.
Her specialty… Throughout the years, people had probably commented the most on her pan-fried sole and her mushroom-and-cheese soufflés. Since a soufflé would never make the trip to Valorant headquarters, she decided on pan-fried sole, green beans with lemon butter and almonds, and potato pie.
She fed Felix, taking a moment to scratch behind his ears, then washed her hands in the kitchen sink. “Do you eat this way, Vincent? Is this your life? A hundred-and-fifty-dollar dinners, desserts, and snacks?” she wondered as she washed vegetables and got out the cutting boards.
“Can you cut these for me?” she asked, turning to Vincent, who was standing beside her.
“How would you like me to cut them?” he asked, taking the green beans from her and unbuttoning his sleeves. He rolled them up to above his elbows, and Marielle couldn’t help but look at his arms. He was lean, yes, but strong, and those tattoos kept on going up his body.
“Chop them in half at least,” she answered.
After a smile, he vanished.
She beamed, once again alone. “I wish you were here,” she whispered as she began cooking the meal.
“You do like him. And I think the moment you admit that to yourself, the easier this will be for all of us.” Austin’s voice again echoed in the back of her mind.
“Okay… I like you, Vincent.” She poured herself a little wine left over from their picnic and drank. She turned to his imaginary figure once more and lifted the glass. “To you.”
A soft smile spread across his lips as he took the glass from her, slowly set it aside, and came to her so that they were face-to-face, then body to body. She was only five foot two, while he was over six feet tall. She felt all of it as though he were right there: the smell of his fresh cologne; his light sweat, which carried the musk of desire; the warmth of his touch as he reached up and tucked the hair that was escaping her braid once more behind her left ear.
“To us,” he corrected.
She closed her eyes, reliving the electricity that had passed through her body when he’d touched her that way in the courtyard. The softest of touches had made her melt, sending her mind into total calm and total chaos at the same time, even though she hadn’t shown him that. Her mind and body had tingled for hours, and she had replayed it in her mind over and over again, wanting to recapture that high. But as high as that had left her feeling, she had felt just as low holding that folder before it crashed to the floor.
“You’re a murderer…” she whispered.
And she stirred the sauce in silence, then slept quietly later with Felix curling up even closer to her chest.