Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Ten pairs of eyes stared at her, and Cass swallowed hard. This wasn’t the first time she’d addressed the team. Those other times, they were usually knee deep in an operation.

Astrid should be here.

The thought flitted across her mind, something she should’ve considered before, because what she had to say affected her too.

“Growler, is Astrid on set or out at a promo event?” she asked.

The man looked surprised at her question. “She’s at home. Why?”

“I’d like her to hear what I have to say. Do you think she’d mind if we video called her in?”

The questions Growler wanted to ask were written on his handsome face, but it was obvious he could tell this was important to her, so he didn’t ask. “I’ll check, but it shouldn’t be a problem.” He pulled out his phone, and his thumbs flew over the screen.

If Cass could take a silver lining about her family’s dealings, it was that Growler had found Astrid and Angel had found Teresa.

In an indirect way, Ox and Eveline had gotten together because of her family. Eveline’s former boss, and a competitor to Alliez, had gotten hooked on drugs and had stalked Eveline. The drugs, of course, had been supplied by Cass’s family.

At least they’d all have each other, which was important, and their families would grow. By her putting distance between her and them, she’d be keeping them safe.

Cass’s attention drifted to Irish.

He sat in the back, his intense gaze on her. What she wouldn’t give to run up to him and ask him to hold her through this whole ordeal. He would, if she asked, of that she had no doubt.

“I’ve got her.” Growler’s announcement had her gaze back to the room.

“Great, give me a few seconds.” She tapped a few things on the keyboard in front of her, and Astrid’s face flashed up on the video screen.

“Hi, everyone,” she said, her smile cautious.

Not surprising, given she probably hadn’t ever been asked to attend a company meeting.

“Thanks for taking the time to be here, Astrid. I appreciate it,” Cass said.

“All good. What’s happening?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Ox said, his tone light, but with an undertone of steel.

Her boss was a good man. Had been generous to give her this job.

Now that she was about to tell her story, Cass had no idea where to start. So many little alleys had led to the main road she’d discovered the previous day.

She supposed that was a good place to start. Or would it be best just to put the picture up of her and her father. Rip the Band-Aid off and deal with the explosion that it would surely bring.

“Astrid, I’ll need access to your phone to share the screen, it will show you what I’m about to show everyone. Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

That was Cass’s cue.

Her fingers shook as she opened the file with the pictures. “This is me as a child with my father.” Cass kept her attention fixed on the screen, not ready to deal with the looks of disappointment and disgust on her colleagues’ faces.

“Cass?” There were a million questions in that one word from Ox.

She turned back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The sound of a chair crashing to the ground filled the room, and she didn’t need to look in Irish’s direction to know that it was him who’d knocked his chair over.

She felt him before he actually touched her. Before he took her hand and squeezed it.

Cass didn’t deserve his support, but she was going to take it. She looked up and gave him a small smile, letting him know she appreciated him.

He gave her an imperceptible nod.

“I know you said it was you and your father, but is this Manuel Ramirez the same one who was the head of the Ramirez Cartel, and Gomez’s brother?” Ox asked.

Having Irish by her side gave Cass the courage she needed to continue. For however long he planned to support her, she was going to take it. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

No one in the room demanded that she leave. Or gave her looks of disgust. If anything, every single person looked confused .

“Going to need some context here, Cass,” Growler said.

Cass gave Irish’s hand a little squeeze before releasing it. “Let me show you something else.” With the press of a few buttons the screen split, and she pulled up the first file she’d uncovered. “This is also me, Cassandra Whitehall, former CIA operative, code name Red Feather.”

A low whistle sounded. “How the fuck did the CIA let you go?” Jag asked.

“Too easily,” Cass said. She spent the next ten minutes explaining who her fake parents were. How they were CIA operatives and she had been an assignment to them, nothing more.

“Assholes! They basically groomed you for the CIA,” Teresa ground out, her fingers forming fists on the table.

Angelo laid a hand over them. “Tre, your blood pressure.”

“I don’t care about my blood pressure, besides it’s fine. What I care about is how these people treated Cass and how they used her.”

Teresa’s defense shocked and pleased Cass. Had Irish been right in saying that no one would look at her differently?

Only time would tell.

“Okay, what about the file with your father and your pictures? What does that one say?” Angel asked.

“I don’t know. I only found it this morning, and I haven’t looked at it. The moment I found out who I was, I had to tell you guys,” Cass said.

“Is there a way we can all look at it?” Fox queried.

She would’ve rolled her eyes if she hadn’t been in a state of discombobulation at Fox’s question.

He, Jag, Deal and Hound were new to Alliez and weren’t quite up to speed with every piece of technology they had.

“Yep.” She made a move to get tablets out for everyone to look at, but Irish halted her.

“I got this. You get it all ready,” he murmured.

“Thanks.”

Quickly, Irish moved around the room distributing tablets, while Cass connected them so everyone could see the file.

Once everything was in place, she paused before tapping the screen to allow all access. “What you’re about to see is a highly confidential file. I know in your previous lives you all had top level security clearances and classifications so you know the drill. You should also know that this file wasn’t voluntarily given to me.”

Chuckles sounded around the room .

“Cass, never thought it was.” Angelo smirked and winked at her.

“You can trust us, Cass. We may only be new to the whole Alliez group, but the minute we arrived, everyone made us feel welcome and like we were part of a family. We’ve got your six.” Hound spoke up, his gaze serious. There were shadows lurking around him. Like all former soldiers, particularly special forces ones, they carried burdens that the everyday person had no concept of. If they did, the weight would bury them.

Every single person in this room, Eveline and Teresa included, had shouldered a lot of things that people would never believe could happen.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Cass’s own burden of guilt and worry slowly lifted. She initiated the share feature, and the file opened on everyone’s devices, including the main screen. “Astrid, can you see?”

“Yes.” Her response was short and clipped.

Was Astrid angry at her?

Cass’s gaze flew to Growler.

He’d been watching her and gave a short shake of his head, as if to say, Astrid wasn’t annoyed with her.

Could she trust him?

Cass scoffed at the thought. Why wouldn’t she?

He knew his wife. If Growler said Astrid was cool, then Astrid was cool .

Silence fell around the room as everyone studied the file.

It was what she should be doing, but Cass couldn’t make herself look at it.

What would it show?

Would it show that she had been a young drug dealer, getting all her friends hooked?

Or convince them that they should be part of the cartel?

That they could earn money for their families by delivering the product?

Had her father been grooming her to take over the business? To follow in his footsteps?

Of course, he would’ve. Wasn’t that what all fathers did? Or would he have been treating her like a princess? Make her feel like she needed a man to do everything for her so that he could arrange a suitable marriage? Marriage to a man who would then take over the business?

“Do you want to read it together?” Irish asked.

Again, always there when she needed him. Always knowing what she needed before she even did.

“I do.”

“Okay, let’s go sit.” He led her to the far end of the conference table.

No one was making a sound .

What was written in that report? How damning was it?

“I’m not sure I want to look at this, Irish.”

“No matter what it says, none of it is your responsibility or your fault. You were a kid. If there is bad shit, the ones to blame are your father and his cartel and the agents involved in the case.”

Cass nodded, not convinced there wasn’t some fault on her side, but there was only one way she was going to find out what exactly was going on, and that was by studying what everyone else was reading. “I’m ready.”

Irish woke up the device, and she started pouring over the words, conscious of the man next to her. The way his leg brushed against hers. The musky scent he wore. The silent strength he was giving her.

Over the next ten minutes, she read about how the DEA put together an action plan to get her father to give in to their demands by leveraging the one thing he loved the most—her, his daughter.

All it’d taken was one look at what they’d planned for Cass to know it was flawed and would never work—which it hadn’t.

Chaos had ensued. She’d been kidnapped, and her father had agreed to meet with the DEA. She may not remember her father, but even she suspected he would’ve had a plan to eliminate the agents and get her back.

Who the hell blackmailed a cartel boss, thinking he would do what a government agency wanted?

How did this plan even get signed off on?

Whoever had proposed it must’ve presented a very convincing argument to the people in charge.

Of course, according to the report, nothing had gone to plan. The agents had been ambushed. Her father had been killed in the crossfire, and instead of being returned to her family, an agent had taken her with him and returned to the United States.

The report was finished after that, so it didn’t give Cass an insight of what’d happened in the two years from when she was taken to when she started third grade.

“Why can’t I remember any of this? Why is everything before I was eight gone from my mind?”

“It’s not gone, Cass,” Ox said. “It’s locked away, and we just have to find the key.”

“Maybe I don’t want to find the key.” She scanned the room.

Again, no one looked at her with distaste or disgust. They looked at her with pity and sympathy.

Were those looks better than hate?

It was hard to say .

“You know, maybe that’s for the best, too,” Angel said. “Whatever the reason for you not to remember that time, it could be for your own benefit.”

Beside Cass, Irish hadn’t said anything. Was he recalling what she’d told him the night before? How the last couple of times she’d had a headache, she’d seen grainy images that hadn’t made sense.

Although…no, could it really be?

“Irish, last night, I told you.” She swallowed, the rest of the words lodged in her throat.

“You recalled being carried down alleys by a faceless person.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“That’s a memory, Cass, of this very thing.” Irish jabbed at the screen.

Could Irish be right?

Of course, he was. Why was she even doubting it when she’d had the same thought thirty seconds ago?

“Cass.”

Ox called her name, and she lifted her gaze to him.

“We will get to the bottom of this. We’ll work together to find if there is further information on what happened to you, but my guess is you went into witness protection and were put under the care of those two agents who you eventually acknowledged as your parents. You could be suffering from partial amnesia. Your brain has decided you don’t, or shouldn’t, remember what happened to you that day. The answers are there. We just need to find them.”

Cass nodded, unable to voice what she was really feeling because she didn’t know. She was numb. Her mind was a blank slate.

She was aware of movement around the room. The slight bump to the table when chairs were pushed into it. The murmur of voices as people chatted together. None of it sank in. All her attention had folded inward, willing her mind to try to remember more of the vision from the day before.

“Don’t try too hard, Alastrionia. You know the more you push, the more the memories will stay locked behind the wall where they currently are.”

Irish’s words should’ve been comforting, and they were probably ones she would’ve said to someone else, but everything was happening to her so she wasn’t ready to be reasonable.

Anger spurred to life, and Cass slammed her hands on the table. “It’s so easy for you to say that. You’re not the one who’s found out so much about my life that I didn’t even know about twenty-four hours ago.”

“You’re right. I don’t know what you’re feeling. But I do know what it’s like to have everything you thought you know be wrong. How the people you trusted can be doing things that you knew nothing about when you should’ve.” Irish stood. “The thing is, you have an office full of people who believe you. Who haven’t judged you with what they’ve found out about your life. They’re going to stand by you and not turn their back and start treating you like you’re the scum of the earth. That you’re evil and selfish. Be grateful for that.”

He strode out of the room, leaving her alone when she needed him the most.