CHAPTER 11

Sam

It had been a few days since ‘Lana gate’ as I’d named it. The press had finally stopped camping outside, shouting questions at us as we arrived. There was a strange tension in the office, like there was something big about to hit. Mervin’s security advisor was here with another guy who gave me the creeps.

Rick Farrell was tall, dark, and came across as detached, cold, and calculating. The scar on his cheek made him look like he had a permanent scowl.

But it wasn’t just that he watched us like a hawk, it’s that he is dangerous and unreadable. Whenever I attempted to peer into his thoughts, I found only a dark void. Like I was seeing into a Blackhole. It was both annoying and freaking me out.

My headaches have been getting worse. It wasn’t just words that kept forcing their way into my mind; it was images, only they seemed distorted and hazy. I was having more problems sleeping. Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw flames. Not just fire, it was more than that. Burning buildings, damaged cars… It looked like something out of a disaster movie. Was I seeing scenes from hell or something else? I couldn’t bring myself to share these thoughts with Mammon, not because I feared his reaction. It was just that I couldn’t figure them out and until I did, there was no point worrying him.

Sneaking out to meet with him was becoming harder. Farrell and his men took turns sweeping the office for bugs and recording devices. That also meant our personal cell phones had to be locked away. They were being seriously paranoid, way more than I realized.

The office now operated like a police state. No one could go out for lunch and we now had to stay at a nearby hotel where Farrell’s men could protect us. From what I wasn’t too sure. Not that it stopped Mammon from teleporting himself into my room. Each time he did, he had to cast a privacy bubble as a guard against the paper-thin walls.

If there was an upside to this, it was that I didn’t have to pay for my food. But I missed my bed and my space, at least at home the noise pulled me out of my head. Here, there was nothing to keep me from swirling down into flames and despair.

I’ve missed more than a few appointments with my therapist. My hold on my control is unraveling fast. I’d been doing well, blocking out most random thoughts, but the pressures got to me. Wearing me down, like hearing a dripping tap. I’ve been popping sleeping pills like they’re MM’s, then drinking my weight in coffee just to function like a human being and not a zombie. But the bags under my eyes are larger today than yesterday and rival anything Louis Vuitton offers. Not going to lie, I’m a wreck. I’ve asked myself why I’m still here working when each day I detest Mervin Cross and his cronies more. Then I remind myself that I made a promise to Mammon to be his eyes and ears. I don’t want to quit; I don’t want to let him down, but I’m not sure how much more I can take. I need a second, just a moment alone, free from the constant barrage of images, voices of desperation. Only my boss doesn’t let up. Mervin is verging on being apoplectic with rage. He’s hitting back at Lana’s video and says he’s being targeted by the powers that be. I don’t think Mervin knows what the real world is like. He comes from a wealthy family; he married into more money and hasn’t known one day of hard physical work. Yet his supporters in the rust-belt still think he’s the guy who’s going to bring their industry back to life. Really? Mervin Cross is interested in just one thing, HIMSELF oh and power, so two things.

Oh, jeez, someone just make him stop talking… Mervin’s inner monologue is driving me nuts. Well, so what if it sucks to be him right now? But I know there’s something more to it than him just whining like a bratty kid. Mammon had said that a guy like Cross would do something dramatic to draw positive attention back to himself. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out what that could be. Seriously, it’s going to take more than him rescuing a cat from a tree to get the lead back in the polls.

So far today all I’ve been doing is sending messages to the party faithful, asking for their continued support, and appealing for more donations to fund the campaign. But I really need a break, even if I have to drink that nasty breakroom sludge.

I spot Farrell making his way to the back of the building. When I think of a grim reaper, I see Farrell. The only thing missing is a scythe. He vanishes behind the stairs and now I’m stuck deciding if I should follow him or wait and investigate when he comes back. Who am I kidding? There’s no way I’m hanging back waiting. What I wouldn’t give to have Mammon’s powers to be invisible and teleport myself.

I have shit ninja skills and although I’m small, I’m not great at being stealthy. And without being able to hear Farrell’s thoughts, I don’t know where exactly he is. There’s a storeroom, but it’s filled with boxed up flyers. Yet there’s nowhere else he could be.

If I had any sense of self preservation, I’d be turning around and heading to the kitchen. Seeing as I’m clearly that guy who knows he should run away but answers the door to the ax murder anyway…

Okay, note to self… you are an idiot! If I survive this, then I’m going to need something stronger than coffee.

From where I’m standing, I can see Farrell strapping what my brain is going to call… just for the sake of argument… a bomb to the gas heater. Because it is. I’ve seen enough ‘Die Hard’ movies to know what C4 looks like.

I just knew that today was going to be a shitty day and the proof of it was ticking away in the corner. I suppose I could be happy that it’s an old school bomb and not a radio transmitter strapped to a smartphone. Yes, my knowledge is scary sometimes, look I watch NCIS reruns a lot.

So, this would be a great time for me to let Mammon know Cross intends to take out his own campaign office and no doubt blame it on some crack-pots or the government. Only I don’t have my cell with me and I’ve been trying to not over-tax my brain with the whole mental projection thing. But what choice do I have besides just standing here and letting it happen? Okay, so I need to back out of here quietly and then… then act like I’ve not been snooping. Or I could totally style it out and pretend I was supposed to be in the storeroom the whole time? Ugh! As life decisions go, this one’s the worst.

“Are you following me, Sam?” Farrell asked, stepping towards me.

Well, at least he knows my name.

“Hmm? Who me? Nope, I was just checking on these flyers, as there’s a plan to post them out around town.”

“Really? That’s not part of your job. You do E-media stuff, don’t you?” Farrell looms over me, giving off major Dom vibes and if that was my jam, then I’d be totally down with him being so close and all up in my face. But nope, I already have a man, thanks, and don’t forget the minor detail of the bomb that was waiting to blow.

“Yeah, normally, but you know it’s all hands to the pump at the moment. Anything to win back voters, right?”

Fuckety fucking fuck.

“So, you didn’t follow me back here because you wanted to get me alone?”

Sorry what, my brain tripped out there for a moment.

“I’ve seen you checking me out and watching me when you think I’m not looking. It’s okay if you’re into me.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

“I wasn’t sure if you were into guys. Well now, I guess I know. Right?”

Don’t freak out, don’t freak out… this is fine, you can handle it. Don’t make more of this than it is. Just be chill and go with it, I told myself. But the thing is. I don’t believe half of what I tell myself. I was completely freaking out, and the sweat that was making my shirt stick to my skin said I was far from chilled.

“Do I make you nervous, baby?” Farrell was so close I could smell his cheap body spray.

I had no way out. I’d backed up till my back hit the wall. Just when I thought I was going to have to do something brave, I felt a pricking sensation on the back of my neck. Seconds later, I saw a ripple effect in the air. Then the clear sound of a cough.

“Who the fuck’s there?” Farrell growled out, not happy about the interruption.

I focus on the direction the sound came from and see Evren seconds before his fist collides with Farrell’s jaw, knocking him out with one punch. Evren looks down at the prone body of Farrell for a long moment before turning his attention back to me.

“The boss sent me. He sensed you were in trouble. Seems he was right. Who’s this guy?” Evren asked, giving Farrell’s foot a kick with his boot.

“Rick Farrell, Mervin’s security chief, and you don’t know the half of it. He placed a bomb over there.”

I was kind of expecting a bit more of a reaction to the whole bomb comment, but Evren seems to be more interested in the prone man who was out cold, at least for the moment. Then with a shake of his head, Evren turned and headed for the bomb, with me trailing behind like a dazed puppy.

“You say this guy works for Cross, right?”

“Yes, he runs the security team here in the building.”

“Huh, odd.”

Odd, what was odd? Why was usually chatty, snarky Evren being so cagey and quiet? Frankly, he was freaking me out more than Farrell was. What was going on?

“It’s fake, the bomb. Someone wired it wrong, and this C4 isn’t real either. It’s modeling clay. I don’t think this guy is who he says he is.”

“Okay, so what does that all mean?”

“It means there’s more going on here than we know.”

Well, yeah, I kind of figured that out for myself, but what was Evren not telling me?

“What now? Do we leave it? Call the cops?”

“Calling the cops is probably what Cross wants. They’ll race down here with their sirens blaring and the bomb squad in tow, and the reporters will swarm outside like flies on shit. And speculate about it for days.”

“But won’t the bomb squad see that it’s a phony and say no one was in any danger?”

“Not if someone has paid them off to say it’s real.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep.”

“So, how do we handle this?”

“This is no WE, and this is above my paygrade. Mammon needs to see this.”

My words of protest die on my lips as my mate appears, looking as yummy as always.

“Boss, we have a situation here…”

“That I can see. Sam, I want you to return to your work and let us deal with this.”

I didn’t want to go back to work; I wanted him to take me in his arms and magic us away somewhere there’s a bed. I want to lose myself in his eyes and forget that the world exists. And I want to feel those soft lips as they make me forget my name. I can already tell he can’t do that just by looking at his handsome face.

“Fine, I’ll see you later?” I forced myself to said. We both knew I wasn’t fine about leaving. I turned to leave when Mammon pulled me into his arms and set my soul alight with a kiss that left me gasping for air.