This could be something small or something so big, it sets off my career. I've always been a dutiful soldier, investigating every case they put me on with enthusiasm.
Well, mostly.
“You're going to East Point Prep as an undercover student. We've been tracking murders, and it's coming from inside the school. Cult-like activities are happening. Live streams on the Internet. We're having a hard time tracking them. They're sophisticated,” Jonathan, AKA Agent Zero, demands of me.
There's no asking me if I'm ready for my first mission out in the field. I've been training through my entire recovery. Faster. Stronger. Smarter.
“Yes, Agent Zero,” I say, lifting my chin.
“Here's your assignment paperwork. It will have an outline of what's expected of you. Your cover name. Your wardrobe. Names of everyone we need you to get close to. And finally, your list of suspects.”
I nod, flipping through notes. “Espie?” I question, swallowing hard. “You want me…”
“Your mother would be honored if you used her name.” He gives me a stern look, folding his arms.
But I see the affection in his gaze. He always loved my mom, even though she married his idiot brother on her own accord. For the most part, Viotto’s take arranged marriages. But not Raphael Viotto. Nope.
“It's a way for you to be close to your past and a name you know. Later in your career, we'll give you challenging identities.”
“So, I'll be back in high school?” I wrinkle my nose at the thought. The last time I was in high school was with them. They protected me from everyone in Greenwood.
My first case in the field was solid. A bit of a shit show in some areas, but I made good strides toward my overall goals as an agent. From that point, I was in the field for months at a time, going from one job to the next. There was no stopping me.
Well, until...
I cringe, thinking about my last disaster of a case.
"Liv?" Jonathan questions, putting his plate back on the cart with a worried expression.
I shake those thoughts from my head. "I'm fine." My new mantra to get through life.
How ya doin, Liv? I'm fine. How's it hanging, Liv? I'm fine and fucking dandy. All day. Everyday. Forever.
At least, I can pretend.
"How many little bottles did you manage to consume last night?" he asks, sitting and sipping his coffee again, giving me a judgmental glare.
Prick.
Is it frowned upon to injure your superior for daring to speak and ask questions so early in the morning? Yeah, probably. Plus, I’d be down an uncle and friend. I don’t have many of those lately. Well, Jordy. But he’s a completely different story.
My uncle may not be my full-blooded family, but he’s been there for me when no one else has. Hello, six other Viotto uncleswho I haven’t seen in over seven years. They didn’t even come to my funeral. Maybe because we were ousted like my father. Even though we didn’t turn our backs on the family. Whatever. Jonathan has been nothing like his brothers, and I’m thankful for that.
"Just a few," I say, shoving the last piece of French toast into my mouth without telling him it was about ten. "Now, can we talk about the case?"
"Is the curiosity killing you yet?" Yes, yes, it is. I'm more curious about what I'm about to face than anything ever in my life.
"Maybe." I shrug, drinking the rest of my coffee, and setting the empty cup on the table.
Finally, the caffeine spikes through my veins, and my hangover slightly lessens. Only slightly, though. It still bangs around in my skull, making bed seem more and more appealing. I wonder what my uncle would do if I stayed in bed all day to recover?
"Are you feeling more human now?" Jonathan asks, eyeing me cautiously.
No. I’m definitely not. But fake it til you make it and all that jazz.
"Definitely less zombie-like now.” Anticipation runs through me when he nods and reaches for what I can only hope is my newest case. If I don't find out soon, I’m going to claw his damn eyes out. On second thought, I might need more damn caffeine for this.
Jonathan nods and retrieves his laptop and a manila envelope from beneath the table and sets them in front of him. “Greenwood has had some massive changes over the past five years since you've been gone. Franco has expanded his empire into a multitude of casinos, amassing a net worth of over thirtymillion dollars." He slides the folder to me. "These papers contain your undercover ID."
