Page 7 of Scammed

“Who’s our mystery woman?” asked Gaspar.

“I’m not sure,” said Wilson. “She’s got no ID on her. We haven’t found any abandoned vehicles, and there doesn’t appear to be any missing persons matching her description. The tech boys are working their magic trying to get a facial recognition. She’s dehydrated, mostly, it appears, from crying. The bump on her head isn’t severe, but she’s damn sure going to have a raging headache.”

“Okay. We’ll want to speak with her when she wakes up.”

“Where is Marcel?” asked Wilson.

“He’s changing,” said Nine.

“Changing? Again?”

“No, not like that. He’s putting on modern clothing. Turns out he and Alec are the same size,” smirked Nine.

“Fuck you,” said Alec. “Exactly the same size. I gave him some shorts, t-shirts, running shoes, all that. I’ll order some more things for him. Catch y’all later.”

“I do not like these undergarments,” said Marcel, pulling on his balls. “They are confining and tight, and they make me hot.” The three men smirked at him.

“You can choose to not wear them,” said Nine. “Just be aware that you have to be careful to not expose yourself to anyone.”

“This is torture!” he growled. “I’ll be back.” He disappeared into the bathroom again, then came back out a moment later.

“Better?” smirked Wilson.

“Much. I do enjoy the t-shirt. It’s quite comfortable. And these shoes, running shoes, they are amazing. So much cushion and bounce. It’s remarkable.”

“We’ll get you some things of your own,” said Gaspar, “but for now, that will do.”

“What if I don’t stay this way?” he frowned.

“I’m not sure what to say,” said Nine. “I don’t know that anyone knows what will happen with you, but we’ll be here for you either way. Have you ever seen the woman before?”

“Never,” said Marcel. “She is lovely, though, don’t you think?”

“She is lovely,” smiled Gaspar. “I need to know why she wanted to kill herself and how she found her way into our bayou.”

“I know the answer to that,” said Code, walking toward them down the hallway. “Amy Fontenot, thirty-one years old. She’s a fundraiser for the Prometheus Foundation.”

“The non-profit?” scowled Nine.

“Yes. She’s been highly successful, well thought of, then yesterday they called her into the office and told her she needs to get a lawyer. Two million from a Mardi Gras fundraiser was transferred into an account with her name, then transferred out again to a ghost account that no one can seem to find.”

“This sounds familiar,” growled Gaspar.

“Too familiar. I think it’s the same people who tried to take from our accounts. They’re going to file charges against her, Nine. That woman hasn’t done a damn thing wrong, but they’ll drag her through the mud, and when I tell you she deserves none of that, I mean not one lick of it. That young woman hasn’t even had a parking ticket. She is a good person with no skeletons, or I would have seen them.”

“Get Kari and Kat on this,” said Nine.

“Already called them. They’re working with Prometheus to get all the information and work with their attorneys. I’ve got our team working on the banking to prove it wasn’t anything that she did. We should be able to clear it up, but I’m not sure that’s going to help her. I spoke to Mr. Sheffield, her boss, and he says that the board wants to replace her. They feel this will create a stain on her reputation and theirs.”

“She’s innocent,” said Marcel. Code turned, nodding at the man.

“I know, big guy, but they don’t seem to care about that. She’s got a stellar record and reputation. This really sucks for her.”

“Hey, guys,” said Ajei, poking her head into the hallway, “our mystery lady is awake.”

The four men walked into the room, Marcel standing closest to the bed. He reached out, the need to feel her flesh stronger than ever, taking her hand in his own.

“You walked on water,” she whispered. Marcel turned to the others, unsure of what to say.

---