Page 76 of Kings Against the World

I’m dazed and exhausted, trying to cobble together a proper answer. I’m still in the hotel room I’ve been sharing with Gallagher, sitting on the side of the bed with the phone to my ear. In his absence, the only thing I could think to do was focus on the case. Concentrate on my investigation and do my due diligence by calling Duchovny for another update.

But as he poses his questions and demands more evidence, I find my throat going dry. The talking points I had outlined so clearly in my head begin to jumble, mixing themselves up like a mental version of Scrabble.

“Well? What is it that you have, Strauss? You know my schedule is airtight. I don’t have time to waste.”

“I… we…” I swallow and try again. “I’ve managed to plant a couple hidden cameras in the lounge of the underground casino.We’ll be able to get the direct evidence we need that connects Boone to everything that’s been going on.”

Duchovny makes a sound with his throat that’s a cross between a hum and a grunt. It’s not an encouraging sound, but more so one that tells me he’s hardly impressed.

“It’s only a matter of time before we catch something on video and audio. That lounge is where all the VIPs guests have been watching the shows Benz’s girls have been putting on. They then select which ones they’re interested in and go to private rooms. That’s without even mentioning all the illegal gambling and betting going on during the tournament. Boone has raked in millions already and the tournament’s barely halfway over.”

“Yes, well, that may be, Strauss, but I expected more. You promised you could get Boone in the act. You can bust him in the act of trafficking or drug dealing.”

My insides twist almost painfully. “I can get him. I mean I might. I’ve told him I want in on his scheme. I want to entertain some of his clientele myself. Tonight is the night I’m supposed to have my first client. I’ll need backup.”

“And you’ll have it the moment you need it. You have the code. You dial that and we’ll be alerted you’re in deep water. The local PD will be there within minutes.”

…but what if I don’t have minutes?

I’m silent, which only seems to agitate him further.

“This investigation was your crown jewel, Strauss. You know the rest of the board wasn’t going to greenlight this until I stepped in and advocated for you. In fact, that seems to be a common occurrence with your career—you screw up and I’m there to pick up the pieces.”

I stand up from the bed on a pulse of anger. “I haven’t screwed up! I’ve been one of the best agents under your purview and you know it, Duchovny!”

“Your work may be solid most of the time, Strauss, but that doesn’t negate the mountain of baggage you’ve always come with. Let us not forget that I got you the medical waiver for your bipo?—”

“I’ll land Boone!” I snap irritably. “I’ll do what’s necessary tonight to bust him and everyone working with him.”

Duchovny hardly sounds convinced when we hang up. I’m left as on edge as before the phone call, possibly worse. I called Duchovny because I was hoping it would distract from the mess I’ve found myself in.

It seemed easier than dealing with the aftermath of my blowup with Ozzie.

As it turns out, it’s only made it worse. Rather than offering even a crumb of praise at the hidden camera I’ve stashed in the lounge, Duchovny decided it wasn’t enough. He was looking for more so he could impress the supervisory board.

That was part of what always frustrated me about Duchovny. Other than continually throwing things in my face like my bipolar disorder, he cared about climbing the bureau’s ladder more than anything. He only cared about special agents that would make him shine and look good. The moment you were no longer useful was the moment he was ready to throw you under the bus.

An inkling deep down told me that was my inevitable fate with him—the next time I displeased him, he was cutting the cord. He was going to turn on me and throw me under the bus like he had done to so many others.

Including Tameka Braun, my mentor.

I haven’t forgotten about how he’d gone behind her back when working a case and stolen the spotlight. He’d submitted sensationalized evidence to the board that she was incompetent and insufficient on the field. She was no longer adept at her job.

The board ruled that she could no longer be an active special agent and she was to be reassigned to a desk job.

Tameka chose to retire early with pride rather than let Duchovny and the others ruin what was left of her reputation.

I’m next.

I’m the next Black female special agent being put on the proverbial altar to sacrifice. All while Duchovny will come out squeaky clean and spotless, possibly even with a promotion. He’s setting me up to either take the fall if this investigation turns out to be a disaster, or if it’s a success, he’ll claim it even happened in the first place becauseheadvocated for it.

I cover my face with my hands and attempt to steady my breaths. I became an FBI agent because I wanted to hunt down men like Boone and it seemed like the only possible direction I could take what felt like an otherwise meaningless life in.

Being a federal agent is my entire identity.

It’s all I have.

I’ve never stopped to consider how… completely devastating that is until this moment. Probably because I’ve been so hyper-focused on my work and obsessed with taking Boone down that I never stopped to think about it.

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