Page 4 of Waiting for Fate
“Creed.”
“Still as quiet as ever. Does it hurt to talk when you never use those vocal chords of yours?” He orders a beer and another soda for me as he jokes.
“How’d you know I was back?”
He shrugs, flashing me the FCDA badge he now carries. I had heard he joined the feds after he got out two years ago. Still doesn’t explain why he used his role there to keep tabs on me.
“So, what’s next for you?”
“Dunno.”
Creed hums, sipping his drink and spinning around to rest his elbows against the bar. He watches the surrounding crowd with distaste. If I’m a broody asshole, he’s a judgmental one. I guess our bad attitudes are why we grew as close as we did. That and neither of us tolerated the racist shit some of the other guys in boot camp liked to spew his way.
“I have an idea, if you’re open to it.”
I raise one brow, looking at him from the corner of my eye.
“There’s someone I want you to meet. You done here?” When I nod, he tosses a couple of bills down on the bar and heads out the front.
“Where exactly are we going?” I question as I slide into the passenger seat of his CTV-5 Blackwing. He talked about buying one of these all throughout our tour. I’m glad he used the money he saved up back then to make his dream come true. Though I’m not sure how practical it is for New York winters.
“The DAU.”
Curiosity keeps me in the car as we drive out of the city and head upstate. The DAU is an organization we’ve all heard whispers about. Publicly they lobby for equality, but rumor has it they have a private sector that takes on covert national missions. It makes sense the FCDA would be involved in monitoring their operations.
We pull up to an old warehouse with an empty parking lot. If I didn’t trust Creed with my life, I’d go on the defensive being brought to such a sketchy place. Lights at the top of the building let me know we aren’t here alone. I’m still cautious as we cross the lot and step inside. Security greets us, accepting Creed’s badge and taking my military I.D. It’s a comprehensive process, with metal detectors and cameras covering every inch of the large entry space.
After we’re cleared for entry, Creed leads me up a set of stairs and down a hallway filled with closed offices. The last door on the left is ajar, with light spilling out. He knocks on the frame and steps inside, pulling me in with him. We’re greeted by an older alpha. Laugh lines frame his mouth and the corner of his eyes, and he beams as he stands to welcome us.
“Mr. Barrett, I’m glad you could make it. This must be the friend you told me about. Donovan Griffith. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He offers us both a bottle of water as we sit across from his desk. “Well, Mr. Ferguson,”
“Just Lex. Or Ferguson.”
He grins, bobbing his head in agreement with my demand. “Lex, how much did Creed tell you about our work here?”
I frown at the man next to me as I mention he dragged me here from the bar to meet someone, adding no other details. Donovan’s laugh booms through the small room, his head shaking. He doesn’t seem upset with Creed, though. He’s more amused than anything.
“Well, let me fill you in.” I listen as he describes the missions their company undertakes. From rescues to raids to temporary private security, they take designation safety seriously. “What I would like is to offer you a position here. I know you recently left the service, and the transition back to civilian life can be jarring. This will give you a purpose, an income, and a schedule to help ease you into life outside of a military compound.”
“Why me?” I can’t help but ask. I don’t have connections out in the world, no strings to pull or family waiting for my safe return. Growing up in the foster system left me with a skewed view of the world, something my time as a soldier solidified.
“You have an admirable record of service, Lex, and you come recommended by not only Creed but three other federal agents. We’d be lucky to have you in our ranks.” Donovan assesses me with knowing blue eyes. He won’t force me, but he also won’t let me walk because of my lack of self worth.
I need a job. A way to keep my feet under me after the money I’ve saved over the past eight years dries up. Shrugging, I run a hand through my short, blonde hair. “When would you like me to start?”
Focusing back on the present, I listen as Dromir steps forward. The image behind him switches to a picture of Pierson and Montgomery meeting outside of the church on his expansive property in Whitlan, New Hampshire. The massive house in the background where the Pastor and his family live is further proof that man has no interest in following the word of God. He only wants power.
“Tensions are already high. Pierson has been making promises he has no intention of keeping. Lies he fabricates to win the citizens’ favor long enough to get him into office. We all know he has Montgomery’s backing. A successful campaign run could be catastrophic for us all.”
Donovan steps to his side. The energetic happiness he usually exudes is gone. Replaced by a grave stillness that speaks to all of us before his mouth even opens. “Over the next year, we will intensify our efforts to dismantle the Montgomery cult. We will expose the reality behind their actions, and Pierson’s connection to the group. It’s time for Grant Montgomery to be held accountable for all the lives he has ruined.”
“This will also be the time to pin down the connection Harrison Pharmaceuticals has to the Montgomery family. If Evander Harrison is using his company to conduct anti-designation research on the Pastor’s behalf as we believe, we need to find proof.”
Disgust pulses through me at the mention of the billionaire pharmacologist in charge of one of the most affordable pharmacy companies in the country. Several of the refugees from New Hampshire have mentioned the Doctor’s involvement in the torture they to undergo when they’re caught by the cult. Unfortunately, no one has found enough evidence to prove he takes part in anything beyond the sermons Montgomery offers.
The room is full of chatter as the meeting ends. Several groups split off to address their roles in the upcoming battle, but Ridley and I wait until Donovan is free to address us.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, boys,” he says as he ambles over, looking exhausted. “Let’s head up to my office.”
