Page 32 of Trick or Treat: The Rebirth
"Kellin, it's time to cash in on your end of the deal," Special Agent Richard "Dick" declared, dragging me back to my early prison days when he was assigned to my case.
"Didn’t expect to see you so soon, Dick," I replied with a teasing lilt, still reluctant to swing the door wide.
He chuckled like he hadn’t heard that line a thousand times before, stepping in closer and drawing his weapon with a flourish. But it didn’t intimidate me. I’d faced bigger guns and wielded heftier ones in my time. I knew all too well how the feds relied on intimidation tactics, and that’s one of the things that annoyed me the most.
"You don’t get to pick and choose, kid. Open the damn door, or I'll kick it in," he threatened, and there was no mistaking the seriousness in his tone.
As much as I wanted to see him smash down my door, I wasn’t keen on footing the bill for repairs, so I relented. I closed the door briefly, rubbed my face, and unlatched it. When I opened the door, I shot him a scowl, and he could tell just how much I wanted to throttle him—and make no mistake, I’m not a killer. I’m a hacker. But man, I wanted to kill his ass for what he did back then.
Once they stormed inside and began rummaging through my belongings, Dick plopped me down at the kitchen table while a pot of coffee brewed in the background, filling the air with its comforting aroma of vanilla amidst the awkward silence. His slicked-back black hair caught the kitchen light, and his thick brows concealed dark brown eyes brimming with secrets. He attempted to hide behind a pair of black-framed glasses, giving him an oddly boyish charm, especially with his freshly shavedface. But I wasn't buying it. This man was fucking evil, and I could tell he was up to something once again.
As I got up to make a cup of coffee, still clad in just my boxers, I caught Dick watching my every move while the other agents rifled through my stuff, presumably looking for something I wasn’t sure existed. He was sizing me up, and I was doing the same right back. I knew him well—better than he likely realized. This was not our first time working together, but after the last one, I had hoped it would be our last.
"You want a cup or something?" I asked, pouring cream into the steaming dark brew with a hint of annoyance.
"Sure, black—"
"Black with six sugars. I remember," I shot back, noticing his expression falter before a fleeting smirk danced across his lips—quick but not unnoticed.
"So, what can you tell me about Dr. Scarlett Stone?" He asked, and my blood instantly turned cold.
Why was he asking about Scarlett? Did he know that we were fucking? Did he know about the murders? I was fucking scared, but with my back to him as I mixed in my sugar, I composed myself and tried to play it off.
"She's a damn good therapist," I joke, sitting back down at the table.
"Did you know that her father, Gerald Stone, is in prison in Bridgewater for murder? And that she's been going to visit him?" He throws it all at me at once, and my head begins to throb as I take a gulp of the hot, creamy beverage.
"Nope, know about none of it." I shrug and lean back, knowing he's about to tell me it all.
Dick leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his expression shifting from one of casual authority to something more conspiratorial.
"You really think you’re skating by on those charm tactics? You’ve been in her life for how long now? I’d wager you know more than you’re letting on.”
I bit my lip and shrugged again, unwilling to give him an inch. “Doesn’t matter. She’s a friend. Not a criminal mastermind. Whatever you’re linking her to has nothing to do with me.”
He chuckled, but it was devoid of warmth. “That’s what they all say. But we have surveillance footage of her meeting with some pretty unsavory characters. People connected to—let’s just say, less than legal endeavors.”
My heart raced. The last thing I wanted was to get Scarlett tangled up in this shitshow. Feeling the pulse in my temples, I contemplated my options. Could I protect her without dragging myself deeper into this mess?
“You know what? This sounds like a personal issue. Forget the intel. I’m out,” I said, trying to will my bravado back into existence.
Dick’s gaze sharpened. “Oh, you don’t get to do that. Remember the deal? You’re ours now, Kellin. It’s not optional.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Unless you’d rather have a nice long chat with a state trooper about your little side gig? I hear those walls can be very… isolating.”
I gritted my teeth. There was no denying it anymore—I was a pawn in a larger game of power and corruption. Scarred by events I couldn’t control, I felt a surge of adrenaline mixed with waves of defeat washing over me. My sacrifices thus far felt meaningless, just breadcrumbs leading me into a more tangled web.
"Fine. But if anything happens to her—" I started, fists clenched, feeling heat rising within me.
"That’s why we’re here. We’re all on the same team," he interrupted coolly.
For a brief second, I caught a flicker of something in his eyes—was it concern or a predatory glint? Whatever it was, I didn’t want to stick around long enough to decipher it.
“What exactly do you want me to do?” I asked, my voice barely above a murmur.
“We need you to make contact. Keep tabs. Dig up information. We want to know who she’s meeting, especially anyone connected to her father’s case. If she’s caught in the crosshairs, you might just be the only person capable of keeping your head above water.”
I set my coffee down with a clink, weighing my options. The thought of spying on Scarlett made my stomach turn, but hell, it wasn't like I had much choice, was it?
“And if I don’t?” I prodded, seeking some sort of leverage.
