Page 88 of Of Desire And Deception

The agent tapped on my bedroom door before poking his head in cautiously like I might jump out at him. “Madden wants you back at the office.”

“I’ll be right out,” I sighed. Grabbing my phone, I checked the time. It was almost ten. Enough time for the team to have finished at Deception. And plenty of time to decide my fate at the Bureau.

I pulled the closet open, only to have my breath catch in my chest when I realized most of my outfits were gone. Shoes, too. Silently, so as not to draw the attention of the agent in the other room, I went through my dresser drawers, finding them mostly empty. Cosimo. I had no proof, but he was the only one who had successfully broken into my apartment.

There was nothing I could do about it. Ignoring the violated feelings that made my skin itch, I changed out of my borrowed suit into one of my dark grey pantsuits and slipped my feet into more sensible black heels. The shoes I’d worn to the raid were more akin to something one of the dancers would wear on stage. Feeling more like myself, though entirely foreign at the same time, I followed the agent out of my apartment and sat quietly in the back seat of his vehicle as he took me to meet my boss.

The fluorescent lighting in the FBI building made my swollen eyes ache, but I kept my hands at my side as I walked into the office and found Madden’s door open. He paced behind his desk, his face mottled red with fury when he spotted me.

“Black,” he snapped, pointing to the empty chair across from his desk. The psychologist from before sat in the other chair, and another woman I didn’t recognize stood off to the side.

“Sir,” I greeted, sitting and crossing my legs. “I can explain.”

“I’m not interested in what you have to say.” He scoffed. “Today, you embarrassed not only yourself, your team, me—but the entire Bureau. Do you know how it looks to be made a fool with a raid that turns out to be meaningless?”

“I understand, sir,” I said apologetically. “I stand by my claims, though. The dungeon was there.”

Madden stood, leaning over his desk. “Quiet! At best, you’ve snapped and are experiencing delusions. At worst, you’re a fucking liar. You’re lucky you aren’t facing charges for the shit you pulled! Trey would never have condoned that kind of fuckery! Using government resources for a personal vendetta.”

“But, sir,” I stammered, trying to hold back tears. It was clear he wouldn’t believe a word I’d said after what Cosimo told him. “I was trying to do the right thing.”

“Ms. Black,” the therapist interjected. “Your last evaluation was concerning. After today's events, I think we should refer you to a therapist outside the Bureau.”

My shoulders tensed, and my voice rose. “I’m not insane.”

“You’re a risk,” Madden spat. “I wouldn’t put you on desk duty, let alone back in the field. You tanked your career spectacularly. I’ve never seen anything like it. What the fuck were you thinking, falling for a target? I put you in there, and this is how you repay me!”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Madden cut me off. “How long had it been going on, anyway? Should I be worried that you exchanged confidential information with a fucking crime family? All the while insisting that Cosimo Neretti’s dungeon was real!”

Leaning forward, I looked at my irate boss. “I swear, it exists.”

“The only thing downstairs was storage and private rooms.”

“Impossible,” I insisted.

Madden slammed several photos on the desk. “What’s more is that there wasn’t a shred of evidence to suggest a dungeon had ever existed.”

I looked down, seeing a room with couches and a stage. It was unrecognizable, but I knew it had been where I Cosimo kept me. I breathed out, incredulous. “It was there.”

“Sir,” the other woman interrupted, holding a hand up. “I can handle things from here if you’d like.”

“Who are you?” I asked, eyeing her black suit and the folder she held.

“I’m with HR,” she answered. “We have some paperwork to go over.”

“Another leave?” I asked, prepared to negotiate.

Madden’s face darkened. “You married a criminal. Compromised a mission. Made false accusations that resulted in a fruitless warrant execution. Then you nearly drew your weapon in public and had to be restrained. There is no leave in the world long enough—”

He stopped when the HR lady raised her hand and subtly shook her head. Madden took a deep breath, huffing it out angrily. “You’re fired, Black. You’ll complete the paperwork, then somebody will collect your weapon and badge, and you’ll be escorted from the building. If you pull anything else, I will personally see you arrested.”

Crushing weight constricted my chest, and my vision swam. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear what the HR lady was saying to me, though her lips were moving. My mind separated from reality, floating through the next hour as if I were a spectator to my own life. Even when I gathered my things and two agents escorted me from the building and drove me home, I felt disconnected.

I looked around my apartment, and all my memories overwhelmed me. Everything was stained with Cosimo’s presence, though he’d never spent much time within the walls. I needed an escape.

Frantic to hold the rising panic at bay, I packed a bag and climbed into my car. A car that had magically been returned to its parking spot—freshly washed and detailed—while I’d been spilling my guts to the FBI. No doubt Cosimo planned it that way. It smelled like his cleaner, so I rolled the windows down, ignoring the frigid January air that whipped through the car, sucking the heat away.

It wasn’t my best decision to drive through the night to New York. I managed to find two gas stations open on the way, slurping down coffee the consistency of oil with the aftertaste of cigarette ash. I barely noticed since the boiling liquid scalded my tongue on the first sip, impairing my tastebuds.

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