Evan

“Making any progress at all?” Levinthal asks from behind his big, oak desk. Most people would have pictures of their family scattered across the top, reminders of who this all is for, but not him. He’s been on the job so long his closest family members are locked inside little bottles with fruity flavors promising to soothe an upset stomach.

“Things are moving along as planned,” I answer back, then smirk a bit. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, Sir.”

I’m sitting in Levinthal’s office near Wall Street, and I almost feel like my whole case is imploding. Like it’s becoming one big disaster. But he can’t know that. I fill up all the holes in my story by joshing him, smiling too wide and sitting so friggin’ comfy down in his highly uncomfy stiff ass chairs that he’d swear I don’t have a care in the world.

The reality, my friends, is that I have put everything I care most about in this world on the line and need to figure out how to get to my end game without a scratch—all while taking home the prize.

Sometimes, the things that seem like good ideas in the dead of night don’t shine quite the same way in the light of day. I’ll admit that. But I’m good at this shit. Too damn committed to just throw my hands in the air and admit defeat.

I’m better than the guys I’m hunting. I’m a motherfucking wolf. I already told you.

And I am ready for a feast.

But even the smartest wolves know it’s better to be picking on bones, then go completely hungry. So, for now, I’ll have to deal a bit with the hunger living inside of me, and just wait patiently as my informant works this shit out.

Levinthal might not have faith, but I do.

I would not have set this up if I didn’t believe in it. My hands might be tied behind my back, still walking on that damn plank toward the ocean, but I’m a dive in head first think of the consequences later kind of guy, so I don’t let the shit get the best of me or knock me off my game.

I’m headed for that touchdown.

We’re going to dance in the end zone.

Too many metaphors?

Let me wrap this up so we’re clear—this shit is coming to an end, and soon, no matter fucking what.

“Your informant is wasting our time. This is taking much too long.”

I shake my head, even though I’m silently agreeing with him about it taking way too long.

I shrug like the calm and collected guy I am. “It’s just gotta look legit. Can’t rush perfection, Sir.”

“Still won’t tell me who you got on the inside, huh?”

I smile and steal a piece of candy from the dish on his desk. “You know me, Sir. I like to keep you on your toes.” I give the wrapper a twist and pop the candy into my mouth without looking. And then spit it right back out. “This tastes like medicine.”

He chuckles. “Teach you to take without asking.”

“Lesson learned. Ugh.”

“Ah,” he sighs a little easier now, a brief smile gracing his lips, “cough drops. One of the best kept secrets I’ve got. I used to love to keep them on my desk during interviews. See who would dip their hand in the bowl without asking first. Made me feel like I couldn’t trust anyone that didn’t ask. Never hired a single person that stole from me.”

“Sir, it’s a candy dish. The dish implies you can take without asking.”

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” he says, tapping his thick finger against the wood. “It’s on my desk, it belongs to me.”

“Point made.” I chuck the cough drop into the trash.

“I remember hiring you …”

“No,” I raise my hand and laugh a bit. “Stop right there. I don’t need a trip down memory lane. Let’s stay on track.”

He shakes his head. “Young, dumb and full of come.”

“One of those is still true.” I laugh. “I remember, Sir. Believe me, I appreciate all this job has done for me. I’m not fucking up our case. I’ll get us everything we need.”

When I first became a federal agent, I remember learning very early on you can’t trust anyone just because they have a matching badge and title. But, I trust Levinthal. He’s a good man. His dark-rimmed glasses slip down his nose, and he pushes them back up with one finger. His bald head shines under the fluorescent lights. A little blinding to be honest. He finally went full gumball, shaving off that scrap of hair he used to comb across his big globe head. It’s such a weird contrast between his super thick brows that wave across his questioning eyes. He’s like a comic book character. If Professor Xavier had joined the FBI, he’d be Levinthal.

He arches a bushy brow. “I don’t like having my ass handed to me everyday because I’ve got nothing to move on.” He blows out a hard breath. “Listen, we’ve been chasing this one drug cell for a while now. Aren’t you just ready to be done, Evan?”

My heart beats a resounding yes. “I know, ever since Florida.”

He shimmies in his seat a bit. “We were so close there. God damn it. Who’d a thought a bunch of low-lives like them would be so well planned out and orchestrated?” He groans, rubbing his temples. “This was supposed to be so much easier.”

“We’ll get ‘em. We’re even closer now.” I lean back in my seat, my confidence getting the better of me.

“You sure?” Levinthal stares at me over the rim of his glasses. His hand reaches for a bottle of Tums on his desk and he chucks them back into his throat like it’s candy. Poor bastard.

“‘O ye of little faith. Have I ever let you or this department down before?”

“Evan,” he says, sounding more like a father than my boss, “I don’t doubt you. I know you’re a good agent, one of the best I’ve hired, but I also know you’ll do anything to get the job done. Sometimes an agent can go too far—cross too many lines. So, before you go any deeper, you might want to ask yourself if it’s all worth the risk.”

“It is.”

“Are you sure? Cause once you go down the rabbit hole there’s no coming back.”

“Levinthal,” I smirk, “I’m truly touched by how much you worry about me.”

He makes an irritated sound in his throat and then shakes his hands at me, waving me away like a pesky fly. “Get the hell out of my office, you trouble maker. Your funeral.”

I chuckle, but then tap my knuckles on his desk as I stand. He glances up. “I’ll get you what you need, and I’m absofuckinglutely positive about how I’m going to get it for you.”

And I am sure. I’ve never been more positive about anything in my life. Because I didn’t just spend the last few years of my life undercover for nothing.

I’m going to find the men supplying Ray Martin down in Florida, and the men responsible for supplying the whole Eastern Seaboard. It’s just that big of an operation, and I know it has to be the Petrelli mob, but I can’t find a way to tie it all together.

Soon.

“Well, get moving on this.” Levinthal stands from his chair. “I’d love nothing more than to wrap this whole case up in a couple of months.”

“I’m on it.”

I shake his hand, and then leave his office. I’ve got major work to do.

Like a sly motherfucker, I head into the back door of the hospital, back where no one will even notice I’m here.

In my white scrubs, purchased at a medical supply place, I blend right in. I have to see her. I have to know everything’s ok. Maybe I’m screwing up my whole mission. Maybe I don’t give a damn.

I know her breaks are spent in solitude in a coma patient’s room, so I move like the wind, avoiding eye contact with the people who work here, making sure no one sees me for who I really am.

I blend.

I watch.

And then I see her, in navy scrubs, standing next to the room she’ll be eating her lunch in soon.

She’s with the good doctor, so I pause by one of those antibacterial dispenser things and clean my hands.

He kisses her forehead like she’s some five-year-old he’s dropping off at daycare. I loathe seeing him with her. I want to punch my disinfected hand through his forehead.

My anger percolates to boiling as I watch her smile up at him. She stares at him like she used to stare at me. And yeah, I know, that’s what I get, right?

“Are you on break?” a balding man, wearing a white lab coat, asks. My ‘don’t fuck with me’ stare doesn’t deter him. Because here in the hospital, there’s a hierarchy, and rough isn’t better than white lab coats. “Maybe you can give the patient in room three-ten a sponge bath?”

Not likely. I nod and walk away, making my way closer to the room where Bella entered.

Dr. St. Cloud has finally left her, and is nowhere to be seen, so I slip through the door.

“Bella,” I say to her.

She spins around, her eyes widening as I draw closer. “Evan? What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.”

She pushes against my chest, trying to turn me around toward the door. “You need to leave.”

“Tell me you’re ok.”

Her eyes question mine. “Evan…” but before she can finish her thought and put me out of my misery, the door opens.

It’s white lab coat guy, looking at me like I’m incompetent. “Not this room,” he informs me. “Room three-ten.”

I don’t like white lab coat guy. He seems to be free, following me all around, why can’t he do it? I play along, for the greater cause, “I was just grabbing some bath fizzies.”

“A sponge,” Bella corrects me. “I’ll show you where the sponges are.”

I smile. “I’m new here.” I follow Bella as she moves out of the patient’s room. “Still learning the ropes,” I tell the guy.

He nods and wanders off down the hall. I’m sure to go micromanage another orderly.

Bella leads me down an empty hallway. “You really shouldn’t have come here,” she says over her shoulder.

“Don’t care.”

She continues the charade as if we’re truly in search of some sponge. Like I am really going to give someone other than her a sponge bath.

She opens a storage closet door, and we rush inside. I shut the door behind me, and I don’t care if it’s wrong. I don’t care if she pushes me away, I need to taste her.

I need to breathe her in.

“Bella,” I whisper. “I can’t stay away.”

“If Alex sees...”

I hate those words coming from her lips, but it’s what I get, right? It’s what I deserve, right? No, not right. She’s mine, and I’d do anything to protect her. Alexander can’t replace me. And I want her to know it.

So, I inch forward, bracing both hands on the wall behind her. “Kiss me,” I whisper to her.

“Evan…” before she can say more, I claim her lips.

I don’t stop kissing her. I can’t.

She doesn’t stop me either.

Her coconut smell envelops the room, reminding me how much I love it. As much as I love her ass, which my hand has a firm grasp on. She moans against me, and

my dick hardens, wanting to push inside her, missing that feeling more than anything.

“Evan, you should stop,” she whispers, sliding her small hand down to cup my rigid cock.

“Make me not want you as badly as I do, Bella.”

Her fingers dig deeper into my scalp, keeping my head in place at the crook of her neck as I suck along her sweet skin.

“Evan, we shouldn’t.”

And she’s right. We shouldn’t.

“But, I can’t stop,” I tell her.

Her lips return to mine, and her tongue slides into my mouth. I’m so turned on I could die. Right now.

Dying might be better than having to actually stop like I know I should. I take a deep breath, knowing the hardest thing of all is letting her go. Again.

I pull back. “I’m sorry,” I whisper against her plump lips.

Her eyes are still in a haze as she gazes up at me. “I am too.” Her words linger in the air.

This was a mistake. “Please just tell me he treats you ok?”

She smiles, righting the strands of her hair I rummaged out of place, so no one will ever know. “He treats me ok.”

“Just ok?”

“Well, I think he’s cheating on me. Even though technically I just cheated on him.” She gives me a troubled glance. “This seriously can’t ever happen again.”

“Look, I hate seeing you upset. I want you to be happy.” I smile at her. “So, you need to snoop, Bella. You need to find out what he’s up to before you can get your dream wedding.” Her eyes catch mine, and she remains silent. I open the door, and slip outside, leaving her. Once again.