Chapter NINETEEN
Britton raced back into David’s office and slid down the wall, out of sight. She didn’t know how to escape without Hank seeing her. How could he be DEA? Would he be happy to know that she was undercover as well? Or was he dirty? She knew Jagger could pay him much more than the government could, but was that enough for him to stray from his morals? How long had he been helping Jagger out? And wouldn’t Jagger have done his research on someone he was bringing into his circle? He could’ve easily found out that Hank was DEA. Then again, he didn’t know she was FBI.
Britton looked around, trying to find an escape.
“Agent Ramirez?” She heard David calling for her. “She’s probably still in my office. Here, I’ll introduce you.”
No. She had to hide. Britton couldn’t risk her cover being blown. She wasn’t ready to be taken away from her operation. She wasn’t ready to be taken away from Jagger.
She crawled to the back corner of the office and slowly opened a cabinet door. What was she thinking? She couldn’t hide on a shelf amidst a bunch of files. She quickly scanned the rest of the small office. Under the desk would have to suffice. It seemed so childish. It was like she was playing hide and seek.
“Agent Ramirez, are you still in there?” He was much closer. She hurriedly crawled under the desk and pulled the chair back in, making her body take up as little space as possible. She held her breath, praying they wouldn’t take more than three steps into the office. Her heart rate quickened as their footsteps grew louder. They stopped.
“She must have run out. Sorry about that. “ He spoke in a quizzical, hushed tone, presumably to Hank, though she wouldn’t dare to risk a quick peek.
Britton heard the office door shut. She was safe. Now the only thing she had to worry about was David telling Hank that he had an agent undercover in the notorious motorcycle gang. Maybe she could text him? Would he question her request, or trust that she still had everything under control? She would have to risk it. She slid her phone out of her pocket and typed the plea. “Please don’t tell him I’m undercover. I’ll explain in time.”
Now she would have to sneak out. Hopefully they had gone into the conference room and shut the door. She crawled out from under the table, and stayed low, hiding from the open office window blinds. She glanced out, planning her escape. They were talking outside the door. She saw David apologize and reach in his pocket. He was reading her text; it was obvious by the pure confusion on his face. He quickly looked around and escorted Hank into the conference room. It was the perfect time for her getaway. She silently opened the office door and rounded the corner of its frame. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure exit back out of the conference room.
“Are you Agent Ramirez?” It was Hank. He hadn’t seen her face, but she would need to respond, wouldn’t she? Maybe she could pretend that she hadn’t heard him. “Excuse me…” He was still calling at her. She quickened her pace. Was this really her plan of action: just to run away? How did she ever make it to ‘special agent’?
“Sorry, in a rush!” She called, lowering her voice below its usual timbre.
“Do I know you?” He wasn’t backing down.
Now he was following her. She could hear his paces growing closer as she sped up her stride. She would take the stairs; the elevator was too risky. She opened the stairwell door and slammed it behind her. She made it half a flight down before she heard the large door open above her. How could he be moving so fast? Britton continued to race down, fearing that she would trip over her own feet. She knew of an escape on the fourth floor, but if he caught her taking that exit, she would never make it to her car without him seeing her face.
She reached the fifth floor and looked up the stairwell. He'd gained on her. All her weight went into pulling the fourth floor door open. Britton raced around the cubicles, desperately trying not to knock anything over and cause a racket that would draw him closer. She saw her destination come into view; the corner office had a fire escape. She threw the window open and continued down the ladder. She cursed herself, wondering how she'd gotten herself into this situation. It was like a scene out of a movie.
As she reached the bottom of the fire escape she jumped off the ladder and sprinted toward her car. Where was Hank? Maybe he gave up. She found her keys and fiddled with them, attempting to steady her hands. The car door unlocked and she climbed inside. Hank was nowhere to be seen. Of course he would be suspicious. Who was this random agent running from him? Would he be able to get on the FBI server to track down a picture of her? She would need David to handle the mess she had made.
Britton’s heart rate stayed steadily racing as she made her way home. Her fantasies of being undercover had not prepared her for the dangers she might face. She would need to find out more information about Hank. Whose side was he on? Could she trust him? Could David trust him? Could Jagger trust him?
She stepped up to her front door and reached out her hand toward the knob. It was open. Who was inside? She didn’t have her gun on her. What was happening? She pushed open the door and quickly hid her body, keeping safe from any sneak attack. Nothing.
“Hello?” She called inside. Still nothing. She took two steps in and peered around the room.
“Is someone there?”
No one answered her question, and she made her way around her house, tip toeing around each corner. The kitchen was empty. She proceeded down the hallway, peering into her empty bedroom. Had she been careless and left the door unlocked herself? The sound of papers shuffling stopped her in her tracks. Someone was in her office. What did she have in there?
“Who the f*ck's there?!” She jumped into the doorway, yelling her command.
Jagger turned around, holding a piece of paper in his hands. His face showed apprehension. He didn’t speak, just stared at her.
“Jagger… what are you doing here? You scared me half to death.”
He continued to look at her, unsure of what to say.
“What are you doing in here? Are you going through my things?” Britton was getting worried now. What was he holding? What did he know?
“Where have you been?”
“I was just running errands. What is in your hand?”
“You have no bags.”
“What is in your hand?” Her tone was strong, demanding his answer. It was the only way to hide her worry.
Neither of them spoke. They only stared into each other’s eyes, searching for the answers that neither of them would answer.
Britton’s phone rang, breaking the silence. Her eyes widened as she looked at the caller ID. It was David.