Vicious Romance

Chapter 2

I sit at my desk, eying the file that Doug gave me earlier. I should get started on the case, but I don't want to. I don't want to be doing the most boring job in the office. Not to sound stuck up, but I'm a Special Agent- I'm supposed to get special, high-quality operations... not this.

But again, I did screw up yesterday. No matter how buff and tough I was in front of Doug, I still feel guilty for what happened. I could've saved more people, I could've saved Anita... but instead, I chose to save myself.

My chest gets heavy again, my circulation slowing down, air struggling to reach my lungs. 

I clench the sides of my desk, preventing my body from shaking violently, and focus on breathing.

Huff puff.

Focus.

I force myself to throw away my thoughts of yesterday, so I could attempt to give my attention to this case.

It doesn't matter if I don't want it. I still need to do it. To prove myself. To prove that I'm worthy.

After what seems like forever, I take the manila folder, and slowly open it to reveal the same stack of papers I had shunned before.

I look through all the papers carefully, hoping to find something interesting about the person I'm supposed to watch.

It turns out, I am to monitor Noah Bailey, a 25-year-old Whole Foods worker. He's under observation for potential involvement in human trafficking through the Mafia to produce drug money.

Hmm. That's too bad. If the words mafia and drugs were involved, I could find myself to a couple ass-kicking sessions. It could be fun. Almost.

But I still don't want this case.

Observing his headshot, I instantly notice his bold features, and the brightness to his eyes. There's a bright radiation coming from him, and I can't tell if that's something I should worry about, or embrace.

All factors considered, it would be a shame to put a cute guy behind bars.

My fingers flip through the file again. Wait.

No collected evidence pinpoints Noah to be involved in any of these criminal activities. I flip through some more papers. Heck, there isn't even a suspicion of him being involved in any of this. So under whose word am I investigating Noah? The FBI? Doug?

Maybe this is why I need to investigate him. To figure him out, and to see if his accuser's accusation is fit.

I sigh and twirl around in my chair. The more I think about it, the more repulsive this case seems to get. I'm watching a possible mafia-drug lord: fine. But I have to watch him bag groceries all day: not fine. The case had its ups and downs, and overall, I don't know how I'm supposed to feel towards it.

Diving further into my thoughts, I wonder how much contact I'm going to have with Noah. There's not much I can learn about his secrets if I'm just observing him, especially if he knows that he's being watched. But, I'm not a people person, and don't know how I'm supposed to approach him. Was I supposed to flirt with him? Go to Whole Foods daily and have him be my cashier? Or perhaps casually stalk him to the point where he'd be obligated to talk to me?

I don't know. I really don't. The only thing I do know is that I have to work quickly if I want to keep my job. Today was Friday, and I had to work over the weekend to give Doug the report in time.

Ugh... he was an ass for making me work the weekend of Thanksgiving. But again, his fiancée might or might not have died because of me.

I take a sharp inhale. I have to stop thinking about that. Thinking about what I might or might not have done won't change the outcome of what happened yesterday. I feel my palms get sweaty, and guilt overwhelm me. I need to get out. The walls are closing in on me, and I swear in less than 30 seconds, I was going to become flatter than Flat Stanley. I try to move, but I can't, I'm glued to my seat. Suddenly, the room is going in circles and I can't see anything. I can't feel anything. It's all too fast. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, and once they flutter open everything is back to normal.