VANESSA

When I got home, my mom wasn't there. She left a note saying that if I returned while she was gone, she ran to the store and then had a cleaning job to do. So, I took the quickest shower of my life and got into bed in only undies and a t-shirt.

I buried myself in my blankets, shut my eyes, and fell into a deep slumber that I am just now waking up from.

The first thing I notice when I arouse from my slumber is the darkness that fills the apartment room. It was bright when I fell asleep. I must've slept the entire day away.

The next thing I notice is the silhouette of a person sitting on my mother's bed. At first, I think it's her who is watching me, but after I blink a few times, I realize the person is much too tall and broad-shouldered to be a woman.

I freeze, but the sound of Ethan's voice fills the air. "Hey."

"Umm..." My heart plops into my stomach. "How long have you been staring at me?"

"Not long." He says softly. "Your mom just left to get you two dinner. I came in to talk to you, but, when I saw you sleeping I didn't want to disturb you."

"Disturb is the exact thing you have done." I reply, sitting up in my bed. I subconsciously pull my blankets up a bit so that my nearly bare bottom doesn't show. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Those mental health assessments." He says smoothly, his eyes on mine. "I came here to convince you not to do them."

I have to admit, my feelings are a little hurt. I swallow my pride and glance away from his face. "I just said yes because it seemed like that's what the majority of the team wanted."

"Okay, but I don't want you to do them." Ethan says to me, squashing my self-confidence and hope that he might actually care for me a little bit. He must see the dismay on my face because he says, "I don't mean to hurt your feelings. I just think that you are getting too close to us. You're becoming a liability."

"A liability." I repeat. "So, I'm guessing nothing that I said the other night got through to you."

He rubs his chin. "Things were said that you probably didn't mean."

"Right." I say. "Then, why did I say them?"

"Because when two people of opposite sexes are put in a hotel room together, tension can get high, and one might get a little confused on what they are feeling." Ethan explains.

Anger flares inside of me. "So, you think I said all of those things because I was horny?"

Ethan glances at me. "When you say it like that-"

"Get out of here." I point at the door with the hand that is not holding up my blankets. "Before I decide to reach across this room and strangle you."

Ethan must know me well enough to know that I am not joking around. He rises from the bed and makes his way over to the apartment door. Before he leaves, though, he says, "Are you going to still do the mental health assessments?"

"I'll talk to Jerome tomorrow." I say to him. "If I am not wanted, I shouldn't hang around, especially if I'm thought of as a horny, sporadic chick who has no idea what she is talking about."

Ethan opens his mouth, probably to tell me that he didn't mean it that way, but his lips shut before he can get any words out. He's probably glad I'm pissed. That way I'll leave him the hell alone. Maybe, I will. Maybe, I'll end up not doing training either so that they don't have to worry about me "getting close."

Ethan walks out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

I fall back onto my bed, my head slamming against the pillow.

I am going to talk to Jerome tomorrow. I probably shouldn't have even been with the team this long. I think my leave from their group is long overdue.

***

Jerome isn't in his office, but I catch another worker on the same floor who says he will return shortly, so I plop into the leather chair in front of his desk, and I wait for him.

The door to his office is wide open, and for a while I watch people moving around in the hallway outside of his room, but I get bored of that quickly.

I exhale and glance around, noticing things I haven't before, like the fact that he has an Apple computer. At home, he always liked Dell. Also, the blinds of his office are shut, with dust building on them. It looks as if he hasn't opened them in ages.

My eyes flicker over to a single picture frame sitting atop his desk. I probably haven't noticed it before because the frame is boring and black, like the majority of the items in the office.

I rise from the leather chair and move around the desk. I suck in a breath as soon as my eyes rest on the picture. The photograph is of me and my dad on a picnic—one of the only ones we have ever been on. My mother was the one who took the candid, and she loved this picture especially because my father and I had jelly on our lips from our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that we ate that day.

I find a small smile on my lips as I notice the vibrancy shining through the photograph. The blanket we lied on was a pretty plaid blue one, and the grass was such a bright green. There were weeds in the grass behind us, and I remember calling them flowers. I was only seven, so I had no clue about the difference between weeds and flowers.

"Those are just weeds." My father said as picked one of the green plants that had a few purple buds on it. I peered at it, confused.

"What is that?" I queried and glared at mom.

She was in the middle of opening a juice box for me, so my dad took the question. "They're just a little less special than flowers."

"Oh." I frowned. "But they're so pretty."

"Flowers are prettier." My dad grinned and tossed the weed away. He could tell I still didn't understand, so he got up from the blanket and walked toward a nearby tree. He plucked a flower off of it, and when he returned, he lifted it in front of my eyes. "This is a flower. See how beautiful it is?"

I nodded, gawking at the pink shades on its petals. He told me, "If you were a plant, you'd be a flower because you are the most beautiful."

Blush spread across my cheeks as he tucked the flower behind my ear. My mom snickered and joked. "And you would be a weed."

My father's jaw dropped before he leaned forward and tickled my mom's stomach. She heeled over, cracking up, and I joined in mere seconds later. Within minutes we were in a pile, laughing and wishing the afternoon would never end.

But sadly, it did end.

I blink, trying to shake away the memory.

And when I look up I spot my father standing in the doorway, quietly watching me. The grin on his lips is bittersweet as he says, "That day was one of my favorites I got to spend with you and your mom."

My mouth dries up. All I want to do in this moment is yell at him that the reason there weren't more days like that is because he left, but all the hatred inside of me dies when I see the twinkle in his eyes. I don't want that to go away—that happiness I see in them.

"Mine too." I let out a breath and rise from my seat.

The way Jerome's face relaxes. "You know, you coming and helping this team is a good thing. It's been a while since someone got to know them. I can tell it's doing them good."

"I don't know about that." I chuckle wearily.

He glares at me for a moment. "No, it's true. They have seen so much bad and need to know that there is some good in the world."

Well, I came here to tell him that I wasn't going to be working with them anymore.

But the hopeful look in his eyes has me biting my tongue.

"So, what did you come here for? The assessments aren't until later." He tells me, his thick brow furrowed.

I hesitate.

Maybe, I should just tell him it's over. I really haven't helped them much. I got Ethan distracted, got myself a concussion, and got Drake angry. I haven't exceeded in anything and haven't made things better for them. I don't know why Jerome would say I'm doing them good.

I swallow.

But then there's the side of me that doesn't want to let go of the team just yet. This side likes the way Tony spurs confidence in me and the way Felix is such a friend. Or, the way Ajax challenges me. Drake... not so much. He might just challenge my patience.

And Ethan.

He wants me out. Says I'm a liability.

But... I want to be selfish. I want to be a part of the team. 

Although I know I don't, I want to belong. And, goddamn it, I want to know more about these guys.

"I... just came here to ask if I could read the team's files." I say aloud. "You want me to assess their mental health, but me going in blind won't do us any good. I just want to see what to talk to them about and such."

Jerome moves over to his desk and plops in his chair. "I'd have to approve you. That means you'll be trusted in by the CIA. You can't speak a word about the files to a single living soul."

I nod. "I won't."

"Are you sure?" He eyes me before typing something into his computer.

"I'm sure." I reply. "I've kept secrets before."

That's true. My dad never found out about the miscarriage my mom had after he left. He has never known that I almost had a younger sibling.

My mom has a huge heart, and she had room in it for another child, but she never got the chance to love the being that was growing inside of her. She didn't even have the chance to say goodbye, or hi for that fact.

My dad tilts his head. "You know what? I'll let you read the files, but you have to read them in here. Deal?"

Something tugs at the corner of my mind telling me that the only reason my dad is doing this is because he wants to spend more time with me, but then I remind myself that if he wanted to spend more time with me, he wouldn't have left.

"Deal." I breathe. He opens one of his filing drawers under his desk, but before he snatches one of the many manila folders, he turns to me.

"Whose do you want to start with?" He queries.

"Whose should I start with?" I shrug, plopping into the nearest leather chair.

"Well, each one will probably take at least half an hour." He says, glancing down at his files.

My jaw drops. "A half hour?"

"Yes." He mumbles without looking up. "I guess you could start with Drake's since he is planning on doing the mental health assessment first."

"He is?" I lift an eyebrow. This, I did not know. "Why?"

"Something about wanting to get it over quickly." He smiles and tugs at a folder. Next thing I know, I am taking the papers in my hand and opening it up in my lap.

Jerome climbs to his feet and glides over to his door to shut it. "You don't mind if I do some work at my desk, do you?"

"Not at all." I barely realize words are falling off my lips because I have already read the first sentence of the file and am hooked.

Drake has a last name. He's Drake Reese.

I almost feel guilty for opening the file up because it's more than just taking a peek into their past. I'm reading every detail of their life. I'm invading their privacy.

I bite my lip. I can't help myself.

Drake Reese's parents were killed when he was seven.

Jesus. The first sentence has chill bumps popping up all over my skin. No wonder he's such a hard ass. If I didn't have my mom and dad when I was seven, I'd be just as mean.

Drake didn't have any family, so he was put into a foster home. He fit right in with all of the other outcasts, or so it seemed that way on paper, but when the CIA got interested in him was when he fought some older kids at the foster home and beat every one of them up without trouble.

He probably started it by tripping them like he did me. Ha.

After that, the CIA trained him, but he went a different route than the norm, or at least that's what it seems like. Most of the next section of his file has black boxes covering the words. Just like off of some spy movie.

I didn't know they actually did that.

I glance up at my father, holding out the blackened text. "What's up with this?"

"Oh." He takes one look at the papers and folds his hands in front of him. "I can't give you details, but I can summarize what he did."

"Yes please." I hide the eagerness in my tone as I sit back.

"Well, Drake had a different set of skills compared to the rest of the team." Jerome's voice trails off.

I press. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he didn't have any connections—no family and no friends after we took him in." Jerome strokes his goatee. "And those sort of people are rare, so the CIA used him."

He still hasn't explained anything, so I let my eyebrows furrow.

He sighs. "He was in a division that was trained to withstand any torture and any pain"

My stomach twists. "What? Why?"

"Because he was one of the agents in the CIA who'd have to deliver that very thing—torture and pain." Jerome glares at me, probably noticing the weariness in my gaze. "He carried out missions that only a select few could. He found information for us, and he saved hundreds of lives in doing it."

"By... torturing people?" My insides are churning.

"There wasn't any other way. The men he interrogated were mass murderers, torturers themselves, terrorists, and more." Jerome half-smiled. "And Drake did well. Like, I said. He saved hundreds of lives."

"I... I don't know if I can do this." I close the folder and turn my head toward the door, away from my father. I don't want him to see the fear in my eyes.

How could Drake torture people?

I blink and in that moment I imagine the night I was tortured. I replace the image of those two men who tortured me with a picture of Drake—angry eyes flaring, cold lips thinning, thick hand covering my mouth with a wet rag.

I subconsciously hold my breath.

"You said you wanted to know." Jerome reminds me, making my imagination diminish. Then, he shifts in his seat. "Drake isn't a bad guy. I know you'll probably look at him differently, but he did something bad for good reasons, saving good people, collecting good intel. He did something no one else could do."

I glance his way and am about to respond when his office door swings open.

The one and only Drake Reese steps through, stopping short when he sees me sitting across from Jerome.

The rest of his team is behind him, and because he has stopped so abruptly, Ajax rams into his back. He mumbles a few curse words, glancing around the towering Drake.

Meanwhile, my heart has plummeted into my gut because Drake is now staring at the file in my lap. He charges toward me, asking, "What's that?"

Jerome opens his mouth to tell him, but Drake snatches up the manila folder and spies his own name. "What the fuck?"

The rest of the team spills in, Ethan last. I make sure not to look him in his face—I'm sure he's pissed. He told me to back off, and here I am, doing the exact opposite.

"You read my file?" Drake's voice raises an octave as his eyebrows snap together. "That's not fair at all! That's my personal information, mine to tell."

I disregard the horrible guilt spurting through my veins as I shrink back in the chair. "I have to read it in order to conduct the mental assessments. If I know nothing about you, I don't know what kind of questions to ask about and which ones not to ask."

I can sense the glare from Ethan, who moves to stand behind Jerome. Ajax and Felix stoop behind the leather chairs, so I can't tell what their expressions are, and Tony remains near the door, his hands resting on his hips. I don't see any humor in his gaze. Maybe, I have crossed a line.

"Well, if you want to know information, maybe you should've just asked him." Felix says softly from behind me.

I can't help but to laugh, even if the tension in the air warns me not to. "Right. Like he'd answer a single question I asked him. He hates my guts."

Nobody argues with that because they all know it's true. Drake, though, is more than pissed. He's fuming, and this must be next level anger because he stands in front of me and just stares silently. I swear he is imagining killing me over and over again.

And he might carry out his fantasies if I don't calm him down. Swallowing dryly, I reply. "Please don't be mad. I honestly just wanted to know to be able to assess your mental health. If you think I crossed a line, I'm sorry. Really."

Drake tucks his lips in his mouth and shakes his head. "You crossed more than one damn line."

Abruptly, he slams the folder onto Jerome's desk. Then, he turns toward his boss and leans over the edge. "And you let her just violate my privacy?"

"Yes." Jerome climbs to his feet and flattens a wrinkle in his tie. "I let her because she is right. How is she supposed to assess the mental health of someone she knows nothing about? It would be like asking someone who is colorblind to figure out what color tie I have on."

Drake's jaw works. "That's not at all what it's like."

"You know what?" Tony interjects as he spreads his arms out. "I think Jerome and Vanessa are right."

He moves forward and places a hand on Drake's shoulder. I swear it's the boldest move I've ever seen anyone make. Tony continues with a confident smile. "I know you don't want to hear that, brother, but I think that in order for Vanessa to know how we're doing, she's going to have to know at least a little bit about our pasts."

Drake gives him a look that would disintegrate my body if it was aimed at me. Tony frowns. "No?"

Drake shakes his head, and Felix sighs. "I don't know. Maybe you shouldn't do the mental health assessments. I don't know how comfortable I would feel if you read my file. Wait, have you read it?"

Felix is the last person I expected to have doubts, so I clear my throat and stand up. I turn, meeting his gaze. "The only person's I have read is Drake's, and I haven't even read it all."

I guess they can sense more is coming because nobody says anything. I bow my head. "I get it. You'd rather talk to a complete stranger who is going to read your fucking file as well. It's fine, though. My feelings aren't hurt."

"Yeah. Felix wanted you gone as well. We all did. We just didn't overstep." Now that I'm standing, Drake is super close to me. He is towering over me, his jawline nearly cutting me. His icy eyes have never been more cold when looking into mine. Just when I thought he had started to care.

His words sting, and I physically flinch, even though I knew that's how he felt all along. It's just the others who I'm surprised by, and as I glance around, I realize nobody is going to defend me.

"Drake," My father's dark eyes are filled with disappointment. "She didn't overstep. She was assigned a task, and she was doing what she had to do to get the job done efficiently. She didn't mean to cross boundaries."

"It's fine. You don't have to defend me, dad. I'm done, anyways. I'm done." I put my hand up and move so that Drake and I are farther away. I am basically standing in the middle of the room now as I start speaking once more. "It doesn't matter if you guys kidnapped me. It doesn't matter that you guys kidnapped me and read through my file and got to talk about me all you want behind my back."

Tony tilts his head as if he wants to deny it, but it's the truth, and he'd be a liar if he even dared to open his mouth.

"You guys have each other. You guys got to talk about your frustrations about me and about the mission and about everything, really. And me? Well, I have