Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) Read Online Free Page B

Doubts
     
     
     
     
    MARCUS GIBBS
    I watch Luc Olivier do a line of coke off my coffee table , and it makes me uncomfortable, but who am I to complain?
    I peer over at the clock. It is nearly two in the morning. When is this fucker going to get to the point so I can call him a cab?
    "Would you like some?" He offers me the straw and wipes his nose.
    "No , thanks." I like to keep my drug habit a secret, and I would rather keep a clear head around a creep like this guy.
    "Do you have the product ready?"
    Product . I bounce the word around in my head and decide I approve. What else am I supposed to call it?
    "I do. It's at my lab. Fifteen vials. They must be refrigerated and isolated. What is your plan? Who have you been talking to?"
    I have to admit I am new at this. I don't know how terrorists work. All I know is I want my money, and I want the credit.
    Ignoring my questions, he asks, "Do you have a cure for this disease?"
    I purse my lips , slightly annoyed, and respond curtly, "That’s for me to know. I have the disease ready for the client who needs it. It will easily wipe out a small population. Isn't that what they asked for?"
    Luc nods, and his French accent becomes thicker with his rising anger. "Listen to me—don't give me any attitude. I don't have to be here right now, remember?"
    Dammit. I bite my tongue. This fucker is right. They have bids from other people, but I decide to go for it.
    "But I have the best product," I sneer.
    As if confirming the statement, I see the anger leave his face, and the edge of his mouth curve up a fraction, hinting at his amusement.
    "The men I am working for will be sending someone within the next couple of weeks to confirm testing, and then transport. They will say they are acting as a liaison for me. Remember, I still have to do that deal with Jeremy Hunt. We are renewing the contract for another two years."
    I roll my eyes. I guess there is always the more legitimate business to attend to as well. It's good for covering tracks.
    Luc also works under the table for other terrorist groups, but his full-time gig is as a communication specialist for another big bioengineering company in Paris that contracts work from Sunscape Biotechnologies. Although, I think he prefers working for the dark side. His drug habit helps fuel his need for danger.
    This man is responsible for quite a few undercover hits within the United Nations. He would pretend to supply ambassadors with bioengineering help to steer economies in a better direction, when in actuality he was helping select terrorist groups understand the ins and outs of certain government departments, including his own. He is a slimy motherfucker, that's for sure.
    "Understood. I will wait to be in touch , then." My tone signals that I am ready for him to leave.
    He smiles eerily at me, and my reflex is to soften my scowl. He gets up from the couch, swaggering as if he has won, pockets the baggie containing the rest of his coke, and extends his other hand. We shake hands. I notice that his pupils are fully dilated, and I just want to get him out of my apartment.
    "Always a pleasure, Mr. Gibbs. I will see myself out." Thank God.
    "Have a wonderful night , Mr. Olivier."
    I walk him to the door, and then lock it behind me once he is gone. I exhale and wonder if I have been holding my breath this entire time.
    Before taking a seat in the kitchen, I grab a beer before bed. I want to forget Luc Olivier for a while.
    As I sip my beer, I pull out my cell phone and stare at the newly made phone contact: Alex.
    I should have gotten her last name.
    I'm smiling. It feels good to smile. All I can manage to do is drink my beer, stare at my phone, and smile until the last drop is gone. I wonder when I should text her.
    The thought is almost as exciting as orchestrating biological warfare.
    I let out a loud laugh. I'm a crazy fuck and I know it.
     
     
     
    JEREMY HUNT
    I have a bad taste in my mouth.
    The lasting image of that frustrating girl cements