Undercover Bad Guy | Bad Guy #3

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Thirty-two year old with looks of a twenty-year old, Atticus Rhoades. His rehearsed name he has been using for so long. His real name is not to be uttered for he isn't that person anymore.. An Undercover Federal agent who works for the D.E.A. He is arrogant, opinionated, and narcissistic-including manipulating with a split personality. Two sides of him torments him as his job and past is the reasoning of his ways. Smart and conniving he is, but once he met the young 26 year old named Zero Hart, he questions his skills-as this 'kid' he calls him have turn the tables around him. Wanting to find him and demand telling him who he really is for he never known someone that killed three men as small as this stranger. Escaping his place getting out of handcuffs-after opening up to him and leaving him. Atticus never slips and opens up, yet he did for this kid. Zero Hart is a fighter, spitfire in his eyes, untamed, and unmatched. He is the Undercover Bad Guy. (Mature, language, triggering, and serious conversations. They have sailors tongue!)

Romance / Action
4.7 3 reviews
Age Rating:

Undercover #1

We have the same scars, but his were deeper.

Atticus Rhoades POV

It's near Christmas time.

I have been in small cases, here and there. Nothing that major either, just a few trafficking and smuggling drug cases.

Hot water from the showerhead cascades down my body as steam starts rolling around me. I lean against the wall in front of me with both my hands supporting-bending my head forward; letting the water hit the back of my neck. I pinch my eyes close letting the hot searing water do its job, causing my skin to go numb.
I groan now leaning my head back as the hot water hits my face-causing my eyes to pinch tighter. I wonder how long it takes for the hot scalding water to burn my face? Or to burn any memory of what I truly am? As stupid as it sounds, it wouldn't bother me if it were possible...

I turn off the shower while sliding the glass door open, steam disperses as Ibreached for the small oval-shaped window and wedged it open. The smell of the outsides chilling air wafts my senses--it's snowing outside. I roll my eyes, 'a white fucking Christmas, yay!' I sarcastically think to myself.

Walking out of the bathroom I didn't bother drying off or wrapping a towel around me. Water starts to drip off my hair and legs onto the hardwood floor. "Have you seen my phone?"

Lexa, my partner sits up from my bed, she lifts her hand up with my phone in it, she smirks, "You have an email...something about Chicago-and um-a Zero-" I cut her off once hearing his name come from her lips.
"Why the fuck do you have my phone, give it," I charge towards her and snatch my phone from her small grasp, "this is the last time warning you about touching what's mine."
I walk back towards my bathroom, slamming the door closed. I place my phone beside me on the countertop-before picking up my toothbrush. As I brush my teeth, my eyes wander over to the screen seeing it light up again. I spit into the sink, leaning down to sip from the water faucet and rinse my mouth out. I turn the sink off before grabbing my phone to see what else popped up.
My eyes widen in mere surprise at the emails I have received from a good buddy of mine, David Flint. He works in the I.T. department, and also...

He's Lexa's boyfriend.

I sigh deeply, I am an awful person. A person who sleeps with his colleagues' girlfriend during our missions. Lexa and I have been partners for over five years and she only has been with David for a few months. But, I know that doesn't-shouldn't be an excuse for what we are doing. Lexa didn't work with me for the past couple of months because I have requested to go on my own when I was in California, on the Sonora Drug Cartel case. Which didn't go as I planned, it probably would have gone smoothly if she were with me, honestly.
I was living in sin, and for some fucked up reason, I don't care about the outcomes.
So here we are, me and Lexa, in a small cottage surrounded by snow in the small town of Minnesota. Working.

As I read the emails, I find myself transfixed with the pictures it provided. The kid, which I know now as Zero Hart, age twenty-six, from Brazil. He speaks Portuguese and doesn't have any job history that I am aware of other than 'volunteering' the fire station in Clarksville, California. Why would he volunteer? Why was he even around in that town, and state where nothing connects to him.

I can clearly see from the picture that he probably hasn't eaten in days of how skinny he looks from the last time I've seen him months ago...the prickly achy feeling in my chest doesn't go away thinking that this boy hasn't eaten at all, actually, angers me?
I click on the attachment underneath the photo album, it is a letter from David.

'Tell Lexa I love her and can't wait for her to come back.'

I cringe, fuck. Why do I get myself in these sticky situations?

I click on another attachment-

'From my findings, I found out that the twenty-six-year-old lives with his grandparents in Hinsdale, Chicago. He has been seen several times with a group of men wearing black leather jackets with an emblem called 'Leviathan'. I did some entail and tapped his phone. They call him the Ripper. So my results concluded that Zero Hart is a gang member. Something tells me, he is more than just a gang member, there have been conversations, via phone saying he would meet the men around strange hours at night. When I followed him with the street cams, he would disappear into an abandoned underground train station.'

But, I feel as if there is more I don't know about him?

How was he able to kill three big fucking men by himself? How was he able to pickpocket my handcuff keys from 'me' of all people who are trained to notice that shit. The biggest question of them all is-

Why was it so easy for me to open up to him about my plans that night after the warehouse explosion? I never open up to anyone even Lexa-when it comes to our own case.
After a few moments later I can hear my bathroom door open. I lift my eyes to meet her dull blue eyes from the reflection of the mirror. My eyes flicked down her body, red long hair flowing over her, skin fair and freckly around her shoulders, and naked plump breasts perk up. I then look up to meet her reflected face again, she sends me a sly smile, "how about you come to bed with me before we leave for our next assignment."
I wasn't going to the next assignment, my boss can suck it. I already have plans.

I release a deep chuckle, shaking my head, "how about you get dressed and call David..." I trail off before turning around to meet her eyes, now-face-to-face, "David misses you." I mutter out, before softly pushing her to the side for me to head out of the bathroom to get my own clothes. I can hear her huff and puff from behind me; an attitude she expresses when times she doesn't get what she wants.

I didn't care. Honestly, I am focused on one thing right now...

To catch a flight to Chicago, tonight.

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