Making the Cut Read online

  “Who is it, Kittycat?” Chase’s question was curious, and while it still held its cheerful note, it was laced with hesitation.

  “Hide in the security room,” I commanded, my next words cutting Garrett off. “You can watch everything from there, but I don’t know who it is, and I don’t want to give anyone any information.” He wanted to argue, I could see it in his green irises, but Stone practically dragged him into the main floor security room that was behind a hidden panel in the wall. Making sure there wasn’t anything to give away anyone else was here, I silenced my worries and answered the door.

  I was met with two adults, a man and a woman, both clothed in black suits with white button-ups and boots. The man’s face had odd proportions, his nose and forehead just a tad too large while his eyes were tiny. His skin was olive and his black hair was balding, the large forehead expanding further up his head than normal. The woman was a shorter, lean, brunette who had an air of superiority as she sized me up.

  “Miss Casterelli?” the woman asked. Her voice was sweet, but there was a steel undertone that promised authority and strength. I kept my face blank, only allowing my brows to dip.

  “Can I help you?” Both of them screamed cop or some other kind of law enforcement, I honestly didn’t think they could be any more obvious.

  “I’m Special Agent Venry, and this is my partner Special Agent Samson. Can we come inside to speak with you for a moment?” she half-asked, half-demanded, flashing me an FBI badge. Knew it.

  “Oh, of course.” I shifted out of the way, allowing them to pass.

  “Are you home alone?” Agent Venry questioned, both her and her partner scanning the house with critical gazes.

  “I live alone,” I answered, making sure to give them mine and Chase’s cover story.

  “This big house just for you?” she challenged, a dark brow raising as she looked back at me. I bit my tongue to keep my snarky comment contained, directing them to the living room.

  “What can I do for you?” I sat on one of my chairs across from them. Her partner, Agent Samson, stayed quiet.

  “That is quite some bad bruising you have there.” Agent Venry avoided my question, her tone sickeningly concerned. “Can you tell us how that happened?”

  “Got a little rowdy in my Pilates class,” I lied with a straight face.

  “Pilates?” she hummed skeptically. Her perfectly plucked brows raising slightly as if she couldn’t believe I just said that. Wonder if this is how Chase feels when people give him a look, I chuckled.

  “Yup,” I responded cheerfully, “I’m just a regular ol’ housewife.” The agent’s eyes narrowed on me before dipping down to my tattoos, but I cut off any sassy attitude she could throw my way. “Now, for my original question, what can I do for you?” Please don’t be here about my poor destroyed house, I pleaded. The only reassurance I had was the fact that it had been under an alias and not my real name like this one.

  “We want to know when was the last time you had seen your father.” Fury flared within my chest, but I schooled my face in attempt to keep it contained, but based on her smug smirk I didn’t manage it.

  “I haven’t seen him since I was 18,” I ground out. “Is there a specific reason you’re asking?”

  “We’re just looking into some of his business practices.” She hummed, looking around again. “You look like you’re doing quite well for yourself. Are you sure you aren’t working for or with your father?” I ground my teeth at the blatant insult.

  “I had an expansive trust fund that opened when I turned eighteen. My investments, all of which are 100% legal, have done very well as you can see.” I swallowed the rage down, focusing on getting them out of my house without them asking any more questions or looking into me. “I’m not sure what being his daughter would have to do with any of his businesses, and if that’s all you’re here for, I have plans with a friend for dinner that I need to get ready for.” Standing, they took my polite enough statement for what it was, ‘please leave’. Well, technically it was more of a ‘get the fuck out’, but they don’t need to know that.

  “Of course,” she agreed politely. The walk to the door was tense, and I felt my skin start to itch with nerves. They had just stepped outside my wide front door before Agent Venry turned to look at me, her smirk sent my nerves into overdrive.

  “Oh, and Miss Casterelli?” I paused waiting for her to respond. “We’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

  Fuck.

  This just got a lot more complicated.

  About the Author

  A.J. Macey has a B.S. in Criminology and Criminal Justice, and previous coursework in Forensic Science, Behavioral Psychology, and Cybersecurity. Before becoming an author, A.J. worked as a Correctional Officer in a jail where she met her husband. She has a daughter and two cats named Thor and Loki, an addiction to coffee and swearing. Sucks at adulting and talking to people, so she’ll frequently be lost in a book or running away with her imagination.

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