When a man from the Witness Protection Program contacts him about working for them, Killian sees it as a new start.
Little does he know, the past is about to catch up to him, and secrets he didn’t even know he had will come to light.
Killian Young
Chapter 1
Much like his childhood best friend, Killian Young was not a morning person. That was why it was almost noon by the time he rolled himself out of bed and made his way down to the kitchen to make coffee.
He fished his phone out of his pocket as he poured the water into the coffee machine and started it up.
Glancing at the date on his phone, Killian realized with a grimace that today was the day he’d told himself he’d go through his guardian’s house and clean it out. He’d already pushed off putting it on the market for five months for this exact reason.
The thought of getting rid of Evan’s things just seemed to make things so final. It wasn’t as if Evan was even given a funeral; there wasn’t a body to bury anyway. He was just… gone. Killian supposed that was common for members of special ops. But that didn’t mean that he liked it.
Sighing, Killian pushed the thought to the back of his mind and went in search of a coffee mug. He was still barely half-awake when he finally found one, and he was just moving to pour himself some of the liquid energy when the doorbell to his apartment rang.
He inwardly groaned as he trudged toward the door and yanked it open. “What?” he growled, glaring at the man in a suit on the other side as he leaned against the edge of the door.
“Killian Young?” the man asked, sliding his sunglasses off.
“Yes,” Killian said, stiffening. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, actually. I’m Deputy Marshal Clay, with the Witness Protection Program,” the man said, pulling a badge out of his pocket and holding it out for Killian to look at. Killian looked it over and quickly realized it was a real one, then the deputy marshal pocketed it again. “May I come in?” he asked, motioning past Killian into his apartment.
Killian hesitated a second before nodding and stepping back. “I was just pouring myself some coffee. Do you want some?” he asked as the deputy marshal stepped through the door, and he closed it behind him.
“No thank you,” the deputy marshal said, looking around the small apartment as Killian hurried to get his coffee.
“What brings you here, Deputy Marshall?” he asked, holding the mug with both of his cold hands as he slid his seat out with his foot. “I assume this isn’t just a social call?”
“No, Agent Young, it’s not,” Deputy Marshall Clay said, giving him a slight smile as he slid into the seat across from him.
“Agent?” Killian repeated, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m sorry, but I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m quite aware of your deep undercover work,” the deputy marshal said, clasping his hands together. “Though I don’t know the details, I know that you were a part of an operation involving the President and several others high up in our government. And that you infiltrated a terrorist cell to do so.”
Killian grimaced. “Great…” He sighed, spinning his coffee around in his mug as he watched the deputy marshal over the edge of the coffee cup. “Who else was told about this? Seeing as my involvement and everything else about that operation was supposed to be highly classified.”
“I was privy to this information due to the nature of one of my cases,” the deputy marshal said, reaching over and opening his shoulder bag, pulling out a black file, and placing it onto the table between them. “Don’t worry, I was given a level CA security clearance before I was even allowed near the files.”
“You said you’re from WITSEC, right?” Killian asked, frowning as he placed his coffee mug down onto the table.
The deputy Marshal nodded. “Yes…” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“So, you’re protecting one of those people that were on that list I found?” Killian asked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat and studied the deputy marshal.
“It’s a little bit more complicated than that,” Deputy Marshall Clay said, shifting in his seat. “His name is Daniel Benson.” The deputy Marshal slid the file over toward Killian. “He’s seventeen and in his first year of college. He doesn’t personally have any connections with what happened, but his father does.”
Killian looked down at the picture clipped to the corner of the file. It was of a young man, with slightly messy dark hair and glasses. The picture itself, Killian guessed, was probably taken from one of the boy’s IDs.
“What a lovely kid,” he scoffed, feeling like he was looking at grandkid photos. “But why are you showing me this?”
The deputy marshal cleared his throat. “Because,” he said. “We would like you to help us protect him.”
Frowning, Killian crossed his arms. “Why me?” he asked. “I mean, what I was doing wasn’t exactly protecting anyone.” In fact, it was kind of the exact opposite. But he wasn’t about to tell this man that.
Deputy Marshall Clay gave him a forced smile as he closed the file, leaving his hand sitting on the top of it. “The mission leader selected you,” he said. “I don’t know his reasoning, but I’m sure your age was part of it.”
Killian supposed that was probably true, but it unnerved him that someone might know so much about him and he didn’t even know who they were.
He tapped his fingers against the table, trying to figure out why they would want him. But being placed on the protection detail of a teenager sure beat the job at the supermarket he was thinking about taking.
Not that stocking shelves wouldn’t be stimulating.
The Program had paid him fairly well, but it wasn’t enough to live on for forever, and he wasn’t about to take and use the money Evan had left him. After what had happened between them, he wouldn’t feel right about it.
“When would I need to start?” he finally asked, shifting in his seat as he looked up at the deputy marshal again.
“Friday,” the deputy marshal answered.
Killian raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s not much time.”
“Well, that's how it goes sometimes,” he said, shrugging. “Will you be able to help us, Agent Young?”
He liked the sound of ‘Agent’ in front of his name, but did he really count as one? The place he worked didn’t even technically exist. Why, after Predator was taken care of, he hadn’t even heard from them again.
Sitting up, Killian slowly nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
“Great!” Deputy Marshall Clay said, clapping his hands together as he stood up and smiled. “I honestly wasn’t sure what I was going to do if you said no. We need to make sure we have eyes on Mr. Benson at all times; that’s why you’ll be assigned to the same dorm room as him.”
Killian smiled. “Great…” At least he knew what to expect after already going to college for a few months before the craziness about his birth parents hit the roof and he decided to drop out.
Deputy Marshall Clay quickly reached out, took the file he’d briefly shown Killian, slid it back into his shoulder bag, which he slung over his shoulder, and turned toward Killian. “You will be sent the specifics later. But if you need anything before then, here’s my card,” he said, producing one from his pocket.
“That’s it?” Killian asked, taking the card from him as the man moved back toward the door to his apartment. “Don’t you… I don’t know, run a background check on me, get my information, have me sign something or something like that?”
The deputy marshal chuckled as he shook his head. “All of that was done long before I came here,” he said, shifting his bag around. “The people backing this operation are the kind of people that no doubt know everything about you.”
“I thought that was WITSEC,” Killian said, stiffening as he opened the door for the deputy marshal.
He glanced back at Killian as he stepped through the door. “Things aren’t as straightforward as they used to be,” he said, sighing. “We have your number. You’ll be informed of what you need to know. Good day to you.” With that, he started down the hallway, away from the door.
“Adios,” Killian said with a small wave before closing the door behind the deputy marshal. He rested his hand against the wood of the door. Grimacing, he glanced back toward where the file had sat on the table.
What had he just agreed to?
