I continued to walk toward the elevators, and she kept pace.
I tried my best to keep my shoulders and expression relaxed. “I ran. It was great.”
“Lie.”
“Let it go, Val.”
“You just…ran?” She seemed confused.
“Yes. How was your lunch?”
“I brought a sack—PB and J. Did he yell at you?”
“No.”
“Try to kick you out?”
“No.”
“I don’t…understand.”
I chuckled. “What’s to understand? He’s not an ogre. Actually, at this point, he might think I’m the ogre.”
We entered the elevator together, and I pressed the button for our floor. Val took a step toward me, getting close enough that I leaned back.
“But he is—an ogre. He’s mean and ruthless and yells at people when they walk into the fitness room during his hour even if it’s just to retrieve a left sneaker. I know. I was that agent. He screamed at me, totally lost his shit, over me trying to retrieve a fucking forgotten sneaker,” she said the last few words slow and emphatic as if she were standing in front of a snapping audience, sharing her slam poetry.
“Maybe he’s changed.”
“Since you got here? In three days? No.”
Her dismissive tone annoyed me.
“You’re being a tad excessive.”
“Dramatic?”
“Yes.”
“That’s just how I talk.”
“Dramatically?”
“Yes. Stop listening for ways to judge me, and hear what I’m trying to say.”
“Okay,” I said.
The elevator opened, and I stepped into the hall.
Val followed me toward the security door. “Joel insisted that I eat my PB and J in his office.”
“Who’s Joel?”
“Agent Marks. Pay attention. He texted me last night. He said Maddox has been weird. His baby brother is getting married next month—well, not married but remarried. No, that’s not right either.”
My face compressed. “Renewing their vows maybe?”
Val pointed at me. “Yes.”
“Why are you sharing this with me?”
“He’s going to see, you know…her.”
“The one who burned him?”
“Affirmative. The last time he went home and saw her, he came back a new man.” Her nose wrinkled. “Not in a good way. He was broken. It was scary.”
“Okay.”
“He’s sweating the trip. He told Marks…this is fucking classified, do you hear me?”
I shrugged. “Go.”
“He told Marks that he was kind of glad you transferred here.”
I walked into my office and welcomed Val with a small smile, and she breezed past me. As the door fit snuggly into the frame, I made a show of making sure it was closed, and then I flipped around, the wood of the door feeling cold and rough, even through my blouse.
“Oh my God, Val! What do I do?” I hissed, feigning panic. “He is kind of glad?” I made the most awful face that I was capable of and then began to pant.
She rolled her eyes and fell into my throne. “Fuck off.”
“You can’t tell me to fuck off while sitting in my chair.”
“I can if you make fun of me.” Her pants dragged against the dark leather as she leaned forward. “I’m telling you, this is a big deal. This is not like him. He doesn’t get glad, not even kind of glad. He hates everything.”
“Okay, but this is really non-intelligence here, Val. Even if it’s atypical, you’re pulling the fire alarm for a candle.”
She arched one brow. “I’m telling you, you just knocked over his candle.”
“You have better things to do, Val, and so do I.”
“Drinks tonight?”
“I have to unpack.”
“I’ll help you, and I’ll bring wine.”
“Deal,” I said as she left my office.
Sitting in my chair felt comforting. I was hiding in plain sight, my back protected, my body encompassed by the waist-high arms. My fingers clicked against the keyboard as small black dots filled in the white password box on the monitor. The first time I’d logged into the system, I remembered seeing the FBI emblem on the screen and feeling my pulse race. Some things never changed.
My inbox was full of messages from every agent on progress, questions, and leads. Constance’s name practically leaped off the page, so I clicked it.
AGENT LINDY,
ASAC MADDOX REQUESTS A MEETING AT 1500 TO DISCUSS A DEVELOPMENT. PLEASE CLEAR YOUR SCHEDULE.
CONSTANCE
Shit.
Each minute that passed after that was more agonizing than my earlier walk to the fitness room. Five minutes till three, I wrapped up my current task and walked down the hall.
Constance’s long black lashes fluttered when she noticed me, and she touched her ear. Words slipped through her bright red lips, low and inaudible. She turned a fraction of an inch toward Maddox’s door. Her white-blonde hair fell behind her shoulder and then bounced back into its soft wave. She seemed to snap back to the present and smiled at me. “Please proceed, Agent Lindy.”
I nodded, noting that she never took her eyes off me as I passed her small desk. She wasn’t just Maddox’s assistant. She was his guard dog in a tiny blonde package.
I took a breath and twisted the brushed nickel knob.
Maddox’s office was made up of mahogany and lush carpets, but his shelves were bare and pathetic like mine, missing family photos and personal trinkets that could lead anyone to believe he had a life outside of the Bureau. The walls displayed his favorite memories, including plaques and awards along with a photo of him shaking hands with the director.
Three frames sat on his desk, staggered and facing away from me. It bothered me that I couldn’t see what was inside of them. I wondered if they held pictures of her.
Maddox was standing in his navy suit, one hand in his pocket, staring out his beautiful corner office view. “Have a seat, Lindy.”
I sat.
He turned. “I have a dilemma that you might be able to help me with.”
A hundred different statements could have come from his mouth. That wasn’t one I’d considered. “I’m sorry, sir. What was that?”
“I had a meeting with the S.A.C. earlier, and he feels you could be a solution to a recent issue,” he said, finally sitting in his chair.
The blinds let in the full light of the afternoon sun, creating a glare on the desk’s already glossy surface. It was large enough to seat six people, and I guessed it would be too heavy for two men to lift. I raised my toes to fit snuggly beneath the space between the wood and the rug. I let out a breath, feeling anchored enough to keep whatever unexpected thing Maddox was about to drop on me from blowing me away.
He tossed a file on the desk, and it slid toward me, stopping just short of the edge. As I picked it up and held the thick stack of papers in my hand, I was still too sidetracked by Maddox’s previous statement to open it.
“Special Agent Polanski, the S.A.C., thinks I’m a solution,” I said, suspicious.
Either I had seriously underestimated my value, or Maddox was full of shit.
“Just read it,” he said, standing up again and walking toward the window. Gauging by his stern expression and stiff posture, he was nervous.
I opened the thick card stock to the first page, and then I continued to look over the numerous FD-302s, surveillance photos, and a list of the dead. One report contained charges and court transcriptions of a college kid named Adam Stockton. He was an organizer of some sort, and he had been sentenced to ten years in prison. I skimmed over most of it, knowing that wasn’t what Maddox wanted me to see.
Several of the photos were shots of a man who looked a bit like Maddox—same height but with a buzz cut and arms covered in tattoos. There were more with a pretty young girl, early twenties, far more years of wisdom in her eyes than there should be. Some photos were in
dividual shots, but most were of them together. I recognized her as the girl in some of the photos I’d posted on my office wall—Abernathy’s daughter. The kid with the buzz cut and Abby were obviously a couple, but the way they held on to one another led me to believe their relationship was new and passionate. If not, they were very much in love. He held a protective stance in almost all the photos, but she stayed at his side, not at all intimidated. I wondered if he even noticed he stood that way when he was with her.
They were all students from Eastern State University. Further reading told of a fire that had burned down one of the buildings on campus, killing one hundred thirty-two college kids—at night. Before asking why that many kids would be in the basement of a school building that late, I turned the page to find my answer—a floating fight ring, and the Maddox look-alike was a suspect.
“Jesus Christ. What is this?” I asked.
“Keep reading,” he said, his back still turned to me.
Almost immediately, two names jumped out at me—Maddox and Abernathy. After a few more pages, it all came together, and I looked up at my boss. “Your brother is married to Abernathy’s kid?”
Maddox didn’t turn around.
“You’re messing with me.”
Maddox sighed, finally facing me. “I wish I were. They’re renewing their vows at the end of next month in St. Thomas…so the family can attend. Their first wedding was in Vegas almost a year ago—”
I held up the paper. “Just a few hours after the fire. She’s a clever one.”
Maddox walked slowly over to his desk and sat down again. His inability to sit still was making me even more nervous than he appeared to be.
“What makes you think it was her idea?” he asked.
“He doesn’t seem like the type to let his girlfriend save him,” I said, recalling his posture in the photos.
Maddox chuckled and looked down. “He’s not the type to let anyone save him, which is why this is going to be particularly hard. Special Agent Polanski insists I need backup, and I have to agree with him.”
“Backup for what?”
“I’m going to have to break it to him after the ceremony.”
“That she married him to give him an alibi?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Abby might have married my brother for a reason, but that reason is because she loves him.” He frowned. “It will destroy him to find out the truth even if she was trying to save him.”
“Do you always do what’s best for your brothers?”
He looked down at the pictures I couldn’t see. “You have no idea.” He sighed. “I did what I could after the fire, but as you can see from the list of the dead, a ten-year sentence from Adam isn’t going to cut it. Adam was charged with two hundred sixty-four counts of involuntary manslaughter—two for each of the victims.”
“How did the District Attorney get away with that?” I asked.
“Adam was indicted under two different theories of the crime. Criminal negligence manslaughter, and misdemeanor manslaughter.”
I nodded.
“My hands were tied,” Maddox continued. “I couldn’t help my brother—until I let Polanski in on what made me one of the youngest ASACs in Bureau history. I had an in. He almost didn’t believe me. My little brother was dating and is now married to the daughter of a person of investigative interest in one of our bigger cases—Mick Abernathy. I got Polanski—with the director’s approval, of course—to waive the charges if Travis agreed to work with us, but cracking this case is going to take longer than his jail sentence might have been.”
“He’ll be an asset?” I asked.
“No.”
“The FBI is recruiting him?” I said, astonished.
“Yes. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
My face screwed into disgust. “Why tell him at his wedding?”
“I won’t tell him on his wedding day. I’ll do it the morning after, before I leave. It has to be in person, and I don’t know when I’ll see him again. I don’t go home anymore.”
“What if he doesn’t agree to it?”
Maddox blew out a long breath, wounded at the thought. “He’ll go to prison.”
“Where do I come in?”
Maddox turned a bit in his chair, his shoulders still tense. “Just…hear me out. It was one hundred percent the S.A.C.’s idea. He just happens to be right.”
“What?” My mind was racing, and my patience was wearing thin.
“I need a date for the wedding. I need someone else from the Bureau to attend and witness the conversation. I don’t know how he’ll react. A female agent will be a good buffer. Polanski thinks you’re the perfect candidate.”
“Why me?” I asked.
“He mentioned you by name.”
“What about Val? What about Constance?”
Maddox cringed and then stared at his finger while he tapped it on his desk. “He suggested someone who would fit in.”
“Fit in,” I repeated, confused.
“Two of my brothers are in love with women who…lack finesse.”
“I lack finesse?” I asked, pointing to the center of my chest. “Are you fucking serious?” I craned my neck. “Have you met Val?”
“See?” Maddox said, pointing at me with his whole hand. “That is exactly something Abby would say—or…Camille, Trent’s girlfriend.”
“Trent’s girlfriend?”
“My brother.”
“Your brother Trent. And Travis. And you’re Thomas. Who am I missing? Tiger and Toadstool?”
Maddox wasn’t amused. “Taylor and Tyler. They’re twins. They’re between Trent and me.”
“Why the Ts?” I had to ask, but I was beyond annoyed with the entire conversation.
He sighed. “It’s a Midwestern thing. I don’t know. Lindy, I need you to go to my brother’s wedding with me. I need you to help me talk him into not going to prison.”
“It shouldn’t be that hard for you to convince him. The Bureau is a great alternative to prison.”
“He’ll be undercover. He will have to keep it from his wife.”
“So?”
“He really, really loves his wife.”
“So do our other undercover agents,” I snapped, not feeling the slightest bit of sympathy.
“Travis has a past. His relationship with Abby has always been volatile, and Travis sees honesty as his commitment to their marriage.”
“Maddox, you’re boring me. Our undercover agents simply tell their significant others they can’t discuss their job, and that’s the end of it. Why can’t he just do that?”
“He can’t tell her anything. He’ll be undercover on an investigation that could implicate Abby’s father. That could certainly become an issue in their marriage. He won’t willingly risk anything that could mean losing her.”
“He’ll get used to it. We’ll just give him a simple, tight alibi and stick with it.”
Maddox shook his head. “No part of this is simple, Liis. We’ll have to be exceptionally creative to keep Abby from figuring it out.” He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “She’s sharp as a goddamn tack, that one.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, wary of the fact that he’d used my first name. “The S.A.C. wants me to go. Do you?”
“It’s not a bad idea.”
“Our being friends is a bad idea, but us posing as a couple for an entire weekend isn’t?”
“Travis is…hard to explain.”
“You think he’ll get violent?”
“I know he will.”
“I’m assuming you don’t want me to shoot him if he does.”
Maddox shot me a look.
“Then, can I shoot you?” I asked. He rolled his eyes, and I held up my hands. “I’m just trying to understand my role in all of this.”
“Travis doesn’t do well when he doesn’t have choices. If he thinks he could lose Abby over it, he’ll fight. Losing her for lying or losing her because he’s in prison aren’t great choices. He might turn
down the deal.”
“He loves her that much?”
“I don’t think that’s an adequate word to describe the way he feels about her. Threatening him with losing her is like threatening his life.”
“That’s awfully…dramatic.”
Maddox considered that. “Drama is the nature of their relationship.”
“Noted.”
“Trent has organized a surprise bachelor party the night before in my hometown—Eakins, Illinois.”
“I’ve heard of it,” I said. When Maddox shot me a confused look, I continued, “I’ve driven by the exit a few times on my way to and from Chicago.”
Maddox nodded. “The next day, we’ll drive to O’Hare International Airport and then fly from there to St. Thomas. I’ll have Constance email you the dates and itinerary.”
I had mixed feelings about returning home so quickly after leaving. “Okay.”
“Like I’ve mentioned, we’ll be posing as a couple. My family believes I’m in marketing, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“They don’t know you’re an FBI agent?”
“That’s correct.”
“May I ask why?”
“No.”
I blinked. “Okay. I assume we’ll be sharing a hotel room in Eakins and in St. Thomas.”
“Correct.”
“Anything else?”
“Not at this time.”
I stood. “Have a good afternoon, sir.”
He cleared his throat, obviously surprised at my reaction. “Thank you, Agent Lindy.”
Turning on my heels to leave his office, I was aware of everything—how fast I walked, the way my arms swayed, even how straight my posture was. I didn’t want to give him anything. I didn’t know myself how I felt about the upcoming trip, and I certainly didn’t want him to speculate.
When I returned to my office, I shut my door and nearly collapsed into my chair. I crossed my legs at the ankles and hoisted them onto my desk.
Agent Sawyer’s knuckles tapped on the door, and he expectantly stared at me through the glass wall. I waved him away.
Maddox had been glad I had transferred to San Diego, and the S.A.C. had thought I lacked finesse—even less than Fuck Off Val or Agent Davies the Slut. I looked down at my crisp light-blue button-down blouse and knee-length skirt.
I have motherfucking finesse. Just because I speak my mind means I’m not tactful?
Beautiful Redemption (Maddox Brothers #2) Page 6
