“Just be safe, okay?” she asked, wishing she could take a gun to the party. Johanna would shoot the first asshole that tried to cop a feel.
“Blah, blah, blah. You’re a downer, Debbie.”
She grabbed her keys to the dorm and followed her ‘sister’ out into the hall. If she survived this assignment, she swore she was never going back to college.
Ever.
In fact, if she had it her way, she was swearing off anything Greek.
It was leaving a bad taste in her mouth.
Chapter One
FBI West
Friday Night
Broderick Seaton was in a bitch of a mood. Some of it was because of the case they’d just wrapped, and the rest had everything to do with his new partner.
She was a pain in his ass.
Since losing Johanna, he’d been in one hell of a funk. Every day, he tried to get through the workload without thinking about her, but it wasn’t easy.
Johanna was at the forefront of his mind.
She was in his dreams, his waking moments, and everything in between. He’d even called his new partner ‘Joey’ by accident.
He was all consumed, and it was pissing him off.
What he wanted was to know where the hell she was. He’d stalked her house, and yes, he was stooping to that level now too. It angered him that she wasn’t there. So much so, that he’d broken in, telling himself that she was hurt and needed him.
Instead, he found her house silent and nothing out of place. While in her sanctuary, he made sure to check out her bedroom. While he told himself it was to make sure she was safe, it had nothing to do with that.
He was looking for signs of any other men.
When he found none, his heart ached when the big pink bear, he’d so lovingly picked out for her, was gone. She’d obviously thrown it out.
That said it all.
Since that day, he’d been miserable.
He couldn’t find her.
She wasn’t answering her phone, and Joey wasn’t at work. No one would tell him anything except Ginny, the Blackhawk’s secretary.
All he could get out of her was that the woman he loved was undercover with her new partner Jason Blaise.
It was eating away at his gut that he’d actually researched the man. He was buff, tan, and made Brody want to shove him down an elevator shaft. Right now, he was pretty sure the new partner was ogling Johanna.
His Joey.
Not only had the woman he loved pushed him away, but now she was off playing Fed with some other man. Brody’s heart actually hurt.
He couldn’t understand what he’d done. Was it him?
Had the sex been that bad?
Did he smother her?
These were the questions that plagued him every night when he had a moment to think. It was driving him insane, and if there wasn’t resolution soon, he was going to lose it.
In all honesty, if he didn't get the answers, Brody could see himself doing something bad. He would find her, toss Joey over his shoulder, and lock her away until they had a long talk. The frustration was months in the making, and he couldn’t let it go.
He needed to know.
Broderick Seaton was pulled from his daydream by a familiar voice—an irritating one at that. “What?” he said, not even looking up from his laptop.
Agent Heidi Flowers was getting accustomed to his miserable mood. It had been three weeks, and she’d not been able to break through the shell even a little bit.
Yet, she kept trying.
“It’s Friday night,” she stated, giving it another shot.
He shrugged. “And?”
“Want to grab a beer? We closed a case, and we should celebrate.”
“No, thank you.”
She didn't know what to say. Out of all the agents to get stuck with, how did she end up with one with a huge chip on his shoulder?
“Are you sure?” she asked, grabbing her gun and badge from her desk. “You look like you need to decompress.”
Brody wouldn’t even look up. There was nothing more painful than watching another woman sitting in Joey’s chair. It pissed him off to the point that he wanted to rage around the room like a petulant child.
“I don’t drink with my co-workers.” Which was absolutely true. Instead, he went home and drank his way through a bottle of scotch just to forget.
“Maybe you should…”
He glanced up, his eyes firing with anger. “Listen. It’s past end of shift. I have to do my job, and then I don’t have to deal with the FBI. I don’t want a drink. I don’t want a friend, and I certainly don’t want a nosy partner who is trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me.”
She stared at him openmouthed. “All right, Agent Seaton. I’ll be going. Maybe you should swing by the shrink. You’re half a box short of your sanity. I’ll see you on Monday.”
With that, she was gone.
He couldn’t blame her. After all, he’d just been rude. Maybe Heidi had a point.
What if he was crazy?
Taking a deep breath, he noticed that the office was clearing out. It was time to bail. What he wanted was to go home, call Joey about forty times as he got shitfaced drunk.
Maybe she’d have pity on him.
Maybe this time she’d answer.
Maybe…
Standing, he violently yanked open his top desk drawer to get his gun and badge. What caught his attention nearly took him to his knees. The violent motion caused everything inside the drawer to slide to the front.
That’s when he saw it.
With shaking fingers, he lifted it from the drawer. His heart thumped in his chest. Here was Joey and him on his last birthday—almost a year ago. So much had happened since then. They’d gone out for dinner, and she was feeding him a piece of cake.
He laughed, running his fingers over the picture. After that selfie was snapped, she proceeded to shove it up his nose. It was payback for what he’d done on her birthday. It had become their thing. Every birthday, they spent it together. No fail, one of them would show up with a movie, cake, or dinner plans.
It gave him hope that he’d one day have someone who he could rely on. That moment, locked in time, made him believe that there was someone out there for him.
His heart ached.
It all came tumbling down around him.
“Joey, where the hell are you?” he whispered to no one in particular. “I love you. I’d die for you. You just have to let me in, and we can fix this.”
Before tucking the picture into his pocket, he gently kissed her smiling face. “Let me find you,” he whispered, making an early birthday wish.
Then he grabbed his gear and headed out.
Broderick Seaton had never felt so alone in all his life. If given the chance, he’d sacrifice anything to have her back—just to see her one more time.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Friday Night
Nearly Saturday
Johanna was getting worried.
She’d lost track of her new friend, Lori, in the crowd. The party at the frat house had been hardcore and beyond belief. There were people everywhere, and they were drinking, doing drugs, and having sex.
It was so bad that she’d barely made it out with her clothes intact. The sex starved male sharks were circling anything with a vagina.
It wasn’t pretty.
No sane, sober person wanted to watch horny college boys copulating in corners and on furniture.
It was horrifying.
Before getting ready to leave, Johanna had scoured the entire party, and even tried to get down into the basement. The brutes at the door wouldn’t let her by, even when she put on her best smile. She wanted to kick the shit out of them, but it would mean blowing her cover.
So, she had to leave.
Outside, she searched for her ‘sister’ with no luck.
She’d vanished.
How?
They’d been at the party and L
ori went off with Arman. She’d got her wish, and now she was gone. This made her skin crawl, and Johanna knew she had to find her.
Turning on the com, she softly whispered. Now she had to hope her partner was paying attention. “Did you see her leave?” she asked her hidden partner.
“Negative,” came the reassuring voice. “She didn't leave by the front of the building. Are you sure she’s not still in there? If she went off with that asshole, she might still be with him. Did you find him?”
“Negative. I couldn’t get into the basement.”
Well shit!
They just lost another girl.
“Why don’t you head back to the dorm?” offered her partner, Jason Blaise. “I’ll keep a look out for her as the rest of the partiers head out. If I see her, I’ll text you.”
She nodded, feeling his eyes on her. She didn't know where he was parked, but he was near. That gave her a little reassurance. If the woman stumbled out drunk, disoriented, or hurt, he’d rescue her.
“If she’s in that basement, they’ll let her out sooner or later,” he reassured. “Don’t worry. We’re still good, Johanna. I’ll stay until the last partier goes.”
She had to believe that. If not, they were going to have one hell of a report to give their bosses.
That wouldn’t be pretty either.
Someone’s head was going to roll, and they both knew it. A pissed off Blackhawk was a very bad thing, and calling them this late at night was nearly as bad.
Almost at her dorm, the hairs on the back of her arms stood on edge.
Something wasn’t right.
The air was tinted with something foreign, and yet very familiar. It was like her gut was screaming in protest, trying to tell her something. Johanna took a deep sniff and tried to pinpoint what the hell was going on around her.
Then it registered.
There was blood.
There was death.
Her old buddies were back, and from the smell of it, with a vengeance. Immediately, she knew something had gone down nearby. As a trained Fed, who did her time in homicide, there was no mistaking it.
Someone was dead.
“Jason, we have a situation,” she whispered into the com, as she headed around the back of the building. From the shadows, being cast behind the library, Johanna already knew what was going to be there.
In the darkness, she saw a foot.
It was bloody and shoeless.
Well, it was good to see her gut was still on target. Now, if she only had a gun to keep herself safe, Johanna might make it through this alive.
“Jason, I need you.”
He hustled her way, trying not to look suspicious. It didn't take long to arrive at her side. When he did, he understood. “Is that…”
She nodded.
“We gotta call this in.”
Her hand went to his arm. “We can’t do it as the FBI. We have to stay under—now more than ever. I’m going to have to be the one who does it. We have to keep our cover no matter what. This took the Blackhawks weeks to set up.”
He stared down at the woman’s broken body. She had gashes and holes in her flesh where it looked like some animal had been digging into her corpse.
He agreed.
Leaning down, Jason touched her throat. “She’s still warm, so she’s been dead only a short time.”
Yeah, this sucked.
“You must have interrupted the killer.”
Great.
That was just awesome.
“Well, you’re the lead on this one, Joey. What do you want to do?” he asked, looking around. No one was there, and that meant they were in good shape.
“Get out of here. I’m going to get some attention.”
He lifted a brow. “Okay,” he said, escaping away from the scene, making sure no one saw him.
When he was across the quad, he heard her terrified screams. They were blood curdling. They pierced the night and sounded just like a woman who’d stumbled across a body.
His partner was good.
Damn good.
Lights flashed on in the dorms as Johanna earned herself an academy award that night. In the shadows, she drew the maximum attention when people came rushing from the safety of their buildings.
In the meantime, he called the cops to report it.
Well, this answered a big question.
It looked like the missing women didn't end up in the sex trade.
If this was any indication, they were dead.
They had one hell of a problem on their hands.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Quantico Recertification
Training
Monday Morning
The bitch was back.
She was in her glory.
There was nothing Elizabeth Blackhawk liked more than recertifying with the rest of the newbie Feds. In order to get back out in the field, post maternity leave, she had to fight and shoot her way back up the ranks. She’d put it off long enough while she was handling the Oracle situation, and now it was time.
She was looking forward to it.
While little Charlie was safely at home with granddad Wyler, her momma was on the cusp of kicking ass and taking names. This day mattered to her more than most. It was about proving herself.
To the FBI.
To her partners.
To herself.
While she could do a recertification with the other directors, Elizabeth didn't want that. They took it easy on the higher-ups, and she wanted to prove that she wasn’t going soft, sitting behind a desk.
She was stronger.
Faster.
And better.
There was so much to prove when you were a woman, but a woman past forty in the FBI? You had to work hard for it. The second Charlie had been born, the training began. The morning runs, the weights, and the shooting practice. It was all part of what had finally arrived.
She was in the best shape of her life, and Elizabeth could even outrun her men. When they hit the street to do the four in the morning run, she whipped their asses.
That was her crowning achievement. Never before could she outdo Ethan Blackhawk in a street race, and now…she owned it.
It made Elizabeth proud.
Her body was just as strong as it was when she was in her twenties, much like the pups around her. Only, she had one thing they didn't.
Wisdom.
It wasn’t about being faster, better, and stronger. No, that mattered, but what it came down to was the squishy gray matter between her ears.
Smarts were paramount, and they’d saved her ass more times than she could count. So, while she wanted to be in top shape, she was glad she had age in her corner.
It gave her the edge.
Now the day had come, and it was time to do what she’d put blood, sweat, and tears into for weeks.
She was going to rank at the top, even if it killed her…and them.
As she was lost in the sea of trainees, she couldn’t help but be amused. Unlike her, Ethan had also opted to requalify while back at Quantico, but he wussed out and went in with Gabe. Well, it wasn’t really a wuss out. If they qualified together, then he couldn’t cheer her on. He’d be too busy fighting for his ranking too. So instead, he opted to coast on this one.
She appreciated it.
Elizabeth could use all his support. She’s was going to have to bust her ass to beat the babies in her group. They were younger, but they weren’t going to have what she’d earned in the field for all these years.
She was a hardened Fed, and she wasn’t going down easily. From across the gym, she could see her husband and Gabe waiting for her. They were watching from the balcony as she did the first part of her test.
Elizabeth couldn’t help but be giddy.
As she waited for her number to be called, she listened to the young agents around her. The men were talking shit, trying to psych each other out, and the women? They were discussing the hottest man in the room.
Her husband.
She had to smile. Even at forty plus, Ethan Blackhawk was still hotter than hell. His hair had grown out to his shoulders again, and he was poised on the rail in his pricy suit. She couldn’t blame the girls around her for getting hot and bothered. If she wasn’t married to him, she’d be drooling too. Here was just one more reason Elizabeth had to work hard to get back in shape.
The other reason was hundreds of miles away on an assignment. The men in her life mattered, and she wanted them to be proud of her.
Like she was of them.
Elizabeth never wanted them to not look at her with that gleam in their eyes. It was that look she’d seen from them so many times, right before they pounced.
She lived for that.
It was priceless.
The men in her life wanted her, and even at forty, she was still a prize to them. So, this fight was for them as much as her.
This was about staking a claim over the FBI, and the men who worked beside her.
When Ethan glanced over, she didn't miss that he stared right at her. In the sea of blue and gray, he found her. It made her body heat. Then he mouthed, ‘Good luck, baby’, and shivers ran across her flesh.
Yeah, there was a raven-haired devil on her shoulder—that was for damn sure. With the tan skin and deep blue-black eyes, it made her heart go pitter pat.
“I’d do him,” stated some blonde agent. “In fact, I’d play whatever game he wanted.”
That caught Elizabeth’s attention.
“I hear he’s married,” stated some other woman.
“So? You think a man like that doesn’t play in other pools? He’s so high up on the power scale, that he’d need a whole lot of pussy to keep him happy,” one crassly stated. “I’d volunteer my time and services. It’s the least I can do for my country.”
Elizabeth wanted to laugh. Yeah, Ethan did like lots of sex, but she knew where he was dipping his stick. In fact, she was the only pool he frolicked in.
“She’s probably some fat, bored housewife.”
Pledging to Die (An FBI/Romance Thriller Book 11) Page 3
