Broken Bonds Boxed Set 1-3

by Trisha Wolfe

  I swallow the emotion clogging my throat. A stupid smile twists my lips despite my whole body and soul feeling as if I’ve been flayed. “Your partner? I thought you didn’t do partners, Quinn. Especially profilers.”

  He shrugs a heavy shoulder. “You have what I need, Bonds.” His gaze stays locked on mine as the weight of his statement hangs between us. “And I know that you’ll do everything within your power to help Avery. That’s good enough for me.”

  The air between us feels as fragile as the atmosphere outside this room. We’re linked together by our shared desire to see Avery safe, and to capture the monster responsible for that threat. But it’s a tenuous thread joining us—a single pull in either direction could snap it, and we both know that.

  I glance through the glass wall at Colton scouring the files. I could’ve gone my whole life never truly knowing what it meant to be loved, needed. Adored. Trusted, and to be able to return that trust. I was always alone. Alone is safe.

  I think about Avery…her face twisted in pain, all by herself.

  Alone is not safe.

  Alone is the most frightening place.

  Avery will not stay alone.

  I look into Quinn’s eyes. “When this is over, I won’t run.”

  “I know.”

  “But I won’t make it easy.”

  “I know that, too.”

  I suck in a breath. “For the first time, I have something to lose. I’m going to fight for it.”

  He glances at Colton, a hard line creasing his mouth. “Are you sure he’s worth it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  With a forced exhale, Quinn nods resolutely. “All right. I just need to know…” He trails off, searching for the right phrasing. “Connelly’s not good for this, is he? There’s no way?”

  I don’t blink. “No. I’m positive. He’s not the UNSUB.”

  As Quinn absorbs that truth, I can see the battle raging behind his walls. By trusting me, he’s going against everything he stands for. “So then we’re looking for someone connected to Connelly and the Roanoke killings.”

  I release a tense breath. “The profile on the Roanoke serial killer and Connelly’s whereabouts during those three years puts Connelly at the scenes of all the cold cases. But he wasn’t alone. He had a partner. It’s as we speculated before; a master and servant. Connelly had an apprentice.”

  “So which is which?” he asks.

  I hold his unyielding gaze. “The apprentice is our UNSUB.”

  2

  Tick Tock

  UNSUB

  Do you know who I am?

  Let me tell you a story. The details will help you connect the pieces, and as my voice lulls you into a safe, warm haven, the clues will start to paint a picture.

  I love our story. She’ll enjoy it, too. Precious alabaster skin. Soft hair. Clear, crystal tears. Avery loves to hear me talk, because she’s learned it’s the only time I don’t desire to hear her screams.

  I confess; I don’t usually take a liking to my pets. They’re dispensable. A necessity, yes, but an entertainment that quickly loses amusement and continuously needs to be upgraded to achieve fulfillment. It’s exhausting, really. The constant demand to find the next new, shinier toy.

  I don’t regard any of them enough to use their names. But this pet—Avery—is different. She’s exquisite. She’s important to my love, so therefore, important to me, and must be handled delicately. Reverently.

  And as such, I run my fingers through her silky hair as I begin my tale. The story of us.

  There’s a bar tucked away on the outskirts of a city. It’s completely unimportant. Could be any bar. Could be any city. But on this particular hunting night, with a sliver of moon nicking the black sky, it’s the perfect setting.

  I sat on a barstool and watched. As always. Bored and hoping he would choose quickly, I sipped at my drink as my agitation grew. The monotony was getting to me, see. After three years of grooming, I was confident I was ready to take charge. It would be nearly two years before I realized that he needed me more than I needed him, and this was his way of keeping me compliant. But regardless, I was yearning for something…new.

  I’m not delusional enough to believe that this was the reason she walked through those doors, but she did all the same. Wearing a little red dress, just like the innocent child of the fated fairytale, she strode through the room, tempting all the big, bad wolves.

  But she was no innocent.

  She wore her color of power, of temptation, for one purpose: she was a hunter.

  Like the deceptively poisonous Monarch that purposely invites attention with its brilliancy, her beauty signaled a warning to predators. Look but don’t touch.

  Is she really dangerous, or is it a guise? Does her skin truly taste of venom, or is she as sweet as she looks…

  My mouth watered. The question of her was enough to trigger every fascination.

  There was only one truth to be sure of: she would complete me.

  I wasn’t the only enraptured beast that night in that dank little bar, hungering for her liquid green eyes to lay claim to me. But I was the only one to escape her shrewd, predatory gaze.

  That’s why I was chosen in the first place, after all. The wallflower. The unnoticed. The overlooked. My mentor convinced me this was a strength, not a weakness. He took me under his wing and transformed me. He molded me into a stealthy demon that crept in the shadows and sprang only when all elements aligned.

  So on this night, while the huntress was stalking her prey, I was safely studying her from the sidelines. I didn’t know then that it was in my power to stop what was to come. How could I?

  You see, I was preoccupied. The murder of a city girl had shown a spotlight right on us. It had only been two months since my first kill—since my mentor granted me permission to demonstrate what I’d learned—and the details of the recent murder resembled my technique so closely that even my mentor was suspicious.

  Was I out of control? Did I have no stamina? Was I going to get us caught?

  I had to eliminate the technique stealing copycat to gain my master’s favor again—to prove that I didn’t violate our partnership. This hack imitator—whoever he was—would pay.

  I was so sure of my talents. And ultimately, that was my undoing.

  The vixen in the red dress didn’t need to put me in her sights to destroy me. She was not like the Monarch, waiting to be devoured, patiently accepting her place in nature to wreak retribution. She was like the widow spider, the pursuer. Her fangs sank into my vein, and the poison spread to every connecting blood vessel, detonating a cataclysmic event that would shake the whole of me.

  She was destruction incarnate.

  I envied her. That wasn’t an emotion I was comfortable with. Her performance surpassed mine…even my mentor’s…and I wanted to snuff out the threat of something greater than us.

  Connelly agreed, of course, but his reasoning was more logical. She was a different kind of threat to him, because she knew who he was, what he was. He was going to make an example of her, but first, he needed to disgrace her. Discredit her.

  It was just all so entertaining, watching them toy with each other. I admit, I got a thrill out of it. Up until that point, no one had held a candle to my mentor. I was fixated, like a scientist on the brink of a discovery. I needed to observe.

  Then, she walked right past me. The scent of lavender enveloped me, and I inhaled deeply. That’s when I saw it. The crest. It hung from a chain around her neck. I glimpsed just a peek before she quickly tucked it beneath the blouse of her dress as she shook her dark hair from her shoulders.

  Everything about her was carefully devised, deliberately meant to keep your focus on the obvious—the sex. She wielded it like a weapon. Guarded herself with beauty like a shield. All so perfectly designed to pull you into her trap…right before she escapes, leaving nothing of her true self behind. No lingering effect of her real person to call into question.

  She was a delicious ap
parition who would haunt me forever if I didn’t discover who she was. That one piece around her neck could open a world of knowledge for me about my temptress. It was the key to her.

  But I digress. The point of this story, the moral, is that we can plan for a life, make endless preparations, have everything falling into place…and then boom! We’re rocked. Our very foundation tested.

  What we choose to do after the fact defines us.

  My little red widow shook my world that night. That upset nearly catapulted me to ground zero. But I would rebuild. I would come back stronger, smarter, deadlier.

  Instead of submitting to her venom, allowing it to consume me whole—I festered in it, little by little, until I built up a tolerance. And once I was sure I could suffer her bite without succumbing to my weakness, I struck.

  But on that night—the night that tipped the first domino—I watched. As always.

  In the end, I made my mentor proud. I obeyed his command and suffered her poisonous attack in writhing agony.

  Oh, how I would revel in my vengeance. How I would draw blood. How I would bleed her until her entire world ran red…

  But first, I would unlock her secrets.

  Avery stirs in my lap. I glance down, having almost forgotten the point of my story. My fingers dig into her hair and I yank her head up. Her whimper soothes the burn of that memory.

  “I bet you don’t know what I know,” I whisper to her.

  Her thick sobs send a shiver over my skin, and I wrap my other hand around her throat. Squeeze until her body is wracked with tremors.

  Then with disgust, I shove her off and stand. She curls into a ball at my feet, her pathetic crying and the jangle of her chains suddenly grating my nerves.

  “What is taking our Sadie so long?” I ask, not really seeking an answer.

  I’ve patiently and painstakingly orchestrated the perfect scene…and my beauty is not keeping to the plan. It was the wrong move allowing them to take her communication away. It forced my hand, and I hate that. It was too soon.

  With a deep inhale, I find my center. No one could’ve created what I have. No one could present Sadie with the perfect gift as I have done. So, no one can take this away from me.

  With a grunt, I reach for the lever and crank the rig. The chains clang and rattle as they pull taut, dangling a thrashing Avery in the middle of my dungeon. Her pink tank top clings to her slick skin, her bare thighs glisten from hours of struggle. Her recently dyed brown hair layers her face, concealing just enough, tempting me to believe she is my love.

  My cock hardens at the prospect, but no—not yet. She’s an illusion. I want—I will have—the real thing.

  I turn to leave so that Avery can experience what transformed my Sadie into the ultimate beauty, but a rumbling snags my attention. The phone on the table vibrates to life.

  My excitement almost makes me trip over my own feet to get to it. And then…on the screen…in beautiful bold font, there she is.

  Sadie: You have something of mine, and I want it back.

  A wild laugh escapes me.

  Me: I’ve missed you.

  Sadie: Then let’s make a trade.

  My hands quake with my anticipation as I clutch the phone.

  One more game, then checkmate.

  3

  Apart

  Colton

  “The signal is pinging all over the state,” the tech behind the computer says. “He’s using a proxy chain. No way to get an accurate trace.”

  Sadie curses as she stares down at her cell phone. “And he’s not taking the bait. Dammit. I need to send a message that really tempts him.”

  Quinn holds up his hand. “He knows what we’re trying to do.”

  “We have to try,” she says. “I can convince him to meet with me. I just need more time…to be able to get inside his head.”

  She looks over at me, her eyes fierce. I know what’s going through her mind. Her words say one thing to Quinn and the task force, and another entirely to me. When she makes her move away from them, I’ll be there. I won’t let her do this alone.

  “He has to feel like he’s the one in control,” she continues, her thumbs flying over the on-screen keyboard. “As long as I stay in communication with him, keep his focus on me, he’s not…” She trails off, pain flashing across her face. She clears her throat. “Then he’s not focused on Avery.”

  “Letting the UNSUB be the shot caller is not what we want,” Quinn says.

  Sadie’s gaze swings up. “He’s a pathological narcissist who needs all attention to be on him. If it’s not, if anything threatens his sense of control, he’ll devolve. He’ll become unpredictable, and I’m not letting that happen.” Her glare narrows on Quinn. “Besides, he has Avery. He’s absolutely the shot caller.”

  I glance between them, caught in the middle of their stare down, observing a battle of wills that must’ve started long before now. I’m tempted to back up Sadie—she knows more about this UNSUB’s character than anyone here—but I know my place. And it’s not in the line of fire. For now.

  With a disgruntled sigh, Quinn caves. “Are we ready to give the updated profile to the task force?”

  She finishes her text as the techs monitor each keystroke. “Yes.” She looks up. “We’re ready. I’ve already given the unis a short comparison sheet. I put them on the task of bringing in any suspect that matches that description. I want every possible offender put in holding while I’m able to keep in contact with the UNSUB.”

  “We don’t have the resources or the time to hunt down every suspect and bring them in, Bonds,” Quinn roars.

  Sadie moves to stand at the front of the conference room, a whirl of chaos rushing around her. She’s the calm center of a storm in the midst of crashing waves; they break against her, but she’s the rock holding strong against the tide. She’s beautiful.

  “Make it happen,” she snaps. “We’re wasting time arguing over it. I need to get out of here and—”

  “And go where?” Quinn steps closer to her, and my hands curl into fists at my sides. “This entire building has already been processed. I’ve told you this.”

  She stares right back at him. “Not by me it hasn’t.”

  Quinn shakes his head. “What are you hoping to find that CSU hasn’t?”

  “I don’t know, Quinn—I’ll know it when I see it. And right now, we have nothing else.” Her bottom lip trembles, just for a second. Just a peek into the doubt and heartache clashing inside her.

  That one glimpse at her pain sends me to her side, earning me a cool glare from Quinn. “She’s right. You know she needs to be the one to head this up.”

  Sticking my neck out in front of Quinn isn’t the smartest move. Especially when there’s a piece of evidence in the form of a letter from the UNSUB addressed to me in my pocket. But there’s an understanding between Quinn and me. He’s not calling into question her knowledge on the case or her ability to work it; he’s concerned for her safety. That concern, however, is going to cost Avery her life if he doesn’t trust himself to protect Sadie.

  I uncovered that insecurity during our tense ride to the station when he threatened me to stay away from her. It was a revealing moment between us that put a bad taste in my mouth.

  But he doesn’t respond to me. Glowering past me, he addresses Sadie. “If he’s going to remain here, he goes into a box. He’s not helping otherwise. And technically, he’s still a suspect.” Quinn crosses his arms, making his point.

  “I’m not going back into interrogation,” I say, matching his stance.

  “Christ,” Sadie says. She hands the phone to the main tech, then turns toward us. “He’s not responding anymore.” Placing her hands to her forehead, she pushes her hair back, her agitation apparent. To Quinn, she says, “You said we were partners on this. And as such, that requires trust.”

  His features harden into an impenetrable expression as he holds Sadie’s stare. It’s as if something of a deeper meaning passes between them, and I try hard to
keep my resentment in check.

  “Do you trust me?”

  Quinn releases his stubborn will with a long exhale. His shoulders deflate. “Yes. I trust you.”

  “Then don’t question my leads. Please.” The pleading in her voice is enough to break any man. “We have to work together on this. It’s the only way. I’ll work the potential abduction sites, while you compare the members of the club that Colton flagged against—” she lowers her voice “—against the department. Use the profile as the control.”

  Quinn’s eyes widen. “There’s no way to do that incognito. I need us all working as a team, and dissidence will put a halt to that real quick.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “No better way to throw a wrench in the system than to start pointing fingers.”

  Sadie nods. “Let me handle that part. Just try to find a way to run searches without alerting Wexler or anyone else.”

  Again, Quinn stares at Sadie for a long moment before he agrees. “All right.” Then he turns toward the room and takes in the anarchy that has descended over the task force. “Get in line, people! We have new information.”

  I move to the back of the room and lean against the wall as the officers find seats. Every ear is piqued as Quinn prepares to address his task force.

  “This case is no longer about catching a serial killer. It’s about bringing home one of our own.” He nods to a cop at the front of the room, and he proceeds to place three enlarged portraits of the bound and gagged woman from my phone on the giant whiteboard.

  The air is alive with tension as the sudden, stark silence charges the room.

  “Avery Johnson is a top medical examiner in her field. She’s worked with the ACPD for more than five years, and what’s more, she’s family.” A rumble of acknowledgement flows through the room. “We’re bringing her home.”

  Quinn adjusts his stance, getting into his leader mode. I have to admit, he’s good at it. “Avery disappeared sometime between the night before last and early this morning. She’s presumed to have been missing for at least ten hours. We know the next twenty-four hours of this case is crucial. Therefore, we do not sleep, eat, drink, piss, or shit until we have a break in this case. And we’re going to follow Agent Bonds’ profile to the letter.” He glances over at her and nods.