Beautiful Redemption Read online

  What might look to the average person like a mess of photos, maps, and Xerox copies was my way of keeping straight what agent was assigned to which task, which leads were promising, and which person of interest was more interesting than others. One name in particular caught my eye and came up over and over again--a washed-up poker legend by the name of Abernathy. His daughter, Abby, was also in a few black-and-white surveillance photos although I hadn't gotten to the reports on her involvement yet.

  Val came in and watched in awe as I tacked the final pin into the last frayed edge of red yarn. "Whoa, Liis. How long have you been at this?"

  "All morning," I said, admiring my masterpiece while climbing down off my chair. I put my hands on my hips and puffed. "Fantastic, isn't it?"

  Val took a deep breath, seeming overwhelmed.

  Someone knocked on the door. I turned to see Agent Sawyer leaning against the doorway.

  "Morning, Lindy. I had a few things I'd like to discuss with you, if you're not busy."

  Sawyer didn't look like the creep Val had made him out to be. His hair was freshly trimmed, long enough to run his fingers through but still professional. Maybe he used a bit too much hair spray, but the James Dean coif flattered him. His squared jaw and straight white teeth set off his bright blue eyes. He was kind of beautiful, but something behind his eyes was ugly.

  Val made a face. "I'll let the janitor know you have trash in your office," she said, shouldering past him.

  "I'm Agent Sawyer," he said, taking the few steps to shake my hand. "I meant to introduce myself yesterday, but I got caught at the courthouse. Late day."

  I walked behind my desk and attempted to organize the stacks of papers and files. "I know. How can I help you, Sawyer?"

  Sawyer sat in one of the twin tufted leather club chairs set in front of my large oak desk.

  "Have a seat," I said, making a show of gesturing toward the seat he'd sat in.

  "I'd planned on it," he said.

  Slow and without looking away from the pair of ocean-blue eyes across from me, I lowered myself into my oversized office chair, the tall back making me feel like I was sitting in a throne--my throne, and this joker was trying to piss in my court. I stared him down like he was a mangy dog.

  Sawyer placed a file on my desk and opened it, pointing to a paragraph highlighted in bright orange. "I've previously brought this up before to Maddox, but now that we have a pair of fresh eyes--"

  Maddox stomped into my office.

  Sawyer stood up like he'd been shot at. "Morning, sir."

  Maddox simply nodded toward the door, and Sawyer scurried off without a word. Maddox slammed the door shut, and the glass wall shuddered, so I didn't have to.

  I leaned back into my throne and crossed my arms, both anticipating and hoping for a dick comment to come out of his perfect mouth.

  "How do you like your office?" he asked.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Your office," he said, pacing and throwing his hand out at the empty shelves. "Is it to your satisfaction?"

  "Yes?"

  Maddox's eyes targeted me. "Is that a question?"

  "No. The office is satisfactory, sir."

  "Good. If you need anything, let me know. And"--he pointed to the glass wall--"if that slimy piece of shit bothers you, you come directly to me, understand?"

  "I am capable of handling Sawyer, sir."

  "The moment," he seethed, "he makes a snide remark, questions your authority, or makes a pass at you, you come straight to my office."

  Makes a pass at me? Who does he think he's fooling? "Why did you assign him to this case if you dislike him so much?"

  "He's good at what he does."

  "Yet you don't listen to him."

  He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, frustrated. "Just because I have to put up with his bullshit to use his talent doesn't mean you have to."

  "Do I seem weak to you?"

  His brows pulled in. "Pardon?"

  "Are you trying to undermine me?" I sat up. "Is that what your game is? I've been trying to figure all of this out. I guess it would look much better to make me seem whiny and incompetent than for you to just run me out on the rails."

  "What? No," he said, looking genuinely confused.

  "I can handle Sawyer. I can handle my newly appointed position. I am capable of running this squad. Is there anything else, sir?"

  Maddox realized his mouth was hanging open, and he snapped it shut. "That will be all, Agent Lindy."

  "Fantastic. I have work to do."

  Maddox opened the door, slipped both of his hands into his pants pockets, nodded, and then left, walking toward the security door. I looked up at the clock and knew exactly where he was headed.

  Val scampered in, eyes wide. "Holy shit, what was that?"

  "I have no idea, but I'm going to find out."

  "He was in a hurry to leave the pub last night. Did he walk you home?"

  "No," I said, standing up.

  "Lie."

  I ignored her. "I need to burn off some steam. Care to join me?"

  "The fitness room during the ASAC's time? Hell no. You shouldn't push him, Liis. I get that you two have some weird competition going on, but he is famous for his temper."

  I picked up my gym bag off the floor and jerked it over my shoulder. "If he wants me to push back, I'll push."

  "To where? Over the edge?"

  I thought about that for a moment. "He just came in here all pissy about Sawyer."

  Val shrugged. "Sawyer is a jackass. He makes everyone pissy."

  "No, I got the distinct feeling Maddox was...I realize how this sounds, but he was behaving like a jealous ex-boyfriend. If that's not it, then I think he gave me this promotion to make me look incompetent. It falls in line with what you've said about him before and what he did to me before I got the promotion."

  Val reached into her pocket and opened a small bag of pretzels. She held one to her mouth and chewed on it in small bites like a chipmunk. "I'm leaning more toward your theory that Maddox is jealous, but that's impossible. First of all, he would never be jealous of Sawyer." Her face twisted. "Second, he just isn't wired that way anymore, not since that girl made him hate anything with a vagina."

  I wanted to remind her that he hadn't slept with anyone before me either, but that would imply that I wanted him to be jealous, and I didn't. "What makes you think it was her fault?" I asked.

  That made her pause. "He was in love with that girl. Have you been in his office?"

  I shook my head.

  "Those empty shelves used to hold several frames with pictures of her. Everyone knew how much he struggled to do the job and love her the way he thought she deserved. Now, no one talks about it--not because he did something wrong, but because she broke his heart, and no one wants to make him more miserable than he already is."

  I ignored her. "I'm an intelligence analyst, Val. It's in my nature to piece together bits of information and form a theory."

  Her nose wrinkled. "What does that have to do with anything? I'm trying to argue the point that he's not jealous of Sawyer."

  "I never said he was."

  "But you want him to be." Val was confident she was right. It was maddening.

  "I want to know if I'm right about him. I want to know if he's trying to sink me. I want to peel back that top layer and see what's underneath."

  "Nothing you'll like."

  "We'll see," I said, walking past her toward the door.

  MADDOX STOPPED MIDWAY in an inverted sit-up and sighed. "You're joking."

  "Nope," I said, heading straight for the women's locker room.

  He let his back fall flat against the bench he was sitting on, his legs bent and his feet firmly planted on the floor. "Do you want us to hate each other?" he said, looking at the ceiling. "I'm getting the feeling that you do."

  "You're not far off," I said, pushing through the swinging door.

  After removing my workout clothes from my small duffel bag, I shimmied my na
vy pencil skirt over my hips and unbuttoned my light-blue blouse, and then I switched out my C-cup for a sports bra. It was amazing how one piece of fabric could take me from modest curves to the build of a twelve-year-old boy.

  The room lined with lockers and motivational posters didn't smell like the mildew and dirty sneakers I'd expected. Bleach and fresh paint dominated the air.

  Maddox was finishing his sit-ups while I made my way to the closest treadmill, my Adidas making squish noises as each foot pressed and lifted from the rubber floor. I stepped up onto the belt of the machine and threaded the bottom of my white FBI T-shirt through the safety clasp.

  "Why now?" he said from across the room. "Why do you have to be here during my lunch hour? You can't work out in the mornings or the evenings?"

  "Have you seen this room before and after hours? The equipment is full. The best time of day to get a full workout without dodging sweaty bodies is at your lunch hour because no one wants to come in here while you're here."

  "Because I don't let them."

  "Are you going to ask me to leave?" I asked, looking at him over my shoulder.

  "You mean, tell you to leave?"

  I shrugged. "Semantics."

  His eyes poured over my tight leggings as he thought about that, and then he left the bench for the double bars before lifting both of his legs nearly chest-high. If he worked out like that five times a week, it was no wonder he had an eight-pack. Sweat was dripping from his hair, and his entire torso glistened.

  I pretended not to notice as I pressed the button to start the treadmill. The belt moved smoothly forward, the gears causing a familiar shudder beneath my feet. Placing earbuds in my ears, I used the music to help me forget that Maddox was behind me, perfecting perfection, and increasing the speed and incline of the treadmill helped, too.

  After a few laps, I pulled one earbud out and let it hang down over my shoulder. I turned to look at the wall of mirrors on my left and spoke to Maddox's reflection, "By the way, I'm onto you."

  "Oh, yeah?" Maddox said, puffing in the background.

  "You're damn straight I am."

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

  "I'm not going to let you do it."

  "Do you really think I'm trying to sabotage you?" He seemed amused.

  "Aren't you?"

  "I already told you no." After a short pause, he was standing next to the treadmill, his hand resting on the safety handles. "I know I made a negative impression on you, Lindy. Admittedly, it wasn't unintentional. But I'm motivated to make agents better, not tank their careers."

  "Does that include Sawyer?"

  "Agent Sawyer has a history in our squad that you know nothing about."

  "So, educate me."

  "It's not my story to tell."

  "That's it?" I smirked.

  "I don't get your meaning."

  "You're not allowing him to speak to me because of someone else's story?"

  Maddox shrugged. "I just like to get in his way."

  "Your tantrum in my office after Agent Sawyer left was you getting in his way. Right."

  Maddox shook his head and then walked away. I started to put my earbud back into my ear, but he appeared at my side once again.

  "Why am I the asshole for keeping a fuckstick like Sawyer away from you?"

  I pushed a button, and the treadmill came to a stop. "I don't need your protection," I puffed.

  Maddox began to speak, but then he walked away again. This time, he pushed through the door of the men's locker room.

  After eight minutes' worth of stewing over his attitude, I hopped off the treadmill and stomped into the men's locker room.

  Maddox had one hand on the sink, the other holding a toothbrush. His hair was wet, and he was covered only in a towel.

  He spit, rinsed, and then tapped his toothbrush on the sink. "Can I help you?"

  I shifted my weight. "You might be able to charm the brass all the way up to the director, but I'm onto you. Don't think for a second that I don't see through your bullshit. I'm not going anywhere, so you can stop whatever game you're playing."

  He dropped his toothbrush in the sink and walked toward me. I stepped backward, quickening my pace as he did. My back hit the wall, and I gasped. Maddox slammed his palms against the wall on each side of me just above my head. He was inches from my face, his skin still dripping from his recent shower.

  "I promoted you to supervisor, Agent Lindy. What makes you think I want you gone?"

  I lifted my chin. "Your bullshit story about Sawyer doesn't add up."

  "What do you want me to say?" he said.

  I could smell the mint on his breath and the bodywash on his skin. "I want the truth."

  Maddox leaned in, his nose tracing my jaw. My knees nearly gave way as his lips touched my ear.

  "You can have whatever you want." He leaned back, his eyes falling to my lips.

  My breath caught, and I braced myself as he moved closer, closing his eyes.

  He stopped just short of my mouth. "Say it," he whispered. "Say you want me to kiss you."

  I reached up with my fingers, sliding them down his rippled abdomen, smearing the beads of water until I touched the top of his towel. Every nerve in my body begged me to say yes.

  "No." I pushed past him and walked out the door.

  I climbed back onto the treadmill, chose the fastest setting, and replaced my earbuds in my ear, changing songs until something screamy began to play.

  Forty-five minutes later, breathless and sweating, I slowed my pace, walking with my hands on my hips. After my five-minute cooldown, I showered and then dressed before pinning my hair into a damp bun.

  Val was waiting for me on the other side of the skywalk. "How did it go?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

  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."