Beautiful Redemption Read online

  "Grow up, Liis."

  "You first, Thomas."

  I thought I heard him breathe out the tiniest hint of a laugh, but I didn't acknowledge it. I simply allowed myself a smug smile from behind the safety of the lit screen between us.

  Car horns and sirens could be heard coming from the street below. Out there, the world continued, unaware that we worked late and lived lonely lives to make sure they could go to bed with one less mob boss, one less sex ring, and one less serial killer on the loose. The hunt-and-capture was what I worked for every day--or that was what my function used to be. Now, I was tasked with keeping Thomas's brother out of prison. At least, that was what it felt like.

  My smug smile vanished.

  "Tell me the truth," I said against my hand.

  "Yes, I'm hungry," Thomas droned.

  "That's not it. What is your objective? Taking Benny down or keeping Travis out of prison?"

  "One is entangled with the other."

  "Pick one."

  "I practically raised him."

  "That's not an answer."

  Thomas took a deep breath and exhaled, his shoulders sagging as if the answer were weighing down on him. "I'd trade my life to save his. I would definitely walk away from this assignment. I've walked away before."

  "From the job?"

  "No, and no, I don't want to talk about it."

  "Understood," I said. I didn't want to talk about her either.

  "You don't want me to talk about it? Everyone else in this office is dying to know."

  I glared at him. "You just said you didn't. There is something I want to know though."

  "What?" he asked, wary.

  "Who is in the pictures on your desk?"

  "What makes you think it's a who? Maybe they're pictures of cats."

  All emotion left my face. "You don't have cats."

  "But I like cats."

  I leaned back, and I hit my desk, frustrated. "You don't like cats."

  "You don't know me that well."

  I hid behind my monitor again. "I know that you either have a miracle lint brush, or you don't have cats."

  "I could still like cats."

  I leaned over. "You're killing me."

  The faintest hint of a smile touched his lips. "Let's go to dinner."

  "Not unless you tell me who is in those frames."

  Thomas frowned. "Why don't you just look for yourself the next time you're in there?"

  "Maybe I will."

  "Good."

  We were quiet for several seconds, and then I finally spoke, "I'll help you."

  "To dinner?"

  "I'll help you help Travis."

  He shifted in the chair. "I didn't know you weren't planning to."

  "Maybe you shouldn't consider me a sure thing."

  "Maybe you shouldn't say yes," he snapped back.

  I slammed my laptop closed. "I didn't say yes. I said I would watch for the email from Constance."

  He narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm going to have to watch you."

  A smug smile broke out across my face. "Yes, you are."

  My cell phone chirped, and Val's name appeared on the screen. I picked up the phone and held it to my ear. "Hey, Val. Yes, just finishing up. Okay. See you in twenty." I pressed the End button and laid my phone on the desk.

  "That hurts," Thomas said, checking his own phone.

  "Deal with it," I said, opening the lower drawer to retrieve my purse and keys.

  His brow furrowed. "Is Marks going?"

  "I don't know," I said, standing before pulling my purse strap over my shoulder.

  Vacuums were being pushed back and forth somewhere down the hall. Only half the lights were on. Thomas and I were the only employees left in the wing besides the cleaning staff.

  Thomas's expression made me feel guilty. I tilted my head. "Do you want to go?"

  "If Val will be there, it would be less awkward if Marks were going," he said, standing.

  "Agreed." I thought about it for a moment. "Invite him."

  Thomas's eyes sparked, and he lifted his cell phone, tapping out a quick message. Within seconds, it beeped back. He looked up at me. "Where?"

  "A place downtown called Kansas City Barbeque."

  Thomas laughed once. "Is she giving you the official tourist tour?"

  I smiled. "It's the same bar from Top Gun. She said she didn't do those things when she moved here, and she's never gotten to it. Now, she has an excuse."

  Thomas tapped on his phone, a grin spreading quickly across his face. "KC Barbeque it is."

  I sat on the end stool, glancing around the room. The walls were covered in Top Gun memorabilia--posters, pictures, and signed headshots of the cast. To me, it didn't look anything like the bar in the movie, except for the jukebox and the antique piano.

  Val and Marks were deep in conversation about the pros and cons for the solicitation notice of the 9mm pistols versus our standard issue Smith & Wesson. Thomas was on the other side of the L-shaped bar, standing in the middle of a small herd of California girls any Beach Boy would be proud of. The women were all giggling as they drank and took turns at the dartboard, clapping and cheering every time Thomas hit a bull's-eye.

  Thomas didn't seem to be overly flattered by the attention, but he was having a good time, glancing over at me every now and again with a relaxed smile.

  He had taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his oxford, revealing several inches of his thick tanned forearms. His tie was loose, and his top button had been left undone. I willed away the jealousy threatening to bubble to the surface every time I looked over at his new fangirls, but I could still feel those arms around me, pulling me into different positions and watching as they flexed while he--

  "Liis!" Val said, snapping her fingers. "You didn't hear a flippin' word I said, did you?"

  "No," I said before finishing my drink. "I'm going to head out."

  "What? No!" Val said, pouting. Her protruding bottom lip pulled back in as she smiled. "You don't have a ride. You can't leave."

  "I called a taxi."

  Val's eyes reflected her feelings of betrayal. "How dare you."

  "See you Monday," I said, situating my purse strap.

  "Monday? What about tomorrow? You're going to waste a perfectly good Saturday night?"

  "I have to unpack, and I would actually like to spend time in the condo I'm paying for."

  Val was back to pouting. "Fine."

  "Good night, Lindy," Marks said before turning his attention back to Val.

  I pushed the door open, smiling politely to the patrons sitting outside on the patio. The multicolored string lights hanging overhead made me feel like I was on vacation. I still wasn't used to the fact that the balmy temperature and camisoles were now my normal. Instead of trudging through the frozen tundra of Chicago in a down coat, I could step outside in a summer dress and sandals if I wanted, even in the wee hours of the morning.

  "Leaving?" Thomas said, seeming rushed.

  "Yes. I'd like to get completely unpacked this weekend."

  "Let me drive you."

  "You look"--I leaned over to peek at his groupies through the window--"busy."

  "I'm not." He shook his head as if I should have known better.

  When he looked at me that way, I felt like the only person in the city.

  My heart fluttered in my chest, and I begged any hatred I still had for him to make itself known.

  "You're not driving me home. You've been drinking."

  He sat his half-empty bottle of Corona on a table. "I'm good. I swear."

  I glanced at my wrist.

  "That's nice," Thomas said.

  "Thanks. It was a birthday present from my parents. Jackson never understood why I'd wear something so tiny that didn't have any numbers on it."

  Thomas covered my watch with his hand, his fingers wrapping around my small wrist one and a half times. "Please let me drive you."

  "I've already called a cab."

  "They'
ll get over it."

  "I--"

  "Liis"--Thomas slid his hand from my wrist to my hand, leading me toward the parking lot--"I'm going that way anyway."

  The warmth in his smile made him seem more like the stranger I had taken home and less like the ogre at the office. He didn't let go of my hand until we were at his black Land Rover Defender. It looked almost as old as I was, but Thomas had clearly made some upgrades and modifications, and he kept it meticulously clean.

  "What?" he said, noticing the look on my face after he sat in the driver's seat.

  "This is just such an odd vehicle to own in the city."

  "I agree, but I can't give her up. We've been through too much. I bought her on eBay when I first moved here."

  I had left behind my four-year-old silver Toyota Camry in Chicago. I hadn't had the money saved up to ship it, and that long of a road trip hadn't sounded appealing in the least, so it was sitting in my parents' drive with the words For Sale and my cell phone number written in white shoe polish on the front windshield. I hadn't thought of eBay. I was so determined not to think about Jackson or home that I hadn't thought about anyone or anything inside of Chicago's city limits. I hadn't called my old friends or even my parents.

  Thomas left me to my thoughts, lost in his own, as he navigated his SUV through traffic to our building. My hand had felt lonely ever since he let it go to open my door. Once he parked and jogged around to my side to be a gentleman again, I tried not to hope that he would take my hand, but I failed. However, Thomas didn't fail to disappoint me.

  I walked with my arms crossed against my chest, pretending like I wouldn't have taken his hand anyway. Once inside, Thomas pressed the button, and we waited in silence for the elevator. Once the doors opened, he motioned for me to step inside, but he didn't follow.

  "You're not coming?"

  "I'm not tired."

  "Are you going all the way back?"

  He thought about that and then shook his head. "Nah, I'll probably go across the street."

  "To Cutter's Pub?"

  "If I go upstairs with you right now--" he said as the doors slid closed. He didn't get to finish.

  The elevator climbed five floors and then set me free. Feeling ridiculous, I hurried to the window at the end of the hall and watched Thomas walk across the street with his hands in his pockets. A weird sadness came over me until he paused and looked up. When his eyes met mine, a gentle smile stretched across his face. I waved at him, and he waved back and then continued on.

  Feeling half embarrassed and half exhilarated, I walked to my condo and dug around in my purse for my keys. The metal grated against each other as I jiggled the lock and turned the knob. Immediately, I closed the door behind me, and one after another, I slid the chain and flipped the dead bolt.

  The boxes stacked in my condo were beginning to look like furniture. I let my purse slide from my shoulder onto the small table next to me, and I kicked off my shoes. It was going to be a long solitary night.

  Three loud knocks on the door made me jump, and without checking the peephole, I scrambled to open the locks before yanking the door open so quickly that the wind swept my hair.

  "Hi," I said, blinking.

  "Don't look so letdown," Sawyer said, brushing past me into my living room.

  He sat on my couch, leaning back into the cushions and stretching his arms out over the top. He looked more comfortable in my condo than I did.

  I didn't bother asking an FBI agent how he knew where I lived. "What the hell are you doing here, unannounced?"

  "It's Friday. I've been trying to speak with you all week. I live in the next building over. I was outside, smoking my e-cig, and saw Maddox walk in here with you, but then he walked toward Cutter's without you."

  "I'm not understanding where any of that translates into an invitation."

  "Sorry," he said, not an ounce of apology in his voice. "Can I come over?"

  "No."

  "It's about Maddox's kid brother."

  That gave me pause. "What about him?"

  Sawyer enjoyed having my full attention. "Did you read the file?"

  "Yes."

  "All of it?"

  "Yes, Sawyer. Stop wasting my time."

  "Did you read the part about Benny trying to employ Travis? The S.A.C. ordered Maddox to make his brother an asset. He has an in no one else does."

  "I know this already." I didn't want to let him in on the fact that Travis had already been slated for recruitment. My gut told me to keep that to myself.

  "Did you also know that it's a shit idea? Abby Abernathy is the way to go."

  "She doesn't get along with her father. Travis is the more viable choice."

  "She whisked Travis off to Vegas and lied about the alibi. Trenton was at the fight. He knew his brother was there. The whole family was in on it."

  "Except Thomas."

  He sighed in frustration and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "It's Thomas now?"

  I glared at him.

  "I've been telling Thomas for a year that we should use Abby. She would be a better asset."

  "I disagree," I said simply.

  He scooted to the edge of the couch and held out his hands. "Just...hear me out."

  "What is the point? If Travis finds out we've coerced his wife, the operation will implode."

  "So, the better option is to bring him, the unstable one, on as an asset?" he said, deadpan.

  "I think Maddox knows his brother, and he is the lead on this. We should trust him."

  "You've known him for a week. You trust him?"

  "No, not even a week. And yes. You should, too."

  "He's too close to this case. This is his brother. Hell, even the director is too close. For some unknown reason, he's practically adopted Maddox. They should all know better. This is not me being a jackass. This is reason, and it's making me crazy that no one is listening. Then, you come in--someone unattached and put into a place of authority. I thought I finally got my chance, and I'll be damned if Maddox isn't actively keeping me away from you."

  "I'll give you that," I said.

  "What's worse is the louder I am, the less they hear."

  "Maybe you should try speaking more softly."

  Sawyer shook his head. His smoldering blue eyes snuffed out when he looked away from me. "Good God, Lindy. You need some help unpacking?"

  I wanted to send him on his way, but an extra set of hands would make it go so much faster. "Actually--"

  He held up his hands again. "I know my reputation at the office. I admit to half of it--okay, most of it. But I'm not a dick all the time. I'll help you and go home. I swear."

  I glared at him. "I'm a lesbian."

  "No, you're not."

  "Right, but the chances are better for me to become a lesbian than for me to have sex with you."

  "Understood. Although I find you extremely attractive--I won't deny that in the real world, I'd try my damnedest to take you home from the bar--you should know that, even though I am a jerk and a man-whore at times, I'm not stupid. I wouldn't sleep with my boss."

  Sawyer's comment made my cheeks flush, and I turned my back to him. His Southern charm wasn't lost on me even though reason told me he was a waste of time for any woman wanting respect or a relationship.

  Sawyer might be a womanizer, and he might even be an asshole most of the time, but he had no problem with transparency. Kept at arm's length, Sawyer could actually be an asset and maybe even a friend.

  I pointed to the kitchen. "Let's start there."

  I WOKE UP TO A NEARLY CLEAN BEDROOM. All my clothes were either hanging in the closet or folded and put away in the dresser drawers. Sawyer and I had managed to unpack every box and even clean up most of our mess--aside from some packing nuts and empty boxes that we'd torn down and stacked by the front door.

  Wearing a gray sweatshirt and navy lounge pants, I wrapped my fuzzy white robe around me and then opened my bedroom door, looking out into the kitchen and living room. The
y were one in the same, separated only by the kitchen counter that doubled as an island and possibly a breakfast bar.

  My condo was small, but I didn't need much room. The thought of having a whole space to myself made me want to take in a deep breath and spin around like Maria in The Sound of Music--until I remembered that I wasn't alone.

  Sawyer was lying on my couch, still asleep. We'd blazed through two and a half bottles of wine before he passed out. One of his arms was draped over his face, covering his eyes. One socked foot was on the floor, likely to keep the room from spinning. I smiled. Even drunk, he'd kept his promise not to make a pass at me, and he'd earned an infinite amount of respect by the time I left him on the couch for my room.

  Poking through my pathetically stocked cabinets, I was trying to find something to eat that wouldn't offend my hangover. Just as I reached up for the box of saltine crackers, someone knocked on the door.

  I padded over in my pink-and-white gingham slippers--a Christmas present from my mother the year before. Damn, I thought. Need to call her today.

  Releasing the chain lock and dead bolt, I turned the knob and peeked through the crack in the door.

  "Thomas," I said, surprised.

  "Hey. I'm sorry for ditching you last night."

  "You didn't ditch me."

  "You're just waking up?" he said, his eyes pouring over my robe.

  I pulled the belt tighter. "Yeah. I kept the party going while I unpacked."

  "Need some help?" he asked.

  "No, I'm finished."

  His eyes danced around a bit, his investigator senses kicking in. I'd seen that expression so many times before.

  "You finished all that unpacking by yourself?"

  My hesitation to answer prompted him to touch his hand to the door and slowly push it open.

  His anger was instant. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

  I returned the door to its former position. "He's sleeping on the couch, Thomas. Jesus, do the math."

  He leaned in and whispered, "I've been on that couch before, too."

  "Oh, fuck you," I said.

  I pushed the door to shut it, but Thomas held it open.

  "I told you if he bothered you to let me know."

  I crossed my arms. "He wasn't bothering me. We had a nice night."

  His eyes flickered, and his brows pulled inward. He took a step toward me and kept his voice low as he said, "If you're worried about how you're perceived, you shouldn't have let Sawyer spend the night."

  "Is there something you need?" I asked.

  "What did he say to you? Did he discuss the case?"

  "Why?"

  "Just answer the questions, Lindy," he said through his teeth.