Landon: FBI Special Agent: FBI Brotherhood Book #3

by Ann, Bry

  Chirp, chirp, chirp.

  Part III

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  Chapter Eight

  Landon

  One Month Later

  “Landon, can you come in my office for a moment?”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  I walk across the hall to his office, where Kyle, Carson, and my boss, Collin, have already gathered. They are all extremely fuckin’ serious, so I shove down my natural instinct to joke under intensity and pull myself together.

  “What’s going on?”

  Collin nods. “Take a seat.”

  Shit, this is bad. Collin’s an amazing team lead, the best a man can ask for, but no one can accuse the man of being bossy.

  So this is bad. Real fuckin’ bad.

  I take a seat. Kyle looks across the room at me. His brown eyes are burning with intensity. Look, the dude’s always intense, but today, he looks especially troubled.

  “Do you remember that human trafficking case Brad was working on?”

  Brad is one of our closest friends. See, there are five of us. Friends. Brothers. Inside and outside of the job.

  Collin. The boss.

  Kyle. The most intense man you’ll ever see. Also, a ghost when he doesn’t want to be seen.

  Carson. The youngest of all of us. Also, the tech god.

  Derek. Collin’s best friend. He just quit our team. It sucks.

  And Brad. He’s the team lead of the unit dealing with hostages and kidnappings. He’s the only one of us who isn’t on our direct team.

  “Of course.”

  “We have a lead on the case. Actually…” Collin rubs his thumb over his lower lip and takes a deep breath. “Two women got free from that trafficking ring.”

  My jaw falls open. Unfortunately, women almost never get seen again when they get taken by these monsters.

  “Who?”

  “Sage Briar-Rose and Essie Taylor.”

  “Oh, fuck.” They’ve both been missing. Both open cases. “How are they? What’s their condition?”

  Collin pinches his nose as he exhales a deep breath, so Kyle jumps in.

  “Brad is currently with Sage. He’ll update us soon. She’s pretty banged up, bruises, the like. We don’t know if it goes further than that. As for Essie…”

  I know it’s bad when even Kyle looks haunted. Steeling himself, he continues.

  “Essie had some kind of psychotic break. She’s incoherent. The staff at the hospital say she keeps muttering about animals or some shit.”

  “The twisted part is,” Collin jumps in, “she’s the key to solving this case. We were able to find out from Nixon Marketta that Essie, or Tammy, as she was called, was responsible for training the girls that came in. She can give us more information than anyone. She’s the key to breaking this case, to taking these fuckers down!”

  “She was responsible for training them? That’s fucked up,” Carson jumps in.

  I nod. My heart feels heavy for this poor woman.

  “Tammy?” I question.

  Collin nods. “Yeah. Essie Taylor is a familiar name. She won Genius Children several years ago. Essie is a certified genius.”

  “Shit, man,” I sigh. “And they went and fucked all that up.”

  Collin gives me the barest of nods, but I see the way this wears on him, especially being a leading role in it all.

  “Back to your question. Essie told them her name was Tammy to protect her loved ones.”

  “How did she get away with that?”

  “I don’t know. I have no fucking idea, actually. That’s one of the many questions I have for her. So, to get to business. Kyle, I want you to keep a secret eye on the Sage-Nix situation. Nixon is a criminal. His father is Aaron Marketta.”

  Oh, fuck. Collin waits for that shit to sink in. Aaron is accused and convicted of killing more than forty people… and Nix is his son.

  Who is now with Sage, a recently rescued sex trafficking victim.

  Stellar.

  “Talk to anyone Nix or Sage interacts with, but don’t interfere with Brad. He’s questioning Sage.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Good. Carson, you’re here. I want you to handle anything that comes into the office. Make sure we don’t fall behind. I know it’s a lot. I’ll have your back. We’ll call you into this case if needed.”

  Carson nods. This is a good role for him. Carson isn’t great with the unfamiliar.

  “And Landon…” Collin’s blue eyes bore into me. “I need you with Essie.”

  I wasn’t expecting that, to be honest. It’s no secret I'm the least intense member of our team. The one most likely to joke. Even Kyle, the person I am by far closest to—he is my partner, after all—looks a little floored and he knows me well.

  “I know this isn’t expected, but I’ve thought a lot about this. I'm hoping some of your…”

  Collin stumbles over his words for a moment, trying to sound professional. That’s the problem when you’ve already crossed lines. I know what he wants to say. We all smirk, despite the circumstances.

  “Well, I'm hoping some of the lightness you bring to our team helps her open up.”

  Leave it to him to find a way to make it sound professional.

  “Can I trust you with this?”

  “Yes, boss, you can trust me with this.”

  And I mean that with every bone in my body. I may joke and I may play, but this job, what we do here, means the world to me. That oath I made years ago, I made with every fiber of my being. I believe in what we do here.

  Collin nods, understanding.

  “Then let’s get to work. I want justice for these women.”

  So do I, boss. So do I.

  * * *

  “Landon Parker, FBI.”

  The mousy woman at the front desk’s eyes widen. I smirk.

  “Don’t be scared, doll. Just came to see a Miss Essie Taylor.”

  She smiles at the nickname, but it dies when she hears Essie’s name.

  “Room 202. It’s hard to see, but I guarantee it’s there.”

  My natural instinct is to ask her to walk me there, but fuck, I'm not that much of an asshole.

  “Thanks, doll.”

  I wink at her and make my way down the hall. I'm actually kinda fuckin’ nervous. I don’t know what to expect here. I'm one of the first people, outside of the doctors, to speak with Essie.

  201, 203… the fuck, where is 202?

  It’s gonna be embarrassing if I have to go back and ask her. I'm FBI, for God's sake.

  There it is. Hidden behind the janitors closet. She could have told me that, sneaky little mouse.

  Knock, knock… “Landon Parker, FBI.”

  “She can’t understand you,” a nurse mutters as she passes.

  I scowl at her. She still has the right to her privacy!

  “Okay, I'm comin’ in, Ms. Taylor.”

  Slowly, I push the door open. My heart pounds a little harder than normal. I’d rather face a man with a gun than this. This breaks my heart. I can’t help but see my baby sister, Evie, in all these women.

  “Hi, Ms. Taylor, my name is Landon Parker. I'm with the FBI.”

  I take a few steps closer to Essie’s bedside and really look at her. The first thing I notice is how thin she is. She’s all bones, sharp lines, and ridges with a mass of black hair, empty green eyes, and skin so pale it’s bordering on translucent.

  Where’s her family? Have they been here?

  “Mind if I have seat?” I gesture to the chair.

  Her eyes don’t even follow me. They are fixed on the ceiling, staring at nothing, even as cords and wires and machines surround her. She has a feeding tube in her nose, an IV in her arm, and I think a heart rate monitor on her chest.

  “Okay, I'm gonna sit. This chair looks uncomfortable as fuck, but you’re worth it to me.”

  I smile at her as I sit. It kinda feels like I'm talking to myself, but my ability to be cheerful under any circumstance is why I'm here. I won’t let this woman do
wn, but I really don’t know what to say, for once in my life.

  “I know you’re probably not too keen to talk to someone from the FBI right now. Don’t worry, I get it. I won’t be here long. Just kind of introducing myself for now, yeah.”

  “Fucking sloths,” I swear I hear her mutter.

  Sloths, what the…? Okay, I can work with this.

  “Do I remind you of a sloth, Essie?”

  Nothing.

  “What’s your favorite animal?”

  “You’ll get nothin’ out of her.”

  I turn to see an older nurse with grey hair and knowing eyes enter the room.

  “Well then, you’ll be seeing a lot of me, ma’am.”

  “You her boyfriend or something?”

  I hold up my badge. “FBI.”

  “Well shit. You’re in for a job.”

  I glance back at Essie. She’s still staring at the ceiling, lifeless. Looks like it.

  * * *

  Carson: Wanna grab a bite?

  Kyle: I'm in.

  Me: I'm down. What time?

  Kyle: Six.

  We all reply with thumbs up. Then, I immediately call my sister back. She called me six freakin’ times while I was with Essie. Essie didn’t say a word that made sense, which I texted Collin... so I'm going back tomorrow. No fewer than five nurses told me she was a hopeless case, which pisses me off. No one’s hopeless. Hope ends when people die and no sooner. I truly believe that. My sister Evie is living proof of that.

  “What’s up, Evie?”

  “I called you six times.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  She huffs. “You suck, Landon Parker.”

  “Same to you, Evie Louise Parker.”

  She giggles. “Egh, my middle name. It’s the worst.”

  “It’s cute.”

  “Agree to disagree, then.”

  “Works for me. Why’d ya call?”

  I feel her entire demeanor change in an instant.

  “I know you’re so busy, but when you have—if you have time, I-I don’t want to be annoying, but, um—”

  “Evie, what the hell? What’s going on? I always got time for you. You know that.”

  “I know,” she whispers. “I need you to come over, Landon. As soon as you can. Can you come tonight? I have something to tell you and I-I'm scared. Prolonging it is torture.”

  Now I'm scared.

  “I can come tonight, yeah. Uh, let’s see. I promised the guys I’d go out with them, but I’ll call it off.”

  “No, don’t do that! Long as they’re willing to give us a moment of privacy, Kyle and Carson can come. I’ll cook dinner.”

  “Don’t cook something you won’t eat with us, Evie.”

  “Landon…” Her voice quivers. “Kay,” she whispers.

  “Good. They’ll be stoked to see you. It’s been a while.”

  “Same.”

  She clicks off and I call the guys. They really will be stoked. We all love Evie. I feel shitty that we haven’t invited Collin and Brad, but Collin has personal shit going on and Brad is knee-deep in this case. Besides, Carson, Kyle, and I are around the same age. Brad and Collin are older.

  Anyway, it’s a ten minute drive to Evie’s. I’ll go first, give us some time to talk.

  Chapter Nine

  Landon

  “Hey, Landon.”

  Evie smiles softly at me and wraps me in a very quick side hug. I frown. That’s unlike her. Evie is a hugger. A major hugger. Everyone who comes in contact with her knows they are going to get hugged. It’s fact.

  “Come in.”

  She holds the door to her tiny studio apartment open. I glance at the air mattress propped up against the wall and clamp my teeth down over my tongue so hard I draw blood. I don’t get why she won’t just let me help her.

  “Coffee?”

  I smile. “Beer, Evie. Still got some in there for me?”

  “Spoiled rotten,” she mutters, sure enough grabbing my favorite brand of beer that she keeps stashed just for me for the few times that I come over.

  I look her up and down as she hands me my drink. Habit by now. Gotta check on her. My sister is very pretty. Like me, she has blue eyes and blonde hair, though her eyes are far lighter than mine. Her hair is long, like to her mid-back or some shit. She never cuts it. Today, she’s wearing a sweatshirt that looks like a triple X on her and baggy sweats. Internally, I groan. Kinda makes it hard to check on her when she’s dressed like this.

  “What’s with the outfit?”

  Usually, Evie dresses up, especially if she has guests coming over.

  “Long day.” She offers me a fake smile.

  “Alright.” I lean back on her two-seater couch. “What’s up? The guys should be here any minute. They’re excited.”

  “They should get less excited.” She cocks an eyebrow. “I made salad.”

  In your face, Landon. That’s what her expression is saying. She hates when I don’t let her cook for people, but I do. She just has to eat it, too.

  “Yum, we all love a good salad. Besides, they’re not excited for the food, sis. They’re excited to see you.”

  As I expected, Evie curls inward, turning away from me as she takes a seat on the couch.

  “I'm a mess,” she mutters. “I should—”

  I hold up a hand. “Don’t finish that thought.”

  I soften and duck my head to meet her blue eyes.

  “What’s going on, Evie?”

  Since Mom and Dad died when I was eighteen and she was thirteen, I’ve stepped in as an older brother/father figure. I mean, I raised her for five years.

  Evie’s eyes immediately water.

  “I'm sorry, Landon! I didn’t want to tell you, but my therapist is making me.”

  My heart beats hard. Thump. Thump.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  “Alright, go on.”

  She meets my eyes head on and I know before she tells me. She was busy before. I didn’t get a good look at her face.

  “I relapsed.”

  My body deflates.

  “How long?” I breathe.

  “Hard to tell,” she whispers.

  “How bad?”

  Evie chews her lower lip. So, bad. Evie, my precious little sister, has anorexia. It started at thirteen when our parents died. I thought it was just grief until I got a call from her school saying she passed out.

  I couldn’t deny it anymore. Evie is sick.

  “You got somethin’ on under that sweatshirt?”

  Evie cries quietly and nods her head yes.

  I already know by her protruding cheek bones. Jesus, Evie. I can’t do this again. Watching her wither away before me, watching her become angry and hollow nearly killed me before.

  Evie stands and slowly, so slowly, she peels her sweatshirt off her body. I'm about to look up when two knocks sound at the door.

  “Comin’ in!”

  Fuck. Evie screeches and starts to run for her sweatshirt, but it’s too late. Carson is already in the doorway, staring at her with dark eyes. Shit, this is bad. This is really bad. Carson and Evie have always had an odd relationship, but despite it, Carson is protective of Evie in a way I'm grateful for.

  But this is a disaster. Evie’s one minute from falling apart. When she’s this thin, she can’t cope well with anything. It’s either a full mental breakdown, a panic attack, or a spurt of rage. Right now, it’s the mental breakdown we’re on verge of. Her body is shaking and she’s trying to hide her tears from Carson, who is grinding his jaw furiously. Right as I'm about to intervene in this shit-show, Carson schools his expression and Kyle walks in. He immediately senses the mood and wisely stays back.

  “What’s going on, Evie?” Carson asks softly.

  I'm tense by Evie. I’m pissed at Evie and, at the same time, ready to intervene if Carson upsets her further. She’s already embarrassed. On the flip side of that, I'm hoping Carson, being closer to Evie’s age, can help make her feel more comfortable.
<
br />   “I…” Evie glances at Kyle. “Hi, Kyle.”

  She’s bright red, but in her sweatshirt again, at least.

  “Hello, Evie. Did I miss something?”

  I wish Carson would stop staring at Evie so intensely. I want to punch him for it.

  “What did you make for dinner? I’ll help you set the table,” Carson both offers and demands.

  Evie looks uncertain, but nods.

  “It’s just salad, but…” She shrugs.

  “I love salad,” Kyle says. I throw him a grateful nod.

  “Thanks, Kyle. It’s gonna be very summery, lots of fruit and a raspberry vinaigrette.”

  “Can’t wait, Eves.”

  She smiles at him, then glances at Carson. “Ready?”

  He nods and follows her over to the kitchen. Kyle immediately approaches me.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Evie relapsed,” I whisper.

  His eyes widen slightly. He glances up at her, then back at me.

  “Fuck, Landon. What are you gonna do?”

  My jaw ticks. “She doesn’t know yet, so don’t say anything.”

  “You know I won’t.”

  “She’s going straight to inpatient. She’s skin and bones. She’s hiding it well in that sweat outfit. I’ve been here before. I'm not going back.”

  “And Carson?”

  I run a hand over my face. “Walked in when she took off her sweatshirt.”

  “Oh, shit. Carson’s always been protective of your sis.”

  “I know. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Evie’s bad, Kyle. This is my fault. I need to come see her more. I have no excuse for that.”

  “Maybe not, but the food issues are on her, Landon. Fuck, man, you paid for inpatient when you were just 19. Worked three jobs to do it. You’d pay for her therapy now if she’d let you.”

  “I still feel responsible,” I grumble. “She’s my responsibility, and she’s been over here on her own, starving herself and withering away without my knowledge or interference.”