by CJ Lyons
He sighed. “It was. Haven’t been back in, wow, ten, eleven years.”
“I hadn’t been back home to Evergreen for twenty-six years. Guess maybe I should’ve stayed away longer.”
“You still think of it as home? Despite everything?”
“I don’t know. Not sure where my home is.” The only constant in her life as she’d moved from assignment to assignment was the old gun safe her father built. The one piece of him her mother hadn’t gotten rid of. Now she wondered why. Maybe Jessalyn had a conscience after all, had been punishing herself all these years every time she looked at that beat-up old gun safe—or looked at the daughter who was the spitting image of the man she’d killed.
“You going back to Quantico?”
She’d thought she’d need a few days to think, but suddenly the decision was clear. “It’s funny. Friday night when I got to Evergreen my mom and I argued about my job. She wanted me to quit. So did Paul. Everyone wants me out.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to do my job. I’m good at it—damn good. Even if I have a hard time playing by the Bureau’s rulebook. So”—she heaved in a breath—“yes. I’m going back to Quantico. I’m not quitting. If they want me out, they’ll have to find a reason why. Hell, this time I didn’t even shoot anyone.”
He nodded as if her answer was exactly what he’d expected. Then he sat up, leaned in to face her. “Too bad. Because my understanding is that fraternization is against FBI rules.”
A grin danced across his lips. Too enticing to ignore. She cupped his face between her palms, smearing sand through his beard and hair, and kissed him hard.
“You know me. I love breaking the rules,” she said when they parted for air. Before he could answer, she pressed her weight against him, leaning him on his back in the sand, and kissed him again.
* * *
They spent the day walking on the beach. The water was freezing but Caitlyn couldn’t resist taking off her shoes and playing in the surf.
Paul texted. Again. Goose watched as she stopped and read it. Again.
Heard about your mom. So sorry. Words fail. Call me. Love you.
Saltwater spray made her eyes water. She pocketed her phone, ignoring the text. Again.
“You’re not going to talk to him?” Goose asked after the fourth time.
“He wants closure, doesn’t realize he already has it. Better this way. A little pain now … Besides, he’s a doctor. Has his work, his patients. He’ll be fine.” She wished, she hoped. Paul deserved better than she could give him.
“The man really does love you, you know.”
“That’s what she keeps saying, too.” Jessalyn. Who did everything for love of family. Love for her daughter. Who wanted or needed that kind of love in their life?
She dug her toe into the sand, enjoying the cold sensation as the tide buried her foot. It hurt, a little, sharp needles freezing her skin. But she’d get over it. So would Paul.
“I think some people know how to give love but not how to receive it,” she finally said. “Some can do both, some can’t do either. After all, giving and receiving are different skill sets, you’re not necessarily born knowing how to do both, right?”
“And which group are you?” His tone said he thought her theory a load of crap but was willing to humor her to keep her talking.
She didn’t answer right away. “I’m still figuring that out.”
* * *
Bernie woke to bright lights and a throbbing headache. He blinked, and the lights were blocked by a beautiful face smiling down on him.
“Lena,” he gasped. “Where am I? Are you really here?”
She pushed a button, and his hospital bed raised up. “Of course I am, silly. Where else would I be?” Before he could answer, she raised a glass with a straw to his lips. “The doctor says to drink plenty of fluids. You got an infection from one of the animals. Leptospirosis. They’re giving you medicine, you should be fine, but he said it was a close call. Your liver was inflamed and your kidneys almost shut down. But everything’s fine now, you’re okay.”
He pushed the glass away, saw an IV poking out the back of his hand. “Never mind me. Are you okay? What about the animals? What happened? All I remember is—” Panic flooded over him. “Weasel. He had a gun. Did he shoot you?”
“Nope. It was a miracle straight from Heaven. He shot that gun four times but didn’t hit anyone. Not even Lucky.”
“Who’s Lucky?”
“That’s the leopard’s name. She and the others are over in Asheville, at the zoo.”
“They’re okay?”
“Thanks to you, they are.” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks to you, so am I.”
“But did you find what you were looking for?”
She sat back, the light overhead giving her a halo. Like an angel. His angel. Smiling at him and only him. “I sure did.”
The way she squeezed his hand he hoped she meant him. But … “The land grant you and Caitlyn were talking about. My dad, the casino—”
“I have the original pact. The tribe and the freedmen descendants will work something out so that everyone benefits. I’ll see to it. Starting with the tribe taking responsibility for running the casino themselves now that your dad’s gone.”
“He’s going to jail, isn’t he?” Bernie sighed. He knew this day would come, but it was still hard.
Lena moved from the chair to sit beside him on the bed. God, she was even more beautiful than the first time he’d seen her.
“Bernie,” she said in a low voice, taking his hand in both of hers, “I have some bad news. About your dad…”
* * *
Caitlyn lingered in Goose’s arms as long as she could before leaving to drive back to Quantico. Who cared if she didn’t shower or wear clean clothes when they were just going to fire her anyway?
The traffic gods smiled on her and it was only nine oh five when she arrived at the corridor outside her office. LaSovage waited, pacing the hallway, her office door shut behind him.
“This is it?” she said.
He seemed more upset than she was. “Assistant Director Yates is in there. Waiting for you.”
So. The powers-that-be made the trip from their cushy offices in DC instead of summoning her to come to them. This did not bode well. Still, she just couldn’t get too upset about it. She’d told Goose that she wanted to do her job—and she did—but one thing she’d realized lying awake last night was that there were always possibilities. She didn’t have to work for the FBI to do the job she wanted to do. The FBI had been her father’s dream, and she’d made it come true. But if it was time to move on, she could accept that.
She reached for the door but LaSovage stopped her. He handed her a DVD wrapped in a clumsily tied red ribbon. “No matter what happens, this is for you.”
“What is it?”
He shuffled, nervous—totally out of character for the über-confident HRT guy. “Just a few clips of what you missed around here this weekend.”
“Mike, what did you do?”
“Not me.” Yates could be heard stirring on the other side of the office door. “Good luck.”
He was gone, leaving her alone to face Yates. She opened the door, surprised to see the assistant director sitting in the spare chair in front of her desk, watching something on the TV.
“I see you received one as well,” he said by way of greeting. He held up a DVD case labeled: FIRST ANNUAL ADVANCED TACTICS COMPETITION.
“Just now. What’s going on?”
“You tell me, Agent Tierney.” At least she was still “agent.” For now, at least. He paused the DVD. “Seems your unorthodox teaching methods inspired some of the agents in training. Two of them held an impromptu review session in the commons Friday night, where they shared your tactical advice with the other agents in training. This in turn inspired Special Agent LaSovage to set up a voluntary tactical competition between the new class and the class due to graduate next month. He sai
d he wanted to combat any skill deterioration the long holiday weekend may induce by creating a little collegial rivalry.”
Didn’t sound at all like LaSovage, but maybe bullshitting was part of his skill set in addition to being a crack marksman.
“I don’t understand what that has to do with me or why you’re here, sir.” She added the last belatedly, but Yates didn’t seem to notice.
“LaSovage used real-world scenarios not found in our training materials, judged by members of the HRT and some National Academy instructors who volunteered.”
He hit PLAY on the DVD. LaSovage stood in front of a crowd of NATs sitting in the grass in front of the 9/11 Memorial. “And the first annual Golden Donut Award”—he held up a donut spray-painted traffic-stop orange—“plus this box of Krispy Kremes.” He opened the lid, revealing a half-empty box of donuts. “Excuse me, what’s left of this box of Krispy Kremes, goes to our newest class of agents in training.”
A roar of applause drowned him out as a woman bounded up to accept the award. It was the female NAT Caitlyn made cry last week. What was her name? The image of a nun flit through her mind. Maria? No, Mary Agnes. Garman like the GPS.
Mary Agnes took the bright orange donut and held it aloft. “We couldn’t have done this without the guidance of Supervisory Special Agent Caitlyn Tierney. Thanks for keeping us safe and smart, Agent Tierney!”
More applause. Yates paused the DVD again. “The new class beat the pants off the outgoing class.” He left his chair and moved to sit behind Caitlyn’s desk in her chair.
She had to stand, twist the chair he abandoned around—it was the only spare one in the tiny office—in order to sit facing him. Once she had, he arched an eyebrow at her and she wondered if he’d meant her to stay standing at attention.
Oh well, he could only fire her once. And at least the NATs had learned something from her. Pride flushed her cheeks, and she didn’t care if Yates saw it. She blinked back a tear. Damn, she was going to owe LaSovage a beer after this.
“Every member of the New Agents in Training class added their personal endorsement to the end of the DVD,” he said in a dour tone. “In case you ever want to start a fan club.” He shuffled a few printed pages. “Which brings me to these.” He flipped his reading glasses on. “Endorsements from a Butner SSI named Boone, a North Carolina State Police captain in charge of their SWAT team, and a Sheriff Markle from Balsam County.”
Caitlyn sat there, stunned. Not sure how to respond. “Sir, I hope you don’t think that I requested or coerced any of those—”
“That’s the problem, Agent Tierney. I know you didn’t. Which creates a bit of a conundrum for me. That footage of you taking down an outlaw motorcycle gang—with the help of a leopard?” He tilted his chin to gaze over his glasses as if in disbelief. “That’s gone viral. You have a flare for closing cases in a way that makes the FBI look good to the public. Unfortunately those cases seem to rarely fall into our official purview, especially now that the Bureau is moving away from criminal investigations and focusing on counterterrorism and homeland security instead.”
He lowered the papers, eyeing her over the top of his glasses. “But the public and local law enforcement still see us as primarily investigators. Blame TV and the movies, but we’re stuck with the image. And in these days of local budget cutbacks, requests from law enforcement for our assistance in cases have quadrupled. You see my problem?”
“You want to maintain the image of the FBI, avoid any public backlash from our being unable to assist local law enforcement, while not actually using the Bureau’s resources.” Typical government gobbledygook. Didn’t the idiots who decided where the FBI’s focus should be realize that protecting the country and its citizens started locally? Most of their major counterterrorism busts had begun with tips from local law enforcement—there was no reason to treat smaller jurisdictions like they were idiot second cousins.
Yates nodded in approval. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet. My understanding is that you want to remain in the Bureau, correct? Because if you want to resign, now’s the time.”
She stood and came to attention. “No, sir. I want to stay.”
“Very well. Then I’m ready to give you your new assignment.” He glanced up at her, his gaze softening. Maybe. A little. “You may not know it, but I began my law enforcement career as a sheriff’s deputy in a small county in Nebraska. We were understaffed, overworked, undertrained, and always short on money. But we served our constituents well. I’m just as proud of the work I did there as I am of the work I do now for the Bureau. So”—he inclined his chin to the right—“let’s just say that I understand the challenges facing local law enforcement. As it seems you do as well. Which is why I’ve decided that you’re to remain here, based at Quantico, part of the Critical Incident Response Group. But you’ll be operating independently with an official title as local law enforcement liaison.”
Sounded great. She stifled her grin before he could see it. There had to be a catch. “Exactly what would my duties entail?”
“You’ll have a minimal budget, no staff, and you’ll be on call twenty-four seven. You’ll be expected to triage requests from jurisdictions across the nation. The vast majority you’ll be forced to decline—and do it in a way that doesn’t cause any public relations backlash. The cases you decide to accept will be approved by me. I’ll assign you any resources I deem necessary to aid in your investigations. You’ll report directly to me and the executive assistant director.”
Tight leash, tons of administrative bullshit—not to mention the whole diplomatic aspect of saying no to locals asking for help—but she got to choose her own cases, cases anywhere in the country?
“Count me in, sir.”
“I wouldn’t rush in so fast, Agent Tierney. Most of these cases will be unsolvable or political quagmires that local law enforcement can’t afford to get caught up in. You’re not going to be making many friends out there.”
“But I get to do my job, my way? Take a case as far as I can, right?” She couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice.
“As far as your resources allow you, yes. As long as there’s no negative backlash on the Bureau.”
He didn’t say anything about obeying rules or regulations. Maybe Yates was smarter than she gave him credit for.
She stood and extended a hand. “Thank you, Assistant Director Yates. I accept.”
ALSO BY CJ LYONS
Blind Faith
Praise for Blind Faith
“This story is so fast-paced with so many mesmerizing characters, ‘fantastic’ is not high enough praise. Lyons proves once again that she is a master of suspense.”
—RT Book Reviews (Top Pick! 4½ stars)
“Blind Faith is a haunting, intense, and multi-layered thriller that adroitly combines an action-packed plot and delicately drawn, relatable characters.”
—Night Owl Reviews
“This stand-alone story starts slowly like an extreme roller coaster, but once it crests its first peak, it rolls and twists and turns with nonstop page-turning adventure … With its multi-layered secrets and betrayals, readers who love romantic suspense are sure to find this a compelling read!”
—Fresh Fiction
Praise for CJ Lyons and her bestselling novels
“Everything a great thriller should be—action-packed, authentic, and intense.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Lee Child
“Compelling … I love how the characters come alive on every page.”
—New York Times bestselling author Jeffery Deaver
“A pulse-pounding adrenaline rush.”
—Lisa Gardner, New York Times bestselling author
“The perfect blend of romance and suspense. My kind of read.”
—Sandra Brown, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“A high-stakes adventure with dire consequences.”
—Steve Berry, New York Times bestselling author
“Packed with adrenalin
e.”
—David Morrell, New York Times bestselling author
“Tense, whip-smart medical scenes … gripping.”
—Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author
“Harrowing, emotional, action-packed, and brilliantly realized … an irresistible read.”
—Susan Wiggs, New York Times bestselling author
“Exciting … engrossing, intriguing.”
—Heather Graham, New York Times bestselling author
“An adrenaline rush and an all-around great read.”
—Allison Brennan, New York Times bestselling author
“Characters with beating hearts and three dimensions.”
—Newsday
“Breathtakingly fast-paced.”
—Publishers Weekly
“An intense, emotional thriller [that] climbs to the edge.”
—National Examiner
“Thrilling … you won’t be able to put this one down.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A powerful, taut thriller.”
—Mystery Gazette
“A master.”
—Pittsburgh Magazine
“Simply exceptional. The action never lets up … keeps you on the edge of your seat.”
—Roundtable Reviews
“Explodes on the page … I absolutely could not put it down.”
—Romance Readers Connection
“Sure to keep readers enthralled … a suspenseful and engaging tale that comes to an exciting conclusion. Readers won’t want to miss this one.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Highly engaging characters, heart-stopping scenes … one great roller-coaster ride that will not be stopping anytime soon.”
—Bookreporter.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CJ LYONS is a pediatric ER doctor and New York Times bestselling author. Among other adventures, she has assisted police and prosecutors in criminal investigations; worked as a crisis counselor, victim advocate, and flight physician; and drawn from her life experiences to write acclaimed novels of medical suspense. She is the author of several cutting-edge series including Angels of Mercy, Hart and Drake, and most recently, Rock Bottom with Erin Brockovich. Her books have earned her numerous awards including the Golden Gateway, National Readers’ Choice, and Daphne du Maurier Awards.