Stalked by the Past: An FBI Flashback Novel. (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 17)

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Stalked by the Past: An FBI Flashback Novel. (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 17) Page 3

by Morgan Kelley

There wasn’t a sense of relief.

  No.

  There was only a sense of self-loathing.

  “I’m a total asshole for thinking about my best friend like she’s just a piece of ass.”

  Here was Exhibit A.

  Yeah, he was screwed.

  Despite it all, he still wanted her.

  Elizabeth LaRue was one hell of a wicked temptation for him, but he had to find a way to stop this.

  Somehow.

  Chapter One

  S he was racing against the clock. Time, today, was not her friend. It was going to be close, and if she didn’t get her ass moving, she wasn’t going to match her best time. That had to be her motivation for the day.

  Elizabeth knew that if she didn’t stay on the top of her game, there was no way she’d have longevity in the FBI. It was all about how good you were, your brains, and if your body could handle the punishment of qualifications.

  She needed to be ready for all three.

  They were coming up, and she had to be the best. There was a lot riding on it. She was doing battle against her biggest nemesis.

  Herself.

  When she’d been hired by the FBI, she’d been at the top of her class. Livy was the only person who came close to beating her. It was a matter of pride when she’d been starting out as a Fed. Now that Livy was gone, about to have her first child, she was defending her title.

  Everyone was gunning for her.

  Oh, it wasn’t to be at the top.

  No.

  It had everything to do with their enjoyment of burying her deeper in the pit of failure. They all wanted to see her lose. At the beginning, she’d been a shining star.

  Now, after ‘The Butcher’, she was nothing more than another Fed on the way to crashing and burning out of the FBI.

  They expected it.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  Elizabeth wanted to be badass in the worst way. It was about street cred, being able to school the instructors, and keep her mind sharp, so that was what she was focused on in life.

  She had to make a comeback.

  As she was running, she was trying to escape the demons as much as chase them. The last year had been total hell for her. Since ‘The Butcher’ had escaped, she’d been the posterchild for poor FBI choices. Everyone thought she’d bungled the case. They accused her of dropping the ball, simply because she had ovaries. There was no way a woman could be a competent investigator.

  And she proved it.

  It sucked.

  She wanted to tell the world, and the victims’ families, that the killer was dead, but she couldn’t. That could never come out. It was something that had to die with her, and it would. Only she and Gabe knew the truth.

  It’s just how it had to be.

  Elizabeth only wished the Feds would back off.

  Their torment was brutal. She’d been through four partners already in the last nine months, and it didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon. With each one, they all had an excuse to dump her. They’d take the assignment, last a case or two, go to Gabriel Rothschild, the new Deputy Director, and then complain they couldn’t work with her. Had he not been a friend, she didn’t doubt she’d be on street cleaning duty outside the Hoover building.

  It was a rough nine months.

  All she needed was that one big case to put her on the map.

  Her one big break.

  Elizabeth didn’t see it happening.

  Why?

  Gabe was only giving her the easy shit to keep her under everyone’s radar, and it was pissing her off. What wouldn’t she give to have a big, fat, juicy case to sink her teeth into so she could rebuild her career?

  Oh, she was getting death cases.

  The last one was a serial killer, all right. Someone was killing cattle and using them to ship drugs across state lines.

  What a freaking let down.

  If she didn’t get a good case, and soon, there was going to be a shit fest coming his way. Up to that point, she’d been grateful he even kept her as a Fed, but it was wearing thin. Elizabeth could go be a cop elsewhere—or head to Salem. Her daddy needed a few deputies. At least there, she wouldn’t be the laughing stock of the town.

  Who was she kidding?

  Yes, she would be. They all knew, thanks to her daddy’s bragging, that she was some big shot FBI agent. To go back…yeah, it would have to be dire.

  She’d rather eat her own arm than head back to that small town to sulk. Elizabeth just couldn’t do it.

  Yeah, she’d have to talk to Gabe.

  It wasn’t fair that he was benching her. They both knew what she had sacrificed. She at least deserved a shot at making a name for herself in the FBI.

  ‘The Butcher’ case had been hard. Had he not attacked Livy, she would have had him that next day. She would have closed the career making case, but instead, it was her ‘failure’ that everyone came to remember.

  It was a freaking nightmare.

  Now she needed redemption. She needed a partner she could trust, and she needed a way to prove to the world that she wasn’t some ass and tits wearing a badge.

  She was Elizabeth LaRue, and she was smart.

  Capable.

  Feisty.

  Hardcore.

  She needed to make her mark in DC or there was no point in being a Fed. This was about her kicking ass and taking names as she worked her way up the ranks.

  It wasn’t as if she wanted Gabe’s job.

  Hell freaking no!

  That was a shit fest in a pretty box. He could keep the fancy office, high price suits, and title. There was no way in hell she’d ever want to be the boss.

  Elizabeth liked raising hell with the rest of the minions. That way, she could do what she did best.

  Think.

  With her OCD, and her constant need to keep her mind going, she needed to solve things. Elizabeth needed to keep thinking, in order to have peace. She loved being a Fed, and that’s exactly where she needed to be.

  Staying there was the issue.

  With re-qualifications coming up, she needed to prove that it wasn’t a fluke. She was just as tough as the men, maybe even tougher. She wanted to show them that she deserved to be in the FBI.

  Today, she was going to talk to Gabe.

  Elizabeth was out of options.

  There could be no more pussyfooting around cases. She wanted a tough one. When she wasn’t focused on working, she was miserable. These last nine months had taught her one thing—you couldn’t trust anyone.

  Well, that wasn’t true. Christopher Leonard had her back. He’d never betray her, and she loved him for it. When she was with Chris, everything was right in the world. Elizabeth could just be Elizabeth.

  She didn’t have to pretend.

  She didn’t have to worry.

  She was safe.

  Chris had her back, and she was grateful. The man was genuine, sweet, and she loved him. It was nice to have that one person to rely on when you were down. The last nine months had sucked, and he’d been by her side.

  When the other agents began riding tail, he didn’t even bat an eyelash. When she wasn’t invited out to have a drink, Chris was the one who stepped up and made her matter to someone.

  They were best friends.

  They were two peas in a pod.

  They were mired in so much sexual tension it was hard to ignore it.

  Yeah, Houston, we have a problem.

  When they went away to the beach to chill out for a week, Elizabeth had seen him watching her. She knew what he was thinking. The tenting in his swim trunks said it all.

  It gave her a rush.

  While men lusted after her, she knew she would be safe with Chris. He wouldn’t hurt her. That’s what mattered most. As for the underlying sexual current, she felt it too.

  While she told Chris they wouldn’t work, she was curious. What if she’d been wrong?

  Up to that point, she’d held back, simply because she couldn’t lose him too
. If they screwed around, and it went south, what would happen?

  Would he hate her too?

  It scared her.

  Chris was her ONLY friend in DC. She’d been abandoned by Gabe and Livy and left to flounder on her own. She didn’t know what she’d do if he bailed too.

  Yes, she did know.

  She’d be broken all over again, only this time, who would patch her back up? When Gabe and Livy hurt her, it was Chris who stayed with her. He’d taken time off from work, he slept beside her holding her hand, let her sleep on his shoulder, and kept her safe.

  If that vanished…then what?

  She would be screwed.

  Was she curious?

  Hell yeah!

  Was she willing to risk it to find out?

  She wasn’t sure.

  Elizabeth figured if it was meant to be, it would happen, and she couldn’t stop it. Having sex with her best friend was a slippery slope, and IF they went there, you couldn’t undo it. The cat would be out of the bag for the rest of their lives.

  Yeah, this was tricky.

  Pushing it out of her mind, Elizabeth focused on her run. DC in the morning was generally calm, and that was for the best. Every day, once she arrived at work, it went downhill and fast.

  Now it was about qualifications.

  That had to be her focus.

  Gabe needed to trust her to save her reputation. This was all about her doing her damn job, and him letting her get it done.

  Today, she was going to talk to him. There was no other choice. She had to take matters into her own hands, or she had to move on from the FBI, and that would suck.

  The scent in the air brought her back to reality.

  Already, she was halfway done with her morning workout. She was at the bakery she loved, and Elizabeth actually thought about grabbing a cupcake before running home.

  She’d give her pinky for a red velvet cupcake covered in sugary sweetness.

  Then she realized that would be a bad idea.

  Her ass didn’t need one. It needed a case to make her happy. As she began running back toward the street she lived on, she was focused.

  Until her cell went off.

  “What freaking now?” she muttered.

  When she stopped to pull it out of her pocket, she noticed it was Gabe’s number.

  Great.

  “Yo.”

  “Elizabeth, I need to see you.”

  She laughed. “What did I do now?”

  He paused. “Why don’t you tell me?” Gabriel Rothschild asked. He was Deputy Director for a reason. He’d earned it by running roughshod over his agents. He had eyes everywhere, and if she did something, why not let her admit to it?

  The agents were tricky.

  “I made out with your wife, I kicked some man’s ass in the gym, and I robbed a bank.”

  “Did you take pictures of you and Livy?” he asked, ignoring the rest. Elizabeth was by the book. Yes, it was a book she happened to write, and it contained all kinds of crazy, but he knew when she was behaving badly.

  Now wasn’t it.

  “Nope.”

  “Great. Then you’re free. Get your ass to my office. You have a case.”

  She sighed.

  “What was that?” Gabe asked. “Did you just sigh at me, LaRue? Seriously?”

  “Do we have a serial newspaper thief?” she asked. “Or has someone colored on the Lincoln memorial and you need me to find the culprit by cross matching crayons with all the local preschools?” she asked sarcastically.

  He paused. “Uh, did you hit your head? We don’t handle those kinds of things.”

  “We might as well. You’ve given me all the shitty cases the last nine months.” Here went nothing. “You’re punishing me for what I did.”

  He was horrified.

  “Lyzee!”

  “It’s true. I did the deed, you ran off to be married, and I get the shitty cases as punishment for the rest of my career at the FBI. I get it. I’m a bad agent. Bad, bad, bad, Elizabeth.”

  He hated she saw it like that. It wasn’t even close to being true. He was helping her by keeping her below the radar.

  She was on one hell of a shit list, and Gabe was simply protecting her. He didn’t want the spotlight on her. Maybe he was giving her easy shit to make sure she was safe.

  “I was only trying to…”

  Elizabeth cut him off. She didn’t want the excuses. She was tired of pretending her universe was anything but one hot mess.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll track down the serial artist painting graffiti. It’s apparently my calling in life. Screw Cornell and my degrees. I’m not good enough to run an actual case.”

  Shit.

  He hated that he’d made her feel like that. He owed Elizabeth everything. She’d saved Livy. She killed ‘The Butcher’, and she’d tanked her career.

  For her family.

  For him.

  Now he had a child on the way, albeit the killer’s, but he didn’t care. This baby was going to be his daughter—his little girl, and he’d love her no matter what.

  And he’d fix his shit.

  Gabriel Rothschild always paid his debts.

  He needed to switch up his plan. She was right. He was going to give her an easy case. He had two on his desk, and he’d picked the cakewalk for his sister—not to punish her, but because he loved her. With each closed case, it was added to her file. Each one, even if easy, was still ranked against the hard ones. She was building her reputation back up, and she didn’t even know it.

  The FBI upper management looked at numbers, and nothing more. They wanted closed cases, and she was doing just that.

  He was giving her an advantage, but clearly, she didn’t see it that way. Well, who was he to make her miserable?

  If Elizabeth wanted tough, he’d pass this one to her.

  “Just get your ass to my office, LaRue. I have a case for you, and it’s going to be hard.”

  “Yeah, right,” she muttered.

  He knew how to handle her.

  “It’s dead hookers and a killer who is preying on them right under the cops’ noses. You’re going to be handling it, and without a partner. You’re going solo.”

  That should prove how much he trusted her skill and judgement. He didn’t let anyone go out alone.

  It was rare.

  They had to be the best of the best, able to run a case, and most importantly—a damn good investigator.

  She had to admit her interest was piqued. “Are you serious or are you yanking my chain, Gabe?” she asked. “If it’s the latter, I’ll be pissed. You’re notorious for getting hopes up, then laughing like a loon when you make a person cry.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  She said nothing.

  Okay, maybe he was sadistic like that.

  “I’m not yanking anyone’s chain. This is dead serious. Get to my office as soon as you can. I’ll update you, and you can get moving. By the way, call in your ME. I wish you’d use someone other than Doctor Leonard, but you have issues.”

  There was no way she was doing that. If he was free, he was her ME. Elizabeth wouldn’t work with someone who was trying to watch her fail.

  She wasn’t an idiot.

  Besides, the other two MEs were women, and they didn’t like her at all.

  They were catty.

  Nasty.

  Vicious.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right about using him,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “He’s trustworthy and damn good at his job. Those are horrible traits to have. You’re right. I should pick someone who will stab me in the back.”

  Gabe knew there was no talking her out of it.

  Elizabeth was stubborn as hell on a good day. There was no need to get her riled up.

  Well, then again…

  “There’s a catch.”

  She sighed again.

  “LaRue, knock it off.”

  “What’s the catch, Gabe? You’re going to li
ght me on fire and I have thirty seconds to solve it before I die?”

  He was appalled. “You need to go to church and pray. Something is seriously wrong with you.”

  Yeah, she worked beneath ‘The Dragon Slayer’, and he screwed with his minions.

  “Just tell me what I have to do, Gabe. What’s the damn catch?”

  “You also get the privilege of the new anthropologist. He needs to be field tested, and he’s going to be assisting on this case. If you want the hard one, you get him. It’s just how it is.”

  That had her attention.

  She hated dealing with newbies. It never ended well. They were needy, they bugged the hell out of her, and they latched on to whoever was mentoring them.

  She didn’t need any more friends, and she certainly didn’t want baby chicks following her around trying to imprint on her.

  No freaking way.

  “Why, Gabe? Do you really hate me this much? You’re shackling me with a male dig rat?”

  “We have bones and he needs someone who can be understanding. It’s not always about you, LaRue. Knock it off.”

  Truth be told, the older Feds didn’t want to work with any newbies. They used her as a case in point.

  Elizabeth was the posterchild for FBI agents gone bad.

  Could he force them?

  Yes.

  Would he lose good people over it?

  It was likely.

  In this case, it was simply easier to have Elizabeth do the training. She was smart, tough, and she knew her shit—despite what people thought of her.

  He knew she didn’t have a choice. Gabe had her on this one.

  “Okay, I’ll take him on.”

  “You won’t regret it. This guy is an up and coming anthropologist. He’s a little off, but to do what we do, you have to be.”

  Yeah, she got that.

  There were two kinds of Feds—the ones who loved serial killers, and then the ones who would do anything to get out of those cases. Most liked the less crazy cases like drugs, guns, or Native relations.

  Give her gore and death any day.

  She was bat shit insane, and here was the proof.

  “How’s Livy doing?” she asked. “Did she have the baby yet?”

  “No, but she’s getting ready to pop. Why don’t you stop by and see her?” Gabe asked. “She’d love to see you, Lyzee.”

 

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