The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 4-6 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set Book 2)

by John W. Mefford

  Still tumbling across the ground, I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for two tons of metal to send me to another world.

  When my body finally stopped, I realized I hadn’t been hit. I opened my eyes to see a grill about three inches in front of my face. Brad came running up, shouting all sorts of expletives at the driver.

  “I stopped my momentum, Brad,” was all I could think of saying, though I wondered if I was still whole.

  “Jesus, Alex, you scared the shit out of me. Are you okay?” He touched my forehead as a look of concern cut across his face. He then saw the palm of my hand, and his eyes got wide.

  “We’re going to the ER.” He pulled out his phone and made a call as the driver approached me.

  “Shit, lady, I’m glad you’re okay. Well, I guess you’re okay, right?” he said as he eyeballed me. “But what the hell were you thinking, the way you were flying on that bike? Damn, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

  Needle-like pains shot throughout my body. I didn’t know what to say. I just held up my hand about a foot from the man’s face.

  His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and then he fainted.

  3

  The name tag on his white coat said Dr. Bruce Kim. I studied the black etching on the gray, plastic background of the name tag with as much focus as I could muster.

  “I realize the local anesthesia sometimes doesn’t work very well,” the doctor said, pausing for a second while he shifted a metal instrument inside the cavity of my hand, ostensibly to remove a number of small pebbles and pavement fragments.

  I kept my eyes looking straight at his chest.

  “I can see your jaw muscles flinching.” He continued to stare at me while the instrument remained beneath the surface of my skin.

  “Finish. The. Job.” My lips barely opened. I didn’t want to budge until he removed the metal instrument.

  He must have seen a desperate but determined Alex Troutt. Dr. Kim went back to work, and a moment later I heard an object ping against a metal plate.

  Another pause and then I could feel his stare. “Do you want a towel to bite down on?”

  Laughter sounded from the other side of the curtain. Shifting my eyes above Dr. Kim’s shoulder to the crack where two curtains came together, I spotted Brad’s dimpled face laughing hysterically with some woman—a beautiful woman with a river of black curls spilling across her back. Even in blue scrubs, her figure could have been the template for an hourglass. I swallowed, trying not to let a hint of jealousy enter my mind while I sat there and let Dr. Kim perform surgery on me without the benefit of sedation.

  “I’ll take that towel,” I said.

  The doctor handed it to me, and I shoved it in my mouth just before Brad peeked his head inside our ER bay. “Doing okay?” He was no longer laughing, his tone caring and sincere. I tried to speak, but it came out as more of a growl.

  He walked inside and gently touched my elbow. “I’m sorry about not being right here for you. I just—”

  “Stay still,” the doctor said.

  I stayed so still for the next minute I forgot to breathe. I heard two more clinks in the tray, and then he said, “I think we’re finally done.” He poured antiseptic into the palm of my hand, then pressed gauze pads on top of the wound. He pulled off his rubber gloves. “Sorry if that hurt. Really no other option. Didn’t think you wanted us to schedule surgery to remove a few pieces of rock.”

  I removed the towel and gave it to Brad. “I’m good.” It felt like a jackhammer had done a number on my spine and neck, and I began to reach over my back to rub it.

  “Here, let me,” Brad said.

  I exhaled. “So, who were you talking to?”

  “Oh, that was Sophie. I used to go to high school with her younger sister. Just catching up a little.”

  The hot nurse—the one who looked to be at least eight years my junior—had a younger sister. Then again, I was dating a man who was eleven years younger than I was. Well, some might argue the term “dating.” We’d spent a lot of time working out together, doing things with my two teenage kids, and we’d been able to sneak out to see a couple of movies in the two months since the kids and I had returned from summer vacation. While we were still moving at a snail’s pace—I’d somehow found the willpower to avoid tripping into the sack with my younger, athletic half—the relationship was just what a doctor would have ordered. Brad was a caring, gentle soul with the body of a Greek god. So, what was I afraid of?

  “You need to make sure you keep this wound clean and out of any type of dirty water. Infection is my main concern.” The doctor used the toe of his shoe to tap open the metal trash bin, tossing in his rubber gloves. “We’ll bandage you up, but you’ll need to change it every couple of days.”

  “No problem,” Brad said. “But why don’t you go ahead and sew her up?”

  “Can’t. Needs to breathe,” Dr. Kim said as Sophie entered our space.

  Did she just—

  I know she just winked at Brad. What the—

  “Doctor, you’re needed upstairs. I can take care of dressing Miss Troutt’s wound.”

  Miss Troutt…as if I were her dear old mother’s friend.

  I felt Brad’s hand on my back, gently kneading a couple of knots just below my shoulder blade. I looked up at his penetrating, blueish-gray eyes, and he gave me a reassuring smile. It was obvious that he could sense my anxiety, brought on in part by my brush with death, but mostly because of the swimsuit model and, yes, my renewed sense of inadequacy for being over a decade older than the man I…cared about.

  “Thanks,” I said quietly, then I drained my lungs and tried to let my shoulders relax.

  Sophie patched up my hand as we talked casually. Turned out she was married with three kids and, frankly, couldn’t stop going on about her husband. How that body had produced three kids, I had no idea, but I tried to ignore her most obvious traits and take her for who she was.

  “You’re a lucky woman, Miss Troutt.”

  “Alex, please.”

  “Of course, Alex,” she said with an affable smirk. “Turns out your boyfriend has always been quite the charmer. Did he tell you he used to read poems to my little sister?”

  Brad’s face went flush as he shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say? I’m not a great writer, so I turned to the next best thing. Walt Whitman.”

  His embarrassment was endearing, allowing me to recall that he was just as human and flawed as I was. Well, maybe not that flawed.

  “So what’s your sister up to now?” I was genuinely a curious person, which probably helped me with my job as an FBI special agent in the Violent Crimes squad.

  “Oh, Sara…let’s see now. I think her latest adventure with the Peace Corps has her in Africa…Kenya, I think. She’s working to help create water wells for communities with very little water.”

  “Very cool,” Brad said. “She always had that desire to help mankind. I’m sure she’s getting a lot out of the experience.”

  Sophie nodded once and gave him a tight-lipped smile. Was there something she wasn’t telling us?

  She began to clean up the mess as Brad’s cell phone started ringing. He pointed at it. “It’s the office.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “Says the woman who works in seventy-two-hour shifts.” He winked, then leaned over and kissed my cheek. I could feel a tingle in my stomach. We typically avoided public displays of affection, but that felt nice—normal in a way that made me think I didn’t really care what people thought. He put the cell phone to his ear, a finger in the opposite one, and meandered outside of the curtain to take the call.

  “He’s the one who got away,” Sophie said with her back to me over at the sink.

  “You’re talking to me?”

  She flipped around and leaned her perfect derriere against the counter while using a paper towel to dry off her hands.

  “Brad. He’s…” Her almond-shaped eyes drifted toward the corner. “I’m not sure I really want to go down
memory lane.”

  An awkward silence engulfed our space as I considered her little tease. Should I take the bait?

  “What’s on your mind, Sophie?”

  She cleared her throat, as if she suddenly needed a drink of water, then she released an audible breath. “I was just going to say…you know, girl to girl, that he was the one who got away.” She looked longingly at the curtain, as if she were picturing the ghost of Brad standing right there.

  I still couldn’t get a bead on what she was trying to say. “Sara…was she the one who actually had a case of puppy love for Brad back in the day, or was it you?”

  “You can see it in my eyes?”

  “And then some.” I arched an eyebrow.

  Another couple of ticks of silence.

  “It’s actually much more complicated than just puppy love,” she said as tears pooled in her eyes. She brushed a thumb under one eye, ensuring her mascara didn’t smear.

  I didn’t say a word, knowing she was about to tell me everything.

  “I always admired Brad. He treated Sara with respect, as an equal. Not like some of those hunky athletes in high school who demand everyone, including their girlfriends, build up their egos. Brad was different. Very different.”

  I really didn’t know a lot about Brad’s younger life, other than he was raised solely by his mother. His dad had taken off when he was too young to recall, never to return. I also knew he played sports, but he never talked much about those days. So much of our relationship had been about me coming to terms with who I was—my past relationship with my cheating husband, the hunt for his killer, and then the aftermath, including how my kids were dealing with not having a father around. Perhaps I’d been too selfish, always talking about me.

  “Brad’s a good guy. I can see it when he interacts with my kids.”

  Sophie’s lips drew a straight line. She had more to unload, and I happened to be the one standing right there.

  “It all happened one night when I came back from college. Sara was going to drag Brad to one of her youth leadership meetings.” She paused, probably wondering if I had any response to her strong opinion. I kept a good poker face, although with Brad being involved somehow, I could also feel my gut beginning to tighten.

  “I convinced her to let Brad come with me to one of my friend’s parties.”

  “A college party.”

  “One of those, yes.” She glanced at the curtain again.

  I wondered if she wished Brad would walk back into our space, allowing her to end the soul-searching.

  “My friend put together a wicked brew of Trash Can Punch. It was the best and the worst at the same time.” Another pause. “Brad wasn’t much of a drinker, but I convinced him to have a cup. And then another. I did the same thing. A few hours later, after multiple cups of punch, I woke up in bed with him. We were both undressed. And yes, we had…you know.”

  She obviously wasn’t trying to become my best friend. Ten years ago or not, this wasn’t really something I wanted to hear. I turned on the gurney and picked up my phone.

  “I had seduced him, I guess because he was the forbidden fruit, or maybe because I thought I could teach him something. Or maybe I had some type of odd jealousy with my sister. But it happened, and I felt like shit.”

  “Sorry.” I was ready to move on, so I tried to flex my injured hand. A sharp pain screamed from the middle of my palm.

  “That was just the beginning of the worst night of Sara’s life. Mine too.” She exhaled, and I could see her jaw quivering. She had my attention.

  “Sara had gone to her meeting with her best friend, Annie. It was a meeting of the Future Leaders of the World, the FLW, where they focused on trying to aid people who had the least in the world. Sara and Annie were pretty inseparable throughout high school. In fact, Annie was often the third wheel with Sara and Brad, but he never seemed to mind.”

  “And?”

  “After the regular meeting ended, Sara had to stay late, since she was an officer. Annie needed to get home. Her parents had a pretty strict curfew. So she insisted on walking home. Sara had told her to wait for her, and, apparently, she even offered to skip the officers’ meeting and take her home. But Annie insisted on walking home. She was too nice.”

  I could feel the hairs on my neck start to stand. “What happened?”

  “Annie was killed by a car. A hit-and-run.”

  “Oh no,” I said. “And Sara felt guilty.”

  “She was devastated. But I think Brad felt even worse.”

  “Why?”

  “Two-fold. First, while all of this was going on, he was having sex with me, the evil older sister. Second, they all knew that if Brad had been there, he would have given Annie a ride home. He always did things like that, because he’s such a nice guy.”

  I could feel my heart sink for the man in my life, the pain in my hand all but a distant memory.

  “In the middle of Sara’s grief, Brad told her everything. He felt it was the right thing to do, to be honest. It destroyed her, and him too. They eventually moved on, but it was difficult for everyone.”

  I would have never guessed that Brad had endured such pain and remorse. Sophie began to gasp, and tears spilled down her beautiful face. I waved her over and gave her a warm hug.

  “Even after all this time, it still hurts. I hate myself for it,” she said as she tried to suppress her sobs.

  She pulled back up and snagged a couple of tissues off the counter just as Brad walked around the curtain. He stopped for a second and gave us both a look. I was pretty sure he knew what we had just shared.

  “That was Jerry on the phone,” he said, walking to my side. “I’m being put on TDY—temporary duty yonder.”

  “I need to get your paperwork ready,” Sophie said to me as she slinked between the curtains and disappeared.

  Brad had a stellar reputation in the office as an intelligence analyst, and he was a natural leader of men and women. My respect for his professional side couldn’t be any higher. But as I’d grown closer to “Brad the person,” his professional persona didn’t mean much to me. I realized that Brad the man was far more impressive than Brad the IA.

  “Not surprising. If we had a draft for IAs, you’d probably be the first player chosen.”

  “Thanks, but this temporary assignment isn’t in our office.”

  My back stiffened. “What?”

  “It’s in New York City. They need a lead IA on a high-profile case. Their top analyst just had a baby, so she’s out of commission for a while.”

  I could feel a wave of sadness wash over me. “How long?”

  “Hard to say. He’s guessing one to two weeks, but it could be longer.” He gave me a wink and put his arm around my shoulder. “I’ll miss you. Maybe you can come visit me on the weekend?”

  I tilted my head back, and he gave me a soft smooch, pressing our lips together for a few seconds. “Thanks,” I said, rubbing my good hand across his chest. “I might take you up on your offer.”

  “I guess you and Sophie talked.” He took a single step back.

  “She still carries a lot of guilt.”

  “It was tough, especially on her sister. But I guess it’s part of life. Impossible to predict.”

  I reached over and took his hand in mine, my good one. “You and I spend too much time talking about all of my drama. I want to know more about your life.”

  “I think you just heard it, at least the most dramatic parts.”

  My phone rang, and I raised a finger. “Now Jerry’s calling me? I guess he still hasn’t figured out that we’re together,” I said with a wry smile.

  I took the call and listened to Jerry for a good five minutes before I could get a word in. He had to take another call from his boss, so I punched the line dead and set the phone down on the medical table.

  “Jerry must have a hundred things going on at once,” Brad said, running his fingers through his thick mane of dirty-blond hair.

  “This one is big. You kn
ow that cold case I’ve been looking into for the last few weeks? Somerville cops found a dead girl overnight with the same MO. Ten years later, we might have a lead. Looks like it’s time for both of us to get to work.”

  I scooted off the table and was met by Brad’s lips. He pressed his body against mine. His pecs nudged my breasts, and his biceps held me tightly. Our tongues danced for a good minute until we both came up for air.

  “I…” Brad’s sentence trailed off, unfinished, his eyes boring holes into my soul.

  “Yeah?” My heart fluttered inside my chest.

  “Be safe. And I can’t wait to see you again.”

  I went straight home and took a cold shower—while ensuring my wound stayed dry—then I dove into the dirty work.

  4

  A blueberry slipped through Nick’s fingers. He swatted his hand to catch it, but missed. I threw up my good hand and snatched it out of the air.

  “Damn, Alex, you’re a regular Rob Gronkowski.”

  I gave him the eye, not that fond of being compared to the beast of a man who played tight end for the Patriots.

  “I meant that you have the hands of Gronkowski. Obviously, your body types are different.” He chuckled twice, his cheeks instantly glowing as the early morning sun penetrated through a thin veil of fog and bounced off my partner’s face. Or were his cheekbones just more pronounced because of all the weight he had lost?

  “Thanks,” I said with a wink, and then I popped the blueberry in my mouth. An outsider might say our relationship seemed a little on the flirtatious side, but if there was anyone in the squad I could joke with, it was Nick Radowski. For starters, we’d worked together for more years than we’d like to admit. And he was gay. So it was kind of like working with a girlfriend, at least in how we rated any good-looking guys we came across. Nick, though, had been living with the same guy since I joined the FBI. For me, the white-picket dream was still quite elusive, although I couldn’t complain these days, with Brad serving as my other half. But something was missing, something that would take our relationship to the next level. It wasn’t our ability to connect emotionally—we did fine there. We had fun with each other, and there was mutual respect. All of that was great. Given my dream the previous night, I thought I knew what was needed to cement our relationship and allow us to finally share our bond with the world. S-E-X.