With Ties That Bind: Book 3 (The Broken Bonds 6)

I wonder what a triple dose will do? Too bad I don’t have time to find out.

I pocket the syringe and push the swing doors wide.

Stunned, Avery Johnson halts her progression toward the door when she sees my face.

The anticipation is killer.

“Special Agent Bell,” she says, surprise hitching her voice an octave. “Is there something you need?”

You. “Have you completed the initial examination of the shooting victims?”

“I have. Is there a rush?”

“No rush,” I say, inching closer. “But you’re needed on scene. Detective Quinn insists that you’re the only one qualified to examine the deceased Ryland Maddox.”

Taken aback, she stuffs her hands in her coat pockets. “I thought Doctor Paulson—”

“Apparently—” I cross my arms with feigned annoyance “—the lead detective has little faith in the qualifications of an FBI medical examiner.”

She lowers her head, attempting to hide a smirk.

“It appears that the lawyer was killed beforehand and then dumped in the alley,” I continue. “I wouldn’t mind having another expert opinion, to be honest. His tongue was…removed.”

This catches her undivided attention. Her smile falls. “Of course.” She looks around, then heads toward her bag, her steps faltering a bit before she grabs it forcefully. “I should tell Agent Bonds I’m leaving.”

Agent Bonds. “No need. I’ve already notified her.” I hold up my phone. “She’ll meet us there.”

Satisfied, Avery sets her bag down. “Let me just grab my crime scene kit.”

I study the bag as she dips into her office.

Within a minute, I lead her through the swing doors, where she notices her detail missing from his post. “Detective Carson—?”

“I sent him on to the scene ahead of us,” I say, conviction lacing my voice. “You can ride with me.”

I’m not her superior. In this regard, she doesn’t have to follow my directive. And with what she’s been through, so many close calls…she should be questioning my methods more than her hesitant eyes express.

But we are creatures of habit. There’s a gruesome death that needs her attention, her expertise. Oh, we are all victims of pride; our sin professional arrogance. She cannot disappoint her team. She cannot disappoint the man she loves. More so, she cannot disappoint herself.

Besides, the Alpha has yet to acknowledge her message—perhaps he won’t respond at all. Giving her enough time to escape the hourly countdown of her destructive plan. Soon, she’ll be with her other half, where she’s safe from ever having done such a rash thing.

I’m sure Quinn is not privy to her darknet activity. If he knew, he’d have never let her leave his apartment. Still, tempting me out of hiding with trophies from Wells was futile. They mean nothing to me, or my clients. All Avery had to do was tell me she was ready…and here I am. Answering her beckoning call.

“Nice car,” Avery comments, referring to my Altima Coupe. “The FBI must indulge its agents.”

My head pulses with the ever-pressing ache which stems from idle conversation. Fucking drivel people spew to fill the silence. “It looks more expensive than it actually is.” I force an uneasy smile. “I just have excellent taste.”

This is true. I picked you.

I’m like an impatient brat at Christmas, anxious to tear into my gift and discard the wrapping. The decision to discard Special Agent Lena Bell wasn’t an easy one—I’ll mourn her death. I worked incredibly hard—against sexism, against bigotry, against a less than ideal past—to be where I am now: head of the FBI’s Organized Crime Division. No small feat for the poor daughter of a whore.

That was only a stepping stone to my ultimate goal, though. I admit, Lena’s death is coming much sooner than I planned. She will die a disgrace. My stellar record with the FBI tarnished. Oh, but the payoff will soothe the burn.

Even the strongest are not designed to live two separate lives simultaneously.

Admit your limitations. Seek resolution. Conquer.

The Alpha Omega network went international last year, soaring at light speed when I inducted the trafficking aspect into my operation. I no longer have to deal with lowly drug dealers, hustling pennies through narks. A private island awaits me in the Gulf of Thailand where I’ll conduct all my business. I won’t even have to travel unless I so desire.