With Visions of Red: Book 2 (The Broken Bonds 2)

“What’s wrong? I thought you were into the rough stuff. Or do only potential suspects do it for you?” His hand roams lower, his fingers dipping beneath the seam of my jeans to feel my skin. His other hand captures my wrist and brings it up, where he glances at the link of rope. “Maybe I should tell you all the dirty cop things I’ve done—then tie you down. That would be pretty arrogant of me, huh? To assume that I know what you like. But you are kind of obvious, Sades. I think I got you pegged. We could go back to the club, disappear around a corner, and I’ll finger fuck you until you squirm—”

My knee meets his groin, cutting him off. He doubles over and I push him off me. “Not if you were the last arrogant bastard on the planet, rookie.”

Holding himself, Carson coughs and leans a shoulder against the wall. As I reach for the door, he says, “So, is this how you get me thrown off the case?”

Keeping my back to him, I say, “I’m off the case, Carson. You’re Quinn’s number one now.” Then I leave without any more explanation. He’ll soon discover Colton is gone, and I’m responsible for that. I’m not sure if Carson was trying to work Colton over in order to get a confession, or if he was trying to bate Julian. Either wouldn’t surprise me. He’s got a major hard-on for “the one that got away.”

I pass Quinn on my way to my office. Our eyes meet, and something unsaid travels between us. It’s heavy and loaded with misconceptions. But I still have faith in him that he’ll work the profile and not let Carson’s theories muddy the water, even if this case is burying him. Maybe his faith in me will return once he starts digging around Lyle Connelly.

Until then, I’ll have to work that angle alone.

I clear my desk and grab my files. I load all

my work on top of my laptop and unhook it from the charger and I pack that, too. Then I leave a note on my desk, telling Quinn I’m taking a couple of personal days. The other cases can wait. I text Wexler, reiterating the same, then I place my department phone next to the note.

A few curious glances and raised eyebrows are shot my way as I exit the bullpen. Then I’m greeted by a cool breeze in the parking lot. I inhale the scent of fall, and decide that my new office could work great in the outdoors.

I pile all my files and laptop into my backseat, then I head around to the back of my car where I run my hand along the undercarriage until I locate the GPS tracker. I pry it loose and hold it up. Damn Quinn.

Damn cops in general.

I toss the device to the ground and stomp on it, cursing Quinn for giving that weasel Carson access to my whereabouts. He may have had the best of intentions, trying to protect me during this insanity—but Quinn should know better.

One of the last lines of the profile stresses that the UNSUB could be a member of law enforcement. Quinn’s flaring need for control and to make sure that I’m safe shouldn’t override his common fucking sense.

Now seated behind the wheel, I reach into the backseat and grab the top file. Let’s see how I fare off the grid completely.

I open Marni Holloway's folder and begin a new profile. If I’m going to confront Colton and demand that he let me help him…then I need all the painful, hard facts. Everything that he’s been running away from for the past two years.

A loud knock bangs against my window, and I startle.

My head lifts from the grid worksheet to see a lab tech. Shit. Hand to chest, I gulp in a breath before turning the ignition to lower the window. “Hell, you scared me, Simon.”

“Sorry, Agent Bonds. I just heard you were leaving…” he trails off, politely trying not to imply just how quickly word travels in the department. “And I wanted to get you this message from Avery before you left.”

He hands me a sealed envelope. “Thank you, but is she not in today?”

He grimaces. “She called in sick this morning.”

“What?” She said she was feeling ill, but Avery never takes a day off. She’s nearly worse than me. A wave of guilt roils my stomach for putting pressure on her to get me a workup on the rope quickly.

“I know, right? Hell has frozen over.” He gives me a lopsided smile before he waves and heads off.

I tuck the note into my binder before returning to my worksheet and the information I was able to pull up on the Roanoke killer’s last victim. I reach for my phone to call her, and curse. No phone. If Avery somehow got me the results before she took off, she’s the goddess. And I owe her those drinks.

Free

Colton

As I wake, the first thing that I think about is Sadie. Stunning jade eyes. Soft, delicate curves. Disarmingly fragile. Chasing her demons away, fighting for normalcy in a fucked-up, anything-but-normal world. So beautiful it makes me ache.

The second thing that comes to mind as I roll off the couch is the very real way in which she gifted me her trust. Without question. Oh, the questions are coming; she’s a behaviorist who needs to measure and analyze until all the pieces match up. And she’ll figure it out. Without me even filling in the blanks, she’s so smart—she’ll do what that jackass detective couldn’t. But right in that moment, when she could’ve turned away, she didn’t. Even as Carson produced evidence of my crime, her trust held steadfast.

Fuck, Carson’s probably still pacing that interrogation room, clinging to that one shred of evidence, trying to connect it to a pattern. There’s no pattern; just a twisted moment in time that I wish I could bury. Only some things were never meant to be buried.

And as I sit here, craving the very thing that will be my undoing, Sadie is out there unearthing that truth. There’s a length of rope tethered between us, anchoring me to her. Julian’s right; she’ll crucify me. And I can’t help but feel I might have a little masochist inside me, anticipating her punishment.

I run a hand over my face, feeling the scruff along my jaw. I check the time on my phone and then head to the bathroom for a shower. I’m an hour late getting to work, but I think Julian will give me a pass. Even after I planted my fist in his face, he owes me for last night.