Torn Bond (Bonded Duet 1)

The warehouse was empty when we arrived, but we weren’t staying here. A secret passage ran from the back of the warehouse underground and to a black site. We had countless of them scattered all over the country, and only those who needed to know about them knew. They were the safest place you could bring someone like Garza, because not only did people not know about them, but they were almost impossible to get into unless someone from the inside let you in.

The steel-forced walls of the underground site would keep him safe, but also meant we could be sure in the knowledge he couldn’t escape until we charged him. Because we would charge him. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind he’d be put away for a long time.

Teams had been trying to take Garza down for over thirty years, and Brody had been itching to do it for at least twenty, but no one could ever get in until I was assigned the case. Garza had remembered me from my time with Hut, and with some well-placed documents and a fake prison record, I’d gotten in with barely any trouble.

Brody and I each held one of Garza’s arms as we led him through the central headquarters and toward the back hallway of cells. Only five rooms were available, but each of them was a steel square complete with a toilet and one window which looked out into the hallway at a whole lot of emptiness.

Brody unlocked the door, and I walked Garza in, intent on not saying another word to him, but then he said, “I never would have found out if it wasn’t for your little puta.”

Anger burst through me like lava exploding out of the top of a volcano. I couldn’t stop it, no matter how much I tried, and I slammed him into the steel wall, the bang reverberating around us. “The fuck did you just say?”

“Ford,” Brody ground out, but I didn’t care about his warning.

“Where is she now?” Garza asked, his voice sounding bored. “You think she’s sleeping in her sweet little apartment that she shares with her best friend? Or maybe she’s getting ready for a shift at the coffee shop?” His lips lifted into a smirk, and I wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face. “Or do you think she’s in someone’s bed fuckin’ them nice and slow?”

I wound my fist back, ready to smash it into his face, but Brody stepped inside and stopped me. “Don’t,” Brody’s deep, commanding voice said. “That’s what he wants.”

“He’s fuckin’ pushin’ it, Brody,” I growled out, not moving my gaze off Garza’s eyes.

“Ahhh.” Garza flicked his gaze to Brody. “And you must be the girl’s father. Agent Easton. I seem to remember you from many years ago. The Emerson Hutton case if my mind remembers correctly.”

“Did you just threaten me?” Brody asked, his voice deadly calm, but I knew he was raging inside.

“Me? Make a threat?” Garza raised his brows. “I’d never do such a thing.”

My blood was boiling to the point I couldn’t control it, and I knew the only thing I could do was walk away from him. One wrong move while he was under arrest and he’d get off on a technicality. We had to play this safe. I let him go, not caring that he nearly didn’t land on his feet, and backed away a step. “I hope you enjoy looking at four walls because that’s all you’re going to see for a very long fuckin’ time.”

I spun around, feeling Brody behind me, and together we locked up the cell and then walked away. Neither of us said anything as we moved through the den and up to one of the conference rooms on the upper level. I could see Jord standing in the doorway, his attention on us, and when we finally made it into the room and closed the door behind us, Brody gritted out, “He was threatening her.”

I nodded. “He was.”

“Who did he threaten?” Jord asked.

Brody glanced at me, something unsaid shining in his eyes, and I knew what would have to happen. I knew I wouldn’t be coming home, not yet anyway. If there was one thing more important than taking a criminal off the streets, it was keeping my family safe.

“Belle,” I croaked out. “He threatened Belle.”

* * *

BELLE

Perks of working in a coffee shop were being able to drink as much stuff as I wanted, but that was a real problem when I didn’t actually like it. I loved the smell of the fresh beans, but the taste…that was

something to be desired, unless it had the lowest amount of coffee and was full of caramel syrup.

My shifts never changed, thanks to my class schedule, and today was my last shift of the week, which also meant it was Friday. I worked three hours on Mondays and Wednesdays between classes, and then six hours after my only class on a Friday.

I had less than an hour left on today’s shift, and even though Stella had messaged me saying she wanted to go out tonight, I was in the mood to order takeout and veg in front of the TV. A new series on Netflix had been added three days ago, and I was dying to watch it.

The store was getting busier the closer to the end of day classes got, and the soundtrack was a mix of groans from tired students and keys tapping from those who were trying to whizz through the assignments they’d put off until the last minute. It was either try and get it done today or attempt it when you had a monster hangover on Sunday.

“Hey, Belle, I’m gonna top up the napkins,” Trisha said as her gaze locked on a table near the cart we kept the napkins and sugar packets in. Trisha had worked here as long as I had, but I was sure she only kept the job to pick up guys.

“Sure,” I replied, but she didn’t hear me because she was already halfway there and making a beeline for the table of guys. I wouldn’t have thought you could pick up guys at a coffee shop, but even the hot college boys needed somewhere to buy their caffeine on campus.

I wiped down the counter and started to sort the display case out. We’d sold out of most of our muffins and pastries, and we didn’t have another delivery due until early tomorrow morning.

The bell above the door dinged, but I didn’t look up and carried on rearranging the display. Footsteps neared, and I could feel someone standing at the counter, but I only had one section left to—