Dawn of Evil_FBI Flashback Read online

  Her.

  “Don’t forget the fast cars. Yeah, you know how it is,” she teased.

  “Did you drive her when I was gone?” he asked, referring to his ride. He hoped she did.

  It was very girlfriend-y.

  “No, but I watered your ficus. You’re an odd man, Christopher. You have a sexy ride, that you keep in the rain, but you won’t let me put that damn plant on the table in the backyard to get water the good ol’ way.”

  He was amused.

  Honestly, he did it to lure her into his home. Chris wanted her to be there. He wanted to come home and see her there waiting. It was something proprietary.

  So, he tried to hint again.

  “I grew it from a tiny root. I feel responsible for it,” he answered. “There’s so much death in the world…”

  That made her laugh.

  “Yeah, we both can attest to that, Newton.”

  “You could have stayed there with my plant. It would have kept you company.”

  Oh, she’d thought about it. Honestly, she wanted to cuddle down in his bed, surrounded by his scent, but it was way too needy.

  “Well, I have a place right here, and I don’t have a peeping ficus watching me.”

  He was desperately trying to get her to stay at his place. She’d jump out of bed and leave each and every time unless he begged her to stay.

  Chris didn’t know what to do.

  “You look beat, Christopher.”

  “Yeah, I am. Like I said. It was a long ten days. I want to sleep right here at your counter.”

  “I’m going to get dressed and head to work. Do you want to crash here?” she asked. “Or do you need to get home to Phil?”

  “Phil?”

  “Phil the Ficus.”

  He laughed.

  God!

  He needed that.

  More importantly, anytime she offered him time in her bed, there was no way he was going to say no.

  No.

  Freaking.

  Way.

  Chris wanted this in the worst possible way. Besides, he lived a whole block away. He didn’t think he could make it. He was so worn down.

  “I think he can live without me, as he proved the last ten days.”

  It was time to come clean.

  “Well, you’ve been gone so long, your ficus is all grown up. You won’t even recognize him.”

  He stared at her.

  What the hell did that mean?

  “Uh, what?”

  “Okay, he looks a lot different because he’s a potted palm now.”

  Chris stared at her.

  It was so damn hard not to laugh at the look on her face. She looked like a kid who just got busted stealing candy from a store.

  “You killed him, didn’t you? Just tell me it wasn’t intentional, and you’re not some sick, serial ficus killer.”

  She tried not to feel bad.

  And laugh.

  It was so hard.

  God!

  They were talking about a damn plant. This was proof how much she liked this man. She had said she’d plant-sit.

  Why, oh why, hadn’t she brought it to her house?

  “I would never do that, Christopher. I know how attached you were to it. It was a misunderstanding.”

  “How so, Elizabeth?” he asked.

  Yes, he could have let her off the hook, but this was too damn amusing.

  Yeah, he was crazy about her.

  Here was the proof.

  He could be asleep instead of having this whole insane conversation.

  “Well, five days in, I realized that when you said water your ficus, you actually meant water your ficus.”

  He laughed.

  He couldn't hold back.

  “What could that be code for?” he asked.

  “In my world? You don’t want to know. We travel in different circles, my friend.”

  “Uh, we are the circle.”

  “And that’s how I figured out you literally meant sashay my ass over there to dump water on your plant.”

  Chris had to wipe his eyes.

  “I replaced him with Peter the palm. Are we good?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t be mad. “He’s a really nice palm. Please don’t ask me to water it.”

  Chris grinned.

  “I won’t.”

  She was relieved.

  Chris finished his coffee and held out his hand. She didn’t hesitate to take it as she brought her coffee upstairs.

  “How’s your partner?” he asked, trying to make small talk. He didn’t like him.

  Why?

  He was a single man.

  That said it all.

  With no explanation, she laughed.

  “Again? You lost another one?” Chris asked. “Are you on some land speed record to go through them?”

  Maybe she was.

  Maybe she was looking for the right one.

  “Well, you know how it is. I’m an acquired taste. I don’t get along with everyone. You’re really the only one who likes me. Oh, and Tony. Maybe Gabe, just not this week—as I will be relearning as I see him in a bit.”

  Then it hit her.

  “Oh crap. It’s not a meeting! He’s giving me another shitty partner!”

  Chris smiled, but inside, he was thinking about what she said. He preferred no one ‘liked’ her.

  He’d shove the man in a plexiglass box of beetles if Tony tried to ‘like’ her.

  As they climbed the stairs, he was dragging ass. She wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him get to the top.

  “Bless you. I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours.”

  “Jesus! Newton! What were you thinking? There’s going to be a time when you can’t do that anymore.”

  Oh, he was aware.

  “Sleep is for the weak. Real men are fueled by autopsy fumes.”

  She didn’t want to know.

  Upstairs, in her bedroom, he dropped onto her bed and crawled into the messed-up covers.

  It was the most amazing feeling in the whole damn world.

  It smelled like her.

  He was going to enjoy the sleep—especially in her bed. Maybe he’d dream about her.

  Elizabeth knew he had to be beat. He was face down on her bed, still dressed.

  She had the overwhelming need to make him comfortable, so she did.

  Gently, she pulled off his shoes, socks, and then climbed onto his ass to perch.

  “Joining me?” he asked.

  God!

  He’d love to have sex, but he didn’t know if she’d go for it. He turned up at her home, he was in her bed…why push his luck? He hadn’t started wooing her yet.

  Cupcakes and coffee did not a relationship make. He was pretty sure about that.

  “No, but you’re tense, Newton. Let me work out some of these knots.”

  “Yes, please!”

  She began rubbing his shoulders as she sat on his ass. It was hard for him not to think about her on top of him with just a towel and his sweater.

  He was a glutton for punishment, but he didn’t care. He loved her sitting on him. Chris desperately wanted to roll and have her sit on something else.

  Instead, he focused on her hands, and not the visuals in his head.

  “How’s that feel, Newton?” she asked.

  Chris moaned.

  He never wanted this moment to stop. His neck had been a hot mess of knots from staring down at bodies for ten long days.

  This was the best thing for it.

  “God! I love you.”

  Elizabeth’s heart skipped.

  “I love you too,” she offered back, knowing those words had never hurt more than when she said them.

  Yeah, he loved her in a booty call, nothing more than an ‘I’m lonely’ kind of way.

  “I feel like I’ve been staring down for days.”

  He probably had been.

  Elizabeth gently turned his head and he let her. After she changed his muscles position, she worked that one knot
that was always hurting him.

  “You have magic fingers.”

  She laughed.

  Well, at least she could get someone to let her rub their back. Why have a relationship when you could play masseuse?

  “I’ve been told that before.”

  He got jealous.

  He was sure she had and by more than a few men. Only, he didn’t want her touching anyone else.

  Chris only wanted her touching him.

  “I’ll bring you some lunch when I’m done with my Gabe ass chewing,” she offered, whispering in his ear.

  Chris didn’t know what he wanted more.

  Her.

  Or sleep.

  No, he knew. He definitely wanted her.

  “Yes, please,” he moaned as she kept rubbing even as her wet hair fell onto his warm cheek.

  It felt heavenly.

  “What are you in the mood for?” she asked.

  Chris almost told her ‘her’ when he realized she was talking about lunch. “I’m easy, honey. I’ll take anything you give me.”

  And it was true.

  That was why he feared to bring up dating. He’d take this little scrap of her life and beg for more just to get her to see him.

  “I’ll make sure you’re fed.”

  “Thank you for taking care of me, honey.”

  And that was it.

  Nothing more was said.

  Elizabeth was struggling with this, and she actually wanted to cry. She was sitting on the man in her bed, wearing a sweater and towel.

  Nothing.

  He couldn’t possibly feel anything for her. There was nothing there. Any other man would have rolled, let her touch him, said something.

  Nada.

  They were just friends.

  She tried not to feel upset, but it was so damn hard to wonder what was wrong with her.

  Men cheated.

  And this one didn’t even want to go that far.

  Elizabeth wished she could peek into his head and see what he was thinking.

  But she would, instead, keep her mouth shut. Chris had laid down the rules, and she’d agreed. It was about him and their friendship now.

  She had to preserve what she could for the sake of her sanity. She needed him in her life, so she had to take anything he’d give her.

  “Okay, Newton. I’ll hook you up after my meeting—unless Gabe kills me, and then you can have my worldly possessions. That would be my cowboy boots and my gun. Burn the rest so no one checks it for trace.”

  He laughed.

  “Call me if you need backup.”

  She leaned over him and gave him a kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you later.”

  He kept his eyes closed to pretend he was asleep.

  Elizabeth tucked him in, took off his sweater, and placed it on the dresser beside his badge and shirt. Then she headed into her closet to get dressed.

  The entire time, Chris watched her.

  Stealthily, he watched the woman he was crazy about, and he knew he’d never have the way he wanted in his life.

  Christopher Leonard had royally screwed up, and there didn’t seem to be a way to fix it.

  At all.

  * * * E l i z a b e t h L a R u e * * *

  Boston

  Police Department

  The local law wasn’t happy, and they had no choice in the matter.

  What was decided was decided.

  That’s what made this whole thing even worse. It wasn’t that there was a serial killer in their city—one of many, they were sure, but that they were being forced to hand this one over to the FBI.

  It sucked.

  It made them angry.

  It was a kick in the balls.

  Detective Patrick O’Brien was fuming as he sat at his desk in the bullpen. He wanted to go back in to his boss and kick the man around the room for being a giant pansy ass and kowtowing to the FBI.

  He could have fought.

  He could have said hell no!

  He could have done something other than bend over and hand the Feds the lube.

  Only, he hadn’t.

  The man didn’t even put up a fight. No, his boss, the police captain, had tossed his detectives to the wolves and asked the commissioner to call in the Feds to help.

  How did they not get this was insulting?

  This was like the man saying they were useless and wouldn’t be able to do the job.

  He wanted to punch a wall.

  “Breathe,” his partner stated.

  Patty glanced over at him. “Why the hell are you taking this so easy? You should be pissed, Max! This was your case, too, and it’s going to some dick in the FBI!”

  The man laughed.

  Detective Max Bronson had enough issues on his plate, and this case was minor.

  “I am pissed, but not at the Feds. Let them have it,” he said, dropping his heels onto his desk.

  “WHAT?”

  “Listen, I’m embattled in one hell of a child custody mess. My ex-girlfriend wants me to butt out of my son’s life, and I don’t want that to happen. I have my sights on the mob unit, and I’m willing to do what needs to be done.”

  “What?” he asked again.

  “You heard me. If he wants us to work with the FBI, then so be it. They can do the heavy lifting.”

  The man was horrified.

  “Stop. You look like I just tried to peck out your liver. You won’t die if a Fed handles this. We have three victims, Patty. We need the help. There are no fingerprints, there is no trace, and all we have are three dead women with no leads. Be a bigger man and accept the help.”

  “I have to accept it, but I don’t have to like it!” he said, still shocked. Was his partner leaving the team to work on the mob unit?

  Really?

  Max shook his head.

  “No, you really don’t have to like it, but won’t it be easier to work with some FBI agent than to sit here for three more days as the new ‘Boston Strangler’ kills more women?”

  He had a point.

  That would paint a media bull’s-eye on them. That was nearly as bad.

  “It just stings.”

  Yeah, like finding out that your partner was bailing, but Patty had to deal with one battle at a time.

  “You’ll get over it,” Max stated.

  “No, I won’t!”

  They both knew why he was pissed off.

  Patty had aspirations to get out of homicide and ride the captain’s chair. He wanted to be in that office in the next ten years, and then at some point be the commissioner.

  Nothing was going to stop him.

  He didn’t date.

  He didn’t get married.

  He didn’t want kids.

  All he really craved was that office, and he was willing to work for it.

  “If you play nice, the commissioner might cut you a deal down the road. You know that’s always a good thing.”

  He was aware.

  And he had a point.

  “Okay, but I won’t like the dick they send. You know how Feds are. They come in here and they whip out their gun and try to see who has a bigger one.”

  Max laughed.

  “We all know you have the biggest gun of them all, Patty. You have nothing to worry about.”

  The man grinned.

  “Yeah, well, the rumors are true.”

  Max let it go at that. There was no way he was even going to continue that conversation.

  “We should prep.”

  “We are going to do what?” he asked.

  Max continued, “Prep as in get the files together, and make copies so we can hand this one off to the agent when he arrives,” he explained.

  Patty smiled.

  “You’re absolutely right. I’ll make copies to help out the FBI.”

  Max lifted a brow.

  What was his partner up to now?

  He watched as Patty picked up the file, and he headed toward the copier. Once he got there, he shoved the whole file with all t
heir information into the paper shredder and hit the button.

  It ground it to pieces.

  “Patty!”

  The man grinned as it was shredded beyond repair. That one action said it all.

  Max pitied the incoming agent.

  It was going to suck. It was a good thing that he kept copies of all of his notes. It looked like Patty’s notes were long, freaking gone.

  “Oops. I tripped.”

  Max sighed.

  This was not good.

  Their boss was going to kick both of their asses. That was for damn sure.

  When Patty took his seat, he was still smiling like the village idiot.

  “I really hope that whoever takes this case is easy going. That stunt was douchey—even for you,” Max stated. “That’s playing dirty, Patty.”

  Oh, he was aware, only he didn’t care.

  He was going to make sure that they didn’t get boned by the FBI.

  This was his house.

  This was their city.

  No one would do this case justice but the people who were defending Boston.

  What the hell did some dick from Washington DC know?

  Not a hell of a lot.

  Chapter Two

  Hoover Building

  Thursday Eight A.M

  W hen she arrived at the office, it was the same general ball busting that she normally had to deal with on a day to day basis. It had nothing to do with ‘The Butcher’ and everything to do with her being a woman playing a man’s game. If you had breasts and ovaries, you were at a disadvantage.

  The men at the FBI were territorial. They didn’t think she had the chops to do her job, and they were all about telling her that when they saw her.

  Why?

  Apparently, she threatened their masculinity.

  Which was all kinds of ironic considering she never once made a comment about their asses or other parts of their bodies. She couldn’t say the same for them.

  So, as security rode her ass, she ignored it.

  As her last partner, Alex Bartlett, got his shots in, too, Elizabeth ignored them all.

  People were going to judge her, and she couldn’t let that stand in the way of her doing her job.

  Correction.

  Elizabeth LaRue wouldn’t let that get in the way of doing her damn job.

  She was a good Fed, and she’d proved it.

  Well, now she was hoping that Gabe wasn’t angry about something she’d done.