A Brutal Tenderness Read Free

grins. “Kind of running with the undercover role,
Steel?”
I give him a sour look. It’s not easy to switch gears; I’m
so deep into my latest gig I find it hard to remember where I
begin and the persona ends.
Luke shrugs. “So what? It’s your day off,” he says, dismissing
the importance of a dead cell.
But that disquieting feeling intensifies like a slow-blooming
orchid inside me as the instincts that Luke noted earlier are so
much a part of me come alive.
When Luke’s cell vibrates, he looks at the message that
comes in. He turns to me, and his eyes confirm my fear.
My life turns on a dime right then. I can almost feel the
slow spiral like an internal slide of vertigo that threatens to
engulf me.
The serial killer has been given too much rope, and instead
of strangling himself with it, he has taken down one more
victim. Thaddeus MacLeod had us feds fooled like trained
dogs. He slipped our noose entirely.
In a pivotal moment of destiny inserting its will, he shatters
my life. I pick up the pieces, my hands bloodied and raw. A new
promise is put into place that day. The day Faith dies.
Thaddeus MacLeod will pay with his life.
I don’t understand it then, but later I realize he’s not the
only one accountable for Faith’s death. Jewell isn’t an innocent
party in this. She’s the only one who in that moment could
have stopped it. And she made the conscious decision not to.
We’re too late to stop what was put in motion: Faith stolen
in a huge gulp when a fortuitous moment presents itself. My
cell phone not working when Faith called me sealed her fate.
Accidental . . . final.
We race to the nearest vehicle.
Toward death.
Toward vengeance.
1
    I let the binoculars drop against my thigh as the memories
of that horrific day slide away. I see Jewell cross the sodden
grass of the cemetery, her skirt flying behind her as she jogs
gracefully on dancer’s legs, and for just a moment, I remember
the hours of surveillance video of her I’ve forced myself to
watch.
    Luke clears his throat, and I give him another look. “Let’s
go,” I say in a short voice. My eyes go back to the casket, the
mourners gone now, escaping the reminder of their mortality.
    My eyes swing back to the limo. It’s no longer there. Jewell
has fled.
I will find her wherever she goes. Jewell will be missing for
her family but will be hiding in plain sight for us feds.
We turn to leave, and Luke holds me back as I see Thaddeus
approach and greet the press, my dead cousin’s broken and
violated body just paces away in an uncaring grave.
I’ve never believed it’s possible to feel hate that acutely. I can
taste his death on my tongue.
My arm bites with a band of pins and needles from Luke’s
fingers clamping onto my biceps, pulling me in the other
direction.
I’m the wrong agent for this job. I know this. My personal
stake is high: Faith is more to me than just another statistic,
another case file.
But I’m also the perfect choice, a study of the classic
oxymoron. It’s my relative who has been murdered. That should
get me a pass. But that very fact makes me the classic dog with
a bone. The Bureau needs me, and justice will be served on my
terms.
I will stop at nothing until Faith is vindicated.
Two Years Later
    It’s my scene and has been mine from the beginning, though
the higher-ups have fought tooth and nail against it. I’m too
close and all that shit, they said. But in the end, they can’t deny
that it’s my baby. I’ve let us suck at the proverbial teat, fed
it, swaddled its shitty ass, and now the go’s in place to make
contact with the object of our protection.
    Jewell MacLeod.
Jewell’s cleverer than anyone has given her credit for. Aside
from changing her identity twice—causing us briefly to lose
the bead on her—she’s altered her hair color and eye color and
kept a low profile. Smart. However, it always comes down to
time. People are creatures of habit, and those who are