Beautiful Redemption, Page 4

  "Where is he?" I asked.

  "That's classified," she said, her sweet smile unwavering.

  I flicked my badge. "Thankfully, I have top-secret clearance."

  Constance wasn't amused.

  "I need to speak with him," I said, trying not to beg. "He is expecting my report."

  She touched the small plastic device again and nodded. "He'll return after lunch."

  "Thank you," I said, turning on my heels and heading back the way I'd come.

  Instead of retreating to my cubicle, I went into the hall and poked around until I found Val. She was in Agent Marks's office.

  "Can I speak with you for a minute?" I asked.

  She looked at Marks and then stood. "Sure."

  She shut the door behind her, biting her lip.

  "Sorry to interrupt."

  She made a face. "He's been chasing me for six months. Now that Trex is out of the way, he is under the misapprehension that he has a chance."

  My face compressed. "Did I transfer to a singles bar?" I shook my head. "Don't answer that. I need a favor."

  "Already?"

  "Where does Maddox frequent around lunchtime? Does he have a favorite eatery? Does he stay here?"

  "The fitness room. He's there every day at this time."

  "That's right. You've mentioned that. Thanks," I said.

  She called after me, "He hates being interrupted! As in, his soul hates being interrupted!"

  "He hates everything," I grumbled under my breath, pressing the button for the elevator.

  I went down two levels and then took the skywalk to the west offices.

  The newly built San Diego office was comprised of three large buildings, and it would likely be a maze to me for a week or two at least. It was a stroke of luck that Val had shown me the way to the fitness room the day before.

  The closer I came to the fitness room, the faster I walked. I held my badge against the black square protruding from the wall. After a beep and the sound of the lock opening, I pulled open the door to see Maddox's feet dangling in the air, his face red and glistening with perspiration, while he bobbed quickly on a chin-up bar. He barely acknowledged me, still carrying on with his workout.

  "We need to talk," I said, holding up my report, which was now crinkled from my grip. That made me even angrier.

  He let go of the bar, his sneakers landing on the floor with a thud. He was breathing hard, and he used the collar of his heather-gray FBI T-shirt to wipe the dripping sweat from his face. The bottom hem pulled up, revealing just a sliver of his perfectly cut lower abs and one side of the V that I had fantasized about at least a dozen times since the first time I'd seen it.

  His answer brought me back to the present. "Get out."

  "This is for all employees of the facility, is it not?"

  "Not between eleven and noon."

  "Says who?"

  "Me." His jaw flitted under his skin, and then he eyed the papers in my hand. "Did you rework that FD-three-oh-two?"

  "No."

  "No?"

  "No," I seethed. "The transcription and translation are accurate, and the FD-three-oh-two, like I've said, is thorough."

  "You're incorrect," he said, glaring down at me.

  Behind the irritation was something else although I couldn't quite decipher it.

  "Can you explain to me what is missing?" I asked.

  Maddox walked away from me, the fabric under both of his arms and his lower back dark with perspiration.

  "Excuse me, sir, but I asked you a question."

  He flipped around. "You don't come to me, asking questions. You take orders, and I told you to modify that report to my satisfaction."

  "How exactly would you like me to do that, sir?"

  He laughed once, unamused. "Did your superior do your job for you in Chicago? Because in--"

  "I'm in San Diego. I know."

  He narrowed his eyes. "Are you insubordinate, Agent Lindy? Is that why you were sent here--to be under my command?"

  "You requested me, remember?"

  His expression was still one I couldn't read, and it was driving me mad.

  "I didn't request you," he said. "I requested the best language expert we had."

  "That would be me, sir."

  "Forgive me, Agent Lindy, but after reading that report, I'm having a hard time believing you're as good as you think you are."

  "I can't give you intelligence that isn't there. Maybe you should tell me what you want to hear from that Title Three."

  "Are you suggesting that I'm asking you to lie in your report?"

  "No, sir. I am suggesting you tell me what you expect of me."

  "I want you to do your job."

  I clenched my teeth, trying to keep my Irish side from getting me fired. "I would love to accomplish my responsibilities, sir, and do it to your satisfaction. What about my report do you find lacking?"

  "All of it."

  "That's unhelpful."

  "Too bad," he said in a smug tone, walking away again.

  My patience had run out. "How in the hell did you get promoted to ASAC?"

  He stopped and turned on his heels, leaning down a bit, looking incredulous. "What did you say?"

  "Forgive me, sir, but you heard me."

  "This is day two for you, Agent Lindy. You think you can--"

  "And it very well be my last after this, but I'm here to do a job, and you're in my way."

  Maddox eyed me for the longest time. "You think you could do better?"

  "You're damn right I could."

  "Great. You're now the supervisor of Squad Five. Give your report to Constance to digitize and then get your shit in your office."

  My eyes danced around the room, trying to process what had just happened. He'd just given me a promotion that I'd thought would take at least four more years.

  Maddox walked away from me and pushed through the door to the men's locker room. I was breathing hard, maybe harder than he was after his workout.

  I turned around, seeing a dozen people standing at the glass door. They stiffened and walked away when they realized they had been caught. I pulled open the door and walked back down the hall and across the skywalk in a daze.

  I remembered seeing an empty box next to the Keurig, so I retrieved it and sat it atop my desk, filling it with my laptop, sidearm, and the few files I had in my drawers.

  "It went that bad, did it?" Val said, genuine concern in her voice.

  "No," I said, still dazed. "He promoted me to squad supervisor."

  "I'm sorry." She chuckled. "I thought you said you're the supervisor."

  I looked up at her. "I did."

  Her eyebrows shot up. "He looks at you with more hate than he does Agent Sawyer, and that's saying something. You're telling me you stood up to him once, and he gave you a promotion?"

  I looked around the room, trying to think of a plausible reason as well.

  Val shrugged. "He's lost it, gone off the deep end." She pointed at me. "If I had known being insubordinate and doing something as taboo as telling another agent how to run a case meant a promotion, I would have told him off a long time ago."

  I took in a deep breath and picked up the box before walking into the empty supervisor's office. Val followed me in.

  "This has been empty since Maddox's promotion to ASAC. He's one of the youngest ASACs in the Bureau. Did you know that?"

  I shook my head as I set the box on my new desk.

  "If anyone can get away with this, it's Maddox. He's so far up the director's ass that I bet he'll make S.A.C. early, too."

  "He knows the director?" I asked.

  Val laughed once. "He has dinner with the director. He spent Thanksgiving at the director's house last year. He's the director's favorite, and I don't mean out of the San Diego office, or even out of the offices in California. I mean, in the Bureau. Thomas Maddox is the golden boy. He can have whatever he wants, and he knows it. Everyone does."

  I made a face. "Doesn't he have a family?
Why didn't he go home for Thanksgiving?"

  "Something to do with the ex, or so I hear."

  "How does rubbing elbows with the director even happen for someone like Maddox? He's got the personality of a badger."

  "Maybe. But he's loyal to those in his circle, and they're loyal to him. So, be careful what you say about him and to whom. You could go from surprise promotion to surprise transfer."

  That gave me pause. "I'll just, uh...get set up."

  Val walked toward the hall, pausing in the doorway. "Drinks tonight?"

  "Again? I thought you said I should stay away from you?"

  She smiled. "Don't listen to me. I am known for giving horrible advice."

  I pressed my lips together, trying to suppress a smile.

  Even with my monumental fuck-up, maybe it wouldn't be so bad here after all.

  "LOOK WHO IT IS," Anthony said, setting a pair of napkins in front of two empty stools.

  "Thanks for the warning the other night," I said. "You could have told me I was leaving with my boss."

  Val puffed out a laugh. "You let her walk out of here with him? Not even a hint? That's just cruel."

  Anthony pulled his mouth to the side. "He wasn't your boss...yet. Besides, I knew nothing was going to happen."

  I narrowed my eyes. "But you knew he was going to be, and you lost that bet."

  Anthony was stunned. "Maddox? Oh no, honey, you must have hallucinated."

  "Don't look so shocked," I said. "It's rude."

  "It's not that...it's just..." Anthony looked to Val. "I've just seen him shoot so many women down. It was enough of a surprise that he asked you to leave with him."

  Val shook her head and chuckled. "I told you. He's sworn off women."

  "Well, Saint Thomas has broken his vow," I said.

  Anthony pointed his finger, swirling tiny invisible circles in the air. "You must have voodoo in your hoohoo."

  Val cackled.

  "Maybe I do!" I said, feigning insult.

  Anthony seemed remorseful in a don't-shoot-me sort of way. "You're right. I should have given you a heads-up. First round is on me. Friends?"

  "That's a start," I said, sitting.

  "Oh," Anthony said, looking to Val, "she's feisty."

  "Just wait until Maddox finds out you knew she was an agent."

  Anthony held his hand to his chest, looking genuinely concerned. "Christ on the cross, you're not going to tell him, are you?"

  "I just might," I said, chewing on my thumbnail. "You'd better have my back from now on."

  "Swear," Anthony said, holding up three fingers.

  "Quit that shit. You were never a Boy Scout," Val said.

  "Hey," a male voice said before bending down to kiss Val's cheek and sitting in the empty stool next to her.

  "Hey, Marks. You know Lindy."

  Marks leaned forward, took one look at me, and then leaned back. "Yep."

  Val made a face. "What's that about?" He was focused on the large television screen above us, and when he didn't answer, she backhanded his arm. "Joel! What's with the douchebaggery?"

  "What the...why are you hitting me?" he said, rubbing his arm. "I just choose to keep my distance from trouble."

  I rolled my eyes and looked to Anthony.

  "The usual?" Anthony asked.

  I nodded.

  "You already have a usual?" Val said. "How often do you come here?"

  I sighed. "This is just my third time."

  "In as many days," Anthony added. He set a Manhattan on the napkin in front of me. "Are you going to speak to me this time?"

  "You're lucky I'm speaking to you now," I said.

  Anthony nodded, conceding, and then looked to Val. "If she'd ordered only one drink, I still would have remembered. Whose bar do you think this is?"

  Val cocked an eyebrow. "This is not your bar, Anthony."

  "It's my bar," he said, sitting a short tumbler in front of her. "Do you see anyone else running this shit?" He motioned all around him. "Okay."

  Val chuckled, and Anthony took Marks's order. I was used to more pleasantries, more courtesy. I liked the sharp wit and jagged edges of their banter--no hurt feelings, no seriousness. After a day at the office, it was refreshing.

  The door chimed, and a quick glance turned into a long stare while Maddox made his way to the stool next to Marks. Maddox's eyes caught mine for a fraction of a second, and then he greeted his friend. Before Maddox could settle into his seat and loosen his tie, Anthony had already set a beer bottle on the counter in front of him.

  "Relax," Val whispered. "He won't stay long. Maybe one drink."

  "I'm glad I never tried undercover work. I'm beginning to think my thoughts and feelings are surrounded by glass walls and subtitled just in case I'm not obvious enough."

  Val helped me to carry on a semi-normal conversation, but then Maddox ordered another drink.

  Val's face compressed. "That's not like him."

  I tried to remember if he'd had more than one drink the first time we met.

  "Hell," I whispered, "I should probably head home anyway."

  I gestured to Anthony for my check, and Marks leaned forward.

  "You leaving?" he asked.

  I simply nodded.

  He seemed miffed by my silence. "You don't talk now?"

  "Just trying to help you stay out of trouble." I signed the small strip of paper for Anthony, leaving behind a tip that covered all three nights, and then I slipped the strap of my purse over my arm.

  The night air begged me to take a stroll in a different direction than my condo, but I rounded the corner and crossed the street, climbing the stoop of my building. Once inside, my heels clicked against the tile floor until I stopped in front of the elevator bay.

  The entrance door opened and closed, and then Maddox slowed to a stop when he saw me.

  "Going up?" he asked.

  I stared at him with a blank expression, and he looked around as if he were lost, or maybe he couldn't believe he'd said something so stupid. We were on the ground floor.

  The doors slid open with a cheerful chime, and I stepped inside. Maddox followed. I pressed the buttons for the fifth and sixth floors, unable to forget that Maddox lived directly above me.

  "Thank you," he said.

  I thought I caught his attempt to soften his gruff I'm-the-boss voice.

  While the elevator climbed five floors, the tension swirled around my supervisor and me, increasing just like the illuminated numbers above the door.

  Finally, as my floor came into view, I stepped out and let out the breath I'd been holding. I turned to nod to Maddox, and just before the doors slid closed, he stepped out.

  As soon as his feet hit the fifth-floor carpet, he seemed to regret it.

  "Isn't your place--"

  "The next floor up. Yes," he said. He looked over at my door and swallowed.

  Upon seeing the scuffed blue paint on my door, I wondered if the memories came as fast and as hard for him as they did for me.

  "Liis..." He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. He sighed. "I owe you an apology for the first night we met. If I had known...if I had done my job and thoroughly reviewed your file, neither of us would be in this position."

  "I'm a big girl, Maddox. I can shoulder the responsibility just as well as you can."

  "I didn't give you the promotion because of that night."

  "I certainly hope not."

  "You know as well as I do that your report was exceptional, and you have a bigger set of balls than most of the men in our unit. No one has stood up to me the way you have. I need an agent like that as supervisor."

  "You questioned me in front of everyone just to see if I would stand up to you?" I asked, both incensed and dubious.

  He thought about that, and then he put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Yeah."

  "You're an asshole."

  "I know."

  My gaze involuntarily fell to his lips. I was lost for a moment in the memories and how
amazing it'd felt when he held me. "Now that we've established that, I think we got off on the wrong foot. We don't have to be enemies. We work together, and I think it's in the best interest of the squad to be cordial."

  "I think, given our history, trying to be friends would be a particularly bad idea."

  "Not friends," I said quickly. "A...mutual respect--as colleagues."

  "Colleagues," he deadpanned.

  "Professionals," I said. "Don't you agree?"

  "Agent Lindy, I just wanted to clarify that what happened between us was a mistake, and although it was quite possibly one of the best nights I've had since being back in San Diego...we...we can't make that mistake again."

  "I'm aware," I said simply. I was trying very hard to ignore his remark about what a great night it was because it had been great, more than great, and I would never have it again.

  "Thank you," he said, relieved. "I wasn't looking forward to this conversation."

  I looked everywhere but at Maddox and then pulled my keys from my purse. "Have a good night, sir."

  "Just...Maddox is fine when we're not at the office. Or...Thom--Maddox is fine."

  "Good night," I said, pushing the key into the knob and twisting it.

  As I closed the door, I saw Maddox turn for the stairs with an angry expression.

  My couch was being held hostage, surrounded by cardboard. The white walls with no drapes felt uncomfortably cold, even with the mild temperature outside. I went straight to the bedroom and fell onto my back, staring up at the ceiling.

  The next day would be long, organizing my office and figuring out where we were on the Vegas case. I would have to develop my own system for tracking everyone's progress, nailing down where they were in their current assignments and what they would be working on next. This was my first assignment as supervisor, and I was working under an ASAC who expected perfection.

  I huffed.

  In the corner, the ceiling had a small water stain, and I wondered if Maddox had once let his tub run over or if there was just a leak somewhere in the walls. A faint knock filtered through the drywall that separated our condos. He was up there, probably getting in the shower, which meant he was getting undressed.

  Damn it.

  I had known him as something other than my boss, and now, it was hard not to remember the intoxicating man I'd met at the bar, the man who belonged to the pair of lips I'd lamented before he'd even left my bed.

  Anger and hate were the only ways I was going to get through my time in San Diego. I would have to learn to hate Thomas Maddox, and I had a feeling he wasn't going to make that hard for me.

  The shelves were empty but dust free. A space bigger than I could ever hope to fill, the office of the supervisor was everything I had strived for, and at the same time, the next step felt like just another broken rung on my climb up the Bureau's ladder.