HUNTING (PAVAD) Read online

  Other Titles

  by

  Calle J. Brookes

  Paranormal

  The Blood King

  Awakening the Demon’s Queen

  The Seer’s Strength

  The Warrior’s Woman

  The Healer’s Heart

  Once Wolf Bitten

  Live or Die

  The Wolf’s Redemption

  The Dardanos, Co. Omnibus 5-In-1

  Romantic Suspense

  Watching

  Wanting

  Second Chances: A PAVAD Duet

  Hunting

  Coming Soon

  A Warrior’s Quest

  Calle Jaye Brookes is first and foremost a fiction writer. She enjoys crafting paranormal romance and romantic suspense. She reads almost every genre except horror. In her day job she is a fiction content editor for an epublisher that opened in 2011. She spends most of her time juggling family life and writing, while reminding herself that she can’t spend all of her time in the worlds found within books. Calle Jaye loves to be contacted by her readers via email and at www.CalleJBrookes.com.

  HUNTING:

  A PAVAD Romantic Suspense

  CALLE J. BROOKES

  The Lost River Literary name and imprint are the sole properties of independent publishers Calle J. Brookes and B.G. Lashbrooks. They cannot be reproduced or used in any manner; nor can any of their publications or designs be used without expressed written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, or locations, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  ****

  For my very own hero. Thank you for always believing in me.

  And for my own kid, who helps me see the good side of life every single day. I love you, Stinkerbell!

  ****

  HUNTING

  Copyright © 2013 Calle J. Brookes

  Cover by B.G. Lashbrooks

  All rights reserved.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your chosen retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

  HUNTING

  PAVAD Book 4

  Chapter One

  ****

  Jules just wanted to get away. Just stand up, get out of her chair, and walk out of the St. Louis bullpen and disappear for a while. A week, a month, maybe even a year. Maybe forever. Only the knowledge that she didn’t have anywhere else to go kept her butt glued to the ergonomic chair she’d pushed up to the edge of her borrowed desk.

  Being alone sucked. Working for the FBI sucked. Cutting up dead bodies sucked. Dr. Malachi Brockman and his all-knowing blue eyes sucked. It all sucked.

  And Jules could do nothing about it. And that’s what sucked the most.

  She couldn’t leave St. Louis; her only family lived there, and in the last several months she’d come to the realization that she couldn’t cut herself off from family completely. She had that truth knocked into her head months earlier. And the fist had packed quite a wallop.

  She’d almost lost everything she had left that day, and since that moment Jules had made a vow to make sure that Georgia and Matthew knew she loved them. They were all she had left. She couldn’t lose them, and it had taken Agent Stephenson going nuts and trying to kill Georgia for Jules to realize she was pushing her friend away. Jules couldn’t do that anymore.

  So if that meant putting up with the know-it-all Malachi, Jules would do it.

  It was his own fault she disliked him. She knew she was justified in her opinion. He had no right butting in, sticking his patrician nose into her business. And then making excuses for himself. “I’m just worried for you, Julia. It can’t be easy dealing with the type of victims you see daily, on top of your own tragedy. Hah! No shit, Sherlock.”

  Her tragedy—what did he truly know of tragedy? Sure, he saw things in the job, but from all accounts, the great Dr. Brockman had had an idyllic life. Grew up the oldest of three perfect children, both his perfect parents still living, scholarships to all the right, perfect schools. Perfect. Not to mention that he was good-looking and had tons of money.

  Damned psychologist had everything practically handed to him, and then he had the nerve to tell her she was acting spoiled. Self-centered. Self-absorbed.

  Just who the heck did he think he was? They’d not spoken to one another for personal reasons in the entire time she’d worked in St. Louis, then all of the sudden she’d looked up from the autopsy reports she’d been studying to see him staring down at her. Coming to her desk and telling her she should basically just ‘get over’ her husband Rick’s death and move on—before she dragged those who cared about her down as well!

  She shot a glare toward the half-rise where his office was located next to Agent Reynolds’. She could just make out the dark head of her new nemesis as he sat speaking with Agent Hellbrook. She wished someone would punch him in the nose, do something to ruin all that perfection. Even if just temporarily.

  God, how she wished she had the balls to do it herself. She tightened her fists as she imagined it.

  As if he could read her mind—and she wouldn’t put it past him, with his three PhD’s in mind reading and fortune telling and smarm—he looked up and smiled the smile that he probably thought would get him out of anything.

  Julia snarled. Not with her it wouldn’t.

  * * *

  Malachi Brockman fought the urge to laugh in satisfaction as his eyes caught those of the lone team member still seated in the bullpen his team shared with Hellbrook’s.

  The woman did the damnedest job of hiding how she felt but occasionally her true feelings would slip through that mask. Malachi was determined to remove that mask completely. If she didn’t kill him first. He knew—had heard from her closest friend—that she had one hell of a temper when it was aroused. And he knew that was probably exactly what she needed. Fury, anger, rancor—anything other than the numbing grief she’d let grip her for the last three years. Nobody deserved to be that sad for that long. It wasn’t healthy. It would eventually eat a person alive. He couldn’t let that happen to her.

  If that meant she hated him for the rest of their days, so be it. People had to be in top mental condition to handle the job they did, and Dr. Bellows wasn’t in it. She would be—or Malachi would see to it that she was removed from her position with the PAVAD unit. Until she became more aware of things around her, he wasn’t comfortable sending her out in the field. Period. It was too dangerous.

  But then again—Hellbrook felt she was more than capable of the job. Malachi completely disagreed. He’d seen much stronger agents break under far less provocation.

  “That’s one angry woman down there.” Hellbrook made the observation mildly. Malachi smirked. “What did you do to her?”

  “What makes you think I did anything to her?” Malachi asked. He didn’t miss the way her expression darkened.

  “Because the normally calm-natured doctor is shooting poison glares straight over my shoulder, directly at you.” Hellbrook laughed again.

  “I did nothing to her to warrant what she did to me.”

  “Which was?”

  “Threw a stapler at my head. And the woman has almost excellent aim.” Malachi rubbed his shoulder.

  “Sounds eerily reminisce
nt of my morning, as well,” Hellbrook said.

  “Oh? Bellows throw a stapler at you, too?”

  “No. Georgia did. And it was the television remote. And apparently her aim is better than Jules’.”

  “I ducked. How is George?”

  “Cranky. That woman hates to be sick.” Worry touched the other man’s eyes for a moment. “Julia’s been over at the house at least once a day. I don’t know who is more concerned—Jules, Georgia, or me.”

  “At least George has her own personal physician.” Malachi watched as she gathered her bag and then stomped out. Her actual office was down near the morgue, but she spent many hours in the bullpen.

  “I am eternally grateful for Jules. She’s been a godsend since this flu’s been making the rounds. I think Georgia would have killed me if not for Jules.”

  “So there is some benefit to the woman.”

  Hellbrook’s brow rose. “Seriously? What is going on with you two?”

  “Nothing of importance.” Malachi stood, and Hellbrook followed suit. “But I do believe we shall agree to disagree on the subject of the good doctor.”

  “Sounds eerily familiar, as well. I remember feeling a serious bit of rancor toward a woman with good doctor in her title.”

  “Yes, but in this instance there won’t be the same resolution. I have no intention of doing that with Dr. Julia Bellows.” Malachi shuddered at the thought. Whoever married that woman would have to wear body armor. Two inches higher and to the left and she’d have broken his nose with that stapler. “Any part of it.”

  So much for do no harm. If he hadn’t ducked right when he had...Malachi abhorred violence. There were so many other ways of dealing with conflict. The woman could have killed him. He made a mental note to avoid being alone with her until she’d had time to cool down.

  In the meantime, he had a party to host.

  Chapter Two

  * * *

  To paraphrase, a man in search of a political career was in desperate need of a wife. And children. Once he had those—or the start of those children—he could begin his actual political campaign.

  That meant he had to finish up with Malachi and begin on the next stage of his plan, and do so rather quickly if he was to meet his first goal. He’d surveyed the women of his acquaintance, knowing that he had rather little time to go out searching for a suitable companion for his aspirations. Not with everything else he needed to accomplish. He’d never been a very patient man. Why should he be? He shouldn’t have to wait for anything. He was not a man who waited. Period.

  Unfortunately, most of the women he knew he had found quite lacking for what he would need of them. His future wife would need to be beautiful—or at least presentable, intelligent, articulate, well-liked, well-groomed, and well-educated. She would have to follow his instructions to the letter, but also be able to make decisions for herself without him present at her side. She would have to understand that children were to be kept clean, neat, and image-ready. No grubby urchins would be allowed. And no more than two, though he would be far more satisfied with just one.

  He had narrowed his list down to a handful of candidates, and had made his selection. While she was far from what he was looking for, with a bit of molding, she could eventually fit his needs.

  And she now walked at his side, providing the perfect alibi for the events that would happen later. Events he had set into place. After all, how more perfect could his alibi be, than him escorting an FBI agent?

  “Be careful of the snow, my dear.”

  “I’m ok. Really. Thanks for the ride.” She had her bag slung over her shoulder and he wondered at it, but didn’t ask. After she was his to do with as he pleased, she would not be jetting around the country with that team of hers. No, she would be a stay at home wife and hostess, set into place to ensure he had his needs met fully while on the campaign trail. His career was the one that mattered, after all. But he would never tell her that, not yet. “I’m going to camp out at Al’s for a while.”

  “And what is wrong with your place?” He had to admit, he did not like the idea of her being in Malachi’s home when the next piece was played. It was best to keep his plans separate from one another. Still, she was not under his control, yet.

  “Smoke damage.” She laughed, and he smiled. The sound was very pleasing to the ears. It was one of her better features, besides her porcelain skin and rich dark eyes. The hair was horrible, but he would address that later. “Dan’s boy, he’s almost twelve, blew up the basement trying to do his science homework.”

  And she lived in Dan’s basement, renting an apartment from her older colleague. Horrific. “What was he doing down there? Doesn’t he stay upstairs?”

  “Oh, I was helping him.” She grinned. “His mother wasn’t too happy, but we had fun doing it.”

  “And did he learn the lesson?”

  “I think so. The main thing we learned was that neither of us should be playing with that kind of stuff. At least not without an actual tech present. It’ll take a few weeks to change the drywall in my place. There was also the tiny problem of the upstairs bathroom.”

  “What was that?”

  “Ryan’s little sister left the sink running in the bathroom right over my bedroom. Saturated the drywall before the smoke damage.”

  What horrific children. If they were his, they would have long been beaten. He just barely held back a shudder. “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do. The water kept the drywall from catching fire, at least. Everything worked out for a reason.”

  “I see.”

  He guided her up the steps into the house that Malachi shared with his younger sister Alessandra. He’d considered Alessandra, but although she was truly beautiful, he’d found her personality severely lacking for his needs. That woman would never bend to proper authority, and she would give a husband more trouble than she would help. No. He’d needed a more malleable woman, so he’d easily crossed Alessandra from the list, despite her connection to the Brockman family. Once again his attention had landed on Alessandra’s partner, Paige.

  The house was too large for just Malachi and his sister, but he knew it was in perfect repair. Everything Malachi possessed was of high quality. And always had been. Malachi Brockman had never wanted for anything. But he would soon take all that away from Malachi, and he’d watch the man’s perfection wither away. He was so looking forward to it.

  Malachi was his biggest obstacle to his career ambition of politics. Malachi may never have said it, but he knew it was always there. He could not be the best at anything until Malachi was no longer a competitor. Malachi had overshadowed him since they were in grade school. But that would go on no longer. Tonight, would be the end of the game.

  They met several of Paige’s friends inside, people he was acquainted with because he’d chosen to spend so much of his spare time with Paige. There were only one or two that he genuinely liked, but he hid his disgust as he shook hands with them all.

  Once she was his, he would cull these lower class individuals from her social circle. It would be one of the first things he did. He wanted to appeal to a certain class of constituents, and these people just weren’t them.

  Chapter Three

  ***

  Two hours into the party and Mal’s path finally crossed with Julia’s again. She glared at him and stalked off. He laughed as he decided to make it his mission to keep her so riled, she’d have no choice but to explode...again.

  He made a mental note to duck when needed.

  What he hadn’t counted on was Julia’s ability to avoid confrontation. It took him nearly an hour to find her again. She stood in the kitchen doorway, watching the dancers swaying across the make-shift dance floor—what was normally his dining room. He watched her for another moment, enjoying his slight time of voyeurism. His sister must have called her name; she turned back into the kitchen, her dress twitching around her pretty legs.

  The dress she wore was lovely, low-cut and revealing. And a g
ood color choice for her. He might not have liked her personality, but even he had to admit there was nothing wrong with her body. Pity she usually kept it so ruthlessly covered.

  He either saw her dressed in shapeless suits or medical scrubs. Scrubs were his favorite—they at least hinted at the female body beneath. And when dressed in her medical garb she appeared confident.

  She was hard at work helping his sister Al set out punch, applying herself to the task with utmost concentration when he entered the kitchen. Hiding. He’d not missed the expression on her face as she’d watched the dancers. He considered for a moment—had he ever seen her dance with someone? Someone other than Ed Dennis? In an instant, his mind was made up. ”Dr. Bellows, I was at least hoping for one dance before the night ends. Instead I find you in here.”

  “I’m sorry; I make it a point not to dance with apes.” She didn’t look up from the peach punch she was ladling. Malachi heard his sister snicker.

  “Julia is a bit angry at me. She wouldn’t really say I’m an ape. Then I’d have to say she was a shrew, or something of that nature.” He grinned at the shrew in question. “I would never do that.”

  “Of course, you’re too perfect for that.” She thickened her slight accent into a more noticeable southern drawl. “And who would ever accuse the great Malachi Brockman of not being perfect? Surely not I.”

  She showed just the barest hint of teeth before looking away. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” She left Malachi and Al standing watching her back as she wove through the dancers.

  “Good one, Mal.” Al bumped his shoulder with hers. “What did you do to her this time?”

  Malachi smiled. “I probably deserved the stapler she heaved at my head this morning. I just can’t seem to resist pushing her buttons. But she will dance with me before this party ends.”