Burning (PAVAD: FBI Romantic Suspense Book 11) Read online

  Her eyes widened as she stepped away from him. For a moment he thought she was going to turn tail and actually run. “Fin.”

  Fin didn’t miss the fear or panic that hit the green eyes he remembered so well.

  She’d not forgotten him, either.

  Not that he’d ever expected she would. He felt the blood heat his cheeks when everyone’s attention shifted right to the two of them. “How are you?”

  “Good.” She said the word softly, her gaze darting to the dark-haired woman beside her with a clearly pleading look on her face. She was fidgeting, like she’d always done when she was anxious over something. He was hit by a punch of emotion that he most definitely was not expecting.

  Her constant movement nine years ago had irritated and annoyed him beyond measure back then. Until the horrifying moment when he’d been unable to feel her moving—even breathing—at all. That had been probably the worst moment of his life.

  “You two know each other?” Brockman asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  She stepped back even more, the movement one he recognized as a fear reaction. Did she realize she was doing that? Everyone else certainly did.

  His gut twisted. She was still frightened of him, then. Just like nine years ago. She slid half behind Brockman, her action shouting to him that she viewed the other man as safety.

  And viewed him as a threat. Drs. Dennis and Brockman shifted slightly closer to her side, a move that told him much about their team. Very close, she fit in well. She mattered to them.

  So many years later and she still managed to make him feel like the lowest form of bastard. He stepped back, not wanting her to feel crowded or threatened anymore.

  Her gaze jumped to the prosthetic protruding from his left sleeve. She released a small sound, her eyes stricken. Fin doubted anyone had missed it. He stepped farther away, not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable. After he’d lost the arm and before he’d hurt her a few months later he’d refused to wear the prosthetic. He’d wanted those around him reminded of how different his life had become that day. With her.

  And he’d made it clear to her that he’d considered her responsible. Even though she hadn’t been, and he knew that now.

  And now he’d shown up to invade the life she’d built for herself, albeit unintentionally. He would have to make it clear to her that he’d never do anything to hurt her again.

  He owed her that much, at least. And so much more. But maybe now he’d get the chance.

  Fin turned to Dennis and nodded, the signal to begin.

  “Please, everyone have a seat. Files have been provided for each of you.” The older Dennis led the way to the table near the front of the room. “I’ll be blunt. This wasn’t my idea; it came from much higher than me, than this field office. Funding is iffy at this point; we’re in severe competition with the Counterintelligence Division, and Counterterrorism. If we can’t prove a success, and quickly, we’re losing both Hellbrook’s and Brockman’s sections, plus half of the rest of the division. Agents will be reassigned to more mainstream units around the country. It’s up to the ten of you to make this work. And quickly.”

  Nobody responded. Everyone paid attention. Fin felt the tension thicken around the room’s occupants.

  “Sir, I can understand why Agent Brockman and Agent Hellbrook were chosen, but what about the rest of us?” Angel asked.

  “I’ve carefully reviewed backgrounds, performance reviews, and psychological evals—even on Georgia, my daughter—you’ve all got exactly what I need to make this work. All of you will bring something unique to the table. I’m telling you, we’re all on the line here. Every last one of us. You were all pulled to be transferred around the country. Your skills were needed now more than ever.”

  “What will our purpose be?” Brockman stood behind his two female agents, one hand resting on each woman’s shoulder. Their teammate Royal sat to the left of Dennis’s daughter. Their manner all shouted closeness to Fin. None of them looked too thrilled with the idea of being reassigned. And how could he blame them?

  “Crime syndicates, acts of terrorism, serial killers, child abductions, all of it. Whatever and whenever a special request is made, I want this division to be able to pull from any unit within and form a team more capable of solving the case quickly than just a regular field investigation team, more quickly than any team in any of the other fifty-plus field offices. I want St. Louis to stand out,” Dennis said. “Once the trial period is over, you’ll basically go back to your original units or teams, with very minor changes. But this year is a proving ground for the entire new division. If it fails, every one of you is gone, reassigned anywhere. Probably in locations other than St. Louis. If it works—we’ll have a division that is ready at the drop of a hat, skilled, prepared, and trained in rapid responses to any situation. And I do mean any, from computer crimes to white collar—to complex.”

  “So what do you want us to do?” The daughter flipped open her file.

  Fin watched Hellbrook study the daughter, a derisive light in his eyes. They’d prove to be a problem, he just knew it. Hellbrook’s redhead watched everyone, wide-eyed. Fin didn’t think he’d even heard the young woman speak; she couldn’t be more than a year fresh from the academy. Armitage and Angel spoke almost exclusively to each other. Ramirez and Royal hadn’t spoken at all. Brockman still stood sentinel over his female agents.

  Hellbrook’s eyes kept returning to Dr. Dennis, much like a magnet. Fin found that interesting. Why? Was Hellbrook attracted to her? How could he not be? Dr. Dennis was a stunningly beautiful woman, although her demeanor was quiet and understated. What would Hellbrook do about it, and where would Dr. Dennis’s father fit in?

  Fin had always been fascinated by group dynamics, and when it was women and men working together, there was always some sparks somewhere. Always.

  And then there was Anastacia. They’d certainly sparked when they’d met years ago.

  He’d never forgotten her, though they’d only worked together for five months. Nothing had happened between them during most of those months. But when it had… She’d been fresh from the academy then, probably as young as Hellbrook’s redhead.

  He wondered if it was the trauma they’d experienced together or the results of that night in the storage closet that made him remember her so clearly. Or made her fear him so deeply.

  He wondered if she’d let him apologize.

  He reiterated an old vow to do just that the instant he got a chance. He’d waited this long, he’d not miss his chance. Even if he had to corner her. Again.