Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Cameron isn’t well. I know that now. Years on the job clarified issues I couldn’t pinpoint when I was barely a man, and they’ve given me the skills to fulfill my obligations to both Cameron and myself.
I will get Cameron the help she needs, and together, we will work through this.
It just won’t be as a couple.
That stage of my life is over, and it is time to work out who I truly am. Am I an agent? A profiler? Or am I still a teen unsure of which career path I wanted to take, only to have circumstances beyond my control lead me to a career I was only considering?
I really don’t know, but the woman I’m racing for is best suited to help me figure this out.
As I reach the parking lot, I scan the interior of Macy’s bureau-issued sedan, expecting to see her in the passenger seat. She’s nowhere to be found. The passenger seat is empty, and the driver’s side is just as barren.
A chill runs down my spine as I quicken my pace. I practically sprint to the car while scanning the area. The lot is full of cars, but everything seems normal.
If only my intuition were reaching the same conclusion.
I call Macy’s name. My shout bounces off the steel-and-concrete structures surrounding me, but that is the only reply I get.
After pulling out my phone, I dial her number. It rings once before a faint buzz coming from inside the car steals my focus. I yank open the passenger-side door with so much force that the hinges creak, finding Macy’s phone in the middle console. My missed call illuminates the screen, but there’s no indication of where she has gone.
Panic claws at my chest. Macy would never leave her phone behind. It is every agent’s lifeline, not to mention one who is both searching for a loved one and only weeks away from giving birth.
“Mace?” I call out again, aware that something is wrong but trusting her skills as an agent not to let panic fully engulf me.
You’d need a tank to take down Macy, and even then, you’re not guaranteed a win. That’s why my admiration for her was so high when I gave Cameron the words she needed to walk away for good without guilt. I told her I loved Macy, and even though it was supposed to be a ploy to end our fight, it sounded so honest, even I’m not convinced it isn’t true.
For years, guilt ruled my emotions, but finding Cameron feels like the blinders have come off, and I can finally see clearly.
Macy has been there for me for years. She cares for me and knows me better than anyone does. She understands me. She’s smart and sweet, and describing her beauty with words is impossible.
She’s perfect.
Every single part of her is pure perfection.
Jesus fucking Christ, how could I have been so blind?
Cameron was right. I love her.
I love Macy.
But why does admitting that make me feel like I’m on the verge of losing her forever?
Anxiousness builds for barely a second before I remember that circumstances forced me into this role, but I excel in my field. I can find Macy. I just need to investigate her vanishing as a professional, not a romantic interest.
No blinders this time. Just straight-up honesty.
I call Brandon. His voice is groggy, as if I woke him, but I only get out two words before the urgency of the situation dawns on him. “Macy’s gone.”
“Check for a laptop.” He seems calm, yet I know he’s not. “She might have left open the surveillance portal she established earlier today.”
“Laptop?”
He curses like he hates that he’s about to toss Macy into the deep end without a life jacket. “She went into tonight’s dinner date wired. She’s untrusting of Cameron’s motives, and while I’m being honest, I’ll admit that I am too. Something is off with her.”
I nod in agreement before I search Macy’s bureau-assigned car like I’m seeking a brick of cocaine. Now is not the time to discuss the many secrets I too see in Cameron’s eyes. My priority is Macy. Her safety is all that matters.
I locate a laptop under the passenger seat. Fumbling, I flip it open and enter the four-digit passcode we always use during joint stings.
Brandon hacks in two seconds later and pulls up the security feed logs.
“Skip to surveillance outside the building. Her phone was in the middle console, so I know she made it back to her vehicle.”
In silence, and with the footage in fast-forward mode, only seconds later, we shadow Macy’s slow hobble to her car. She slots into the passenger seat in a matter of seconds, seemingly safe.
“There. Look.” I highlight the screen as if Brandon can see me. “A lady is approaching in the background.” She weaves between cars mostly unnoticed, alerting us to the fact that she couldn’t be taller than five feet. Her hair is silver and her body is frail, but something about her makes my skin crawl.