Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“Deputy Marshal Knox, this maybe the way the Marshals run things, but here at the Federal Bureau of Investigation there’s a code of ethics and standards in professional conduct…” Director Carpenter said, clearly very put out. Mitch sighed. He didn’t want to piss off the higher-ups, but he didn’t have time for posturing intradepartmental bullshit.
“Sir, the trail’s growing cold and I want to be in Kentucky by tonight. I feel sure Connors will talk until the plane touches down, catching me up on everything he’s ever known. We’ll keep you apprised every step of the way.” Mitch addressed Director Carpenter with his normal straight-forward attitude. He was the new guy in the mix; he could appreciate that. But he needed to set his ground rules so everyone had a fair playing field. He certainly wasn’t asking for permission nor was he retreating back to the hours-long lecture Connors clearly wanted. He took the lack of response from Carpenter as authorization to head for the door. A disgusted huff sounded behind him. He wasn’t sure exactly which one of them made the noise, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
The initial crime scene report detailed a car explosion, something that was meant to kill the kid, but he’d somehow managed to get several feet from the vehicle before detonation. For Mitch, that mess-up was the first real break he’d seen in all these cases. That left the kid able to give visual identification if he could just pull through the injuries he had from the beating that had taken place before he’d been left for dead.
Mitch made his way out of the offices and to the bank of elevators. He pushed the down button and palmed his phone quickly to text Kreed Sinacola, his partner back in Louisiana. From the beginning, he and Kreed had clicked and the man had helped Mitch in the off-the-clock investigation he’d done in these cases.
Kreed, a former Navy SEAL, bomb expert, and great friend, was as badass as they came in knowing the inner workings of explosive devices. He quickly sent Kreed a message, praying he was local this weekend and could get to Kentucky before he and Connors arrived on-site. His new partner seemed to like control, and Mitch wanted Kreed to have as much time as he could to investigate that car before Connors began micromanaging.
The elevator buzzed open and Mitch never looked up as he typed. By the smell of the cheap cologne, he could tell Connors had decided to follow after all.
“I’ll call and see if we can move the appointment up,” Connors stated, scooting inside the elevator as Mitch held the door open with his foot.
“Nah, let’s surprise them,” Mitch suggested, hitting send on his phone. He kept his eyes trained on the screen, Kreed always responded immediately.
“You might want to change clothes before you meet with the senator,” Connors said matter-of-factly. Mitch could feel his eyes on him.
“This is all I got. I left everything in Dallas when I got summoned,” he explained, watching Connors from the corner of his eye.
“I wondered about that whole You Don’t Know Me Witness Protection T-shirt you’re wearing. I know a quick in and out men’s suit store. It’s close by,” Connors informed him. That had Mitch ignoring the ding that indicated an incoming text and looking straight at the guy.
“You don’t like my shirt? I bought it from a street vendor on my way in. Did I get burrito juice on it? ” Mitch asked, looking down to see if he might have a stain or something.
“It’s inappropriate to wear. Besides that, we don’t do tats around here…” Connors started, clearly on a roll.
“Wait a second. First off, I’m not FBI, and I don’t do that.” Mitch gestured wildly at the suit Connors wore. “Second, this is as good as it gets. So get used to it, fancy boy.” Mitch leaned back against the mirrored elevator wall, ignoring Connors once again, and opened Kreed’s message. Cool, he was still at Camp Beauregard this week and could head out soon. It did come with a huge “you owe me big,” but whatever. He’d happily pay that price.
“You couldn’t stop to get your things?” Connors asked as if the thought had just occurred to him.
“No.” Mitch sighed and stared straight ahead.
“She must have been something,” Connors said, stepping out of the elevator. Mitch took the words as an attempt at levity. The agent failed miserably.
“Something like that. Let’s just say he was hard to leave.” Mitch gave Connors a wink, smirking as he strolled past the now-unusually-quiet agent and headed out a side door of the building. He actually laughed at the stunned look on his face when he glanced back. “I’m driving.”
“You don’t know the way,” Connors finally said as he caught up with him in the parking lot.
“Hope you’re a good navigator,” Mitch retorted.
“Are you always this much of a dick?” Connors asked.
“Pretty much,” he answered, sliding inside the car parked in the closest spot. Mitch started the ignition and dropped the gearshift in reverse before Connors had the seat belt buckled.
Chapter 11
Cody drove the long stretch of Interstate 35 with the driver’s window of his big black four-by-four F250 rolled down. He had his Texas Rangers baseball cap flipped backward and his Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose filtering the bright Texas sun. Blake Shelton sang a tune on the radio.
The trip back to Austin hadn’t been bad, even though the traffic stayed heavy pretty much the whole way back home. Probably because Cody’s mind remained fully focused on Mitch Knox. Now that the night was over, he was incredibly glad he’d gone. JR’s turned out to be exactly what everyone said about the place. Fantastic.
On every level, Mitch was exactly what attracted Cody to a man. He was aggressive¸ clever, built like a Mack Truck, and he had ambition. Not to mention he was superhot, one of the best-looking men Cody had ever seen in person, but he was also down to earth, sarcastic as hell, and damn good at his job. Based on his appearance and attitude, before he’d figured out the man’s identity, he’d have thought Mitch more like a biker kind of guy instead of the decorated deputy US marshal he turned out to be.