Page 8 of Haunted

“Harsh, Lanes. Factual, but harsh.” He dipped his head in her direction.

For the longest time, we figured the back-and-forth between the two of them was a ruse to hide the fact they’d gotten together in the biblical sense. We’d even gone so far as to take bets on which one would slip up first. The more they fought, though, it became quite apparent they were more like brother and sister than lovers.

“Just say the word and Nelson would be more than happy to help,” she offered.

“Thanks. I might take you up on it if I can’t find anything in the next couple of days. The girl is like vapor.”Sammy raised her eyebrow. “Yeah. The irony is not lost on me.”

Eleven years ago, I was gifted with a fresh start, a new beginning not many people were afforded. Which was why my team and the director of the FBI were among the few on a very short list who knew my true identity and only because I trusted them with my life.

Being the son of a serial killer would have been a death sentence for my career—pun intended. No one would have given a shit I’d been the one who found all the evidence used to convict him. In the back of their feeble minds, they’d always wonder if the apple fell far enough from the tree. At least that’s what I told myself.

“All right, people, we’ve got a live one.” Special Agent Duncan Palmer rounded the corner from the back offices with Waverly at his side. I’d been blindsided with an introduction to him a short time before stepping foot onto the grounds of Quantico. Apparently, Jasper and Waverly felt my surly attitude needed a bit of an adjustment.

“Go ahead, kid. Show me what you’ve got.”

“Excuse me?”

Soon after we’d finished the lunch Heather prepared, the behemoth of a guy, who’d shown up with Waverly, told me to take a walk with him. Since I was curious as to why in the hell he was in my home—well, Jasper and Heather’s home—to begin with, I reluctantly agreed.

The second we stepped into the expansive backyard, Duncan spun around in front of me, arms spread out at his side.

“Take a swing.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Good to know she—” he nodded toward the house “—went to bat for a pussy.”

I swung out with my right fist, catching air as he sidestepped easily.

“Lesson number one.” He got in my face, moving faster than a man his size should be able to. “Emotions have no place on the battlefield.”

“Jesus Christ! This is my backyard, not some battlefield.”

My legs left the ground as he swept them out from under me. I landed flat on my back with an “ooph” and before I had a chance to move, he’d straddled my chest with his thick thighs.

“Look around you, kid. Life is one battle after another. For far too long, you’ve been waging a war inside that head of yours. What you have to decide is whether you’re going to let him win or are you going to man the fuck up?”

“I’m. Not. Him,” I growled, rolling my hips to try to knock him off-kilter. It didn’t work, of course, since he had four inches and about seventy pounds on me.

“Then prove it.” He stood effortlessly, offering me his hand. “Not to me or Waverly, and not to Jasper or Heather. Prove it to yourself. Now clear your head of all the bullshit swirling around in there and take another shot.”

I did, connecting with the underside of his jaw, nearly breaking my hand in the process. He swayed backward for a heartbeat, otherwise unaffected by my punch.

“Again,” he growled.

We danced around each other, exchanging blow after blow, until finally I landed a gut shot which took him to a knee. When I put out my hand to help him stand, though, he returned the favor with a shot between my legs.

“Lesson number two.” He chuckled when I dropped to my knees in pain, cradling my wounded balls in my hand. “I don’t fight fair.”

No one knew Duncan’s background beyond what we’d beentold. He’d been on an operation when his cover was blown. Like myself, he’d been reborn as someone new; his past redacted.

“Let the games begin,” Koen smirked. “Mom and Dad are in the house.”

His comment may have been said jokingly, however, it painted an accurate picture of our team. Each of us came from different backgrounds, still we managed to function as one. “A cohesive unit with a side of dysfunctional family thrown in the mix to make life interesting,” was how Lanie described us. She was not wrong.

Sammy excused herself, taking her cup of coffee to the reception area near the front door, where she spent the majority of her day answering calls and keeping us organized. The rest of us, minus Nelson who was busy clicking away on his keyboard, gathered around the long wooden table on the left side of the room where we held most of our briefings.

As far as satellite offices went, ours was pretty standard. A bathroom with an attached locker area, a secure weapons slash tech room, a small interrogation room, a holding cell, and two private offices in the back for the highest ranking agents.

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