Page 7 of Special Agent Isabella

“Of course, I did. Your black hair streamed down your face, you were barefoot, and delighted to have passed your exams. I’d never seen anyone so filled with good spirits and having fun.”

“Right. Until the next morning when I woke up with the worst hangover I ever had.” Then Stacy made a face, and her grin fell away. “Swore then I’d never drink another beer.”

Tanner chuckled and added, “Hell, woman, you just changed the drink to wine and margueritas.”

Stacy laughed with him. “Guess I have a better tolerance for tequila.

Thankfully, I’m more discerning today. I’ve learned to use a glass for my alcohol.”

His eyes dug into hers, and she knew he’d seen traces of her earlier breakdown. Nothing escaped this man.

He took her hand and led her over to the white leather sofa surrounded by two huge palm plants. He waited for her to sit and then sat close. Taking her hand once again and holding it to his lips, he spoke in a tender voice. “Tell me.”

And she did. No hesitation like what often happened with her late husband, holding back so he wouldn’t worry. No fear of having her words appear in some newspaper or podcast in the future. Pure trust that she could share her worries and never find them in print.

“Lately, I’ve been getting threats. Ones I have to take seriously. They’re different, and they’re terrifying.”

“Explain.”

“They’re coming to me personally.”

“You mean in your private email?”

“Yes. And there are very few people who know that address. Just my sister Suzanna, my uncle Robbie, and Mom, but she seldom uses it. She’s in a care home now, quite restricted by her rheumatoid arthritis and rarely leaves her room.”

“What about the staff here?”

“Well, of course, my personal assistant, Bruce Nolan, has the info too. But he’s as concerned by this sick nonsense as I am. As you can understand, we get all kinds of crackpot garbage on the office websites and general email addresses all the time. God, Tanner, I’m shocked at the number of crazies that have crawled to the surface lately. I’m even more sad to say that we’re used to them.”

“So, what makes these different? Other than where they’re getting through. I’m expecting that you have perimeter defenses and cybersecurity locks for your site.”

“As far as I know. I pay enough for protection.” Stacy brought out her phone and put in her code. “Look. See for yourself but be prepared. They’re strange and disgusting. They terrify me. Here.” She went to her email page. Sure enough, there were a number of messages from a link with no name, only a series of letters and numbers as the recipient.

The first one he saw read:You’re gonna die, Stacy. Slowly. First rape, then torture, and then the final assault… a slow, painful death. You deserve it. Soon…

He kept reading a few more similar messages insinuating horrors that would freak anyone out. When he reached the last one, his hands tightened into fists and his face stiffened, the muscles in his cheeks worked to stop the cuss words she knew he wanted to spill.

Your daughter, Abbie, won’t ever be free from me. I’ll make her sorry you gave birth to her. She’ll be a victim to many men when I sell her on the black market. Soon, baby, soon.

Tanner looked at her, no doubt seeing her white face and shaking hands. He reached out, his voice low and hard. She saw the warrior that others to their detriment had known. His words soothed, and for the first time in days, she felt comforted.

“Not going to happen. Never. Trust me.”

“Oh God, I knew I needed you on the case.”

His eyes traveled to her face and stopped at her eyes. “What else?”

“I was shot at last week. We kept it a secret, but it was terrifying. I’m terrified.”

“What do you need? Anything… ”

“I want you to be my bodyguard until this sicko is found. You and whichever agent you suggest. Please… choose a woman. I’d like her staying close to me at all times… me and Abbie.”

ChapterFive

Isabella hated being held back in her job. Working in the office and seeing all the people who had desk jobs they were invested in, knowing exactly what to do every minute, left her feeling inept.

On the streets, with her last partner who’d left the force due to being pregnant, she’d felt at home. She’d known exactly what each day would bring. Then everything seemed to happen at once.

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