Silly little details… really? What a woman! How lucky could a guy get?Rushing to the bedroom, Whit’s happy laugh rang through the walls to lift the ears of the large wolf lying next to the fawn on the front porch.
~*~*~*~
If you enjoyed reading this trilogy, you might like to read the book where Demi Fedora was first introduced as a secondary character.
Undercover FBI Series - Book #15 – Special Agent Isabella
https://mybook.to/specialagentisabella
Free in Kindle Unlimited
How the hell can Isabella be a bodyguard for the governor’s daughter when little people scare her silly? She’d rather face a drugged-up sicko with a loaded handgun & frequently has.
Since Agent Tanner set up the job, her plan is to deal with him too. And the sneak isn't going to like what she has to say.
*** See Chapter One below
Prologue and Chapter One – Special Agent Isabella
Prologue
She couldn’t breathe.
Every second he ground his body into hers, his savageness destroyed her faith in mankind. Rank breath, scratching beard, and the disgusting panting increased the crushing revulsion and fear she couldn’t get past. Shock began to overwhelm her. His hurting hands ripped at her clothes, and the inevitable moment came closer.
Then she saw the whites of his eyes. Delight at the violence of his actions widening them in the darkness. Her brain charged… a memory or a voice, or maybe just the fighting spirit she’d been born with kicked in. Acting in pure desperation and without thinking, she screamed in fury, worked her hand free and struck… gouging claws ripping at his eyes.
When the creep lunged off her to grab at his face, she shoved him aside, shot to her feet, and ran for freedom.
So close. So… so close.
As she ran, lungs bursting for air, snot mixed with tears pouring down her thirteen-year-old face, she made a promise to herself. One day she would do something about other girls forced to suffer this kind of treatment.
For those who endured because they couldn’t get away.
Chapter One
Isabella Mendez had put in a full day’s work as an FBI agent, working out of the field office and hating every minute. Hunger and weariness joined forces, tempting her to drive straight to her apartment complex and call it a day.
Opening her hidden stash, she slid her hand into to the bag she kept on the floor in the back seat that contained her goodies. Being a car slob, she had empty cans, chocolate bar wrappers, and crumpled candy packages everywhere. Since she seldom drove her own vehicle to work, she kept her secret stash well hidden from everyone. Not that she gave a damn if her bad habit became known… okay, maybe she did. But not enough to clean up the mess. Considering everything else in her life had to be immaculate, she decided early on, she was allowed one shameful trait.
Rubbing her forehead, she imagined releasing her hair from the roll she pinned it up in every morning so the escalating headache would release its grip.
Then she’d take a swim in the pool in her building, go upstairs to shower, and catch up on the latest series she’d been binging on for the past week. Anything to keep her mind from revisiting her suddenly boring days.
But… she didn’t drive in that direction. Instead, she headed to Fulton House to help Demi with the bunch of teens staying there tonight. The call she’d gotten an hour ago had determined this choice. Demi had been offhanded, not like herself at all. She’d enquired as to whether Bella would be coming later. Again… not like herself.
Isabella never met anyone more independent. Private about all things, Demi asking for help happened so seldom. And yet, her foster sister had called. So, now, Isabella would try to find out exactly why.
As she drove to the building that housed the homeless youths, ones that only had the streets to live on, but who came to Fulton to be safe, she wondered about the call and what it meant.
Demi had given her a few details about a hopped-up dopie called Hewie who’d arrived at the door the night before, stumbling, cussing, screaming insults, and demanding entrance.
Unable to talk him down, Demi had stood up to the kid, going into details about what she’d said. “I told him, don’t come here stoned out of your mind or falling-down drunk. Being rude and aggressive and expecting to be welcomed isn’t going to happen. If you can’t be respectful to everyone, and that includes the staff, then don’t come back till you can be.”
Normally, Bella knew no one was turned away if they truly had a need. But there had to be some limitations. Like carrying a weapon. The law in Arizona had a restriction on anyone under the age of 18 possessing or owning a firearm. Therefore, it was also the firm rule in this downtown Phoenix Fulton House.
Not that there should be a problem at this address because the Fulton House residency at this location only served those under eighteen. Other places were available for the older ages – sixteen to twenty-four. But rules make no difference when a messed-up youth is involved, as Bella knew from experience. Mostly, they dance to their own sick music. Especially those like the described Hewie, whose pickled mind cared only about the crap it craved.