FBI Special Agent Amanda Sims stepped out of the elevator onto the third floor of the Field Office on Leon C. Simon Blvd. in New Orleans, letting a small yawn escape her freshly painted lips. The red-eye flight from DC had given her maybe two hours of cramped, restless sleep. She'd been reassigned with barely enough notice to pack a bag, let alone get a decent night's rest. The lipstick she'd swiped on in the airport bathroom was fresh, but nothing could hide the exhaustion weighing down her limbs.
Taking a sip from her large Starbucks coffee cup, she savored the double espresso's bitter warmth—the only thing keeping her upright at this hour. The caffeine hit her system like a jumpstart as she started down the hallway in search of the briefing office.
"Can I assist you?"
A voice called from her left. She pivoted to see a young agent peeking out of a small office, his expression bright with helpfulness. Fresh-faced with eager eyes, his tie knotted too tight and his suit still holding its factory creases, he couldn't have been more than six months out of the academy.
Giving him a professional smile for his efforts, she nodded. "Yes. I'm looking for Special Agent in Charge Mike Stefon."
"Agent Sims?" the young man inquired.
She inclined her head in confirmation.
"Yes, they're expecting you." He pointed down the hall. "Fourth door on your left."
"Thank you." She smiled as he retreated into his office. Amanda hurried to the fourth door and slipped into the briefing already in progress.
Shit! Am I late?
Then she remembered the time change and mentally kicked herself. Her entrance grabbed the room's attention, including SAC Stefon—a strong man in his late forties with short, choppy black hair and a neatly trimmed beard—who stood at a podium in front of the room. Next to him, a projector displayed the case files of missing girls on a white screen. His stern look cut through her like a knife.
"So glad you could join us this morning," he remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he paused to clarify, "Agent Sims?"
"Sorry, and yes, sir." She nodded curtly, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Heat crept up her neck. "I forgot the time zone change. Won't happen again."
Gruffly, he nodded. "Have a seat and try to keep up."
Frustrated with herself, Amanda took the nearest chair to the door, the metal cold beneath her as she settled in. She wondered if the string of missing child cases was starting to impact her focus. Pushing the thought aside, she concentrated on Stefon as he continued the briefing.
"As I was saying," he drawled, his Louisiana accent thick as he provided details about the events of the past few weeks. "Multiple girls have been kidnapped or gone missing in a disturbingly short time in a small region of Louisiana. Due to the nature of some of the reported kidnappings, all other missing child cases within that time frame have been added to the investigation. We've received very few credible eyewitness reports and tips, but one lead is particularly promising."
Adding another sheet to the projector, Stefon displayed a photo of a black van. Amanda's stomach dropped, her coffee suddenly tasting bitter on her tongue. It looked exactly like Angel's van.
"This vehicle was spotted close to where a teenage girl named Chloe was recently abducted. Her friends reported her missing after she left a party in Baton Rouge, and one friend believes they saw her entering the van in question. Unfortunately, they couldn't get the license plate, and the van disappeared before they could follow."
He tapped the podium with his knuckles and concluded, "Another report on the van suggests it headed south toward New Orleans, so this is where we will begin our search. Any questions?"
"Yes," Amanda spoke up, raising her hand to catch his attention. "Do you think these kidnappings might be connected to the three other recent cases involving The Bible?"
"We don't have sufficient evidence to establish a connection between them, but there are similarities in their methods, and we have agents working on those cases, Agent Sims." He shifted his weight, flipping some pages on the podium. "We are sharing all relevant information just in case."
Amanda was relieved to hear that the different offices were cooperating. She had been involved in enough of these situations to see egos complicate things. Taking a breath, she seized the opportunity to explore how far she could push the idea of teamwork. "I do have a suggestion as well."
He raised his hand, cutting her off mid-sentence. "I know you, Agent Sims, and I am aware of your connections and your fondness for a certain bounty hunter. We don't need any loose cannons on this mission."
So much for cooperation. She sighed internally, her jaw tightening. Speaking up, she defended Angel's actions. "Sir, he's been on a hot streak all summer. He's rescued more kids than we have in any given month."
"Because he breaks the rules, Sims!" Stefon's voice rose, his face reddening. "He doesn't follow protocol or call us until after the fact, which puts those kids at greater risk! I'm not going to entertain this idea anymore. Are we clear?"
She gave a defiant nod of forced agreement, leaned back in her chair, and seethed silently, twisting her coffee cup between her palms. The other agents exchanged knowing looks, showing her reputation had indeed preceded her.
Despite Angel's techniques and how often he pushed things to the limit, she chose not to detain him, instead debriefing him for her report to her boss in DC—Ethan Wilks, Deputy Director of the FBI, and her current lover. An affair she had manipulated early on when Angel left the service to go private, using it to help Angel walk the fine line between licensed bounty hunter and law-breaking vigilante.
Guilt gnawed at her for using Ethan, though she told herself it was for the children. Really, it was her way of staying close to Angel, even though she knew any chance of reconnecting with him had already passed.
"That will be all." Stefon's voice cut through her thoughts. "Everyone's dismissed. Except for you, Agent Sims. Please stay behind."
This earned more knowing smirks from the other agents as they filed out, their footsteps echoing in the suddenly quiet room. Amanda stood at attention as Stefon approached, the tension rolling off him in waves. He sat at the table in a chair beside her and motioned for her to sit back down.
"Look, Sims, I couldn't say this in front of the others." His voice softened, taking on a conspiratorial tone. "But putting protocol aside, I know that sometimes the only way to save these kids is to do things that aren't 'by the book.' But this is far too serious to involve anyone outside of my command."
She saw an opening, leaning forward slightly. "Then let's deputize him. Sir, Angel has something—I don't know what it is—but his tactics are working far better than any I've ever seen. He's captured every criminal without violence or harm to the children. His skill set from the special forces alone dictates we consider him."
"I read the reports, Sims, and some of those rescues have left those assholes mentally unstable." He rubbed his temple, frustration creasing his brow. "We had two who had already been transferred to a mental facility, unable to stand trial. If I wanted Angel here, it wouldn't be to aid this case but to question his tactics. As I said, I'm glad the kids are safe, but he's off the reservation regarding how he's handling it, and I don't have time to debrief him; we don't need him."
"Sir—"
He cut her off with a sharp gesture. "My word is final, Agent Sims. Report to Deputy Tucker in room eight for your assignment. With your rank, you can pick the sweet spots. We'll be out in the field after lunch, looking for leads and conducting interviews. By the book. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." Standing, she nodded, swallowing her argument. "I'll report to the deputy after I freshen up."
"Good enough. You're dismissed, Special Agent Sims." Stefon announced, then turned away to collect his things, effectively ending the conversation.
With a curt nod, Amanda left the office and headed toward the restrooms she had seen when exiting the elevator. Her black dress shoes clicked on the gray vinyl floor as she hurried, the sound sharp in the empty hallway. She pushed open the women's bathroom door, the hinges squeaking softly, and confirmed it was empty.
When she reached the last stall, she opened the door, went inside, and locked it behind her with a metallic snap. She wasn't there to freshen up; she was there to make a call. Taking out her iPhone, she opened her contacts, the screen's glow harsh against her tired eyes. Angel's name appeared at the top, as it always did, even though she rarely called him.
Professionalism be damned. She cursed under her breath, tapping the call icon. I'm not putting those kids' lives at stake for one man's fucking ego.
She could only hope Angel was close enough to help.