In the Bloodline E-Book

Angel Rupert

• Herausgeber: Bentockiz
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Although I missed, I heard a grunt of pain. As if reading my thoughts, he took my right hand in his and turned it over, examining the back of it. Then, without a word, he removed the ice pack from his jaw and gingerly laid it across my knuckles. I have never had a chance to actually study those hands, I thought idly as one of his thumbs massaged my palm. I really like those hands.

Leseprobe

Title Page

In the Bloodline

Passion and Promises

Angel Rupert

In the Bloodline / 1st of series: Passion and Promises / By Angel Rupert

Published 2023 by Bentockiz

e-book Imprint: Calkden Norsh

e-book Registration: Stockholm, Sweden

e-book ISBN: 9789198848700

e-book editing: Athens, Greece

Cover Images created via AI art generators

Table of Contents

Title Page

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Introduction

Through books we come into contact with everything important that has happened in the past, analyzing also current events and putting our thoughts together to predict the future. The book is a window to the world, acquiring valuable knowledge and sparking our vivid imagination. It is a means of entertainment and is generally seen as a best friend, or as a slave that carries together all valuable information for us. The book is a friend who stays together without demands, a friend you call upon at every moment and abandon when you want.

It accompanies us in the hours of boredom and loneliness, while at the same time it entertains us. In general, a book does not ask anything from us, while it waits patiently on a dusty shelf to give us its information, to get us out of dead ends and to travel us to magical worlds.

This may be the travel mission of our books. Abstract narration, weird or unconscious thoughts difficult to be understood, but always genuine and full of life experiences, these are stories of life that can’t be overlooked easily.

This may be the start of something amazing!

Chapter One

Arriving back at the Agency after an unproductive month in LA in which the particularly nasty serial killer we were after managed to evade our team of agents as well as the FBI, I threw my suitcase in my office and headed across the hall to the bathroom. The perp had apparently either fled the city or gone so far underground that we finally had to put our pursuit of him on hold until he struck again.

That didn’t sit well with any of us as his crime scenes were particularly gruesome. The scumbag would pick out a young, redheaded female, kidnap her, take her to a remote and secluded area, and then proceed to carve her up beyond recognition while sexually assaulting her. The FBI had been called in after the man began crossing state lines and, after almost six months of grisly murders with absolutely no leads, the Director of the FBI called Garnet.

Of course, being a natural redhead, I had been used as the bait, but after weeks of frequenting every possible bar, library, mall, as well as many other public places in the murderer’s recent strike zone, we finally had to admit defeat. We were having no more luck than the FBI and I suspected it was because I was too old. All of the other victims had been under thirty, and most of them closer to twenty.

Sighing heavily, I resolutely pushed the depressing thoughts away as I pushed open the door to the bathroom across the hall from my office...and immediately gagged. I hated sharing facilities with pigs. Actually, pigs would have been a welcome change from the male portion of the human race. Men were such slobs. One would have thought that a group of government agents who prided themselves on their deadly aim with a weapon would be able to handle hitting a target directly in front of them with their disgusting male equipment without any problem, but apparently not. Go figure...

I fervently wished there had been time for me to drop by my apartment, but the car Garnet had sent to pick me up at the airport had brought me straight back to the Agency.

As I moved down a floor in search of a restroom I could use without becoming reacquainted with my lunch in a singularly disgusting manner, I became even more depressed. The halls were bare. After ten years, I shouldn’t have expected any differently, but I’d just spent over a month in a California city that had no idea what snow even looked like and even they knew how to conjure up a festive atmosphere despite the lack of nature’s adornment.

Three weeks to Christmas and not a single holiday decoration graced the Agency hallways. True, the convenience store, electronics show floor, and the Mexican restaurant were all lit and loaded with festiveness, but the floors below that housed the actual Agency offices were totally bare.

Sure, I was able to personalize my office enough to slightly resemble a modicum of holiday cheer—i.e. a tiny pre-lit fake tree, a string of lights draped from my desk, and a pumpkin spice candle that I seldom had time to actually use—but as soon as I stepped outside of my domain...bah humbug. Every bit of wall and floor space at the Agency was dismally blah. Not that the rooms and hallways weren’t well-lit—they were—but blah just the same.

I loved Christmas. Every year I brought home a small live tree and pulled out all of the ornaments I’d bought on sale after previous holidays in order to decorate my apartment. Then, ignoring Garnet’s yearly protests, I stayed home on Christmas Eve Day and Christmas Day, sipping hot chocolate and listening to Christmas music while I sat on my couch mesmerized by the lights on my tree.

When I first joined the agency, I’d tried to bring a little Christmas cheer to the austere halls and walls, but no one ever appreciated it so I finally gave up and limited my seasonal adornment to my own space. It had taken only two years—two Christmas seasons—to realize that nobody cared. There would be no Secret Santa, no presents, no party, no anything. None of Garnet’s agents cared about Christmas...few if any of them had families—at least no family that any would admit to—and the whole season meant absolutely nothing to them.

I cried once I acknowledged to myself that it was a futile effort, but only once...and no one else ever knew.

No one knew because I couldn’t afford to be soft. In my job, I had to be tough in order to survive, just as I had for years, ever since that night fifteen years ago when I’d lost my whole life...

Even though I heard the elevator ding behind me as I stood outside the restroom drawing in fresh gulps of air, hoping the vile smells wouldn’t stick to me, I didn’t turn around. I was too busy trying not to pass out, throw up, or just die right there on the spot.

And, believe it or not, it wasn’t as bad as the first two bathrooms I’d attempted. I used to take one of my spray perfume bottles in with me, but that actually made the smell worse and I’d given up. I’d definitely have to wait until I got back to my apartment before attempting a shower. No way I’d survive long enough in any of the bathrooms.

“Hey Boop!”

Although, as I turned, I threw the man hailing me from the elevator a glare that could melt iron, Spike, as was his way, totally ignored it.

The Pack was back from Europe...that would explain why the bathrooms smelled worse than a sewer.

“Whatcha been up to, Boop?”

“That’s what I get for picking ‘Gladys’, a fake name with more than one syllable,” I grumbled under my breath. “Too hard for men—and for that read morons—to handle.”

I was beyond tired of that nickname, but at least most didn’t abuse it like Finch had. Even though I’d always been aware of the less than complimentary adaptation, few used it to my face and I suspected Finch wouldn’t have either if he hadn’t been at the end of his rope. The man hated his position of leadership in Europe, but Garnet had no other viable option at the moment since his predecessor had been killed a year earlier.

The death of the Italian official had hit Finch hard and he’d reacted with anger...it was understandable. I was thankful that Garnet had finally sent the Pack to help him and left them there for a few weeks.

“Sorry you didn’t catch that murderous bastard, Boop. Wish we coulda helped, but...” he shrugged.

As I approached him, all I could do was shake my head and shake it off. I was never going to get rid of that honorary title.

“Thanks,” I replied with a resigned sigh.

Even when Spike was being sincere, he still managed to slip that nickname in there. Since he was the one that had come up with it, I suspected it was a point of pride with him. He used it every chance he got.

The first time Spike had ever laid eyes on me, I’d been wearing a short black wig—my shoulder-length red hair tucked up underneath it—and a tight red dress that didn’t cover much, having just returned from an assignment, and he’d taken one look at me and yelled “Hey look, guys, it’s Betty Boop.”

The Pack had howled with laughter and after that, the mutts used it often...way too often. All of them except Wolf, I amended, the newest member of the Pack. He was younger than the rest and had apparently been raised right. Unlike the others members of his Pack, he remained polite and respectful at all times.

It was too bad that Garnet had gotten his claws into Wolf because he would have made some lucky young woman a fine husband. Not only was he a gentleman, he was something to look at with his killer white-toothed smile, which contrasted sharply with his milk chocolate skin. He had a face reminiscent of a young Denzel Washington, a speaking as well as singing voice that could melt butter in the dead of winter, and hands that could make a guitar do anything he wanted.

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how in the world he’d merited the nickname Wolf...or how Garnet had managed to recruit him.

Usually I had no trouble picking up tidbits about agents—I knew pretty much all there was to know about the rest of them—but no one was talking about Wolf. I had to admit to an idle curiosity about him. If I’d been a decade younger, I would have chased him down myself and had him at the altar so fast his head would have still been spinning.

“Garnet heard you got in and he’s asking for you,” Spike continued.

“Where is he?” I asked as I stopped in front of him and the elevators.

“He’s in his office checking in some new recruits that Fields brought back. They’re something else.”

“Oh? Is that what Fields has been up to? That would explain why Garnet put you in charge of Finch’s European Op once you got there.”

“Hey, I’m good,” Spike protested, “Nobody died on my watch and we caught two of the assassins. I don’t need Fields to hold my hand.”

“Your leash, you mean.”

“I’m surprised Garnet didn’t tell you about Fields. I thought you and Garnet shared everything.”

“As usual, that’s what you get for thinking. Didn’t involve me, so no reason for me to know. Can’t be too important if he sent Fields instead of going himself.”

“Wanna bet?” Spike leaned towards me and whispered, “Garnet was still pissed about the Pack taking off to rescue...well...anyway...he told Fields not to come back to the States until he had these guys...all three of them. I heard it with my own ears.”

“Eavesdropping again?”

“Not my fault Garnet doesn’t always close his door,” Spike protested.

Somehow, I managed to refrain from pointing out that Garnet always closed his door, but that never stopped the mutts from pressing their ears against it.

“So, who were you off rescuing?”

“Classified Pack business, Boop.”

I knew better than to think I could get anything out of Fields’ Pack. They were without a doubt a bunch of gossiping old ladies under normal circumstances, but were a notoriously tight-lipped bunch when it came to missions...especially when the General was involved. That highly decorated five-star General would have handed the Pack their canine asses on a plate otherwise.

“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes and changed the subject. “Why would Garnet send Fields? He usually doesn’t trust anybody to do his major recruiting for him.”

“Garnet flew to Afghanistan and tried, but couldn’t get them,” Spike confided. “Fields knows them...or at least he’s dealt with them before...over in the Middle East. It took him a while, but he finally got them here. I don’t think anybody else would have been able to do what he did.”

“Not even you?”

“They don’t know me from Adam.”

“I thought Fields and his ‘kennel’ were connected at the hip during your military days. Where were you?”

“I was...around,” Spike hedged.

“Ah...I smell a story.”

“Not a story,” Spike contradicted, “just a...situation.”

“What kind of situation?”

“It was no big deal,” Spike mumbled. “We just kinda...well...lost him.”

“You lost him...? You lost Fields...?”

“Hey, it wasn’t our fault...there was this huge sandstorm and reception wasn’t good and we may have misunderstood what Fields said...”

“You went to the wrong pick-up point,” I unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a laugh. “That is hilarious.”

“Anyway,” Spike glowered at me, “the Foreign Legion guys were closer, so they picked him up.”

“Foreign Legion, huh...? Interesting...”

“According to Fields, the three of them are the best.”

“At what...?”

“Everything,” he replied. “They sure look like they can take care of themselves...and anybody else that gets in their way.”

“So you have met them?”

“Sorta...”

“What do you mean by ‘sorta’?”

“Well, the only one that talks is the guy Garnet called Condor. He has a cool Eastern European accent and looks like some type of Romanian prince or something. I bet he always scores with the ladies.”

“And the other two...?” I prompted, refusing to comment on Spike’s envious statement.

“Garnet called the shortest guy Grunt...don’t even want to know how he got that name,” Spike shuddered. “Sounds like some sort of major intestinal malfunction to me. The youngest dude he called Fresco...that’s a diet drink...right? Bunch of weirdo nicknames if you ask me.”

“Says the mutt...”

“Hey...it’s a bonding thing,” Spike growled. “Anyway, Garnet’s with them right now and he sent me to find you...wants to introduce the new guys to the resident fishwife, no doubt.”

“Thanks for the info, Spike,” I said agreeably, ignoring the far-from-subtle jab as I entered the elevator and punched the button for UG1, the top floor of the four underground levels that made up the Agency.

Spike’s conversations usually consisted of a lot of unnecessary comments and/or banter, but Spike never meant anything by his teasing. Most of the time, he was actually quite likable. Of course, I never let on to him. I didn’t need that type of problem...a mutt following me around with needy puppy dog eyes.

“My pleasure, Boop,” Spike returned just as agreeably. “Break them in gently, darlin’. Don’t give the US a bad name.”

I barely heard the nickname or the endearment as the elevator doors shut and I was left alone to ponder the three new recruits. The Foreign Legion, until recently, refused to allow anyone to use their real names, which held a lot of appeal for men with things to hide...or hide from. I wondered what or who had sent our three recruits running for cover.

Moving swiftly through the corridors to Garnet’s office, I quietly opened the door without knocking, slipped in, and immediately melded into the shadow of a huge filing cabinet just inside the room in order to do my own evaluation. I had no doubt the three men were as good as Spike said...I didn’t care about that. My main concern was what type of men Garnet had hired.

I always got nervous when Garnet recruited new people. In my position, that of decoy, bait, go-between, and Intel central, any dealings I had with agents were chock full of potential trouble. As I’d informed Al, Garnet insisted that every meeting be a lover-like rendezvous whether the other agent was male or female, and that often-times led male agents into thinking they could take certain liberties with me.

I hated liberty-taking males.

My anxiety had nothing to do with my ability to deal with said males, but everything to do with blowing my cover. I had yet to meet the male I couldn’t handle...the problem was that any time I had to ‘handle’ them, it threatened the mission.

Of course, that never stopped me.

One of the three men stood talking to Garnet while the other two stood off to the side listening. They were all big men—the shortest standing somewhere just shy of six foot, the tallest well over—and even their muscles had muscles. I remained unimpressed. In our business, men like that were the norm rather than the exception.

“You will spend a week training in lethal and non-lethal hand-to-hand with a retired agent...” Garnet was saying.

“Retired...?” the man I took to be Condor raised an eyebrow.

“If you can impress Shun, he will then send you to Jake. If you get an early seal of approval from both, you won’t be required to stay the entire week,” Garnet conceded. “However, I feel it only fair to warn you that those two have very high standards and no one except Fields has ever been allowed to leave before the week was up. Of course, he still had to stay three days, but...”