Running

Read Running Online

Authors: Calle J. Brookes

Tags: #police procedural, #fbi thriller, #office romance, #kidnapping romance, #women slueth, #romantic suspense fbi

Other Titles

by

Calle J. Brookes

 

Paranormal

The Blood King

Awakening the Demon’s
Queen

The Seer’s
Strength

The Warrior’s
Woman

The Healer’s
Heart

Once Wolf Bitten

Live or Die

The Wolf’s
Redemption

The Dardanos, Co. Omnibus
5-In-1

A Warrior’s Quest

The Wolf God & His Mate
(from EsKape Press)

 

 

Romantic Suspense

Watching (book 1)

Wanting (book 2)

Second Chances: A PAVAD Duet
(book 3 & 4)

Hunting (book 5)

Running (book 6)

 

Calle Jaye Brookes
is first and foremost a fiction writer. She
enjoys crafting paranormal romance and romantic suspense. She reads
almost every genre except horror. In her day job she is a fiction
content editor for an epublisher that opened in 2011. She spends
most of her time juggling family life and writing, while reminding
herself that she can’t spend all of her time in the worlds found
within books. Calle Jaye loves to be contacted by her readers via
email and at 
www.CalleJBrookes.com
.

 

 

 

The Lost River Literary
name and imprint are the sole properties of independent publishers
Calle J. Brookes and B.G. Lashbrooks. They cannot be reproduced or
used in any manner; nor can any of their publications or designs be
used without expressed written permission.

 

This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events or persons, or locations, is entirely
coincidental.

 

All rights reserved,
including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in
any form whatsoever.

 

 

 

****

 

****

 

RUNNING

SMASHWORDS
EDITION

Copyright © 2013 Calle J.
Brookes

Cover by B.G.
Lashbrooks

All rights
reserved.

RUNN
ING

 

 

A PAVAD Romantic
Suspense

 

 

 

CALLE J. BROOKES

 

Lost River Lit

Springs Valley,
Indiana

 

 

 

This book is licensed for
your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given
away to other people. If you would like to share this book with
another person, please purchase an additional copy for each
recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or
it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and
purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of
this author.

 

 

 

And for my own kid, who
helps me see the

good side of life every
single day.

I love you,
Stinkerbell!

 

RUNNING

 

PAVAD Book 6

Chapter One

****

 

Seth Lorcan ached like a
bitch. Every bone in his body reminded him of that. And he didn’t
understand how it had happened. He certainly hadn’t been pulverized
when he’d woken that morning. He’d had two things on his
mind—attending a funeral for a friend and then heading to Lake
Meredith and finishing out his first vacation in eight
years.

This wasn’t what he’d had
in mind.

Someone had tried to kill
him. Dammit.

He hated when that
happened.

He needed to get back to
his place in Amarillo and figure out just who in three hells had
bashed him in the head and stuffed him in an FBI issue
trunk.
That
was
priority one.

But how was he supposed to
do that? He wasn’t even sure
how
he’d ended up in this parking lot. He wasn't even
sure what parking lot or what
agency
he was in. Or what state. And
it had to be an agency—the license plates were mostly
federal.

Someone had hit him over
the head, and next he knew he was in a damned trunk. He didn’t know
who
owned
trunk,
but he’d for damned sure find out. How far up were they in whatever
agency they spawned from? They had to be for him to end up in a
government sedan. What about his whole team? Were they
ok?

Were they involved in
whatever had landed him in the trunk in the first place? Was it one
of his damned teammates? People he worked with every day? They were
the only people who’d known where he was going. Pretty ballsy to
knock him out in broad daylight. There were several on his eight
member team who could do it—and several that he wouldn’t put it
past. FBI, ATF, and DEA were not always good bedmates—even on these
special little task forces that were designed to have agencies
working like nice little playground buddies. Knocking him over the
head and tossing him in a trunk would be just something they'd
play. Hell of a playground game, but not one that surprised him.
Not really.

Pretty shitty of them to do
it the day of their colleague's funeral, though. Or was it more
than that? Was it Antonio's killer who'd knocked him in the skull?
He
had
been at
Antonio Riaz's houseboat when he'd been konked. If it had been one
of his own teammates, who could he call for help? Not his boss, not
his partner. No one. He wasn’t close to anyone; was barely close
enough to his own family to send a twice yearly email, to be
honest. So no help there.

Seth was used to depending
on himself to get out of nasty situations. And he’d landed in quite
a few of those, too. He’d just have to help himself once
again.

He needed a ride and a cell
phone. He took a look around, evaluating each vehicle for both ease
of access and ease of bypassing the ignition. None of the vehicles
looked like something he could mess with quickly. Or easily—nearly
every vehicle had some type of government license plate on it,
except for those parked at the far edges of the level. He strongly
suspected he wouldn’t find an old junker with unlocked doors
anywhere here. Whomever had left these vehicles for the night—and
he had a feeling it was
late
from the lack of sun coming in through the end of
the garage—had locked them up right nice and tighty. He slipped
behind a concrete pillar as a silver SUV drove by, a woman at the
wheel.

Yep, she was going to have
to be his ticket out of here. He'd flash his badge, charm her into
lending him a phone, and then he'd leave her be. He'd ask some
directions, then take her car. It was one of those small house-wife
SUVs, but it would work. He just hoped it was good on gas mileage,
because he was a bit
strapped
for cash. Whoever had knocked him out had taken
his wallet.

Should he? Or should he
hide his ass, walk out of here, find his partner Bertram, get to
the bottom of whatever was going on, find Riaz’s killer, and then
make it back to the office on Monday like nothing had ever
happened? Then rip the unit apart, finding out who the other
traitor was—the one he’d been put in that unit to find in the first
place?

What other option did he
have?

He circled the row of
vehicles, keeping his head down, and headed toward the back row
where the SUV and driver waited. She was climbing out and he took a
moment to study her, looking for the most obvious weaknesses. Every
woman had a way of being charmed—he just had to find this
woman's.

She was a damned hot woman,
long red hair curling down half her back. Curved in all the right
places. Yeah, too bad he was about to scare the shit out of her.
There were so many other things a guy could do with a girl like
her.

She was young and
vulnerable looking. Office staff or computer would be his best
guess. He went with the second hunch when she grabbed two laptop
bags and slung them over her shoulder. She was one of the computer
geeks, then.


Hey, babe.”

She closed the door. He
grabbed her shoulder and then her arm when she jerked around at his
voice.

He let her go, then held up
his hands, unthreatening. “It’s ok, baby. I don’t plan on hurting
you.” He stepped out of the shadows more fully.

She stilled for a moment,
becoming almost calm. It surprised him. She should still be
fighting—did she not have more self-preservation than that? She
should be backing away, ready to run from a strange guy approaching
her at night, in a dark parking garage. “What are you
doing?”


I’m in a bit of a bind,
and you’re my ticket out of here.” He stepped close enough to grab
again, if needed.


What do you want from
me?”

The fear and nerves were
back in her voice. Poor kid. But figuring out what the hell had
happened to him vs. momentary fear for her? No brainer. If
his
arrival
at
this place had been something more sinister than a joke, the last
thing he'd want to do is involve some innocent woman in the shit.
So, yeah, a bit of fear for her, compared to someone getting dead?
She’d get over it. “The keys and a computer. That’s all I
need.”

She took a deep breath,
started to say something, and then hesitated. “Come inside;
my
husband
—he’s
inside. He’ll help you. He’s a unit chief with PAVAD. He can help.
Can help.”


Honey, the last man who
got involved in whatever shit this is got himself dead. So no
offense if I pass on your offer; that’ll keep your husband nice and
safe. Keys.” He snatched her keys from her hand before she could
react. “Now, computer. I’ll be generous—I’ll only take one. How’s
that?” He grabbed the strap of one computer bag.

She exhaled, dug her
fingers into his arm. “
No
. There’s confidential information
on there. You can’t have it. I just can’t give it to
you.”

Well, he hadn’t
expected
that.
Her husband should have taught her to cooperate with
carjackers. Car-requisitioners. Especially requisitioners who
flashed FBI badges. It was a hell of a lot less risky than
fighting. If
he
ever had a wife he’d make damned sure she could take care of
herself.

He didn’t have time for
this, and as soon as he took her car she’d be making a big stink,
and they’d probably close the gate before he even got down to the
lowest level. He pulled his spare weapon from the holster on his
back. “Damn, girl. Can’t you be a
bit
more cooperative? I’m in trouble
here; I need to get out of it. It’s for the good of the many. I'll
explain it all after I've done what needs done. Will even bring
your car back, freshly washed and detailed. Even put a flame strip
down the side to match that hair of yours. How’s that?”

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