Page 21 of The Wayward Sons & The Vampires of Fortune (The Wayward Sons #4)
J esus fucking Christ, I was going out of my mind sitting in that stupid interrogation room. A few bathroom breaks, a meal, and that was it. The tick from the clock on the wall drove me fucking insane.
I was reaching the point of wanting to let the vampires get me. It was better than crawling out of my skin due to the violent waves of emotions in the precinct wearing me down little by little with every passing moment. Anger. Hate. Sadness. Hopelessness. Pain.
So. Much. Fucking. Pain.
It cut deep, hurting in ways I hadn’t felt in a long time. Ways I tried to avoid as much as possible.
I was dying inside.
When the door opened again, my gaze flicked upward, expecting another officer grumpy about having to cater to the whims of the FBI, but instead, a woman leaned against the door.
Blue eyes colder than ice scrutinized me, her mouth set in a tight line.
Despite the FBI badge hanging around her neck, she didn’t look anything like an agent with her leather jacket over a plain shirt, jeans, and boots.
One of my gatekeeping officers—Fitzgerald—was right behind her. The scowl on his face was oddly satisfying. Clearly, he wasn’t thrilled with having to answer to her.
“Ryder Collins,” she murmured. “You’ve been a pain in my ass.”
Just a statement, nothing else. I remained silent despite the way she piqued my curiosity.
“You know his name?” Fitzgerald demanded.
“You boys don’t have a clue who you have here, do you?” The question was rhetorical—full of a hidden amusement only I could feel. But why? “He’s a serial killer.”
Maintaining my composure became significantly harder at that accusation. Why the hell did she think that?
“Ten years and counting. He travels around the country using different aliases to get close to people. They’re dumb as fuck ones too. Taye Quick? Seriously. Did you think anyone would buy that?”
Taye Quick. There was only one way she knew that name.
Gray…
I kept my face carefully blank while she kept talking, but I clung to her every word.
“Apparently, he’s got a thing for Taylor Swift and Twizzlers,” she continued. Fucking Gray. What the hell had he done? “But don’t underestimate just how dangerous he is. You couldn’t handle the things I’ve seen this man do.”
Well, that was an understatement.
“Then why the hell did he get himself arrested?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, now isn’t it?” she retorted. Glancing at him, she added, “You can leave. I’ve got it from here.”
“Do you think you should be alone with him?” Fitzgerald asked when she stepped into the room and started to close the door. “He’s got a whole foot on you, sweetheart. Maybe one of us should—”
“I can fucking handle him,” she interrupted, her voice laced with malice.
That wasn’t faked. I felt it bleed through me, hot and intense.
“There’s a reason your name starts with Officer and mine starts with Agent.
I’m told his lawyer should be here soon.
The asshole has a benefactor looking out for him—don’t ask me why.
We’re still working that one out. Why don’t you make sure he can find us, okay? ”
Without another word, she shut the door on him.
“My name is Andrea Carlisle,” she said, crossing the room and taking out a set of keys. As she uncuffed my hands, she spoke quickly. “I’d say this is a fucking rescue, but I’m about to make your ass work for it.”
“What the hell did Gray do?” I asked.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Andrea replied. She stepped back as I stood. I towered over her, but she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by me.
“You don’t have a clue what’s out there,” I told her quietly. There was no way I could let her take me out of there. Even if Gray had warned her, it wasn’t like she understood. Not really.
“Trust me, we know,” another voice answered when the door opened.
While she didn’t look remotely like an FBI agent, he definitely looked like a lawyer with his dress shirt and pressed pants, neatly combed hair and trimmed facial hair.
Even the briefcase he carried screamed lawyer .
He left the door open with his impatience wafting off him.
“I don’t think you do,” I said once more.
“Let’s just say, Edward Cullen isn’t waiting for us, and this isn’t a Twilight movie.” He smiled—a well-practiced and handsome gesture. “Now, Agent Carlisle is going to handcuff you in the nicest way possible, aren’t you, Agent?”
“Fuck off,” she snapped. There wasn’t an ounce of animosity in her words. I made a face, trying to read the connection they had. There was a myriad of deep emotions that ran between them.
“Officer Fitzgerald gave us access to an alternate exit,” he continued. “Someone tipped the media off that the FBI was picking up a wanted and highly dangerous serial killer. There’s a swarm of people out front, so we’ll have to use a different way to avoid the chaos.”
“ Someone, ” she scoffed. She was quick and proficient as she slipped a pair of handcuffs around my wrists—loose and unhooked. For the appearance. “Did you have fun spinning that story?”
“I have no idea what you mean, Agent.” His smile widened.
“I told Gray to leave it,” I cut in. Just the two of them weren’t enough. Not with everything I knew about the vampires. And if they were hunters? They’d be walking into a death trap.
“He was never any good at listening.”
“How do you know him?”
“Let’s just say, we have a long history,” he replied, and I frowned. I didn’t like his answer. Not one fucking bit. And I certainly didn’t like how he said it either. It sat odd with me. But before I could say anything, he opened the door. “Let’s get you out of here.”