Whistleblower (PALADIN Book 1)

It took us less than two hours to get to Kansas on a chartered jet. The drive back is significantly longer, due to some cargo we had to return. This is why I hate Callen calling the shots. He always takes what should be simple and complicates the hell out of it.

“How’s your shoulder?”

Lance winces from the passenger seat as he pokes his wound. The left arm of his suit jacket is soaked. “Still bleeding, obviously.”

“There’s a safe house forty minutes East. Do you want to stop?”

“With fuckwad in the trunk? No. I can make it.”

Callen needed information, so we had to bring home some work with us. We gave our guest a very strong sedative so he’d be quiet in the trunk for the remaining eight hours we had to go.

“I’d prefer you don’t bleed out in here. I promised Vesper I’d try to bring you home alive,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster with the little energy I have left. I flip on my turn signal, moving to the right lane.

“No, Linc. I said I’ll wait until we get back.”

“The fuck is your problem?” I growl as I tighten my grip around the wheel. My hand is sore, possibly fractured. It would not kill us to take a breather. It’s been twenty-nine hours since we’ve slept, twelve targets down and one tied up in the trunk. We’ve more than earned the reward of rest.

“It’s the medics at the safe house. They’ll want to stitch this up.” He taps his shoulder.

“Yeah genius, stitches might help with the bleeding,” I snark.

We were outgunned but it was nothing we couldn’t handle. Lance tripped and was exposed for half a second too long. A bullet grazed his left shoulder, slicing him open like a roast chicken.

“If I get stitches from one more field medic, I will officially look like Frankenstein. I need an actual surgeon who understands scarring. Even Cricket says I’m starting to look like I just walked off the set of The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

“You’re worried about scars?”

He scoffs. “Some of us like to look good naked.”

“Fair point. Maybe we can get an in-house doctor to stitch you up and do your annual pap smear too.”

“You prick,” he gripes. “You’re just jealous because, after me, Ellie referred to you as the baby carrot.”

“You did not fuck Ellie.”

“Wanna bet?”

I have never, nor will I ever share a woman with Lance, but he likes to taunt me. Not to mention, Ellie is a fake name. I don’t tell Lance about my actual dalliances, although sometimes I lie to him just to keep his wheels spinning. Ellie is a fictitious stripper from Clemmons—a well-known gentleman’s club on the West side of town. Lance proudly informed me that he took Ellie for a spin after I raved about her flexibility and athleticism. The only problem with his story is she doesn’t exist.

“All right, have it your way.” I push down on the gas pedal, accelerating. If we’re headed straight home, let’s at least get there quickly.

“Hey, what was with you yesterday by the way?” Lance asks as he turns down the radio. I’m not sure why it’s even on, it’s just static.

“What do you mean?”

“With the new HR chick.”

“You’re twenty-seven. Grow up,” I grumble. “Quit saying ‘chick.’ She’s a woman.”

“Yeah, see?” Lance points his finger at me. “Woman,” he mocks. “What’s up with Prince Lincoln over here? You put your gun away.”

“She doesn’t like guns.”

“And you ate a muffin.”

“I was being polite.” I try to feign nonchalance.

“Linc.”

“What?”

“Don’t go there, man.”

We sit in silence as I watch the headlights dance off the reflective lane lines. It’s so dark that if it wasn’t for the glowing tape, I wouldn’t be able to see the road fully alert, let alone amidst my sleep exhaustion.

Curiosity finally claims me. “Humor me. What’s the warning for?” What could possibly be concerning about Eden?

“Callen brought her in.”

“Obviously.”

“No, I mean—what do you know about Dr. Eden Abbott?”

Outside of the fact that she has the cutest pouty smile, the most lickable cheeks I’ve ever seen in my life, and she’s squeamish around violence—nothing. “What do you know?”

“Remember the enormous tech company that went under a little while back—Empress?”

“The one that was selling data to terrorist organizations?”

“Mhm,” Lance mumbles as he opens the glove box and pulls out a few napkins. He presses against his arm and the napkins quickly turn red. “She’s the one who went to the feds with proof. She took a lot of shit for it, too. The company sued her and she went bankrupt. She was jobless and nearly homeless. She filed eight police reports for harassment and stalking in the past year.”

My jaw instinctively clenches. “The fuck? From who?” I bite out.

“From what I understand, former Empress employees who were pissed about losing their jobs. I think that’s why Callen eventually scooped her up and got her out of there.”

So this is why she’s so skittish. It doesn’t matter how righteous the cause is, informants always end up marked. It explains why she flinches like a puppy that’s been kicked one too many times.

“How do you know all of this? You looked her up?”

“Fuck yeah I did. There’s someone new suddenly all up in our business…of course I looked her up.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. What’s your concern?”

“Her loyalty is to Callen. It’ll only be a matter of time before Vesper sees the light of day and we’re moving on from the FBI. How long do you really think we can all get along for? This is temporary. She’s fun to look at, and hell, even I want to know what her tits look like, but it’s not smart, Linc. We don’t belong to the FBI, the CIA, or DIA. We’re free agents and Vesper will remember that soon. Do whatever you want with your dick, but don’t get attached. At the end of the day, she’s Callen’s girl.”

I don’t think she’s Callen’s girl. She’s just a girl. Just a normal girl…

I’m still picturing the look on her face when she saw those photos—shock and terror. There isn’t an evil bone in her body. She was genuinely scared, and I can’t explain it, but I have this urge to make her feel safe. I don’t ever want to see that look of dread in her eyes again.

I haven’t stopped wondering how she’s doing. I’ll admit that half of my eagerness to get home isn’t just to dump this prisoner off into custody. It’s to see her again—her smile. Just to know she’s okay.

I realize I still need to explain myself.

I just need to see her first…

I also need to figure out why all my thoughts are suddenly so occupied with Eden. I’m not sure why I’m so quickly drawn to this woman. It’s never happened to me before. There’s a lot I don’t understand at the moment, but one thing rings clear…

“Lance,” I say, tightening both hands around the wheel.

“What?”

“You will never get to know what Eden Abbott’s tits look like.” I peel my eyes off the road to glance at him menacingly. “Got it?”