Whistleblower (PALADIN Book 1)

He got me good.

When I saw Chandler—actually Linc—at first, I was pleasantly surprised. I didn’t realize this was an all-hands meeting. I was already preparing a quippy remark about another conversation so soon… Until it hit me.

There was something about the way the agents in the room didn’t want to look at him. Even Callen seemed a bit more tense when Linc entered the room. He isn’t a maintenance man who changes light bulbs and empties waste baskets, he’s the pictureless man that Callen seemed a little afraid of. But why am I so surprised? Why do I even care?

Because you instantly liked him.

I ignore my internal musing and refocus as I uncap the hot pink Expo marker in my hand and begin to draw on the enormous whiteboard. A burst of strawberry scent fills my nose and I chuckle to myself as a memory comes to mind.

I think of the very first time I gave this presentation. I was only twenty-two, still in grad school, and building my portfolio as a consultant. I was so damn nervous. The net worth of that company was in the ballpark of billions. The executives in the room made more money in a year than I would ever see in my lifetime. Their smart suits and dress shoes probably cost more than my car and yet, they were looking at me like I had the solution to the severe morale problem within their company. I was shaking as I drew the triangle on the whiteboard until I smelled something fruity.

It took me a minute to realize the smell was coming from the marker in my hand. Grape. A girly grape whiteboard marker. A bunch of rich, middle-aged white men, full of scowls and skepticism, used a sickeningly sweet, grape-scented marker to conduct their meetings.

For some reason it made me feel better. So much better.

I knocked that presentation out of the park. Morris and Hauser Inc. still recommend my consulting services to this day. Or at least they did—until last year.

I breathe in as the memory fades and I’m brought back to reality by the scent of strawberries this time. It’s far more tolerable than the grape.

I feel his eyes on me as I draw a triangle on the whiteboard. His gaze is scorching. Not Callen. Not the goofball playboy, Lance. Not any of the FBI agents in the room whom I’ve secretly nicknamed Agent Smith one through seven. No… Him.

Lincoln.

I resist the urge to turn around and peek, and instead write the power words on each side of the triangle.

Okay, yes—you were attracted to him. Honestly, any woman would be.

He’s incredibly handsome—broodingly sexy. He has sandy-blond hair, with just a touch of scruff on his cheeks that’s neatly trimmed. All the angles of his face are perfectly chiseled, like his maker spent extra time on this prize creation. He’s like a GQ model in a suit, but far more athletic-looking.

But I don’t do liars.

He didn’t even flinch as he looked right into my eyes and skillfully misled me about who he was. Speaking of his eyes—his light eyes–the faintest hue of baby blue, and a charcoal rim surrounding them. I can picture them with perfect accuracy because they are ingrained in my brain.

And I certainly don’t do killers.

I purposely avoid Linc’s gaze when I spin around.

“Okay, everyone, I promise this isn’t a lesson in rudimentary shapes.” There’s a low murmur of chuckles. Okay… That joke usually does a bit better, but let’s move on. “As you know by now, I’m Eden Abbott. I’m going to skip the introduction about my education and experience because while I don’t find it particularly boring, you all will.” There’s a louder rumble of chuckles. There we go. Much better. “Callen asked me to come here and help with PALADIN because obviously this team is going through a big…let’s say, merger?” I glance Callen’s way and he shrugs. Unhelpful. But “merger” is the closest business term I can think of for this bizarre situation. “Essentially, I work as a liaison. You guys tell me what you need, then I tell the people who sign your paychecks how to fulfill that need, within reason. I’ve tried in the past, and I’ve only once been able to secure one margarita machine for a company’s break room, so please don’t hold your breath on that.” That earns me a full round of laughter and I’m officially satisfied that the crowd is warm.

“I’ve studied quite a few companies and what I can say with confidence is that, while every business functions a little differently, the motor is the same. Successful companies have happy employees. It’s as simple as that. So, I’m here to figure out a way to make everyone happy. In my experience, it boils down to three different core needs.” I point to the words on the board, one by one. I drew such a large triangle that I have to rise to my tippy toes to touch the top point.

“Fun. Communication. Safety,” I recite the words on the board. “It’s a well-known fact that architecturally speaking, triangles are the strongest shape. They are able to withstand a tremendous amount of pressure without shifting. My personal philosophy is that every team should build its strategy with a triangle approach.”

I glance at Vesper, who seems far more invested in my little speech than I was expecting. Her eyes are on the board, studying my words.

“A job should be entertaining, a team member should feel heard, and a team member should feel safe. Fun. Communication. Safety,” I repeat again.

Finally, I give myself permission to glance Linc’s way. His eyes are down, focused on the little piece of note paper in front of him, and definitely not on me. Stupid little fantasy. It’s ridiculous to even think about a romantic life right now…but the truth is, I’ve been lonely. I just wanted to connect with someone.

“In front of each of you is a piece of paper and a pen. I want us to play a game for some team building. I’m sure you’ve heard of the remote island icebreaker?”

I glance around the table to only see blank stares.

“Really?” I look at Callen who just shrugs unhelpfully, once again. I’m starting to question his purpose at this meeting. “You know…where you’re stranded on a desolate island and you can only bring a few things…for survival…” I trail off as I see more puzzled expressions looking at me.

“That actually happened to me once,” Cricket says. “I was stranded for three days and two nights on a shore in Bermuda with a boat captain when his vessel broke down.”

“Wow,” I reply, just grateful Cricket’s engaging. That’s promising. “That sounds scary.”

“Eh, it was all right. We had some nonperishables on the boat. Plus, time flew by because he had an eight-inch cock. We kept ourselves busy if you know what I mean.”

My jaw drops as snickers fill the room. I’m at a loss for words, but only a little bit about the eight-inch cock part. Mostly it’s because I do not know the workplace appropriate response to that statement, so I completely sidestep it. “Cricket, is that an Irish accent you have?”

“You hear it, love? Dammit. I’ve really been trying to tone it down. Everyone remembers an Irish assassin, that’s why I don’t talk much on the job.”

Lance snorts loudly. “Yeah, that’s what they remember, Cricket.” He glances at her cleavage, visible from her low-cut blouse. “Your accent.”

Vesper lets out an exasperated sigh. “Since you’re here, Dr. Abbott—”

“Eden, please”

“My apologies, Eden. Since you’re here, maybe you can shed some light on this situation.” She points between Cricket and Lance. “Please tell these two that, in your ample experience, interoffice relationships are not good for a team and never end well.”

I glance between Cricket and Lance and don’t understand what Vesper is insinuating. I’m usually pretty good at reading people and relationships. Crude humor aside, all I’m sensing is a brother-sistership. But I ask to confirm.

“Are you two…”

“Nah,” Cricket says.

“Nope,” Lance adds. “Everyone thinks we are though.”

It’s because they’re both uncomfortably good-looking. People just assume hot people have sex with other hot people, which is ridiculous because it is quite possible for there to be more depth to people’s attraction than looks.

“He’s gone a few rounds with a couple of women I know though, if you need a reference,” Cricket says winking at me. “Word is Lance knows how to work with a vibrator, instead of competing with it.”

Lance chortles before pointing at Cricket. “My girl.” He then sends a flirty wink my way.

“Okay, you see that?” Vesper says, her brows arched. “Very inappropriate.”

“Jesus,” Callen mumbles under his breath from the other side of the table.

I hold up my palms, trying to calm the chatter. “Listen, I’m not here to police you guys, but if you’re asking my opinion, I strongly advise the companies I work with not to implement no-dating policies, and here’s why…”

I glance to my left and Linc’s piercing stare has returned, sending a glorious shiver up my spine. I pray the heat in my cheeks isn’t visible. Clearing my throat, I reluctantly peel my eyes away from his icy blue gems.

“The moment you make something forbidden, you only make it more enticing. There are very few things people will lie, steal, cheat and…kill for. Love is at the top of that list. I don’t recommend companies try to combat that. In addition, people spend an enormous amount of their waking hours at their day jobs, so how can we expect them not to connect with their coworkers? Now, I’m aware that retaliation after break-ups and even quid pro quo are real problems, but those are case-by-case issues to address, not a mass assumption that should be made. If you treat adults like adults, they’ll behave accordingly.”

I’m met with more blank stares. Sometimes I forget the amount of business expertise I have doesn’t necessarily match my age…or appearance. They are staring at me like I’m a child playing dress up, and yet, I just delivered the presidential inaugural address.

I mentally roll my eyes. Please don’t underestimate me. Yes, I’ve been quiet for a while, but this is my element. This is what I’m good at—people.

“Anyway, back to your papers. I’d like everyone to imagine you’re going to be stranded—indefinitely—on a remote island. I’d like you to write down three things you’d bring along.” I hold up one finger. “Something fun to entertain you.” Then another. “Something that makes you feel safe.” Then, a third. “And someone you’d really like to talk to.”

Jutting my thumb behind my shoulder, I refer to the triangle on the board again. “Something fun, something safe, and someone great. Don’t overthink it guys. Just make it personal, okay?” After clapping my hands together, I make a shooing motion, asking everyone to get to it. I ignore the sea of grumbles. This part is expected. Whenever I was working with giant conglomerates, full of employees begrudgingly yanked from their cubicles, everyone always resists…at first. I tend to have a magic touch, so let’s see if I can get these robot agents to be a little more cooperative.

Surprisingly, Linc is finished first. He sets his pen down, folds his hands, and sits stoically in his seat. Vesper’s eyes hit the ceiling multiple times. Okay, she’s an overthinker, that’s for certain. Judging by the expression on Cricket’s face, I imagine her note is going to read something along the lines of, “Seymore Butts,” or “Hugh Girection.”

Lance looks like there is smoke coming out of his ears…but at least he’s thinking. That’s a win, I suppose.

This activity is supposed to identify leaders and I have a feeling Callen and I have our work cut out for us.

“Aren’t you going to do one?” Linc asks me in a low undertone, as he swivels in his chair to face me at the board.

“Me?”

He nods as his lips twitch with almost a smile. Is he teasing me? Linc reaches toward the middle of the table where there are extra papers and pens, and he collects one of each for me. In the dozens of times that I’ve conducted this activity in the past, never once have I been asked to participate.

“Okay, sure.” Taking two steps forward, I close the space between Linc and I. I’m standing, and he’s seated, so when my eyes drop to his belt area, it most definitely looks like I’m staring at his crotch. Much to my horror, he notices. His eyes go from mine to his lap, and when they return, his smile isn’t a twitch. It’s a wide mocking smirk that says, “Caught.”

Clasping both hands over my face, I groan. “I am so sorry, that wasn’t—”

“Mhm, sure,” he says with a chuckle. For such a scary, cold-blooded killer, he’s definitely playful when he wants to be.

I part my hands, letting my palms press against my cheek. I’m beyond humiliated but I can’t go unexplained. “When I’m around agents, I find myself always looking for where their guns are hidden. I wasn’t checking out your…” I roll my wrist, unable to even verbalize the words. “Guns just make me—”

“Nervous,” he finishes for me. Linc glances down to where his holstered pistol is in clear view, hanging beneath his belt.

I don’t know what possesses me to respond with vulnerable honesty to this stranger, who already proved himself to be dishonest, but before I can stop myself the words spill out, “I tend to be afraid of people who aren’t afraid of guns.”

Rising, Linc removes his pistol from his holster. I’m not sure of the mechanics, but based on the clicking I hear, I’m assuming he’s disarming it. He exits the meeting room without another word and is back just as fast. Settling back in his seat in front of me, he gives me a soft smile as he taps his empty holster.

“There. Better?”

Looking over Linc’s shoulder, I see Cricket and Lance with their jaws dropped. Even Vesper is gawking in utter surprise.

I hold out my hand and Linc hands over the pen and piece of paper he gathered for me. When my fingers graze his, I lose my breath. My heartbeat jumps like a skipping stone. I’m catapulted back to grade school, when the nervous butterflies from a new crush were the most energizing feeling in the world. Girl likes boy—boy likes girl. It was so straightforward, even in the messy midst of raging hormones and puberty. People weren’t so layered. Right wasn’t so muddled with wrong. Back when things were so much simpler…

I glance at Linc’s empty holster one more time.

“Thank you. Much better.”