2. Madelyn

CHAPTER 2

Madelyn

T he only good thing about nightmares? I can wake up from them.

“Run, baby! Run, and don’t look back!” my mother’s voice echoes, trembling with fear as blood pools beneath her shaking hands. Her eyes—wide, desperate—lock onto mine, silently begging me to live.

Everything in me wants to stay with her, to help her. But one look at the man advancing and the desperate plea in her eyes, and I know I have to leave.

“Mom?” I try, wanting so badly for her to ask me to stay.

“Run!” she screams again, louder this time.

That jolts me into action. Tears well up in my eyes as I turn around and do as she asked. I run as fast as my legs can carry me, and. I don’t stop, not even when I hear the sounds of a knife piercing through my mother’s skin. Not when I hear her pleas for her life.

I want so badly to look behind me, but I don’t.

And then I wake up. Unfortunately, it’s much harder to shake off nightmares when they’re a reality you’ve lived before. Doesn’t mean I don’t try my fucking hardest to do so, though.

I sit up on my bed and shut my eyes for a couple seconds, trying to banish the images from my mind.

“One, two, three, four, five. Breathe, Maddie,” I tell myself, inhaling and exhaling a soft breath.

I repeat it until I feel the trembling in my limbs start to settle. And then I smile. If there’s one thing I’ve had to learn and reinforce over the years, it’s that I can’t let the bad memories get to me. There’s a lot of life left to live, and I can’t spend every single second dwelling on my life’s tragedies. It’s harder on some days than others, but not today.

There’s officially thirty-five days to my favorite holiday. Really, the only holiday that matters to me.

I climb out of bed with a light heart, whistling a Christmas tune as I grab my outfit for the day out of my closet. When I walk into the office, it’s buzzing with lighthearted banter, which seems out of place considering the grim cases we dissect daily. I paste on a bright smile—my armor—before stepping into the break room.

When people think about working for the FBI, they automatically assume it’s a high-stakes environment, with guns blazing and us whooping the asses of high-profile criminals. And sure, we do that. But every morning, my team meets in the office break room for the morning debrief, and while we do talk about our active cases and stuff like that, there’s another reason why our morning debriefs are so sacred to us.

Donuts!

It’s a tradition I might have started when I first joined up with the team, and everyone has happily gone along with it. It’s pretty simple, really—each day, someone brings in donuts for the team to share after our meeting. It keeps us all happy and helps relieve stress.

I just hope there’s a cinnamon donut today. I’m feeling very cinnamony. It must be because Christmas is so close.

“Madelyn,” a voice calls, permeating my donut fantasies, “are you listening to me?”

I look up at the supervisory head of operations, also known as my boss. He’s the youngest team leader in the entire force at the moment and it’s not hard to figure out how and why. Nepotism aside, Joshua Benson is actually quite capable. He’s a man focused singularly on capturing criminals. And while there are sometimes whispers that he only has his position because his father’s a director at the FBI, I think he’s actually pretty cool. Plus, he lets me get away with all my little quirks.

“Uh-huh. You were just talking about the Torres case and the footage we were able to capture a month ago,” I reply easily.

Sure, I hadn’t been actively listening. But I can multi-task like a pro.

Joshua smirks. “The footage should have already gotten us a lead by now if somebody could just speed things up.”

“Easy, boss. I’m an intelligence analyst, not a superhero.”

A couple of my teammates snicker. Joshua sighs. “Alright, let’s hope Ms. Flores will eventually get us some more information on Torres’s location.”

I offer him a thumbs up in reply. To be honest, I’m actually working as hard as I can to trace the location of the bastard. Torres is an elusive criminal mastermind we’ve been chasing for months. Every agent on our team has a personal vendetta against him, and we’ve been working ourselves to the bone trying to track him down. His empire runs on fear, and his hands are stained with enough blood to make even the toughest agents uneasy. But he’s always one step ahead, always disappearing before we can get too close.

A couple months ago, he baited us into a warehouse and tried to take out four of our agents. Luckily, they all survived, but one of them did end up in the hospital. What pisses us off the most about Torres is his constant need to play games with us. We’re a joke to him. I’m almost sure he’s not working alone at this point. I’m pretty sure he’s backed by the mafia, but every time I bring up the possibility, it’s shut down.

We recently came across footage of him in a parking garage, negotiating some sort of deal. I’ve been trying to track him down with that, but my efforts aren’t panning out.

Joshua moves on to some other case about a group of teenagers who pulled off a big scam. We already have them in custody so it’s not really important. I tune him out once again until someone taps my arm. I look beside me at Kenny, one of the senior agents.

He has a wide grin, but there’s an edge of stress in his blue eyes. He’s a couple years older than me, and he and I share the same brand of crazy. We’re friends. Plus, Kenny looks like a model, with his defined cheekbones and shaggy blonde hair.

“Hey, did you hear about the team-building exercise they’re planning for the Christmas party?” he asks, his Southern accent peeking through. “Apparently, it involves us going through an obstacle course dressed as reindeer.”

And just like that, I’m successfully distracted. My eyebrows rise. “Please tell me you signed us up for that.”

He chuckles, clearly feeling the same level of excitement. Like me, Kenny loves Christmas. He’s the only one that ever puts an effort into Christmas activities around here. Everyone else just patronizes me.

“Definitely. Although I’m not too sure about the reindeer part.”

“I think you’ll look cute with antlers and a red nose.”

“As long as you think I’m cute.” He grins. “Maybe after the games and the party, you and I could go out?”

I force a smile at that. Kenny’s been subtly hitting on me for years. And I’ve been subtly turning him down every time. I just don’t date, and I especially don’t date at my workplace.

If we didn’t work together, I would consider hooking up with him. But we do, and if we did hook up, it could turn messy and awkward. I like our nice, easy relationship. There’s no need to ruin that.

“Okay, I think we’re done,” Joshua announces, saving me from having to reply to Kenny. At least for now. “Everyone have anything to say?”

My hand shoots up before he’s even finished the sentence.

“As we all know, Christmas is only a few weeks away,” I begin. There’s some groans, a few chuckles, but for the most part, everyone’s used to this. “I’ll put out a list of the pre-Christmas activities we’ll all take part in. Apart from the games and the party, I’m thinking of spicing things up this year with an ugly sweater day?—”

Joshua cuts me off. “What would that even entail?”

“It’s pretty obvious, boss. Everyone wears their ugliest, most festive sweaters in to work. It’ll be fun,” I announce excitedly.

“Right…” Joshua trails off.

“There will, of course, also be a Secret Santa draw next week, so let’s all come prepared for that,” I state, and there are a few murmurs of agreement before I finish. “That’ll be all.”

Joshua arches an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t have another crazy holiday event to add?”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” I answer cheerfully.

He roll his eyes dramatically. “Meeting adjourned.”

I go straight for the donuts. I sigh softly as I bite into a chocolate one—no cinnamon, unfortunately. I’m in the middle of eating it when one of my co-workers informs me that the boss is requesting my presence.

Well, that can’t be good.

I wonder what he has to say that he couldn’t say in front of everyone at the meeting. Still, I head to his office, donut in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Joshua’s office is the largest one on the floor, sparsely decorated with medals hanging on one end of the wall right before his desk.

The desk is overflowing with case files and documents. It’s a wonder he can find anything on there. Joshua’s standing by the large window overlooking the city, but he turns around when I enter, offering me a small smile.

“Maddie, have a seat,” he says, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk.

My eyebrows furrow. “I feel like a little kid about to be scolded for doing something wrong.”

“Did you do something wrong?”

“I suppose that depends on your definition of wrong,” I reply thoughtfully.

He chuckles, settling down in his chair, leaving me no choice but to sit as well.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. At least, not really. I just wanted to talk about you putting in another request to look into the mafia.”

“Oh,” I say dully. “Let me guess. It’s a no.”

This time, his smile is a little more forced. “You and I both know that the FBI stays out of mafia business. It’s a system that works and ensures things run properly in this city.”

“But think about the glory we’d get if we took them all down,” I say, smiling at the thought.

“I’d also think about the bloodbath that would occur in this city if we went after any of the mafia organizations,” Joshua says dryly.

I cluck my tongue at that. “That’s an incredibly unimaginative way of looking at things.”

“Thank you.”

“Wasn’t a compliment,” I mutter, annoyed that I’m being shut down yet again. “They’re criminals, murderers, drug dealers. We shouldn’t be working with them, we should be wiping them out.”

Joshua arches a dark eyebrow. “Any reason why you feel so strongly about this?”

I force myself to calm down, to inhale a soft breath. Then I shake my head.

“I just don’t like that we have to walk on eggshells. We’re the good guys, they’re the bad guys. The bad guys don’t get to win.”

“We’re not superheroes, Madelyn. We’re the FBI,” Joshua states. “And they’re not winning. I’d say it’s more of a stalemate. The mafia roots run deep in this city. We stay out of it, understand?”

I nod despite the tightening in my chest. There goes my chance. It’s becoming increasingly clear that I’ll never get what I want if I continue along this path.

“Yeah, sure,” I say getting to my feet. I point my half eaten donut at him. “And just so you know, you’re definitely on Santa’s naughty list.”

“I think I’ll survive,” he says with a smile.

I’m feeling significantly less chipper by the time I leave his office and head into mine. My office is pretty small, but it’s my own little slice of home here in the building. The walls are a neutral gray, but I’ve managed to inject some warmth into the space with some personal touches.

My desk is slightly less chaotic than Joshua’s, but it’s a special brand of chaos. Multiple monitors sit on the desk, each one displaying an endless stream of data, case files, and surveillance footage. The screen closest to me has a live map of the city. On the far side of the desk is a small stack of case files and beside the stack is a reindeer-shaped coffee mug.

And of course, my absolute favorite thing in my office is the cactus sitting on the corner of the desk. The small green plant might be one of my most prized possessions. I bought it when I first got this job and I’ve been taking care of it ever since.

I practically collapse into my chair and stare up at the ceiling, wondering if I should consider changing my plans. There’s a reason I became an intelligence analyst for the FBI, but five years in and it’s becoming increasingly clear that I might not be able to achieve my goals.

And that’s not acceptable.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. I remain locked in my office for most of it, going over the surveillance footage and trying to track where Torres could be hiding. But there are gaps in the footage. Someone’s carefully erased them. And they did a damn good job of it.

It’s pretty late when I finally give up, accepting that today also won’t be the day I finally nab the bastard. It’ll happen eventually. Just not today. I consider going home and straight to bed, but that doesn’t sound very fun. What I really need is a strong drink.

“What do you think, Mr. Bean? Home or a bar?” I ask my cactus.

The bar option sounds especially enticing when I consider the fact that I haven’t eaten all day. My eating habits leave much to be desired. I’m currently surviving on three cups of coffee and two donuts. If I go to the bar, I can order something to eat while enjoying some shots of tequila.

“Bar it is, then.”

I pack up my things and throw them in my tote bag before switching off all the monitors in my office. After grabbing my coat, I head for the door. As soon as I step out of it, I come face to face with Joshua.

“Hey, boss,” I say with a small smile.

He studies me for a couple of seconds. “You’re just now leaving work?”

“Yep.”

“Do you need a ride home?” he questions.

I shake my head. “Actually, I was going to head over to the bar a couple blocks from here first.”

Joshua arches an eyebrow. “Alone?”

“Yeah,” I answer easily.

“Madelyn, it’s after ten. You shouldn’t be walking around on your own,” he tells me on a frown.

I shrug. “I’ll be fine. I’m an FBI agent, remember? I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself.”

He doesn’t seem impressed by that. “You’re an intelligence analyst. You don’t even have access to any firearms. What are you going to do if someone jumps you? Or worse?”

“I can take care of myself,” I reiterate. “Jeez, you sound like a concerned dad or something.”

“I worry about you, Flores,” he murmurs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw, it’s nice to know you care so much about me, boss.”

He rolls his eyes. “I care so much because I’m pretty sure you’re a nut job.”That makes me grin. He continues. “Look, I’ve got to get somewhere, alright? So, against my better judgment, I’m going to let you go. Just be careful.”

“You got it,” I state, offering him a salute. “See you on Monday.”

He nods and watches me with a frown as I leave.