Page 48 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

It took forever to figure out how to hide from the FBI. The phone and cars are the first places they look to find your location. I have my phone mirrored, the IP address fucked up for tracing, and a signal scrambler.

Even those aren’t enough to keep going this way.

There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about how much I fucked up by agreeing to this assignment.

Fuller was there when they first approached me. He painted such an awful picture of Lee. The file was thick with all her suspected crimes. Murder, theft, fraud, you name it, Lee’s done it.

And Fuller knows it.

Two months before I met Lee, I walked in the conference room, shook his hand, and sat down.

For an older man he was fit. His dark hair with silvered edges around his face waved under the fan in the small Texas office I’d worked out of for two years. Not a lot of action. I’d mostly done forensic accounting. It’s not as cool as they make it look on TV.

My record was good, but I wasn’t even the best on the team. I had no idea why they picked me.

But according to my supervisor, I was perfect for this job. Enough knowledge of computers to have an idea of how Lee was getting away with everything. She called it enthusiasm, but I know she meant my winning personality. Oh, and she said it would work because I’m hot.

I was hungry for it. For the promotion, for the action, and for a way to try and make a difference. My ideals were naïve and wrong, as it turns out.

My backpack plops on the floor in the extra room. It’s rugged but the best option at the moment.

The smaller bedroom has the desk I brought, and on it sits the computer setup Lee is going to get wet over. I only wish I could see her face when she sees it.

Every scrap of information I have copied before Fuller could try and cover up more.

Will I ever get to see her face again?

I’ve tried a million outcomes for this plan. Even if I can prove he buried Project Vine and used me to set her up, there is no way Lee walks away from this. Not without a target on her back from everyone in the bureau and several life sentences.

As fucked-up as I’ve made everything, this is the best option. I can help her figure out what happened to her sister.

Then I can hand her enough leverage to destroy Fuller and negotiate a deal before anyone else decides a dead rogue agent is easier than a public trial.

It is a terrible plan. And the only one I have.

Once I’m done with the computers, I unpack the last few personal things I brought to make the place less unbearable.

I brought the coffee she likes, Jasper’s food, and a blanket I took from her apartment when I broke in searching for evidence against her. It smelled like her. I almost felt bad watching her on the surveillance camera looking for it. Not bad enough to not sleep with it though.

Last, I unload the book she’s been wanting to read and place it on the desk.

She will probably throw it at my head when she realizes I helped arrange this. At least she will have something nearby to throw.

My phone vibrates again. I’m out of time, but the space is ready for them now.

Them.

The word leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. If this works, I will be delivering Lee straight into another man’s arms because Dr. Julian Jameson is the one person she might listen to long enough to stay alive.

The phone lights up in my pocket once more, and to my complete delight I see the text message is from her.

Lee: Where are you, asshole? We got the autopsy for our mob man.

Elliot: Well, what do you need me for?

Lee: Someone has to bring the coffee.

Elliot: You just want to have some eye candy.