For Love or Vengeance Read Online Free PDF Page A

in my mind. Only one choice you should have made as well. If you have any doubt about that, you’re no good to the Bureau or to me as a partner.”

    “Cold, Alexander. Downright frigid,” Miguel said, stunned at her insensitivity. He stalked to his desk, the heat of anger filling his gut as he sat down. He cradled his coffee mug—a gift from his ten-year-old niece, just she’d guessed—in his hands while her words replayed in his head.
    As infuriated as he was, he couldn’t deny the truth in them. She wasn’t the first person to tell him so. Her words echoed those of his old ADIC, and of the counselor he had seen after the shooting. They were also the reverberation of his own conscience as he considered leaving the Bureau immediately after the incident, aware that his efficacy as an agent might have been compromised. He acknowledged that faced with a similar situation, he might not be able to make the necessary choice.
    Unlike Special Agent Alexander, who seemed supremely confident that she could make the decision that might cost a life.
    Of course, she had made that decision. She’d just said that when forced to choose between losing the victim and getting the perpetrator on her last assignment, she’d gone for the perp. Her cold-bloodedness scared him almost as much as his own growing indecision. He couldn’t stomach such a strict end-justifies-the-means attitude, especially when it possibly involved someone’s death.
    Easing out a breath, he returned his attention to the serial killer file. One thing was certain, if he and his new partner couldn’t make any progress, there’d be even more killings. And it wouldn’t be pretty.
    Moving aside his coffee mug and the brown paper bag containing a toasted buttered bagel he no longer craved, he picked up the stack of notes he had made based on his review and the discussion they’d had with ADIC Hernandez last night.
    The plan was for him and Alexander to coordinate with Detective Daly and visit the residences of the victims, as well as the locations where their bodies had been found. After that they would check out their places of employment and reinterview everyone involved at each site in the hopes of finding some new fact that might assist in tracking down the killer.
    While he analyzed his notes, he sipped his coffee, and every now and again shot a glance at Alexander, who was also working on the case, her head of dark curly hair bent downward over the papers on her desk. She seemed unaffected by their discussion, which made him wonder if there was any humanity beneath that too-perfect physical form.
    When he finished the last of his coffee, he took a break to refill it, and on the way back he paused for a moment to glance out the windows. The sun had finally begun to creep over the horizon. On the streets below in Federal Plaza, the activity of pedestrians and vehicles had picked up, signaling that Manhattan had finished taking its obligatory nap.
    In just the week that he had been here, he had realized how true it was that the city never slept—although it did slow down for those witching hours just before dawn.
    When he returned to his desk, a Starbucks coffee waited for him. Vanilla latté, he guessed as he picked it up and the aroma wafted up to him.
    A peace offering?

    Helene sensed Miguel’s presence well before he appeared at her side, latté in hand. Looking up, she saw the bewilderment on his face. He wasn’t the only one. She was just as perplexed. Normally she didn’t give a rat’s ass what her partners thought of her.
    She didn’t understand why it made a difference with this one, but amazingly, it did.
    As he continued to stand there silently, she swiveled her chair around and met his gaze directly. “I know I can be a bitch, Sanchez. I have trouble playing well with others.”
    He chuckled at her directness and shook his head. “You are something, Alexander, although I’m not quite sure what just yet.”
    “What are you , Sanchez?”