Beautiful Redemption (The Maddox Brothers, #2)(16)

Val reached into her pocket and opened a small bag of pretzels. She held one to her mouth and chewed on it in small bites like a chipmunk. “I’m leaning more toward your theory that Maddox is jealous, but that’s impossible. First of all, he would never be jealous of Sawyer.” Her face twisted. “Second, he just isn’t wired that way anymore, not since that girl made him hate anything with a vagina.”

I wanted to remind her that he hadn’t slept with anyone before me either, but that would imply that I wanted him to be jealous, and I didn’t. “What makes you think it was her fault?” I asked.

That made her pause. “He was in love with that girl. Have you been in his office?”

I shook my head.

“Those empty shelves used to hold several frames with pictures of her. Everyone knew how much he struggled to do the job and love her the way he thought she deserved. Now, no one talks about it—not because he did something wrong, but because she broke his heart, and no one wants to make him more miserable than he already is.”

I ignored her. “I’m an intelligence analyst, Val. It’s in my nature to piece together bits of information and form a theory.”

Her nose wrinkled. “What does that have to do with anything? I’m trying to argue the point that he’s not jealous of Sawyer.”

“I never said he was.”

“But you want him to be.” Val was confident she was right. It was maddening.

“I want to know if I’m right about him. I want to know if he’s trying to sink me. I want to peel back that top layer and see what’s underneath.”

“Nothing you’ll like.”

“We’ll see,” I said, walking past her toward the door.





MADDOX STOPPED MIDWAY in an inverted sit-up and sighed. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” I said, heading straight for the women’s locker room.

He let his back fall flat against the bench he was sitting on, his legs bent and his feet firmly planted on the floor. “Do you want us to hate each other?” he said, looking at the ceiling. “I’m getting the feeling that you do.”

“You’re not far off,” I said, pushing through the swinging door.

After removing my workout clothes from my small duffel bag, I shimmied my navy pencil skirt over my hips and unbuttoned my light-blue blouse, and then I switched out my C-cup for a sports bra. It was amazing how one piece of fabric could take me from modest curves to the build of a twelve-year-old boy.

The room lined with lockers and motivational posters didn’t smell like the mildew and dirty sneakers I’d expected. Bleach and fresh paint dominated the air.

Maddox was finishing his sit-ups while I made my way to the closest treadmill, my Adidas making squish noises as each foot pressed and lifted from the rubber floor. I stepped up onto the belt of the machine and threaded the bottom of my white FBI T-shirt through the safety clasp.

“Why now?” he said from across the room. “Why do you have to be here during my lunch hour? You can’t work out in the mornings or the evenings?”

“Have you seen this room before and after hours? The equipment is full. The best time of day to get a full workout without dodging sweaty bodies is at your lunch hour because no one wants to come in here while you’re here.”

“Because I don’t let them.”

“Are you going to ask me to leave?” I asked, looking at him over my shoulder.

“You mean, tell you to leave?”

I shrugged. “Semantics.”

His eyes poured over my tight leggings as he thought about that, and then he left the bench for the double bars before lifting both of his legs nearly chest-high. If he worked out like that five times a week, it was no wonder he had an eight-pack. Sweat was dripping from his hair, and his entire torso glistened.

I pretended not to notice as I pressed the button to start the treadmill. The belt moved smoothly forward, the gears causing a familiar shudder beneath my feet. Placing earbuds in my ears, I used the music to help me forget that Maddox was behind me, perfecting perfection, and increasing the speed and incline of the treadmill helped, too.

After a few laps, I pulled one earbud out and let it hang down over my shoulder. I turned to look at the wall of mirrors on my left and spoke to Maddox’s reflection, “By the way, I’m onto you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Maddox said, puffing in the background.

“You’re damn straight I am.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not going to let you do it.”

“Do you really think I’m trying to sabotage you?” He seemed amused.

“Aren’t you?”

“I already told you no.” After a short pause, he was standing next to the treadmill, his hand resting on the safety handles. “I know I made a negative impression on you, Lindy. Admittedly, it wasn’t unintentional. But I’m motivated to make agents better, not tank their careers.”

“Does that include Sawyer?”

“Agent Sawyer has a history in our squad that you know nothing about.”

“So, educate me.”

“It’s not my story to tell.”

“That’s it?” I smirked.

“I don’t get your meaning.”