Read Blind Rage for Free Online

death when she’d lost the taste for sex. Then she found herself sleeping around too much, picking up strangers in hotel bars and going to their rooms. Since coming home, she’d struggled to find a middle ground between the nun and the slut. While her night with Augie had thrown her off balance, her relationship with Garcia was sending her into a tailspin. Far from being just a boss, he was becoming her friend, and buddies as hot as Garcia were hazardous.

 
     
    Chapter 5

     
    GARCIA HADN’T VISITED THE CELLAR IN A WHILE, AND BERNADETTE had slacked off in her filing. She went to work early Tuesday to try to straighten the office before he showed up with the paperwork from the drowning cases.
    She shrugged off her coat and tossed it over the back of a chair. As she started lifting up layers of files from one of the spare desks, she heard a familiar bass voice and felt a cold draft rolling in from the hallway outside her office.
    “Finally fixing up the place. Long overdue. It never looked this bad when I worked here solo.”
    “Go away,” she muttered without turning around. “And close the door behind you, Ruben.”
    “It’s ‘Agent Creed’ to you, missy. Keep it professional.”
    She heard the door shut but knew he was on the wrong side of it. She pivoted around, a pile of folders in her arms. A tall, slender African American man with short graying hair was sitting on the office’s ancient sofa, his ankle crossed over his bony knee. She’d been using the couch to store old newspapers, and on one side of Creed was a stack of Star Tribune s and on the other side was a New York Times tower. The newspapers framed his figure like Roman columns and made him appear even more cold and imposing. She especially resented the way he always strolled in impeccably attired as if ready for work, with his dark suit and dark tie and stiff white shirt. That hint of an accent—he was a native of the South—added to his air of superiority. “Whatever you have to say, make it quick,” she told him. “I’m busy.”
    He propped one elbow on the Times pile and then had second thoughts. Lifting his arm, he brushed off his jacket sleeve and folded his hands on his lap. A saw buzzed overhead, and Creed frowned at the ceiling. “What in blazes is going on up there?”
    She went over to a waist-high metal file cabinet, pulled the drawer open with the tip of her shoe, and dumped her armload of folders inside it. “They’re renovating the building.”
    “It’s about time,” he said.
    “I guess,” she muttered, and picked up another stack of folders.
    A jackhammer fired up, drowning out the saw. “How can you work with all this commotion?”
    “Lots of Tylenol.” She went back to the file cabinet, dropped the folders inside the drawer, and forced it closed.
    “What kind of cockamamie filing system is that?”
    “I’ll straighten it out later.”
    “That’s precisely the attitude that got you where you are today.” He picked up a Star Tribune and waved it at her. “You know those people you read about in the paper, the ones with those garbage houses? That’s how it starts with them. I’ll straighten it out later, they think. I’ll do the laundry tomorrow . Next thing you know—”
    “Ruben…Agent Creed…I don’t have time for you today.” Her cell rang inside her coat pocket, but she didn’t want to take a call in front of her visitor. “You’d better go for a hike.”
    He dropped the paper back on the stack and squared it. “You’d better answer that phone. It’s our ASAC.”
    She plucked a collection of Starbucks cups off her desk and dropped them into the wastebasket. “ My ASAC. He isn’t your boss. Not anymore.”
    The cell stopped ringing. “You’d better pick up the next call. It’ll be him again.”
    “How do you know? Are you God or something?”
    “I know people who know people.”
    “Why don’t you go visit those people and leave me alone?” The phone on her desk rang. She glared at