Kaitlyn Quinn was ready to scream. Not the 'Oh, I just saw a mouse' kind of scream. She was prepared to emit the type of scream that keeps you up at night. The kind that could make paint peel off the walls and your grandmother cross herself five times before taking herself off to church.
Two days tied to a desk doing paperwork, and she was ready to commit a crime worthy of the dangerous criminals she put behind bars.
"This is the last time I resolve three cases in the same week," Kaitlyn grumbled as she reached for yet another I65-32A Form.
Frustrated and desperate, Kaitlyn looked up at Mike, who sat across from her. "I'll pay you a thousand dollars to finish my reports."
"Sorry Quinn," her colleague grinned as he stood up. "Can't. I'm off to Hartford – I've a lead on the Bryce case."
"Two thousand!" she called as he grabbed his suit jacket, waved and waltzed out.
Kaitlyn glared at the stack of folders on her desk. She picked up the folder on top and resigned herself that, short of the building blowing up, she had no chance of getting back in the field unless she filed the relevant case reports with her boss. In triplicate.
Kaitlyn Mary Quinn was third generation law enforcement. Her father and his father before him had been highly decorated detectives with the Boston PD. It was a foregone conclusion that she too would follow in the family business, despite the high toll it had taken on them.
The FBI had recruited her straight out of law school, and after graduating in the top five percent of her class at the FBI Academy at Quantico, she very quickly made a name for herself as a cadet to watch. Towards the end of her probationary period, Kaitlyn had come to the attention of the FBI leaders when helping to track down a major lead in a high profile bank robbery case.
After that, she was transferred back to her hometown and had spent the last five years attached to the Violent Crimes Task Force Division. Special Agent Quinn had the highest close rate of the division and was the first choice to lead the team's high-profile cases. However, she was infamous for her aversion to paperwork.
Kaitlyn had been so focused on the daunting task that she failed to notice the floor she was on had become eerily quiet and empty. Realising something was amiss; she glanced around the bullpen to see where her colleagues had disappeared and spotted one of the support staff rushing past her desk.
"Tania, what's going on?" Kaitlyn asked.
"I'm not sure." The young woman threw a jacket over her shoulder as she passed. "Something about a story that just broke."
Kaitlyn rose from her desk and followed her to the break room with the nearest TV. A small crowd had gathered around the screen, blocking her view.
Frowning, she moved a bit closer. Being just shy of six feet, she towered over many of the other agents and could use her advantage to see what the fuss was all about.
Plastered across the screen was the image of a local news reporter. Behind him, the familiar sight of police tape cordoned off the crime scene. The key points of the story scrolled across the bottom of the screen, as the reporter described the crime that had played out in the background.
Kaitlyn, however, didn't hear a word spoken by the journalist or her colleagues. Her brain shut down the moment she read the flashing words working their way across the bottom of the screen. Kaitlyn's chest tightened as if squeezed by an invisible fist. Panic welled up and threatened to burst from somewhere deep and hidden. A place that had been buried so far down that nothing could touch it. Until now.
The world felt as though it was teetering off its axis. Escaping before anyone could notice her distress, she raced to the bathroom, locked the door behind her and leaned against the wall. Kaitlyn felt herself hyperventilating and took a series of painful breaths to stem its course.
Memories that had not surfaced in years erupted violently like molten lava ejected from an angry volcano. She pushed them back down, reached into her pocket and pulled out her smartphone. She needed to reconfirm what she had just seen. Maybe she was mistaken?
The headlines 'Has the Boston Wolf Killer returned?' repeated as she flicked through the various news outlets. The walls of the small cubicle felt as though they were closing in and suffocating her. Distant, hazy memories bombarded Kaitlyn's senses as she struggled to quell the stampede of emotions.
Over the years, the memories she had of her father had faded. She could no longer remember his face; old photos were the only thing to remind her of the parent she had lost so very long ago. The only memories she still retained was how she felt in his strong arms when he swung her around the room, and the sound of his laugh, deep and warm.
The other memory, the one that she rarely visited, was the one of her mother collapsing in grief when the Chief of Detectives arrived on their doorstep to inform her that she had lost her husband, and Kaitlyn would now be without a father.
It wasn't until years later, that she learnt that the serial killer the police had been after had murdered her father. More significantly for the city, Detective Ryan Quinn was also the last victim of the Boston Wolf Killer before he disappeared without a trace.
Twenty-years. Twenty-years she had been without a father. Twenty years where the killer had been allowed to run free. But now he was back - and she wanted revenge. Slowly but surely, Kaitlyn re-built her carefully constructed protection. Brick by brick, until the last piece slipped back into place. She wasn't going to show any weakness.
Not now. Not ever.
Kaitlyn took a deep breath, unlocked the bathroom door and checked her face in the mirror. She didn't want anyone to notice the results of the rollercoaster ride she had just taken. With renewed purpose, she returned and refocused on finishing her reports. If her father's killer was back in town after a two-decade absence, she wanted in on the case.
Nothing was going to get in her way.
Kaitlyn had to cool her heels for two days. Protocol dictated that the FBI couldn't become involved in local law enforcement cases unless requested or it fell within the FBI purview. Until it was confirmed, her hands were tied. She was getting ready for work when she received a text message from her boss. Her expression grew dark as she glanced at her phone.
'BWK struck again. FBI now taking the lead. Am assigning you to case with Profiler. Doug'
"Not going to happen!" she said through gritted teeth as she grabbed her keys and rushed out the door. She needed to do some damage control before it was too late.
To say Special Agent Quinn disliked profilers was an understatement. Her animosity to paperwork couldn't hold a candle to the one she harboured for this particular group of con artists. Especially as the quack assigned to one of her cases was responsible for the death of two colleagues.
Arriving at One Center Plaza in record time, she threw her bag on her desk and raced to the corner office which housed Doug Baxter, the Special Agent In Charge - and her immediate boss.
Kaitlyn burst through the doorway without knocking, marched straight to his desk and threw a death stare that would fell lesser men. Douglas, used to the mini tornadoes that inevitably brewed when she got herself worked up about something, remained quiet.
"How many times do we need to have this conversation," she began before Doug could say anything. "I will not work with a profiler. They're nothing but a bunch of self-important paper pushers with no real world experience who think they know it all, and only spout out probabilities and best guesses."
Doug sat back in his chair and opened his mouth as if to speak.
Kaitlyn cut him off before any sound could emerge. "Those fakes would run a mile if they came anywhere near a real crime scene. They're prima-donna wannabes with their heads stuck so far up their arses and reports they've lost touch with reality." Without taking a breath, she continued with her rant, bringing her fist down on the desk. "This is my case, and I'm not going to have it ruined by a profiler who has delusions of being an FBI Agent."
A strange expression flickered across Doug's face. "Are you quite finished?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Kaitlyn nodded as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, that about covers it."
Now having finished her tirade, she was calm and collected.
"Good," he began. "I would like you meet your new partner, Murphy O'Neill."
Kaitlyn froze. Doug stood, a smirk now evident on his face as he indicated to somewhere behind her.
Kill. Me. Now.
Indecision flittered across her face as she narrowed her eyes and glared at her friend and mentor. He knew exactly how she would react and most likely had put her in this position just for a laugh.
Doug for his part, had progressed from a smirk to a full blown all knowing smile.
To try and dig herself out of the hole she had inadvertently dug for herself, she decided that intimidation tactics might be in order - she would begin by using her height as an advantage. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and turned--and almost collided with a row of small cream coloured buttons attached to a crisp white shirt. It appeared, the other occupant of the room had suddenly materialised directly behind her. Startled, she took a step back from the massive frame to take in her opponent.
His broad chest couldn't be hidden by the perfectly tailored dark suit. As she gazed upwards, she realised that this man, whoever he was, towered over her like a giant making her feel tiny and insignificant.
Forcing herself to appear calm, and unaffected by his nearness, she continued to move her gaze upwards. The top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, and he went without the traditional tie she would have expected with his attire.
Further up and she took in a determined jawline, which was covered by a three-day dusting of stubble. His jaw was clenched, muscles tense and his lips pursed in a tight line, clearly showing his displeasure.
When her gaze finally rose to meet his, she gasped. The profiler's eyes both shocked and captivated her at the same time. His eyes were the colour of night. Black as sin. Two pools of ebony ink that seemed to go on forever.
Kaitlyn dragged her gaze away before she became physically trapped in that darkness. She took a deep breath to calm her erratic heartbeat, overwhelmed by his very masculine scent. The man standing before her was pure male - in every sense of the word.
With her years of experience in the field, Kaitlyn recognised that there was something dangerous about this man. She couldn't place it, but there was a raw and primal magnetism in his countenance. It was as though he had a tenuous hold on something that could erupt at any moment.
The profiler had not moved an inch; he just continued to stare through her coldly, unblinking as he stood his ground.
"As I was saying," his voice, rich with a hint of velvet, sent a shiver down her spine as he addressed Doug as if she wasn't in the room. "I can work this case alone. I don't need one of your agents slowing me down."
Kaitlyn's ire bristled. "I beg your pardon?" she said as her eyes narrowed to crinkled slits. Rage, very quickly built up, as she prepared for war. This was her case, and no one was going to take it from her.
===
About Buried
Buried is the second book in the MASKED series and centres around Murphy O'Neill's journey to track down the werewolf who savagely killed his mate nearly half a century ago.
A string of gruesome slayings in Boston points to Elijah's return, and Murphy is determined to track him down and make him pay for destroying his life. The one thing stopping him? A mouthy, opinionated FBI agent who just can't be told to mind her own business.
Twenty years ago, the Boston Wolf Killer suddenly disappeared without a trace. The killings stopped and the city began to breathe again. Kaitlyn Quinn's father, a detective with the Boston PD, was the last victim before the police and FBI lost all trace.
Special Agent Quinn has been assigned to the FBI's task force to track this killer down. For Kaitlyn, it's personal. She intends to bring her father's killer to justice, no matter what it costs. Even if it means teaming up with an ice cold, emotionless FBI Profiler. Everything is not as it seems, and Kaitlyn is thrust into a world she didn't know existed.
To catch the psychotic killer, Kaitlyn and Murphy must put aside their animosity and navigate the thin line that separates their two worlds.
❧ Why I started the MASKED series
No one can make you inferior without your consent – Eleanor Roosevelt
I enjoy Paranormal books of all kinds and am particularly fond of shifter/werewolf stories. However, I had begun to be disturbed by an increasing trend in this genre to portray women as victims who willingly allow themselves to be mistreated by someone who supposedly 'loves' them. They put up with not only the physical, but mental abuse, and then justify it saying things like, 'but he/they loves me', 'he swore it wouldn't happen again'.
In no universe, paranormal or otherwise, is this acceptable. It never has and never will be okay to abuse a loved one – no matter what you read in 50 shades.
I am writing the MASKED series to give readers a different choice in story within this genre. One in which women are not portrayed as the victims and made to feel inferior, but as equals. And one in which a woman can be strong without losing any of their femininity. Women don't have to be ninja warriors, soldiers or even have the ability to kick butt! We only need one thing – and that is a voice.
❧ About M Greenhill
After failing miserably at world domination and surviving many years of producing technical documentation, project plans and test plans that no one bothered to open, I decided to write something that might actually be read.
I enjoy creating paranormal stories that takes the reader on a journey filled with intrigue, excitement and more twists and turns than are bugs in a Microsoft update. I live in New Zealand with my husband, two Minecraft addicted sons, and pet Schnauzer who has survived one too many bad haircuts.