Page 41 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

“Okay.” He lowers the mug carefully. “Tell me. I’m not going to run, Ettie. No matter what.”

I just start before I lose my nerve.

“I’ve been running my own operation for the past two years. I use the underworld to fix anything the FBI can’t or won’t act on. I trade information, expose corrupt officials, track anyone who might lead me closer to the truth.”

My fingers curl around the edge of the table.

“I can break into almost any system and find every dirty secret someone tried to bury. I’m really fucking good at it too. I can find anyone’s secrets. Except the ones surrounding Emily and her…”

I exhale.

“It is really expensive to run operations against the FBI. Which is why I started working with Calum and his brothers in the first place. Back then, they carried out hired hits. I found the contacts, and they had no moral objection to the kind of work I needed done. If it makes it any better, I only took jobs for people who were evil.” I wave my hands. Nothing will make it better, so I keep going.

“Since Georgie, things have changed for them, but they still help when I call.”

“You know,” he says, with a grin. “Working with them is what led me to you. Same with the Vegas. Something good has already come from it.”

I give him a half smile. I wring out my hands and take a seat on the barstool.

I hate telling this story, and I haven’t said it many times. Still, it comes out like acid on my tongue.

“Emily was nineteen when she died. After we lost our dad, things got really bad. She was grieving at the same time I knew she was trying to find herself. She was a freshman in college, supersmart. But also, naive. Too innocent for her own good.”

Julian doesn’t interrupt, which is good, because I know despite what he said, he's going to hate me at the end of this. And why wouldn’t he? Julian saves people. I stopped caring whether the people in my way deserved saving a long time ago.

He’s kind and wants to save lives. I’m… not that. I don’t mind when the lines blur between good and bad. I actually prefer there not to be any line at all.

“There was a program operating on her campus. Project Vine. On paper, it looked like a bureau operation tracking a new designer drug before it reached the streets.”

Julian’s expression tightens.

“Vinculum. Latin for bond or obligation. Emily died with it in her system before there was any public record the drug even existed. It creates dependency fast, but with fewer obvious side effects than fentanyl. Easier to use on someone without everyone around her realizing what was happening.”

Julian’s hand wraps around the mug in front of him, knuckles whitening, but he still doesn’t speak.

“The medical examiner ruled it an overdose. He told me that college kids party, bad drugs happen, and there was nothing more to investigate.” My nails bite into my palm. “And I believed him. Why would anyone lie about my dead sister when I’m a federal agent, right?”

A fake laugh huffs out of me.

“I didn’t go in her room for almost seven months. When I finally went to clean it out, I found a lockbox. She had a false back on her closet shelf. It had details. Inside was a fake ID, cash, a small bag of Vinculum, and a journal filled with names, dates, meeting places, and notes about what they were doing to students on her campus. I’ve been trying to piece it together ever since.”

I don’t know if I can take the look of disappointment on his face, so I stare at my feet.

“She left me with things that could have revealed the truth, and I let it sit there for seven months because I’m a coward.”

“Baby…”

I shake my head at him and keep going.

“Someone in the bureau recruited Emily for this project. I think they recruited her because of me. And I think they used her. She wasn’t the only student that died that night. Three others in her class died that night too. The reports make it look like they are unrelated and died of various causes. But eventually, I got the true autopsy reports. All of them had Vinculum in their system. And someone covered it all up.”

Julian stares at me then swipes his hand across his jaw. This is it. This is where he tells me I’m a terrible sister for not knowing what was happening and for not figuring it out sooner.

“You have been conducting an unauthorized investigation into a classified bureau program responsible for your sister’s death,” he says quietly. “And you’ve been doing it alone?”

“Not completely alone. Cal and Riley help when I need them, but I never gave either of them the whole picture.”

“And you kept it from me because⁠—”