Terminal Rage by A.M. Khalifa

to regaining his children ’ s trust and forgiveness was still a long and tortuous one. But at least he had started walking it.
    Although he had his back to her, Blackwell sensed the minute Monica Vlasic slithered into the room. The sheer power of the charge that had built up between them over the years was manifesting itself. And it catapulted him to that day in Hermosa Beach he was desperately trying to forget.
    He ’ d been sitting at a negotiating table then, too. The sleeves of his sky-blue shirt were rolled up, his elbows on the table, one hand pressed on his headset. There was not a single gray hair on his head. Monica was standing behind him, with her hand on his shoulder encouraging him.
    With every skill he knew, Blackwell tried to reassure those three girls held hostage by high-tech explosives attached to their bodies. “I ’ m proud of how brave y ’ all are. This will all be over soon, I give you my word.” And he was right. It ended a short while after that. But not in the way he had promised. Far from it. If only he could take it back. If he hadn ’ t told them what turned out to be a lie.
    Four years later, he was only just learning to forgive himself for the carnage of that day. He sealed shut that window into the past and filled his lungs with as much oxygen as his body needed to help him turn around and look Monica in the face.
    She extended her hand to him. “Hello, Alex.”
    He kept his arms to his side and pointed with his chin to the photo frame. “A photo of the kids minus the ex—was that your bright idea, Monica?”
    “The FBI will bend over backwards to please you, Alex. Nothing ’ s changed on that front.”
    Blackwell stood firm, ignoring her hand.
    Carter had told him Monica was now the FBI ’ s Legal Attaché in Rome after making unit chief back in HQ. She still maintained close contacts with the Critical Incident Response Group. Unlike Blackwell, Monica hadn ’ t always been attached to the CIRG.
She started off as a special agent in the Violent Crimes Unit, but after five years and a stellar record of putting some seriously violent criminals away, the CIRG came knocking and directly recruited her.
    Now as the Rome Legat, Vlasic was not expected to head the investigation on the ground. Her official role was limited to exchanging information with local and national law enforcement and security agencies. But Marino must have pulled some serious rank to bend the rules and assign her as the lead investigator of Julia ’ s kidnapping, and now to helm the Exertify hostage standoff. He trusted her and she was one of his favorites, Carter had said.
    She still commanded a powerful presence but had a softer demeanor. More purposely styled, more feminine. Barely a few years older than him, at forty-seven, Monica could still turn any number of heads. The almost invisible peach freckles on her cheeks, long flowing black hair, and satiny olive skin didn ’ t reveal much about her mixed Slavic, African, and East Indian roots. She could even pass for an Italian or a Latina. A black knitted dress hugged her ten-out-of-ten figure and ended halfway down her thighs. And those knee-high tan leather boots screamed more attitude than price tag. If only she looked this good on the inside.
    Standing across from Monica, Blackwell felt an unexpected bout of nostalgia at seeing an old colleague, despite the tragic history they shared. He had come a long way in the last two years. His obsession with her as the focal point of everything wrong with his life had damaged him. It was only after he ’ d stopped blaming her and started taking responsibility for his own actions that he ’ d been able to move on with his life.
    His eyes penetrated hers, and right before she was about to put her hand down, Blackwell finally shook it.
    “I ’ ve had a lot of time on choppers today to think about what I ’ d say to you now—”
    “Do it, Alex, and let ’ s get this out of the way quick.” Still snappy as he