The Bigot List: (A J.J. McCall Novel) Read Online Free

security, and hell would be paid—and the bigot list ensured the FBI knew exactly where to start the search.
    An innocent man, prick as he was, had been unjustly arrested, and there was little she could do to spring him. Certainly couldn’t stroll over to the U.S. District Attorney’s Office and say, “Drop the charges. He’s not lying. How do I know? Well, my generational curse gave me the power to detect lies, and he didn’t make me itch. No, really.”
    That idea was a non-starter. Taking on this mission meant  conducting an unsanctioned mole hunt for the man who made her work life a living hell. She shuddered when she thought about the vile comments he’d made about her and the McCall family name just days ago, and now he expected this? She’d be required to gamble with what was left of her career. Going rogue to help him? Not a chance she was willing to take.

Chapter 2
    Two days before…
     
    Thursday Morning at FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.
     
    J.J. searched for serenity in bottom of a Belvedere bottle. The wait for his sugar-coated lies had dragged on for too long; she’d lost patience. After glancing around the small reception area to ensure no one was watching, she removed from her purse a silver flask and smiled. It was filled to the brim with relief. One small gulp and the soothing burn slipped down her throat, calming her prickly nerves. Inside she felt on the brink of dissolution. The 10 am swallow was just a necessary evil. It would get her through the meeting, until time for her next dose of repose.
    Another dead source. She couldn’t stomach the thought of his demise. Two had been more than her fair share. The unceasing cycle of loss had worn her resolve thin. She’d refused to let another family suffer that pain if she could in any way prevent it. J.J. wanted to tell the FBI where to stick her badge and gun, but she had promises to keep. Promises to Viktor. Promises to herself. No matter what Cartwright said, she’d see her case through until the end. And the end was as near as nightfall because the op was simple and would go off without a hitch.
    J.J. stiffened her back and squared her shoulders as the elixir took effect. Her posture mirrored that of the powerful yet graceful eagle perched atop her FBI badge. She’d eyed it, waiting for the carefully choreographed denial and deception ritual to begin.
    Blur the truth. Fool the enemy. Protect the state—or the Bureau as it were.
    From Naomi Jones McCall to Johnnie Mae Gibson to J.J. McCall, the long-practiced routine hadn’t changed much. Forty years and still the same old shit. For almost a decade, she’d operated under the blind faith of equal opportunity for all, but J.J. finally lost her last modicum of hope that positive change was inevitable.
    “Agent McCall,” Assistant Director of Counterintelligence James Cartwright called from the door of his vast office. Only Director Freeman’s office was larger. A wave of apprehension gripped J.J. as she smoothed her hair down to the shoulder and stood to face him. She’d been twiddling her thumbs for twenty minutes, waiting for him to deliver the promotion board results.
    Cartwright’s jaw tightened and his face contorted before he said “Please come in and have a seat.”
    “Yes, sir.” Her tall slender frame towered over his as she offered a respectful nod and strode inside. She flipped her navy blue suit jacket backward before parking herself in the burgundy leather executive chair facing his desk.
    Cartwright pressed his lips together and grimaced, expelling a long breath as he closed the door behind her. Once seated, he clasped his fingers together and tightened his lips. “You’re looking a little tired. When’s the last time you took some time off?”
    J.J. didn’t understand why people had taken so much effort to tell her she looked like crap in recent weeks. A few sleepless nights had begun to take their toll. All she needed was a good night’s rest and she’d be