CHAPTER ONE

Ella Dark leaned on the balcony railing as she waited for the caffeine to kick in. Three days since she'd gotten back from Delaware. Three days of mandated ‘rest and recovery' that was already driving her cuckoo. Seventy-two hours to stew in her own juices, but this time, she'd had someone to share that downtime with.

Luca Hawkins. Her blue-eyed devil, new agent extraordinaire. The Bureau's freshest piece of meat, and one that Ella didn't mind spending some serious time with.

Sure, he was easy on the eyes – a regular Adonis with sweet-as-sugar features. But it was more than that. The guy had a brain to match the brawn. They could jaw for hours, swapping theories, arguing profiles. He matched her quip for quip, gave as good as he got. In Luca, Ella"d found a kindred spirit; someone who got the job, lived the job, same as her. The fact that he filled out a suit like nobody"s business was just icing on the cake.

She thought back to their night at that club in Delaware. They'd caught the psycho the press had since dubbed the Laughingstock Killer – as creative a moniker as ever – and as they were riding high on adrenaline, Luca's lips met hers. Everything else fell away. No protocol, no crime scene cleaners. Just then, the rest of the world be damned.

Christ. She dragged a hand down her face and made her way into the kitchen. They'd kissed. So what? It didn't mean a thing, especially as they hadn't done it since despite several opportunities to do so. And besides, Ella had bigger fish to fry right now.

Like Mia Ripley, the Thelma to her Louise. Well, if Thelma was a hard-bitten ball-buster with all the tact of a hammer to the face. They"d been through the wars, her and Mia. Come out the other side with a few more scars and a lot less faith in humanity.

But the past few months? It had been some next-level insanity, even for them.

It started with Logan Nash, the scumbag who"d offed Ella"s dad all those years ago. The old hitman had wound up dead in a safe house, brains rearranged by a 9mm PMC Bronze one-fifteen grain bullet. Then Randall Carter, the ex-Bureau Chief who"d had it in for her and Mia since day one. Ella's ex-boyfriend had been attacked too, but the last finality on the list was Trevor Garbett, Mia's douchebag of an ex-husband. Old Trevor had a history for blackmailing Mia out of money, until someone introduced his forehead to the business end of a Glock .17.

Three stiffs, all with one thing in common: they"d all upset her and Mia at some point.

They had a murderous guardian angel on their side, but the identity of this vigilante triggerman was still a mystery. At least, unofficially.

It was the kind of thing a twisted mind might do for the person they loved, and the only person who fit the bill was Martin Godfrey – Mia's boyfriend. She'd seen the attacker on both CCTV footage and in the flesh, and the murky silhouette she saw was a perfect match for Martin.

Ella pieced it together, saw the pattern staring her in the face. Martin had worked for the police, FBI and military in the past, so he had access, opportunity. So Ella had gone to her partner, laid it all out. The photos, the timeline. Braced for impact.

But Mia? Mia exploded. Ranted and raved, called Ella every name in the book, then some. Accused her of trying to tank her happiness, of being jealous. It was a masterclass in denial, and Ella had a front-row seat. That same day, Martin Godfrey had disappeared without a word.

That was the last she"d seen of Mia. Three days of radio silence, phone calls and texts pinging into the void.

Ella turned from her balcony and slumped into her chair at the kitchen table. The caffeine was hitting her system like a freight train but barely touching the dread threatening to erupt in her gut.

What now? Crawl back to Mia? Apologize?

She doubted it would do any good. Mia was as stubborn as a mule, and chances were she was probably still living in denial. It wasn"t the first time they"d gone a few rounds, but this deep freeze was new territory. Three days of zip, zilch, nada.

Ella grabbed her phone and hovered her thumb over Mia's number, only a hair's breadth from craving for probably the twentieth time since Monday.

But pride was a funny thing. It could prop you up one minute, kick your legs out the next. And Ella"s was built like a Jenga tower – one wrong move and the whole thing would come crashing down.

Besides, how"d that conversation even go? ‘Hey partner, sorry for accusing your boy-toy of murder. My bad. Friends?'

Ella snorted. Right.

Still, the niggling worry remained, like a hangnail she couldn"t stop picking. Mia was out there, maybe in the clutches of a killer. As far as Ella knew, Martin was still on the loose. What if he had Mia in his sights? Or what if they'd reconciled, thus thrusting Mia straight into the lion's den?

Christ, she needed a distraction before she drove herself insane.

Ella cracked open her laptop. Jabbed her password in like the keys had personally wronged her. If she couldn"t fix this mess with Mia, she could at least pretend to be productive. She clicked over to her email, the new message icon cheerfully informing her she had a metric ton of unread crap. Joy.

Ella started skimming, deleting anything that smacked of pointless bureaucracy. Quarterly expense report? Delete. Sensitivity training? Delete. Mandatory feedback survey? Delete with extreme prejudice.

But then a name caught her eye, nestled between two read messages like a viper in the grass.

Mia Ripley. And next to it, a little green dot. The universal sign for ‘online'.

Ella"s heart stuttered, clicked into double-time. Online meant connected. Online meant at home.

The cursor hovered, trembling with the force of her hesitation. Did she really want to kick this particular hornet"s nest? Rip the stitches out of a wound that had barely begun to scab?

But the alternative – Mia, alone with a liar at best and a murderer at worst – was too much to swallow.

Screw it.

Ella slammed the laptop shut, decision made. She snatched her keys off the counter and was out of the door in a hot minute.

If Mia was in trouble, if Ella had put her there with her big mouth and half-cocked assumptions, then apologies could wait.

She had a partner to save first.