CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

The farm was a damn circus. Patrol cars, ambulances, rolling code like they were auditioning for the Blues Brothers.

Ella sat in the dirt with Ripley – old faithful Ripley – beside her, watching the mayhem unfold through one swollen eye. The other had puffed shut, thanks to Seth Baxter"s sledgehammer love taps. Every inch of her body sang with bright, vicious pain. But she was alive, still sucking air on this side of the grass. Which was more than could be said for Baxter if the paramedics didn"t hump it.

Speak of the devils. Two EMTs in navy jumpsuits trundled by with a gurney, heading for the lone figure sprawled in the dirt. Baxter looked small in death – or near-death, at least. Just a sack of busted sticks, oozing the last of his crazy out onto the soil. Part of Ella wished Mia"s shot had been a kill shot, putting the mad dog down for good. But the more practical part, the part not running on fumes and fury – that part knew they needed him alive. Needed him to answer for his crimes under the cold fluorescents of a courtroom, not the unblinking stars.

Besides, a bullet was too quick for the likes of Seth Baxter. He deserved to wither away in a concrete box, a long, slow rot with nothing but his demons for company.

So Ella kept her lips zipped as they loaded Baxter up, watched them wheel him off to the waiting ambulance. With any luck, the docs would patch him up just enough to stand trial. Make him relive every grisly murder in exquisite detail before shuttling him off to a lifetime of prison chow and cold, lonely nights.

There were questions aplenty rattling around Ella"s swollen skull; a lead ball"s worth of who"s and how"s and what-the-hell's. But she couldn"t seem to get her tongue unglued from the roof of her mouth.

So they sat in silence, watching the blue-and-red light show paint the remnants of Starlit Meadows Farm in gory Technicolor.

But eventually, even a hardcase like Mia had to crack. ‘Looks like you had a good time.'

Ella grunted, tongue still fat and stupid in her mouth. All she could muster was a nod.

Mia heaved a sigh and levered herself upright, then stuck out a hand. ‘C'mon, Dark. You should probably get to a hospital.'

Ella eyed that proffered palm, callused and coffee-stained and gloriously whole. Every cell in her body screamed to take it, to cling to it like a vine in a hurricane. But something held her back. Call it pride, call it stubbornness, call it the bone-deep knowledge that if Mia heaved and she ho"d, Ella would faceplant right back into the dirt like a drunken sorority pledge.

‘Hang on… I…. gimme a second.'

Luca broke free from the rabble of officers nearby and made his way over. He skidded to a stop.

‘Hollister"s stable,' he reported, a little breathless. ‘Lungs were full of water, but we cleared his airways just in time.'

‘You cleared his airways just in time,' Ella said. ‘I was busy getting hammered.'

‘Team effort.' Luca's gaze shifted to Mia. ‘Guess you were the hero of the day, Agent Ripley.'

Mia nudged Ella's ankle with her foot. ‘I'd do anything for this idiot here. At least for the next few months.'

Luca blinked, the hero worship morphing into confusion. Ella caught his eye, gave a minute headshake. Later. She"d fill him in on the whole sordid tale once the dust settled and the adrenaline drained away. For now, they had more pressing concerns. Like the psychopath getting stitched up in the back of a rig and the victim who"d beaten the reaper by a hairsbreadth.

She levered up onto her good elbow. ‘What about Baxter?'

‘Touch and go. But looks like he"ll pull through. At least long enough to see the inside of a jail cell. Ripley here caught him an inch from the heart.'

Ella tried not to grin. ‘Something tells me that was no accident.'

Mia shrugged. ‘Who knows?'

‘I'm gonna go babysit the perp and make sure he gets to the hospital in one piece. Ella, I'll see you at the precinct in the morning, maybe.'

‘Good work, kid,' Ripley said. ‘Keep this girl in line, will you? I've put too many hours into training her to start over now.'

He sketched a salute and loped off. Ella watched him go, something suspiciously close to affection tugging the corners of her mouth.

When Luca was out of earshot, Mia said, ‘Jesus, Dark. They team you up with a male model?'

‘Something like that.'

‘I'm old enough to be his mother but sheesh, he looks good wet. You should take that home.'

Her first instinct was to scoff. To affect the same nonchalance Mia wore like armor. She and Luca – they were partners, sure. Friends, even. But anything more? Just a flight of fancy, a daydream fueled by adrenaline and close calls.

Except there was more. A spark, undeniable and electric, arcing between them in the quiet moments. Loaded glances and lingering touches, inside jokes and unspoken understanding. The kind of connection that only came from facing death together.

It terrified Ella to her core. The possibility, the potential. The chance that she might have found something real and profound amid all this madness. It went against every hard-boiled maxim and every grim truism she"d carved into her bones over the years.

But maybe that was the point. Maybe it was time to rewrite the rulebook. Her life had been a series of mights and maybes, almosts and could-have-beens. It was time to embrace the wild card, to take a chance on something more than a gold shield and a lonely bed.

‘Maybe you're right,' Ella said. ‘But before we delve into my love life, we need to talk about yours. Where the hell have you been?'

Mia"s face clouded over like a summer storm rolling in. She looked away, jaw working like she was chewing on a particularly gristly piece of gristle.

‘Hiding. You know why.'

Ella didn"t need to be a mind reader to know exactly who Ripley was talking about. The same someone who"d been leaving a trail of bodies in his wake, all with one common denominator – they"d pissed off Mia Ripley.

‘Martin. What the hell"s going on with him? Where is he?'

Mia"s eyes went cold as a morgue slab. ‘Why do you think I'm in this town?'

‘You tailed him? Here?'

‘Yeah. And it was the perfect opportunity to come apologize to you, too.'

Ella thought back to the shadowy figure dogging her steps. The stranger in the residential street, the figure outside the mayor's bar.

She'd chalked it up to paranoia. To the jittery nerves of a long hunt without rest.

‘Mia, were you here all day? Tailing me since this morning?'

‘No. Just got into this one-horse town ten minutes ago. It was a haul and a half from the city.'

Ice water trickled down Ella"s spine. If Mia wasn"t the one shadowing her every move, that left only one option. One horrible, gut-wrenching possibility.

Martin.

The bastard had been on her tail since the beginning. Watching, waiting, biding his time for the perfect moment to strike.

And she"d played right into his hands. Led him straight to Mia, gift-wrapped her with a shiny bow.

What if he was watching right now?

Ella swallowed hard. She needed to think. To find a way to finish this. To put some distance between her and Ripley before Martin could spring whatever trap he had planned. Needed to keep her safe, even if it meant doing something foolish.

‘Mia.' Ella caught Ripley"s gaze, held it. Willed her to understand the desperate plea lurking behind her blackened eyes. ‘I need you to do something for me.'

‘Shoot.'

‘I need you to trust me. And I need you to slap me.'

Mia goggled at her like she'd suddenly sprouted wings. Mia searched Ella's face for the punchline. When it never came, she asked, ‘What?'

Ella surged forward, leaned in close so the desperate rasp of her voice wouldn't carry.

‘He might be watching. Trust me. And if he sees us together, being pals…'

Ella let it hang. Then saw understanding dawn in Mia"s eyes, slow and horrible as a tumor metastasizing.

‘You"re a real piece of work, you know that?'

‘Learned from the best, didn"t I?'

A ghost of a smile flickered across Mia"s face, there and gone like a stutter of lightning. She squeezed Ella"s hands hard enough to grind the bones to powder. Ella thought of all the wounds she"d accumulated over the years: stabs, bullet holes, burns, bruises. Surely a slap was nothing in comparison.

Then Mia cocked her arm back and let fly.

The crack of flesh on flesh was like a gunshot. Ella"s head snapped back, and stars exploded across her vision in sickening spirals. She staggered, then fell on her ass against the dirt.

Damn. Maybe she'd underestimated the power in Mia's palms.

Through the ringing in her ears, she heard Mia"s ragged inhale. Saw her square her shoulders, spit a curse that would"ve made a sailor blush. Then she was striding away.

Somewhere out there, Martin Godfrey was watching.

The trap was set, the pieces in motion. All that was left was to see who"d blink first.

Game on.