1. Chapter 1

one

Lucas

L ombardi was still there, waiting, just outside of the security checkpoint in baggage claim. I didn’t know what he was doing out of lockup, but his arrogant smile told me the same thing my phone did when it showed no new notifications: this was no prison break.

He gave me a nod, acknowledging my pissed off face, pleased by it even.

I wanted to storm over to him, throw him down on the ground and handcuff him, but I couldn’t. I had a heavy suspicion, but no just cause.

Apart from that, Lombardi wasn’t the real threat right this moment: Antonio Conti was. So I delegated, pulling the attention of the TSA officer watching the non-sterile baggage claim area.

“Anything goes to hell in the next ten minutes, hold that man in custody while we sort shit out, you hear me?” I demanded, flashing my badge, pulling rank. Airports were federal jurisdictions; an FBI agent’s commands trumped his regular patrolling duties unless his supervisor wanted to get involved and tell him otherwise.

He nodded, eyeing Lombardi disdainfully.

Good. I could pull my focus.

I turned around, heading back through the crowded terminal.

Antonio was leaning against a pillar at a nearby gate, the plane finishing up boarding passengers to Omaha. He wasn’t paying attention to me, just messing around on his phone.

Why was the little idiot twenty-year-old more dangerous than the forty-something, tattooed, hardened criminal? Because Antonio Conti somehow made it past security and could physically harm the witnesses I was assigned to protect.

I couldn’t let that happen.

There was no way he smuggled a weapon through security, but just his proximity was a threat to my people. I was tasked with making a distraction so they could get away and board a plane with their designated US Marshal, hiding out until it was time to go to trial.

I debated just walking up and tapping Conti on the shoulder, politely asking him to put his hands behind his back so I could place him under arrest. He’d cooperate. Definitely.

Totally.

I lost my chance to sneak up on him when a woman stopped next to him, asking him a question.

He leered down at her, pointing down the terminal. She nodded her thanks, shoulder length curls bouncing. She had no idea who she was talking to, that this was a dangerous man who murdered someone less than twenty-four hours ago. Who walked into a crowded police station to talk to and make jokes with a dirty cop. Who strolled right through airport security despite a warrant being out for his arrest.

Antonio didn’t seem to care about any of it, and that made him more dangerous than the experienced criminal waiting patiently—and unfortunately legally —out in the sterile area of the airport in baggage claim. I couldn’t approach this unpredictable suspect so broadly with the unknown woman in the middle of the danger zone.

She turned her head briefly, bright blue eyes darting across her surroundings. There was an awareness to her gaze; was Conti making her uncomfortable? She didn’t step away from him, but actually took another step closer.

But when she flipped her hair over her shoulder again—those gorgeous blonde curls as bright as her eyes—that wariness was still present. Was she talking to him under duress? If so, why did she approach him in the first place?

I took a second to look her up and down. Her clothes looked clean and made of high-quality material, the pretty aqua blue of her top highlighting her eyes. I didn’t see any bruises, and she didn’t look malnourished. Hell, she looked strong, athletic even, her lean legs emphasized in the form-fitting slacks she wore, her toned arms showcased past the short sleeves of her blouse. She wasn’t in any sort of long-term danger my experience trained me to look for.

Why was this gorgeous woman acting nervous? No, that wasn’t right. She was acting flirtatious, but her eyes held a nervous quality to them. Why? And why would a strong, beautiful woman be flirting with a grease-bag of a human like Antonio Conti? He used enough hair gel that his black hair looked more like a shiny helmet than a head of hair. He definitely didn’t look like this woman’s type.

She glanced around again, briefly meeting my eyes. I tried to communicate a message to her, a warning, but her gaze flicked away as fast as it landed on me. She was more into the ridiculous wanted criminal with the ridiculous gray leather jacket in front of her than a clean-cut guy in a suit like me. Something was off; my intuition told me things were about to go very wrong very quickly.

I glanced back toward baggage claim again, wondering if Leo Lombardi had anything to do with the awful feeling creeping up my gut. The fates intervened and the mass of people thinned, leaving a clear view all the way across the terminal. My eagle eyes spotted Lombardi easily enough, his penchant for bright silk shirts—yellow in this case—working in my favor.

He was facing my direction, though far enough away that I couldn’t see his expression. I could see his fists balled tightly at his sides, one of those fists reaching up to smack hard against the pillar next to him. He was angry about something.

If I could see and pick out his form from this distance he would be able to see me just as clearly, be able to pick out my features with ease. Was he pissed that I found his counterpart?

I was missing something big here, but before I could put it together he took his phone out, tapping away at the screen. Was he warning Antonio that I was so close ?

Whatever was going on, it didn’t change the fact that Antonio Conti was my main quarry at the moment, not Lombardi. Whatever he was doing, it would have to wait.

I turned back to Antonio and the mystery woman flirting with him. They were both smiling, and she ran the fingers of one hand across his leather-clad forearm. I was too far away to hear it, but I almost felt Conti’s phone vibrate with a text message. He held up a finger to the woman, glancing down at his phone.

I felt the air shift as Antonio’s smile disappeared. He dropped his burner phone in the trash can at his side and grabbed the woman’s wrist.

Fuck. When Lombardi inevitably informed him that there was a federal agent lurking nearby I expected things to escalate fast. I didn’t expect an innocent woman to be caught so suddenly in the middle. I started in their direction, focused on the most immediate concern: this poor woman’s safety.

I shouldn’t have worried.

This petite little woman pinned Antonio’s arm against her side, using his inertia against him to flip his whole damn body over her shoulder so he landed flat on his back on the ground. I blinked in surprise, but didn’t pause as I rushed forward, my chest hitting her back as she danced backward a couple steps, putting some distance between herself and her attacker as he swiped at her legs.

This was definitely creating a scene, exactly what my witnesses needed so they could get away.

I put a hand on her back to get her to acknowledge my presence—there was no way I was going to take my eyes off Antonio so he could slip away unnoticed. Before I could ask if she was alright, she shrugged my hand off, glaring at me of all people. She turned her body back to Antonio, like she wanted to get closer again, so I grabbed her arm to hold her back. Was there something wrong with her? Why was she moving closer to this sociopath?

“Ma’am, you really shouldn’t interfere here. This is a—”

But then she shocked the hell out of me by pushing my chest, knocking me back a step. She was strong for someone her size, just like I thought she would be, but it was her icy blue eyes that held my attention as they blazed in anger.

I couldn’t fathom why her anger would be directed at me. She was the one who pushed me, assaulting a federal agent, when I was just trying to help her. Why the hell was she angry with me?

I stepped forward, annoyed that I had to divide my attention between where Antonio was still laying on his back on the floor and this woman.

“Don’t come any closer,” she said, the threat clear in her voice.

My eyes narrowed. What the hell was going on here? I already assessed the situation and decided she wasn’t in immediate danger or under duress, but was she not an innocent bystander like I thought? I needed to control the situation before it got further out of hand.

Act now, ask questions later.

I took another step forward and she swung her fist at me. I dodged it, moving yet another step closer.

Two TSA officers were lurking nearby, looking nervous but not intervening for some reason. I jerked my head at them, nodding them forward. They came closer and approached the woman from behind, standing on either side of the woman’s back, keeping her close so I could deal with Antonio Conti, who, amazingly, was still on the floor a couple steps behind the woman.

One officer grabbed the woman’s shoulder, and she just went ballistic. She bent over, kicking one of the officers in the head with her leg, whipping her body around so she could use the motion from that same kick to take out the other’s kneecap. She landed gracefully in a catlike pose on the ground while the two officers were hunched over, nursing their injuries. She wasn’t even breathing heavily.

Why was that so fucking hot?

She looked up at me from under her eyelashes, the barest hint of a smirk at the corner of her lips. She knew her power, her effect on people. The way those eyes sizzled at me seemed to change for just a moment while I admired her form before that uneasy look returned, and she shifted seamlessly back up into a fighting stance. She was getting ready to tackle the whole world again, but Antonio made his move first.

From his position on the floor he had easy access to reach up to the first TSA agent who was hunched over cradling his head, flick open the button on the holster at his waist, and grab the gun that rested there in one smooth move. I wasted a split second as I decided whether to reach for my own firearm or if that would even make a difference with his head start.

The FBI motto was Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity.

I couldn’t get the jump on him to shoot first, but I wouldn’t cower and hide. I needed to take Antonio down to save all the innocent people nearby .

I shifted my weight to lunge at him, prepared for the bullet he was going to put in me, knowing that no matter where it hit, I still had the superior strength and could at least pin him on the way down. Someone else could disarm him before he got a second shot off.

But his gun pointed toward the woman—was she his intended victim?—so I shifted my weight to her instead, my hand coming down on her head, my body pulling hers against me.

The bullet fired. I felt the heat as it grazed across the back of my hand, the pain sharp like the slicing of a knife.

I landed on the ground next to her, scrambling to cover her more fully with my body. I wrapped my arms around her and cradled her head into my chest. The officers were leaping at Antonio, but he dropped the gun and skittered out of reach. Even if I jumped up and started sprinting, I’d never catch him. I just had to hope that security would get him before he could escape the airport. Based on what I saw of the officers here, I was less than confident.

I looked down at the woman, blood from my hand staining the back of her head red.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Get your hands off of me,” she snarled, voice harsh.

I slowly loosened my grip on her, looking up to see all the chaos. Travelers were running everywhere, gate attendants hunched behind their desks. As I expected, Antonio was nowhere to be seen. I shifted up to my hands and knees, reluctant to let her go completely until I knew the coast was clear .

“Did the gunshot mess with your hearing? I said get off me!” The venom in her voice surprised me. I was expecting gratitude for saving her life. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what information I was missing for her to react that way, but apparently I took too long to comply.

She rolled onto her knees so quickly my fingers stayed tangled in her hair, wet from the blood, and keeping me close enough she could shove an elbow into my solar plexus. The pain was there, sure, but it was the shock that someone—especially a victim like her—would assault a federal officer again that prevented me from putting up an immediate defense.

My hand finally untangled from the back of her head and she pulled a fist back, throwing a punch at my face. I got my shit together quickly enough to dodge the brunt of it so the hit landed on my shoulder instead.

I let the weight of the hit move my body back and shifted with it, planting one of my feet on the tile floor so I could shift quickly into a stand.

She followed, rolling forward with me as I moved, swinging with her non-dominant hand, but something was off in her stance. She looked unsteady.

My feet were planted, my arms up and at the ready, so I felt I could try asking her again, “Are you okay?”

Instead of answering, she tried to throw another hit, but I caught her fist easily before she made contact, tossing that arm down and out of the way. I stepped into her space, forcing her to back up a couple paces until she leaned against the same pillar Antonio was lounging against a moment before .

She looked around frantically, not seeing an escape, and I put a hand on her shoulder, lightly pushing down so she was sitting. She looked like she was gearing up to hit me again, so I produced my handcuffs, dangling them in between us.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, ma’am.”

I saw the fight leave her body as she let out a frustrated grunt. Finally. I had the situation under control.

“First things first…” I glanced at her again. When I was satisfied she wasn’t going to bolt, I lifted the lid of the trashcan, easily finding the phone sitting at the top of the pile. I tapped the screen awake, pausing at the text prominently displayed in all caps.

KILL THE BITCH!

What the hell was going on?