Chapter 1

chapter

one

Nia Anderson attempted to open her eyes as a sense of urgency nagged at her subconscious.

A throbbing headache pounded at her temples, and something cold and hard pressed beneath her face and arms.

Not soft and warm like her bed.

Something was wrong.

She forced her eyes open as nausea swirled in her gut.

She was lying on a floor.

She blinked and glanced around.

Where was she? The room around her was unfamiliar.

Frigid.

Unwelcoming.

She lifted her hand to push a hair out of her eyes when she noticed the dried red liquid covering her fingers.

Was that . . . blood?

Her panic surged.

She swallowed a scream.

She did a mental inventory of herself. Other than her throbbing headache, nothing hurt.

The blood wasn’t hers . . . she didn’t think. Was it possible she was bleeding and didn’t know it?

Her gaze went to the white marble floor beneath her. A trail of blood formed a jagged line.

She followed the path with her gaze.

To a set of legs.

Attached to a man.

A man who was sprawled on the floor, probably eight feet away.

Nia forced herself to stand on shaky legs.

As she did, pain stabbed at her head so sharply she bent over double. She grasped her temples as everything blurred around her.

She had to pull herself together. Urgency superseded her confusion.

You can recover from your aches and pains later, she told herself.

Nia forced another step and staggered forward.

She reached the man and peered at his face.

A gasp escaped.

Rob Lesner. She’d met with the businessman for dinner at a restaurant to talk about a contract issue between his company and hers.

And now he appeared to be . . . dead.

Blood oozed from a gaping wound in his chest . . . and a bloody knife lay beside him .

Was this his place?

Who did this to him?

How had she even gotten here?

Nia glanced around the expensive, modern space. At the massive windows comprising the exterior wall of the living room.

The lights of downtown Miami stared back at her.

Her heart thundered in her chest.

She didn’t remember coming up here.

The last thing Nia remembered was eating dinner at the restaurant.

There was no reason she should be in this high-rise apartment with Rob right now. The two of them were business acquaintances and nothing more.

What should she do?

She had to find her phone. She reached for the pocket of her black dress. The device was still tucked there.

That brought a small touch of good news in a terrible situation. She’d slipped her credit card into the case and had left her purse in her car during dinner. That parking garage happened to be the same one she parked in for her job as well.

But where was her car now? Still in the lot where she’d left it? Or had she driven here—wherever here was?

Her gaze wandered until she saw a clock.

Three-thirty a.m.

Just then, a sound cut through the air—a manic, almost evil-sounding laughter.

She gasped and stepped back .

Until she realized it was a recording.

No, not a recording. It was . . .

Something lit up in Rob’s shirt pocket.

His cell phone, she realized.

Relief swept through her.

Without thinking, she reached for the device. Saw someone named Gage was calling Rob.

At this hour?

She quickly wiped her prints from the phone and put it back in Rob’s pocket.

She couldn’t just stand here.

Think, Nia. Think.

Calling the police seemed like the most logical thing to do.

But how would she argue her innocence? She couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten here.

In fact . . . everything about this made her look guilty.

Her gaze fell on the blood covering her fingers, and her pulse surged again.

The police would think she’d killed Rob.

Her gaze jerked toward the knife.

What if it had her prints on it?

She would never hurt someone, nonetheless, murder them.

But the hole in her memories caused her nerves to ratchet out of control.

She needed to run. To get out of here before someone found her. Before anyone made assumptions.

Nia squeezed her eyes shut . . .

Was that really a good idea ?

She didn’t know. But she needed to buy herself some time to figure out what had happened.

It was the only choice that made sense.

What if she’d been set up? If someone had killed this man and left her here to take the fall?

She couldn’t just sit back and let that happen.

She rushed into the kitchen and washed the blood off her hands and arms. She used paper towels to dry herself.

Then she quickly wiped the sink handle. Stuffed the paper towels into the garbage disposal and ran it. She waited several minutes extra, just to be on the safe side.

She shut the water off with her elbow, careful to leave no prints.

Standing in the kitchen, the reality of the situation hit her again.

Nia pressed her eyes closed.

This was a mistake.

She needed to call the police.

But the Miami PD already didn’t like her. She’d dated the chief, and things had ended badly.

Mario Cruz . . . he wasn’t a good man. It had taken her entirely too long to see it.

A few of Mario’s friends had even harassed her—though they’d never own up to it.

Since then, she hadn’t trusted the cops around here. They were on Mario’s side, not hers. And they loved nothing more than to humiliate her.

She had to get out of here.

The person who’d done this to Rob . . . he could still be nearby. What if the killer planned on coming back to finish her off also? She’d been passed out. If the killer wanted something from her . . . he could have decided to wait for her to wake up.

As the CEO of a tech brokerage firm, she’d had threats before . . .

A chill washed over her.

Nia couldn’t think clearly.

She only knew she needed to hurry.

She walked back to Rob and frowned, fighting nausea as she looked down at him. “I’m sorry. One way or another, I’m going to figure out who did this to you.”

Nia rushed to the door. On a whim, she grabbed a baseball cap left on the table and pulled it on over her head. Then she slid on the aviator sunglasses she also found there.

Dragging in a shaky breath, she cracked the door open and searched the hallway.

It was empty.

She had to leave.

Now.

Before the killer returned.

Gage Pearson stretched as he climbed from his rental car and hoisted his bag over his shoulder.

Flight delays had landed him in Miami four hours later than scheduled.

He’d almost gotten a hotel in Atlanta for tonight. But finally, his flight had departed. Now he was getting to his friend’s place in the middle of the night.

He didn’t think Rob would mind.

The two knew each other from high school, and they’d remained close since then.

After graduation, Gage had joined the military while Rob had gone on to work in private industry. Eventually, his friend had started his own successful technology business. When Rob had invented Water Splat, a game app, he’d hit it big time.

Meanwhile, Gage had left the military and had been recruited to work for a private security firm.

Gage was curious why his friend had asked him to come. What he’d wanted to talk about that they couldn’t discuss over the phone.

Rob’s message had been urgent, so Gage had requested permission to take some time off work. Alan Larchmont, Gage’s boss, had said it was fine, especially since he was in between assignments with the Shadow Agency.

Gage wound his way from the parking garage and stepped inside the high-rise apartment building. The doorman was distracted helping two intoxicated young women as they stumbled around the lobby.

Perfect.

Gage bypassed the man and headed to the elevator instead.

Rob had given Gage a code to get into his apartment in case he was sleeping when Gage arrived. He’d tried to call his friend when his second flight departed, but Rob didn’t answer.

He’d tried to call when he landed as well. Rob still didn’t answer.

Gage hoped everything was okay. His friend usually had his phone glued to his ear.

Gage took the elevator to the twelfth floor, walked down the hall, and paused by door 1218.

He punched in the code Rob had given him and opened the door, trying to be quiet in case his friend was asleep.

He paused in the entryway and glanced around.

An amazing view of Miami stared at him. His friend really had done well for himself, all the way down to the marble floor beneath his feet and the ultra-modern furniture decorating the place.

Good for him. Rob deserved all the best. The man would bend over backward to help someone in need, sacrificing his own comfort to do so. Rob and his family had practically adopted Gage when he was a teen, knowing he had a hard home life. Gage was eternally grateful for their kindness.

He wouldn’t be the person he was today without them.

Gage took a few more steps, contemplating whether or not to call out hello. Before he could, a new scent hit him.

A coppery odor.

Like blood.

His throat tightened .

Gage dropped his duffel bag near the door.

All his senses told him something was wrong.

“Hello?” he called.

No answer.

He took a few more steps, his spine tightening with every breath.

As he crossed into the living room, he paused.

Just on the other side of the sleek beige leather couch, someone lay on the floor, blood spilled around him.

“Rob . . .” Gage rushed toward his friend.

But he could clearly see Rob was already dead. Gage was too late.

Who would do this? Anger turned his blood into lava as it coursed through his veins.

Was this why Rob had wanted to meet? Because he’d feared for his life and needed Gage’s help?

He touched his friend’s neck, just to confirm there was no pulse. His body wasn’t cold yet. Rob probably hadn’t been dead for an hour. Rigor had yet to set in.

If Gage’s flight hadn’t been delayed . . . maybe his friend wouldn’t be dead right now.

His heart pounded in his ears at the thought.

He found a bit of comfort in knowing that Rob’s parents were no longer around to mourn their son’s death. They’d died in an auto accident three years ago, and he was an only child.

Still . . .

Gage shook his head. He had to stay focused.

The last time he’d talked to Rob had been around six-thirty .

What had happened in the time in between?

Gage rose and glanced around, searching for any clues as to what had happened.

A knife lay beside Rob—an ornate one with a silver handle emblazoned with a wispy, leaf-like pattern. It was definitely unique.

He took a picture of it so he’d remember the details.

His gaze stopped at something gold on the floor just beneath the couch.

A woman’s earring.

It was heart-shaped with a smattering of diamond dust.

Did this belong to the killer? Had it been a woman?

Gage knew one thing for certain.

He’d find the person who did this to his friend and make him—or her—pay . . . if it was the last thing that he did.