Chapter 1

When a bad day can't get worse…

"You go to a bar," Lara Atlas finished her dismal thought out loud.

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her steering wheel, hands cold on the October evening in the Rocky Mountains. A strong drink was exactly what she needed.

The hula girl on her dashboard shimmied her hips in cheerful agreement. A tacky but beloved keepsake from her bucket list trip to Hawaii six months ago, Lara had bought the cheap, frivolous thing at the airport kiosk. She brought it home to remind herself life was short, and she could give herself permission to have a little fun in the sun.

Today had been a plunge into the icy polar opposite of fun. More like straight out of a nightmare.

She still hadn't shaken the arctic chill that had settled in her bones as she watched her boss, Mark Landon, lose it while expressionless federal agents hauled boxes of paperwork and laptops from the second-floor three-room office where she worked for Landmark Financial Services.

Had worked—past tense, she realized, still dismantled inside by the upheaval.

Only hours ago, her livelihood and Mark Landon's company had disintegrated into a maelstrom of accusations. The miserable afternoon kicked off with an authoritative knock on the office door. Agents entered waving a cease-and-desist letter and a warrant to seize all company property, followed by Mark's arrest.

Blustering with fury, her boss had eventually been led away in handcuffs. He'd paused on the way out to send her a steely-eyed look.

"This is all a misunderstanding. I promise, Lara." His stare had swiftly morphed into a glare. "Go straight home tonight. Talk to no one. I'll call you in the morning once I've spoken to my attorney and posted bail."

Caught completely off guard, she was still left in the dark, knowing only the charge typed on the warrant. None of the agents requested to speak with her. Regardless, she'd wracked her brain wondering what their line of questioning might have been because she harbored plenty of questions and fresh doubts herself.

After the initial terrible shock wore off, her mind spun in a dozen directions. Her chief priority included not ending up in shackles like her boss.

As she drove in a frigid daze, despite the heat blasting through her car vents, the neon lights of The Tiki Retreat caught her eye. She'd met her girlfriends there every Thursday night for months, planning their Hawaiian vacation.

Right now, she needed an escape—from the harsh reality of today and the scary, unknown future ahead. In one afternoon, her whole world had turned upside down.

Swerving into the strip mall, she pulled her car into the nearly empty lot. Since buying her new car five weeks ago, she had parked away from other vehicles out of habit. No new-car dings on her pristine purchase, thanks.

Lara tapped her finger against the hula girl's upraised plastic hand, giving a mini high-five. The little doll's grass skirt fluttered. "One drink. I need to get out of my head."

Hula girl's hips jiggled as she waved with her perpetually beaming smile. Lara wished she could borrow a little of that optimism.

When she entered the bar, the blare of Rastafarian steel-drum rhythms matched her pounding heart. She dragged herself onto a stool at the long bar, which was decorated overhead with straw thatching resembling a tiki hut. Lanterns, hung at intervals, glowed orange and flickered with fake flames. She wished she could be somewhere far away, on a beach, listening to the calming ocean, digging her toes into warm sand.

The cute bartender Ray finished wiping the edge of a glass and approached. He glanced at his watch and then grinned at her. "You're here on a Tuesday? Without the usual girl crew?"

"I don't even know what day it is," she muttered. "My week—my life—is shot to hell."

Ray sent her a compassionate glance. "Rough one? I've got a cure for that. A pineapple upside-down cake martini."

"Bring it on."

She appreciated the normalcy of watching Ray mix a drink in the metal shaker and pour the yellow-tinted liquor combo into a martini glass he'd rimmed with crystals of raw sugar. After depositing her drink, he crossed his arms on the bar. His forehead furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Everything?"

"Oh, well if that's all." He slid her an appealing grin. "Here I thought maybe you came by just to see me." His bright blue eyes twinkled in the low light.

Wait, was he flirting with her? Damn. She thought of all the times she would've enjoyed taking him home at last call…an exciting hookup with a sexy guy to break her dating dry spell… But the timing couldn't be worse.

"No, sorry," she said, feeling even more miserable.

"You're not here to meet your friends to plan your next vacation either, I take it."

"I don't know if I can plan next week's groceries. My boss was just indicted on federal charges of financial fraud."

"Ouch." He winced on her behalf. "They don't hand out those out lightly. My cousin is a day trader on the floor in Chicago. I've heard his stories about guys who thought they could do a few backroom deals and cheat the system. Never goes well."

"Guess not." She took a liberal swallow, letting the booze create a trail of warmth down to her hollow stomach.

"If you don't mind me saying, you're gorgeous."

A surprised laugh bubbled from her, and she blushed at the random compliment. "Um, thanks?"

He rubbed his ear. "I meant, if you're hard up for cash, you could pick up shifts here with me. I wouldn't mind splitting tips. The regulars would love you. A pretty girl bartender always draws a crowd. I could put in a good word for you."

"That's sweet, Ray." She licked the sugar on the rim of her glass. "I'll get back to you on that." She should keep her options open.

Suddenly she realized she'd just shared gossip-worthy details she should've kept to herself. In small towns, people ate that up. Sometimes she missed her vast hometown of Las Vegas. Its bawdy outrageousness deflected attention, providing easy anonymity.

Ray bent to retrieve a beer from the glowing, waist-high fridge beneath the shelves showcasing rows of liquor bottles, their reflections dancing in the mirrored backsplash. He set it in front of a regular and then exchanged a low-spoken conversation with the barback. Had she sparked the flames of a rumor mill that would rage out of control by morning?

Oh, hell. She rubbed her forehead, remembering her boss's explicit instructions: Go straight home. Talk to no one.

But how could she process the shitstorm of today without telling a single soul?

Landmark Financial had been swarmed by SUVs with tinted windows, anchored by local police with blue and red lights flashing. Word would likely spread fast, regardless of her one-martini confession to a local bartender.

Pained by the uncertainty of her situation, she glanced forlornly out the wide storefront window facing the parking lot of the strip mall. Suspicious activity caused her to pause.

She narrowed her eyes. Wait—is someone breaking into my car? My brand-new car!

Slamming down her drink, she shot off the bar stool and raced toward the window. She'd heard about a recent rash of car thefts in town but wasn't about to confront a hoodlum alone. Grabbing her phone from her purse, she was about to dial 9-1-1 when the guy ran in the opposite direction.

Relief washed over her. Before she made it to the door to see if her car was okay, an ear-splitting explosion rocked the parking lot.

Flinching at the catastrophic sound and the white-hot burst that singed her retinas, she reeled back. She held up her arms in defense as if she'd viscerally felt the impact.

The violence of the blast had shattered her car windows. The turquoise shards ringed her vehicle like a macabre necklace against the black pavement. Flames devoured the seats, scorching the red exterior.

A sound of horror scraped from her throat.

The deafening blast and her guttural cry drew other patrons to the window, flanking. Some took out their phones to capture video and pictures of the flames now engulfing the car, while others dialed emergency numbers.

The blaring noise and shouts around her sounded muted, far away.

"This is unreal," she whispered to herself, staring unblinkingly at the carnage. She felt this on a deeply personal level.

Had that man been planting a bomb? But no, he was clearly trying to break in. Maybe he'd accidentally sent it off…which meant…

Go straight home… Her boss's direct order.

What if she had? Would she be engulfed in flames right now, along with her car?

Dark inklings registered in her mind—things she'd passed off as insignificant about her boss's unusual dealings and behaviors in the past six months, ever since she returned from her Hawaii trip.

Should she have paid more attention? Asked more probing questions? Or would that have only gotten her into trouble, perhaps even accelerating what had just happened in the parking lot?

Worst-case scenarios darted like poison-tipped arrows through her mind. She hated to think Mark would cause bodily harm to anyone—least of all her, his devoted office manager of the past four years…

No. No way her boss would plot something that diabolical… Would he? To get rid of the one person who might unsuspectingly possess intel on him that could land him in federal lockdown?

I'm not safe.

The thought shot through her brain with the brutal power of a cannonball. Her mind spun in a dizzying whirl.

She was used to taking care of herself, having grown up with the most self-reliant family on the planet. Half of her DNA came from the Atlases—her father's family, who emigrated from Russia and settled in Las Vegas, some eventually becoming billionaires. Atlases took no prisoners and offered no mercy. They were badasses to the core. Instinct was everything.

Right now, her instincts were telling her not to call the cops, not to involve herself with what just happened to her car until absolutely necessary. What almost happened to me…?

There was only one person in the entire state of Colorado she trusted with her life: her cousin, Isaac Atlas. She needed to call him.

She stared at her smartphone gripped in her hand. Phones could be traced. Driven by sharp instinct and the adrenaline coursing through her, she powered down the device.

A recollection flashed of a cell phone store a few doors down in the strip mall. Could she purchase a device there that couldn't be tracked? That seemed like a wise move. Especially since she had no idea what she was up against. If she had nothing to worry about, her instincts wouldn't be clawing at her like a feral alley cat.

Better to be safe than…dead.

When a pair of hands cupped her shoulders, she leaped. "Hey, sorry to startle you. Did you see what happened out there?" Ray questioned, looking aghast. "Whose car is that?"

"It's—I have no idea," she blurted. "Gotta run. Thanks for the drink."

"Any time. Hey, if you…" His voice faded as she headed for the door and raced down the sidewalk toward the phone store. She ducked inside.

Still shaken, she hadn't taken time to process events from the past few minutes. But somehow, she felt better knowing help was only a phone call away. Isaac would answer an unfamiliar number, right?

"I need a phone." She interrupted the lanky young man standing at the kiosk's table centered in the single room of the shop, surrounded by dozens of handheld electronic devices displayed on the walls. He lifted his head and brushed his long-ish hair from his face, strands catching in his beard.

Eyes still glazed from being absorbed in an online game, he blinked and focused on her. "Uh, yeah, sure. Do you have a plan you want to add the phone to?"

"No plan." All her plans had gone up in flames. Literally.

"Oh." His eyebrows drew together. "Are you okay?"

"I'm—no, I'm not." The quiet of the store seemed to bring her chaotic emotions to the surface. Her voice came out wobbly. "I need a phone. Mine…broke."

"No worries. It happens to the best of us."

His show of compassion evoked a swell of appreciation. "Thank you," she whispered.

Two rogue tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Aw, hey. It'll be okay. When my sister dropped her phone the night before a big interview and the screen shattered, she showed up at my store bawling. We fixed her up, and I'll get you a working phone, too." He grabbed a clipboard. "I need you to fill out some paperwork."

Time was the one thing she didn't have. "But I need to make a phone call. Right now."

He hiked a slim shoulder. "Want to use my phone for now?"

"Yes, please." She rushed toward him like he'd offered her a lifeline. She wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her wrist. Her damp makeup smeared the phone's glossy surface. "Sorry. Thanks. This will only take a minute. Is there a backroom, or a bathroom?"

He pointed toward the rear hall. "Second door on the right."

Nodding, she dashed in the direction he indicated. She closed herself in the restroom, locked the door, and blew out a trembling breath. She dialed her cousin's number. One she knew by heart.

Blessedly, he picked up on the third ring. "Isaac Atlas."

"Isaac." She practically shrieked with relief hearing his deep, calm, familiar voice. "This is Lara. Your cousin. I–I think I'm in trouble. I need your help."

* * *

Dominic Aiello glanced up from his laptop to see Isaac Atlas coming toward him with purposeful strides. Sitting back in his chair behind his new desk at Soren Security, he smiled, amazed at how the two of them always ended up joining forces to conquer the world by putting the bad guys in their place. No matter how much time had passed.

They'd remained fiercely loyal friends since fifth grade when Dominic had moved to a new school in the middle of the year and found himself seated in front of Isaac in homeroom. One day, they noticed a bully picking on a brainy girl who sat in the row next to them. The pimply kid had knocked the book she'd been reading off her desk. She'd flushed crimson with shame, obviously used to being picked on. Isaac replaced her book, smoothing the pages and glaring at the bully, while Dominic, big for his age and strong from working after school for his dad's landscaping company, loomed over the tormenter. He muttered, "Do that again, and you'll answer to us."

The bully never bothered her after that, and Dominic and Isaac struck up an instant friendship, united by an unshakeable sense of justice and the instinctive need to protect the underdog. They'd been a dynamic duo ever since.

Fate had taken them down different roads along the way, but somehow, despite weaving in and out of each other's lives, they always ended up on parallel paths. When Isaac learned Dominic had left the military police after years of devoted service, his friend had tapped him to join Soren Security as their first intelligence officer.

So far, his initial month with a personal security company had been more exhilarating than expected. Leveraging his military and investigative experience, he'd already worked alongside local authorities to solve a case involving a woman who'd turned to Soren Security for a bodyguard to keep her safe. Now her attacker was behind bars awaiting trial. So satisfying.

But judging by the troubled look on Isaac's face, this wasn't a random social call.

Dominic's smile fell. "What's going on?"

Dark eyes stormy, Isaac stopped inside the door. "Do you remember my cousin, Lara?"

Hearing her name, Dominic's heart skipped a beat, before the corner of his mouth curved. As if I could forget her?

Instantly, his mind conjured the image of haunting green eyes, thick dark hair, and a simmering attraction he'd tried to ignore. Raging teenage hormones had led to a forbidden indulgence that Isaac knew nothing about. Dominic planned to keep it that way. They were kids back then—she'd been way too young for him at the time. But he sure as hell had never forgotten her.

The memory of her lips beneath his still haunted him, along with his body's response to her innocent explorations. Their incredible chemistry—an attraction that deep down he'd never stopped craving—remained undeniable.

A secret part of him had always clung to the memories, harboring a more than slight curiosity—wondering if she'd been the one who got away…

"What about her?" Dominic asked, his face a stoic mask.

Flustered, Isaac ran a hand through his hair. "Listen, I wouldn't normally drag you into family drama. I know this company has better uses for your talents."

"But?"

"Lara called me five minutes ago from an unfamiliar number. She needs help, and?—"

"Where is she?" Dominic shot to his feet.

"I think she's standing in the bathroom of a cell phone store in Springfield, Colorado, forty minutes away. In hushed tones, she mentioned a car bomb exploding. She believes she's being targeted by a killer. Man, she's terrified." Isaac's face tightened, and his hands clenched. "I can't leave her stranded like that."

"Hell, no. And neither will I." Dominic slapped his laptop shut and shoved it into his bag. His thoughts flashed like lightning strikes. His brain tracked each burst of an idea and followed up on every scenario. "I'll go to her. But if she's in danger, if someone's targeting her, I'll need surveillance gear. What have you got in storage?"

Isaac led him to the equipment room in the basement of their headquarters. "Supposedly, these are all leftovers from the previous owner of the company, Logan Stone. He was heavily into the technology side of security. I have no idea what's in here. To my knowledge, no one has needed to use it."

"I'll figure it out." Dominic quickly raked through the options available, collecting what might be useful. "Do you have an extra bag?"

Isaac nodded. "My duffel bag is in my gym locker. I'll grab it."

"We don't have time."

"There's a gym right here in the basement of the building. The impressive gym was the first upgrade the new owners made four years ago. Be right back." Isaac quickly returned and handed him a sturdy black duffel. "Got what you need?"

"It'll work for now, until I know the full situation." Dominic zipped the bag over its contents and reached for his phone. "What's her number?"

"This is the last number she called from," Isaac said, holding out his cell.

Dominic dialed the number. "Hello," a male voice said.

"Put Lara on the line."

Brief static and muffled tones.

"H-hello?"

"Lara, it's Dominic Aiello. I'm heading your way. Hang tight."

"W-wait, Dominic?" Her voice faltered. "Is that you? Isaac's friend from when we were kids?"

"It's me, Lara. I'm in Denver now, but I'm on my way to keep you safe."

He heard her swallow. A faint sigh of relief followed. "I'm forty minutes away in Springfield."

"Then I'll meet you in twenty. Text me the address." Moments later his phone pinged, and he tapped it into his GPS.

"You're not in this alone," he vowed.

Silence.

"Lara?"

"I'm here." Her tearful voice wrung his heart. "Dominic. I'm so glad it's you."

"Always." Then he whispered, "Remember?"

"Yes," she said thinly. "I remember."

"Don't move. I'll be there before you know it."