FATAL PERFECTION

SKY STRYKER SERIES: BOOK NINE

MARY STONE

BELLA CROSS

Copyright © 2025 by Mary Stone Publishing

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Formatted with Vellum

For every reader who followed Sky through the darkness, believed in her fire, and never looked away. This finale is for you.

DESCRIPTION

In a world obsessed with perfection, death is the final accessory.

After exposing a powerful Manhattan men’s club and surviving more murders than she can count, tell-all writer Sky Stryker is no stranger to secrets...or danger. But when she and her crew are pulled into an FBI task force investigating a string of model abductions, the glitz and glamor of Fashion Week quickly morph into a waking nightmare.

And this time, the monsters wear designer labels.

The latest victim? A male model whose best friend was tortured and killed on camera. Now he’s gone too. And the killer is far from finished.

As the clock ticks down to the city’s most high-profile event, Sky and her team race to unmask a puppet master hiding in plain sight. Someone with wealth. Reach. And a taste for spectacle.

But nothing can prepare them for the show’s final act.

Because this time, the killer isn’t just targeting the runway. They’re coming for Sky. And to save the ones she loves, she’ll have to step straight into the spotlight—where fatal perfection is the goal. And death is the prize.

Fatal Perfection is the shocking final book in the Sky Stryker series by bestselling author Mary Stone. The cameras are rolling. The trap is set. And Sky’s last story might just be her own.

1

Ping.

Like a dog trained by Pavlov himself, Tyler Cochran lunged for his phone, heart jerking to attention before his brain caught up. One new message.

Please be him.

After swiping right on Nicky Silva’s profile days ago, he’d spent much of the time since playing up how unbelievably attractive he found the dark-haired Armenian to be. But despite Tyler lavishing compliments and dropping flirty double entendres, Nicky hadn’t taken the bait.

Maybe I’m coming on too strong. Dammit. I should have played hard to get.

Taking a deep breath, Tyler sank into a chair at the tiny table that served as a dining room, grateful that his roommate, Bastien Flank, was away at a shoot in Milan. No one needed to witness the rampant blush heating Tyler’s cheeks with every playful swing-and-miss shot he took at Nicky Silva.

“This is going to be just another message from some lonely teddy bear sugar daddy looking for love.” Grumbling to the empty apartment, Tyler unlocked his phone with a quick face scan.

He deleted those messages without hesitation. Tyler wasn’t on the dating app to find a date.

He was there for Nicky Silva.

Tyler believed Nicky was the key to finding out what happened to Kelsey Vinn. A model on the rise and a friend dear to Tyler’s heart, Kelsey had gone missing three weeks ago after dazzling the audience on the catwalk during a high-end fashion show. No one—not Kelsey’s family, not her roommate Frankie—had heard from her since.

Nicky Silva had been present that evening. A man with no official title or legitimate business affiliation, Nicky seemed to always be front and center at high-profile fashion shows and after-parties. If he’d been some wealthy trust-funder, Tyler wouldn’t have given him a second thought.

But though his name appeared on every important guest list, the guy was a nobody. Nicky had no real reason to be so friendly with the Manhattan elite. And yet picture after picture in the media linked Nicky to executives, models, photographers, magazine editors, and designers at modeling agencies and fashion houses.

All those pictures were recent. Tyler had tried to find older images, but before about twelve months ago, Nicky Silva hadn’t existed. He just showed up one day, and unlikely as it was, a society notorious for blocking outsiders accepted him as one of their own.

His appearance into society coincided with a shake-up in the major modeling agencies. The FBI had busted multiple agents at an elite gentleman’s club for prostituting their models. Though he hated to acknowledge it, Tyler had been active in that side of the business.

When the Mill went down, Tyler’s own modeling life took a hard turn for the worse. His agent viewed him as being worth more as a pay-for-play boy toy than a model, so he’d been without a fashion gig for a while.

The entire experience had left him with more than a few emotional scars, but dealing with his own trauma would have to wait for another day.

During the chaos and power vacuum following the FBI bust, Mr. No Name No History Nicky had splashed onto the scene, and a handful of models had disappeared. Including Kelsey.

An image of Nicky, smiling and chatting with Kelsey the night she disappeared, had circulated on many elite social blogs and news sites after her last fashion show.

Nicky Silva had to be connected somehow.

No one seemed to have any idea what happened to Kelsey after she’d appeared in that photo. Or if they knew, they weren’t talking.

Frankie Jenkins, Kelsey’s roommate, was trying to help while also scrambling to pick up extra jobs so she could cover rent on her own. She’d even gone with Tyler to speak with the private detective firm looking into the model’s disappearance.

But the P.I. had turned out to be useless.

Something terrible had happened to one of the sweetest women in the universe, and not a single person or media outlet was talking about it.

“None of this makes sense.” Tyler bit his lip, swallowing the rage bubbling up from his chest. “They should be screaming your name on the news right now, and you’re not even getting a mention.”

A rising star bound for success, Kelsey had one of those personalities that could light up a room. She made people smile even on their darkest days.

Tyler had only known her a short while, but they’d connected on a soul level. She’d stumbled into the bathroom while he was violently paying homage to the porcelain gods, emptying his stomach after one too many drinks.

Most people would have walked away, but not Kelsey. She refused to risk him aspirating alone in the bathroom.

She cared for Tyler through the night, witnessing him hit rock bottom in real time. When he finally woke the next morning, Kelsey’s face greeted him. No judgment. No mockery.

The empathetic model was simply happy Tyler was okay.

Everyone had wanted to talk to her after her last show.

Of all the people who’d chatted her up, Nicky Silva was the only one who didn’t seem to have an agenda. He wasn’t affiliated with any agency or designer. No way was he romantically interested in Kelsey because, according to his social media accounts, Nicky was gay—which Tyler hoped to use to his advantage. He’d set his sights on catching the well-connected man’s eye.

Opening the dating app on his phone, Tyler spotted the new message alert flashing, with Nicky’s avatar attached to it.

I’ll be at Café Bustelo in an hour. Wear something cute, and if I like what I see, maybe we can take the evening further.

“Yes!” Tyler punched the air with a triumphant fist as he contemplated how to respond.

Be careful what you wish for. I’ve been told I’m addictive. See you soon.

Cringing as he sent the cheesy reply, Tyler felt like he needed a shower after even that short interaction. Cocky wasn’t typically his style, and being treated as an object for inspection brought back too many memories.

But he had to get close to this guy if he hoped to find out what happened to Kelsey.

He shot off a message to Frankie.

I’ve got a real lead this time. Going undercover. If I’m MIA the rest of the day, don’t worry.

Her reply came in an instant.

Be careful! I don’t need you disappearing too.

Frankie didn’t understand that he couldn’t back out now. He’d committed to this mission, to finding Kelsey no matter what it took.

I’ll be safe. Just trust me.

Three little dots appeared on his screen before Frankie’s response came through.

Don’t take the risk.

Tyler could feel Frankie’s anxiety as he read her words. She’d wanted him to leave it alone and let the professionals deal with it, but she was putting far more faith in Sky Stryker and the P.I. crew than they deserved.

“They’ve done nothing.” Tyler spoke to his empty apartment. “Sitting around and waiting for them to follow through on empty promises isn’t helping Kelsey.” His fingers flew across the screen.

They’re too slow. I want to get Kelsey back. Now. I have to do this.

Just as he was setting down the phone to get ready, the device buzzed with another text alert.

If you disappear, I swear…

Frankie would keep going like this all night if he let her.

Signing off for now. You have to trust me.

The café wasn’t far from Tyler’s apartment. He arrived early, hoping to get a good seat before his pseudo-date arrived, but as he walked past the wall of windows on his way to the front door, he spotted Nicky at a corner table.

Casually sipping from a small cappuccino cup, Nicky focused on his phone.

Could he really be involved in all the disappearances?

If Tyler had passed Nicky on the street, he never would have believed him capable of kidnapping or human trafficking or murder. With his long dark hair tied back neatly at the base of his neck and his clean-shaven face showing off flawless skin, the guy was the kind of catch everyone dreamed of.

And he was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than Tyler made in six months of modeling. Both the legitimate and not-so-legitimate gigs.

Why does it always have to be the cute ones?

The cruel irony was that the first decent-looking and well-put-together guy Tyler had chatted up was some kind of criminal.

Nicky set his cup down. He lifted his gaze, glancing around.

With a steadying breath, Tyler ran a hand through his hair, giving it just enough of a tousle to refresh the messy bedhead look he was going for. The chime of the front door alarm announced his entrance into the café.

Tyler met Nicky’s unusually bright-blue eyes. Captivating in their contrast to his dark hair, they nearly stupefied Tyler on the spot. He blinked and gave himself a little mental slap before offering Nicky a suggestive wink, continuing toward the counter to order a coffee.

Nicky might have offered to buy him one, but Tyler preferred to handle his drinks himself. At least until he was certain no one would try putting anything strange in them. Plus, this little detour would give Nicky a nice view of Tyler’s assets.

As he stood at the counter and ordered his drink, Tyler smiled, imagining Nicky’s sparkling blue eyes taking the full tour of his features. Good thing he wore his lucky jeans. They hugged him in all the right places. That visual appetizer alone should intrigue the infamous Nicky.

At least he hoped so. Playing hard to get wasn’t really his strong suit, but he was trying. A casual glance over his shoulder confirmed he was being watched. Those ice-blue eyes were locked on target. Tyler had Nicky’s full attention.

Hopefully that played to his advantage.

The barista made quick work of his caramel cappuccino, and once Tyler had his beverage in hand, he had no more excuses to stall. With a steadying breath, he steeled his courage once more and strolled toward Nicky’s table. “This seat taken?”

Nicky’s lips quirked at the corners, giving his pristine teeth a chance to peek out before he nodded at the empty chair. “You’re more impressive than your profile pictures suggested.”

“Right back at you.” Mouth going dry, Tyler dropped into the seat. “Where have you been hiding? You’re definitely refreshing after all the bad dates I’ve been on.”

Nicky’s eyebrow quirked up. “You sound like you get around.”

Open mouth, insert foot.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I…um…” Mouth hanging open, Tyler couldn’t think of anything better to say.

Nicky chuckled, but the slip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips caught Tyler’s attention.

Maybe he hadn’t stuck his foot in it that badly. Still, he had no words to continue without risking ridicule. Instead, he used his drink to hold the conversation at bay, sipping the sweet coffee and praying Nicky might take the lead.

“I’ve had my share of bad dates too.” Nicky’s gaze was on the move, no doubt checking out the merchandise.

That was a good sign. Capturing and holding his interest would make getting an invitation to Nicky’s place easier.

Suggestively biting his lower lip, Tyler tilted his head. “Should we recount war stories or maybe talk about what we hope to get out of this evening?”

Nicky’s face was unreadable. “Someone sounds confident.”

“Well, you did say one of your turn-ons was directness.” Tyler winked again as he captured his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Did I?” His eyes narrowed, but the look wasn’t threatening. His gaze held a playful challenge as he met Tyler’s eyes. “Tell me more about me. What else has my profile clued you in to?”

For a moment, Tyler’s heart stopped. Light as his question had been, Nicky was involved with the missing models. Tyler couldn’t allow himself to forget that. Even if the man seemed as utterly charming as he was sexy.

With that sobering reminder, Tyler shrugged. “You got me. The rest is all a blur. Especially sitting with you now. Why don’t you tell me more about you? You know, the stuff you don’t put in your profile.”

“That kind of information is private.”

“Are you suggesting that we go somewhere…more private…so you can reveal it?” Waggling his eyebrows, Tyler picked up his drink and took another sip.

“Your place or mine?”

“I’ve got a roommate, so we wouldn’t have too much privacy at my place.” Tyler lapped at a dab of foam left at the corner of his mouth, not bothering to mention that his roommate was out of town. “How about yours?”

“I’m just upstairs, actually.” Nicky stood and pushed his chair under the table. “Want to come up?”

“Do I?” Tyler’s eyes widened as he all but sprang from his seat. This was going much better than he’d expected.

Nicky waved him to the café door. “I like your energy. I hope you have more where that came from.”

They exited onto the sidewalk. Two feet down from the door to the café was another with the same address and four letters. Nicky opened that door and held it for Tyler to enter.

The small lobby held a row of four lockbox-style mailboxes and a set of stairs.

“Talk about convenience.” Tyler couldn’t help but admire the luck. His apartment was above a dry cleaner. Other than the bodega down the street, his block wasn’t home to much. But Nicky had a sweet little café only a few short steps from his front door.

“Just up there. Second floor.” Nicky pointed.

Tyler started up with Nicky right behind. “You have any roommates?”

“I wouldn’t call them that.” They reached the landing of the second floor, and Nicky pulled out a set of keys. “We share this apartment when we need some privacy.”

“Are you saying this is your second home?” Tyler had pegged him as a man of some money, but affording two apartments in NYC meant he had to have some serious cash. It also meant he could be keeping incriminating evidence here—the kind of stuff he didn’t want normal people finding. Crossing his fingers, Tyler sent up a silent prayer that this man, or his information, would lead him to Kelsey.

“To cut right to the chase, which is something you seem to enjoy just as much as I do, it’s more of a fuck-and-play pad.” Nicky opened the door and guided Tyler inside. “And don’t sound so impressed. It’s not all that big. Just plenty big enough for our purposes.”

The lights clicked on.

Tyler’s breath hitched, and he stalled mid-step.

Four men. Wall-to-wall muscle. Suits tailored as nicely as Nicky’s.

He scrambled backward but only made it a few inches before slamming into Nicky’s chest.

No way out.

His heart slammed into a sprint, pulse roaring in his ears as his brain tried to backpedal through every mistake that led him to this moment. He lifted his hands, instinctively, stupidly, as if that would stop whatever was about to happen. “What the hell is this?”

He turned, but Nicky was already closing the door behind them, locking it with a soft snick that sounded more final than it should have.

Nicky’s smile had vanished. “You tell me.”

“I-I…” Tyler blinked, trying to process. “I thought…we were on a date.”

Nicky stepped close, too close, and his hand slipped into Tyler’s pocket like a knife sliding between ribs. He pulled out Tyler’s phone, tapped the screen, and held it up.

Face recognition unlocked it with a traitorous chime.

“‘Going undercover,’” he read aloud. “‘If I’m MIA the rest of the day, don’t worry.’”

Time stopped. Blood drained from Tyler’s head. The floor didn’t tilt…it lurched.

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. His mouth opened, but whatever excuse he’d prepared evaporated. Gone.

Tyler turned to Nicky, desperate to plead, to explain—something—but Nicky was already looking past him.

“He’s got some big questions to answer.” Nicky powered the phone off. “Knock him out, but make sure he can still speak.”

Tyler barely had time to flinch before something heavy and fast cracked against the side of his skull.

The world folded in on itself, and then there was nothing at all.

2

Sky Stryker ignored the bustling sounds of New York City wafting into her third-floor Hell’s Kitchen apartment. She’d left the window open to air out her stuffy living space, despite the early February chill. The streets hummed with their usual energy, but inside, a different kind of tension permeated the air.

She paced the length of her living room, her mind racing with recent events. Just yesterday, the FBI had recruited Sky and the team at Hayat Investigations to assist with an official investigation into the series of model kidnappings that had persisted beyond the dissolution of the Mill.

The recruiting agent was Lupita, Javier Bainbridge’s temporary VP of operations at Guillermo De Luca fashion. The revelation that Lupita was actually an undercover FBI agent had thrown their little world into chaos.

Lupita’s real name was Guadalupe Flores. Even more unbelievable, Guadalupe was a chum of Calysta Baros, the former FBI special agent who was Sky’s dear friend and surrogate mother.

This whole situation proved just how small the world was.

Flores, alongside NYPD Lieutenant Clarkson, had brought the Hayat Investigations team into the fold of the joint task force focused on bringing down the human-trafficking ring plaguing New York models. Agent Flores had good reason to recruit Sky and her friends, as their actions had led to the capture and arrest of Arturo Silva, a secretly fiendish photographer, for his part in the trafficking ring.

Arturo refused to give up any information on his criminal cohorts. Flores hoped Sky and her friends could help uncover more details.

Sky was practically bursting with energy. Initially, the NYPD had slapped their hands for moving in on Arturo Silva sans law enforcement. Now they’d been given a rare green light to dive into the classified investigation related to his crimes.

One thing was crystal clear.

This was their chance to end these traffickers once and for all. The FBI and NYPD finally wanted their help, and Sky was determined to give it, no matter what it took.

Where the hell do we begin?

The most obvious starting point was Kelsey Vinn’s roommate, Frankie Jenkins, and their mutual friend, Tyler Cochran. Tyler was to thank for bringing Nicky Silva to the group’s attention, and he might have had more information they hadn’t been at liberty to dig for when he first visited Hayat Investigations.

Sky had already left both Tyler and Frankie messages urging them to get in touch with her or Sami Hayat, the private investigator who ran the firm. But she had no idea what to do while waiting.

Javier, her unofficial boyfriend and chief operations officer of Guillermo De Luca, was stretched out on her couch, the only spot not currently covered with notebooks or laundry. “You okay?” His eyebrows knit together, and she didn’t blame him for being concerned. She probably appeared manic, stalking around her apartment like an unhinged zoo animal.

“I just need to do something. But I don’t know what.”

With a half-formed idea, she whirled and went to her closet. Her cousin Megan Nowicki, a model murdered nearly a year ago, had left behind a shoebox of mementos. Sky’s involvement in this case began with her cousin, so Megan’s demise provided a natural, albeit somber, touchstone in all the madness.

Sky carried the shoebox over to her couch and flounced down on top of the worn cushions beside Javier.

Setting the box on the coffee table, she rifled through the photos and papers. Some were her own, while others were scavenged from cleaning out her late cousin’s apartment. Even with the passage of time, Sky still struggled to deal with the loss. She and Megan had been more like sisters than cousins.

Before the cruel twist of fate, Megan was set to become the next modeling superstar.

“Staying busy is a good thing, but it’s not going to make Arturo’s case move any faster.” Javier leaned in closer, placing his hands on Sky’s shoulders. “Callie warned us something like this might happen. Even with the cameras rolling, Arturo wore a mask when he tortured his victims.”

Sky had been a ball of stress ever since Arturo Silva’s arrest, especially after Detective Dante Houghton had ordered them to stop any investigation into missing models. The Doll Collector case had provided an incredibly effective distraction, but with that perpetrator now in custody, the trafficking-ring mystery had been relentlessly ricocheting in her brain, shattering her peace of mind.

Fingering through the box, Sky found a photo of Megan. Her cousin had printed it off using a low-grade portable printer, so the quality wasn’t great. But Megan’s beauty still shined through, with her overexposed face front and center.

Behind her lurked another familiar face.

Though he was blurred and out of focus due to distance and motion, the man’s identity was unmistakable.

Arturo Silva. He’s been skulking around for a long time.

Slowly, Javier kneaded Sky’s tense shoulders. As much as she enjoyed the way he seemed to know just the right spots to apply pressure to melt her knots away, Sky’s focus remained on the box of photos.

She thumbed through a few others, finding more pictures featuring familiar faces hiding in the background. Some people in the photos were behind bars. Others were dead.

Sky tossed aside one featuring Gil Stetson, Megan’s former agent currently serving time for his part in pimping out his modeling clients. Gil had made a living off fulfilling the twisted requests of the Mill, a group of high-powered men with more money than God. He didn’t care what they wanted—sex or a little arm candy to make them look good or just women’s feet to ogle in expensive footwear for hours.

Often the requests were much more sinister, and the vulnerable models who’d trusted Gil with their careers and livelihoods were simply dollar signs.

Gil Stetson hadn’t given a damn how exactly he made that money. His involvement with the Mill and running his own upscale mini-prostitution ring had landed him in prison, and Sky was glad his sentence was as long as it was.

Of course, forever would have been better.

Her lip curled as she picked up a photo with Dustin Wint’s ugly mug. Dustin Wint had been a maintenance man for GDL. He’d kidnapped Megan and had tried to take Sky as well.

When Dustin had come gunning for Sky in her own apartment, she’d shot him in self-defense, and the man had paid for his crimes with his life. Dustin’s actions left a lingering thought festering at the back of Sky’s mind. He seemed so low in the pecking order.

But who was he working for?

Maybe there was more to Megan’s death than the police could pin on Dustin because he was just a cog in the Mill.

If the cutthroat organization had truly targeted Megan, her fate had been sealed the second those soulless assholes set their sights on her. The Mill had the money to get whatever the hell their little black hearts desired. Most of the self-serving, demented players were wealthy high rollers. Dustin and Arturo, however, were cut from a different cloth. The two couldn’t be that far up on the criminal ladder.

No. They had to be bit players at most, just doing their part.

So who was pulling the strings? Who had that much power and resources?

That question was an itch Sky needed to scratch.

“You still with me, or did I lose you to case-related brain fog?” Javier’s thumb found a knot just under her left shoulder blade.

Sky moaned as he pressed on the knot, the delicious tension sending her head rolling backward. “Oooh. Yeah. Right there.” His thumb worked like magic, forcing the muscle to relax and release all the stress kinking her neck. “That feels nice.”

“You’ve got to get your mind off the case for a bit. Don’t you have a book to write?” Javier’s tone was more teasing than accusing, but his question still landed with enough power to induce guilt.

In her line of work, providing consistent content meant the difference between being a rising star and an out of sight, out of mind has-been. For some authors, a book a year was acceptable. Anything less frequent allowed time for the audience to forget the author existed. Sky blamed the instant gratification of social media for readers’ waning attention spans, but that didn’t change the fact that she needed to play by the rules.

“Maria said I should write up a proposal for the next book while she puts the last one through editing.” One thing was certain. As long as Sky lived in NYC, she would never have a shortage of topics to write about. Her biggest problem was finding the time to dedicate to her work, especially when her mind was occupied with unfinished business. “But…I…”

The pressure released as Javier’s hands stopped moving, though warmth remained at her shoulders. “But what?”

Dropping her head, Sky let her attention shift to the pictures again. “I’ve been lying awake at night just trying to connect the dots. Megan, all the other model victims, the Mill, the very real possibility that the Mill was just a small part of a much bigger problem, the Silva brothers, and all these disgusting lowlifes just hanging around like shadows. Unnoticed until they’ve killed or raped or tortured.”

“Or all three.” Javier shifted on the couch beside her, rubbing his jaw as though he could solve everything if he simply thought hard enough. “I get it. It’s a lot. Overwhelming.”

“Everything has to be connected. Look.” She picked up the small stack of photos and passed them into Javier’s empty hands. “Notice the faces in the background? Arturo’s there.” She pointed as he flipped through the images. “And this one. There’s Dustin. See?”

“True.” His left eyebrow arched as he flipped from one photo to the next. “These jerks were definitely around and infiltrating the business. Others might have been as well. But I’m also in the background of this one.” His shoulders slumped as the next few photos revealed familiar faces that weren’t part of Sky’s conspiracy theory. “And there’s Nadine.”

She shot him a pointed look. “I know you’re innocent, obviously. And Nadine too.”

“Yeah, well, apparently Agent Flores wasn’t so sure.” Javier crossed his arms, brow furrowing. “The idea that she was at GDL every day, analyzing and dissecting my words and movements like I might be one of the biggest pieces of scum in the city, hasn’t been an easy pill to swallow.”

Sky patted his leg. “You know she was just doing her job. GDL is connected to a lot of the missing models involved in this mess. You personally have access to people and places that the average New Yorker doesn’t. She had to consider you, and now she knows better.”

“It’s just a gross feeling, getting lumped into that suspect pool. People like Ashley might have deserved the scrutiny, but not me.” Javier shuffled the photo into the back of the pile. “Speaking of, if I never see Ashley’s face again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Wouldn’t it be funny if Ashley was the killer?” Sky had observed Javier’s former vice president of operations being nasty, stuck-up, and calculating. But mostly, Ashley Duncan was an all bark and no bite mean girl traipsing around New York with a sour expression and very expensive shoes.

“She never showed that kind of initiative at GDL.” Javier scoffed. “Well, she’s out of the picture now. And so is Arturo.”

“We hope. They’ve charged Arturo with stalking, assault and battery, kidnapping, and rape, thanks to the DNA he left on Mariela. All those charges are good, but it’s not enough.”

Sky tugged the photos from Javier’s hand a little harder than she’d intended. The lack of solid evidence connecting Arturo to the missing and probably murdered women meant that the bastard would sidestep the maximum prison time he deserved if the police couldn’t connect the dots fast enough.

Worse yet was the possibility that Arturo’s lawyer might convince a judge to let him out on bail, releasing him back on the streets until his hearing.

Javier repositioned himself and took ahold of her shoulders again, resuming his gentle kneading. “I hate to say it, but I’m pretty sure we made prosecuting Arturo harder by jumping the gun and going after him.”

“We had a shot, and we took it. How were we supposed to know the Feds didn’t have enough to pin the snuff films on him? So what if he was wearing a mask?” She lifted her hand, wiggling her fingers. “The gloves. The missing finger. C’mon…the case was a slam dunk, and you know it.”

“But a jury needs proof. No smoking gun, no conviction. And I’m sure the Feds want his boss and his boss’s boss. So they have to do everything by the book.”

Sky wanted to share Javier’s confidence, but every other case they’d helped solve had made the news. By stark contrast, most of the general public didn’t even know Kelsey Vinn was dead yet—including the model’s close friends and family.

She tried to stave off a jolt of guilt in her stomach. “I’ll feel better once I hear them making headway. We told them about Frankie and Tyler. About the possible Nicky Silva connection. I don’t know if the police have spoken to them yet, but surely they’re going to.”

“And when they do, they’ll get in touch with us.” Javier grabbed her hand and squeezed. “It’s only been one day since Agent Flores and Lieutenant Clarkson officially pulled us in on this.”

“Fortunately, I’m the world’s most patient person.” Sky managed to say so with a straight face. “Seriously, though. Maybe there’s something in these pictures. Arturo and Dustin were involved and hanging around for quite a while. They could have even known each other and anyone else slinking around GDL’s headquarters and events. Megan’s photos might hold some information we’ve been overlooking.”

“You’re right. We shouldn’t leave any stone unturned, no matter how much time has passed.” Javier’s voice softened as his lips drew downward into a frown. “Megan was a great person. She’s the reason I met you in the first place.”

Sky knew Javier had his own memories of Megan and mourned her loss in his own way.

“So then…will you go with me tomorrow so we can show Sami? There are bunches of people in the photos I don’t know. But if we all work together to get some identities, we can start compiling a list that we can maybe cross-reference later.”

“Do you think Callie can bring tacos or something? Sounds like hungry work.”

“You’re the best.” Leaning in, Sky gave him a peck on the cheek. “Until then, distract me. Tell me about work or something equally mundane. This whole case has put me in a terrible state of mind.”

“Is that all I am to you? A convenient distraction?” Javier scoffed, but the amusement in his voice undermined any anger or annoyance he might have tried to convey. “Okay. Well, my mental predictions for the coming work week are that it will be massively…eventful…these next few days, given the ‘Lupita is an undercover FBI agent’ revelation.”

That again. It really was bothering him a great deal.

Sky sat up straight again and twisted around to face him. “I bet. Does it even seem real?”

“Not yet. I mean, she’s been incredibly efficient at her job, which now makes a lot more sense. But knowing she was investigating us all along…faking everything and now just quitting…it’s unsettling.”

“Wait a minute. Let me make sure I’m hearing this right. Your new assistant, who turns out to be an FBI agent, did her cover job well, better than your previous person.” Sky didn’t want to bring up Ashley Duncan’s name again. “And even though you’re annoyed with having been under a microscope, you’re also perturbed that she’s vacating her cover job and leaving you high and dry?”

“It’s a complicated situation.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Fashion Week is almost here. She helped me keep things running smoothly, and I got dependent on her pretty fast. But all those questions she asked. I’ve been interrogated for weeks without knowing it.”

“Can you blame her? She was doing her job, trying to uncover the connection between GDL and the missing models.”

“I get that. And I’ve done my best to give her all the information she needed. But now, looking back at all those ‘gossipy’ questions about relationships and the social side of the industry…it’s obnoxious.”

“Sounds like she was thorough in her investigation. Now she has to move on and keep doing her job…her real job…and she wants our help. That’s got to count for something, right?”

“It’s just a lot to process.” Javier had shifted to a darker mood.

“Never said it wasn’t. But you are a high-powered executive for a prominent fashion label, and now you’re in a position to help the FBI crack a major case. Don’t forget that.”

He puffed out his chest. “When you put it that way…”

“Do you need a little reminder of what kind of power you wield?” Sky winked, her gaze dropping to the tie hung loosely around his neck. The last time he’d used a tie to restrain her, he’d bound her hands and secured them to the headboard of her bed. Javier played the part of a dominant with ease, taking charge while teasing her into submission.

Just the memory had her heart skipping a beat as it revved into high gear.

As if he had a direct connection to her thoughts, Javier reached up, unknotting his tie and slipping it from his neck while breaking into a lopsided grin that promised mischief. “What’s the magic word?”

Sky’s gaze drifted from the tie dangling from his hand. There would never be a time when she could say the words and not giggle. “Please, Master.” She held out both hands, waiting for his next move.

Javier’s lips kinked at the corner as he captured her wrists in a loop of his tie.

This distraction would be anything but mundane.

But they both needed it to get them through the night.

3

Sky took in the oversize sweatshirt and yoga pants Delia Shaw wore. Even with her casual clothes, no makeup, and her ebony bob tousled from sleep, the model still managed to look good.

Delia busted out a howl of a yawn, making no attempt to cover it. “Um. You know Sami isn’t expecting you at work for another couple of hours, right?”

“I just…I think we came up with a good direction to take our investigation, and I wanted Javier to be here when we talk it over with Sami.” Sky offered her best pretty please grin. “I’m sorry to wake you. But you have to know by now that you’re too gorgeous to require beauty sleep.”

“Nice save.” Delia stepped aside, waving them into Sami’s second-story apartment above the Hayat Investigations business space and zeroing in on Javier. “Fashion Week is like, two days away. I’m surprised you’re not living at work at this point.”

“I basically am.” Javier pressed his lips together until they nearly disappeared, his stress palpable. “But the joint task force investigation is important. Especially when it comes to keeping those Fashion Week models safe. That’s partially my responsibility, so I’m involved in this whether I have time for it or not.”

“I get that.” Delia made a beeline for the kitchen and reached for the coffeepot. “I’m glad I didn’t take the bookings to work this week. Not sure what I would’ve done. And I’m incredibly grateful the two of you didn’t show up at, like, three in the morning. I know how hard it is to keep Sky sitting still when she’s on a mission.”

Javier half laughed, half coughed, his dark eyes glimmering with amusement. “I have my ways of distracting her.”

After filling the reservoir with water, Delia dumped several generous scoops of coffee grounds into the filter basket. “I’m sure you do.”

“Okay. Let’s stay on topic.” Warmth crept up Sky’s cheeks. No way in hell would she just stand here while her best friend and the guy she was seeing discussed her sex life. “We were brainstorming yesterday, and I got the idea to go through some of Megan’s old photos.”

The teasing light left Delia’s eyes. She’d been good friends with Megan before the murder. Megan was the reason Sky and Delia had met and gotten so close. “And you found something?”

“Kind of.” Sky pointed at the couch. “Maybe we should sit, and I’ll show you.”

The tempting aroma of brewing coffee permeated the room.

“Okay. Caffeine first, then criminal masterminds.” Delia turned away from her friends and walked back into the kitchen.

Sky followed as Javier seated himself on the couch. “That would make an excellent book title.”

Delia reached up to the cabinet where Sami kept his coffee mugs. “I’m assuming everyone wants a cup.”

“You’re right, and everyone includes me.” Sami emerged from his bedroom. His long black hair was a tangled mess, like a lion’s mane around his face. “Someone want to tell me why we’re up so early? Or why you guys are in my living room at seven in the morning?”

Delia filled four mugs of coffee. “Sky has something to show us regarding the joint task force case.”

Sami crossed the room and sat next to Javier on the couch. “Agent Flores and Lieutenant Clarkson did give us the green light to dig. Whatcha got?”

Setting a bowl of sugar and the four mugs on a tray, Delia grabbed some creamer from the fridge. She finished loading the tray with spoons and napkins and carefully carried it to the coffee table. “The brain jet fuel is served. Go on. Show us your evidence.”

“It’s not really evidence.” Sky dug into her bag and pulled out a handful of the old pictures. “It’s a connection. See here? Look at the man in the background.” She exchanged a photo for a steaming mug of coffee.

Delia studied the image. “I remember this picture. I took it.”

Megan was centered in the frame. Gorgeous as always, her smile never failed to light up a room. She was born to be in the spotlight. No wonder she took to modeling.

Sky shoved away the sadness that threatened to pull her under at the thought of her exquisite, kindhearted cousin. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. “I thought you might recognize it. And look who’s behind Megan.”

Bringing the photograph closer to her face, Delia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “The photographer…Arturo.”

“Yep. He was right under our noses the whole time.” Sky took out another picture from her stack. “And see this one? That’s Dustin Wint in the background. Megan’s killer.”

Like any of them would ever forget.

Delia passed the first picture over to Sami and took the second one from Sky.

“It goes along with Agent Flores’s reasoning for going undercover in your office, Javier. More GDL ties to the models’ disappearances.” Sami took a sip from his steaming mug. “How long was Dustin working for GDL prior to…the incident?”

“Not sure.” Javier took the picture from Sami and studied it before handing it over to Sky. “I’d have to check with HR.”

“Do that.” Sami stroked the stubble on his chin. “And maybe see who did the hiring.”

“Do you think someone at GDL is placing people in positions to go after models?” Adrenaline rippled through Sky. “That would make sense. Arturo was a photographer contracted through GDL.”

“I don’t like the sound of that one bit, but it definitely goes along with Agent Flores’s train of thought.” Javier sat forward, elbows on his knees, and rested his chin in his hands. “She was wrong to think I was involved but not about the connections in general. Not only does that put GDL in a bad light, but it means someone in a prominent position is doing this right under my nose. And they’re making me appear pretty dim-witted in the process.”

Sami stared down at the coffee mug in his hands, his focus fixed on the wisp of steam rising from it. “Don’t get stressed out just yet. It’s only a theory. I’d guess that whoever was orchestrating things was incredibly careful to cover their tracks and not make waves.” He fixed his gaze on Sky. “What did the M.E.’s report say about Megan’s death?”

All the eagerness she’d experienced moments earlier faded from her body. “Last I remember, they’d concluded Megan was drugged. She had no water in her lungs, so she didn’t drown in the Hudson. They just dumped her there.”

“No mention of sexual assault?” Sami waved his free hand in the air, wiping the question away the moment those words left his lips. “Never mind. You don’t have to answer that. Sometimes they put things in the notes that don’t get spoken in trial. I’ll work on getting those from the NYPD databases.”

“You sure you want to do that?” Delia looked across the coffee table at Sami. “Just because Clarkson and Flores asked us to assist with the case doesn’t mean they’ll appreciate you nosing around their classified files without permission.”

“They won’t know I’ve been in there.” Sami smiled, his white teeth on full display. “I’ve done this plenty of times.”

Javier held up his hands and covered his ears. “Plausible deniability. I did not hear a thing.”

“We all need to be careful.” Delia turned her serious gaze on Sky. “We jumped the gun last time and potentially screwed up the Feds’ case. If we want these guys taken down, we can’t step on anyone’s toes again.”

Sky rolled her eyes as she flopped onto the couch. “Yes, we got our hands slapped. But I will never regret doing what we did and saving Mariela. And now Arturo Silva is in prison and awaiting trial. We did something right, or Agent Flores never would have brought us in to work with the joint task force. They’re obviously not expecting us to just sit around twiddling our thumbs.”

Of course she didn’t want to jeopardize the case, but the team had joined the joint task force for good reason. They needed to bring these assholes to justice and prevent more models from going missing.

The law had already failed Kelsey. Sky couldn’t stand the thought of another innocent person dying.

“We just have to be more careful this time.” Delia took a seat next to Sky, crowding the now overfull couch. “If we save one model today by arresting a bad guy, but three others are locked away with his boss, we’ve missed the chance to save all four.”

Sky scooted to the outer edge of the cushion, putting more space between herself and Delia. “You sound just like Detective Houghton.”

A pained expression crossed Delia’s pretty features. “Because he was right.” Sky bristled, but Delia held up a hand. “Hear me out before you get angry. Arturo was our guy. We knew it. They knew it. But the NYPD didn’t have enough to pin on him that night. And because of that, we’re not even sure he’ll get the charges he deserves, and we know whoever he was working for or with won’t.”

“And he’s made it crystal clear he isn’t willing to turn over his bosses. He’s behind bars, for now, but he’s proving useless for identifying the ‘big bad.’” Javier’s added reminder was salt to the wound. The longer this conversation went on, the more hopeless Sky became.

“I think we can all agree that whatever we do, we must be quiet. No more acting like vigilantes. We get evidence and feed it up the chain of command, just like Agent Flores and Lieutenant Clarkson have requested.” Sami might have been addressing the whole group, but his full attention was on Delia. Probably hoping to avoid an argument with her over his hacking skills.

Sky met Sami’s gaze, biting the inside of her cheek until she was certain she’d held back the tears burning her eyes. “But you will help look into the connections? There are lots more of Megan’s pictures with random faces in them. It’s worth our time to go over them carefully.”

Sami nodded, his dark gaze filled with empathy. “Of course we should search the photos. And I think we should at least peek into GDL’s HR records. I can do a quick double-check on Megan’s old case file and M.E. report for similarities to the other missing models. If something pans out, we send it up to Clarkson and Flores. Okay?”

“Sounds good to me.” Javier slapped the couch armrest, as if stamping his approval. “Guillermo De Luca’s HR records are well within my reach at work. No red tape to cut through there.”

“I can make a whiteboard chart. Start comparing all the Mill’s known associates to victims and friends and family.” Delia ran a hand through her messy hair. “We can be sleuths and still play by the rules. It is possible.”

Her chest filling with resolve, Sky took a cleansing breath. “Let’s get to work.”

4

Tyler attempted to crack open his eyes and yipped at the screaming pain that followed before clamping them shut. A merciless ache throbbed at the back of his neck and circled around his forehead like a vise. He tried to shift his body but found himself bound to a cold, hard wall at his back.

Struggling to remember the last moments before he’d passed out, he strained again to adjust his position, but his arms were pinned behind him. The recesses of his armpits ached as he tried and failed to tug his limbs free.

Attempting to stretch his legs, he felt the sharp tingle of pins and needles tiptoeing up his calves. He might have been awake, but his body hadn’t gotten the message.

Kelsey. I was looking for Kelsey.

His memory returned in a flash.

Café Bustelo. Nicky. Their date.

I followed him to his apartment…

But it hadn’t been a normal apartment at all. What had Nicky called it? A fuck-and-play pad?

As he forced his eyelids open, light stabbed at his eyes, drawing out a groan.

The room came into focus. Dungeon-like walls of stone caged him on all sides. Dim overhead lights glared down, their fluorescent brilliance lost long ago. Weak as the illumination was, the artificial flickering played havoc with his vision.

Shit! Where the hell am I?

Fighting to fully grasp his surroundings as his brain pulsed with tidal waves of agony, Tyler peered over his shoulder to pinpoint what was holding his wrists in place.

Shackles—like the kind in old pirate movies—clamped tight around his wrists, and heavy chains connected them to a metal loop riveted into the stone.

Dungeon was right. What the hell kind of play pad is this?

At least he’d been allowed to sit. Though how long he’d been there, Tyler couldn’t guess. No windows in the room clued him in to what time of day it might be.

His numb ass was hardly an accurate indicator of time. He didn’t even know if he was still in Nicky’s “apartment.” This room had a distinct subterranean aesthetic.

“Hello?” Tyler peered into the shadows. “I think there’s been a mistake. I’m not judging or anything. I’m just not into the whole BDSM thing. Each to their own, right?”

While he was hoping for even a hint of good humor from whoever responded, Tyler understood his surroundings had nothing to do with racy sexual preferences.

The details of his last few moments before blacking out felt like something out of a television show.

He’d gone upstairs with Nicky. There’d been a flash of light as he entered the premises and laid eyes on four men. Big bruiser types. All wearing fancy suits.

Mafia? Were they freaking mobsters?

He struggled against his restraints, not caring how much the chains clanked and clattered. Someone had definitely made a mistake. Or maybe he’d been too right about Nicky Silva.

Tyler had figured out Nicky was linked to the missing models, but he’d never considered what dangerous types of scumbags Nicky might be working with…or for.

He certainly hadn’t predicted a connection as scary as the mob.

Muffled sounds of keys jingling at the other end of the room stole his attention. Tyler peered toward the noise as a door creaked open.

With a hiss, he turned away from the harsh light flooding in from the open door. The restraints holding his arms prevented him from shielding his eyes against the offending brilliance.

The vague silhouette of a person filled the open doorway. Tyler’s eyes refused to focus, but he guessed it had to be Nicky.

“Someone’s a heavy sleeper.” Nicky’s voice confirmed his suspicion. “You were out a little over twenty-four hours.”

Tyler’s mouth hung loose. “What?”

An entire day he’d been here. Wherever here was.

“Don’t worry.” Nicky came closer, flashing his perfect smile. His visage was handsome as ever, but wickedness tarnished him now. “You started to come to a few times. I made sure you downed some water before knocking you right back out.”

“With what?” Tyler’s voice cracked as fear spiraled through him.

Nicky’s grin disappeared. “Call it a special elixir. That’s the least of your worries right now. I had to wait for the boss’s decision on how to deal with you, and nobody wanted to listen to your whining in the meantime. We’re busy people.”

“The boss? What the…listen. There’s been some kind of mix-up here.” That was the understatement of the century.

Laughter echoed around the room as others filed in behind Nicky.

Tyler’s heart sank to his toes.

The door closed, cutting off the blinding light.

Blinking a few times to refocus, Tyler finally got a good look at Nicky. Gone was the expensive suit he’d worn before. He’d exchanged it for a white tank top tucked into a pair of royal blue track pants. His hair was wrapped in a messy bun at the top of his head.

While not as intimidating as the mobster uniform, this look de-aged Nicky in a way that only added to his attractiveness. If Tyler had seen him dressed like this at the gym, he’d have definitely tried to make conversation.

It made sense, though. Of course Nicky was a criminal. Dating in NYC was a crapshoot. All the cute guys had skeletons in their closet. Nicky’s were probably designer labeled.

As Tyler’s worst date ever continued to go south, two hulking men flanked him. Nicky might have opted for the frat boy chic aesthetic, but his goons had retained their mobster suits.

How the hell did I get myself into this?

Tyler squirmed, brainstorming anything that might get him out of this god-awful situation. Even if he could get free of the shackles, everything below his waist was still tingling with pins and needles.

Nicky’s narrowed blue eyes locked onto Tyler, promising danger.

Tyler couldn’t believe the transformation from the sexy guy in the suit to the merciless mobster, but there Nicky was, staring him down like he was a bug to be squashed.

Scrambling for something to say, Tyler racked his brain for some way to convince these lunatics he wasn’t worth their time. “Guys. Please. Let me out of here.” His voice warbled, betraying his fear. “I won’t say a word.”

“But that’s exactly why you’re here. We need to have a little chat.” Without warning, Nicky swung, the crack of his knuckles sending pain blooming across Tyler’s cheek. “And you’re going to be completely honest with me. Okay?”

“O-okay.” Tyler’s mouth dried out, turning his words into croaks as he tried to push them from his throat. “Sure.”

“That punch was just to show you I mean business. Hopefully you got the message.” Nicky’s words came on the edge of a predatory growl, though his face was a blank mask of indifference. “You play nice. I play nice. Got it?” He flexed his bare arm, revealing a tattoo on his left upper arm as he balled a fist and pounded it into his free hand to punctuate his threat.

Tyler couldn’t quite make out details in the dim light, but his tattoo looked like two interlocking squares with a pinwheel at their center. It had to be a gang symbol or some other sign of affiliation, but not one Tyler had ever seen before.

The momentary distraction earned him a slap across the face. “Pay attention to me, you piece of shit.”

Tyler glowered at his tormentor. If looks could kill, he would’ve been sharing the room with a corpse.

Nicky’s goons erupted into a rumbling chorus of belly laughs.

Icy terror snaked down Tyler’s spine.

Stay calm. Don’t show fear.

“I…I don’t know what’s going on.” Tyler flattened himself against the wall, as if that might spare him another strike. “Why am I here? I thought we were on a date.”

Before Tyler could finish, Nicky’s fist flew through the air before he could even register the movement. In the blink of an eye, knuckles met Tyler’s trademark high cheekbones. More laughter erupted in the shadows beyond his vision as his head snapped sideways and struck the wall.

The mobster crouched nose-to-nose with Tyler. “Quit the act. Who are you with? The Feds? NYPD?” The acrid smell of garlic on Nicky’s breath caused Tyler’s eyes to water. “Answer me.”

“Nadine Barrett. Barrett Model Management.” Tyler choked the words out between gasps of air.

“Bullshit. What’s a dumbass model doing tracking me down?” Nicky yanked Tyler’s head up by a chunk of hair. “I want the truth. Who sent you after me? Who else do you know?”

“I-I’m just a model. Why won’t you believe me?” Convincing Nicky that he was telling the truth was paramount.

Well, most of the truth.

Sure, he had tracked Nicky down in an attempt to find Kelsey, but the conspiracy went no deeper. He hadn’t called the Feds or the cops, though in hindsight, texting law enforcement might have helped him out of his current predicament.

Instead, he’d told only Frankie that he would be MIA.

No way in hell would a man like Nicky accept that simple explanation. The only experience Tyler had with mobsters was what he’d seen in movies, and those weren’t exactly the easygoing types who just let someone go after a misunderstanding.

The Hollywood version of mafia men presently seemed more than accurate.

Raking his nails as he clutched the fistful of hair tighter, Nicky jerked Tyler’s head left and right before smashing him back against the wall.

Dizzy from the blow, Tyler could swear he felt his brain floating around in his skull. Everything distorted as his vision blurred. The room shifted, gently tilting side to side.

Maybe it wasn’t moving. Was he moving? Blinking a few times, Tyler struggled to make the determination.

One thing was certain. The truth would not set him free. Maybe that last blow to the head had knocked some sense into him, but in that moment, Tyler fully realized Nicky’s paranoia wasn’t letting up for anything.

Distract him. It might keep you alive a little longer.

“Worst. Date. Ever.” Humor—ironic, ill-timed, and idiotic—might throw Nicky off his game. “Buy a guy a drink first, will ya?”

His head lolled to the side, left ear resting on his shoulder. Everything hurt, from the throbbing base of his skull to his stinging scalp. One more punch, and his head might just split in half.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Nicky’s voice came out distorted, as if he were speaking from a great distance.

Tyler tried to focus on Nicky’s face, but the man seemed to have multiplied.

When a shake of his head and a few blinks did nothing to clarify which Nicky he should respond to, Tyler picked one and smiled.

Or tried to. That small movement made him feel like he was going to vomit.

“Didn’t you say you like a guy who can make you laugh? Well, here I am.” He tugged at the restraints to punctuate his retort with some flashy jazz hands, but they remained firmly locked in place. “Ta-da.”

Registering another strike to the head, Tyler passed his torture threshold. He slumped back against the wall without so much as a moan. “Everyone’s a critic.”

“You keep hitting him like that, and he’s going to be brain damaged.” A deep voice of reason spoke calmly from beyond Tyler’s line of sight. “He won’t be able to tell you anything then. And the boss won’t be too happy about that.”

“I like…that one.” Tyler slurred his words, no longer caring who he pissed off. He closed his eyes, hoping the action might help, but even in the darkness, his brain continued to pound against the walls of his skull. “Can I date him instead?”

“Who’s in charge here?” Nicky seethed at the voice of reason behind him.

“I’m just saying. The boss don’t like it when we rough people up so much they can’t talk straight.” The logical man had to be one of those goons who’d knocked him out earlier. But unlike Nicky, Mr. Voice of Reason spoke with a level of calm that made him all the more terrifying.

“You might have a point.” Nicky’s voice grew meaner, a condition Tyler hadn’t thought possible. “There are plenty of other ways to apply pain that don’t affect one’s ability to speak.”

Tyler choked on what little spit remained in his mouth. The mobster’s words conjured up images of bamboo stalks shoved under fingernails. Brutal medieval torture methods.

The last thing he wanted was a good stretching on the rack.

Surely Nicky wouldn’t go to all that trouble. It’s…it’s a scare tactic. It has to be.

Tyler had nothing to hide. He wasn’t involved in any police business. Just a guy trying to find his friend.

“You all don’t need to go…all that trouble…for me.” Nervous laughter bubbled up from Tyler’s stomach. “I was just…kidding. Trying to lighten…the mood.”

“Keep making your jokes.” Nicky’s lips twisted into an evil mockery of a smile. “If you want to play tough guy, that’s fine. I have plenty of ways to extract the information I need.”

“I’m telling you, there’s no…information. I’m not tough. I’m a model at Barrett. That’s it. I tracked you down because…I thought you were…cute.” Words flooded out, each one reeking of more desperation than the last. “Do…do you know how hard dating is…in this city? It’s harder than winning the lottery. Please. You have to believe me. I just wanted to get in your pants.”

“What you don’t seem to grasp yet, Tyler, is that right now,” Nicky’s garlic breath flamed deeply into Tyler’s nostrils, “you need to cooperate and focus on keeping what’s in yours.”

Tyler barely registered the warm trickle wetting his jeans as his bladder loosened. This was it.

He wasn’t getting out of this alive.

And worse, Nicky didn’t want him dead.

Not yet. That would’ve been too kind.

5

I jerked the door open and entered the dungeon, grinning as the fresh, blinding light flooded in. Across the room, our prisoner clenched his eyes against the stinging assault.

The grin didn’t last long. Dammit.

Tyler Cochran was in bad shape. Much worse than the boss had asked for. Much worse than I’d ordered Nicky to deliver.

Idiot. He can’t take the simplest of instructions.

Shutting the door behind me, I crossed my arms and held my tongue until my disappointment of a subordinate took notice of me in my full-bodied catsuit.

His double take was expected, as was the immediate scan of my entire body. Men couldn’t control their basic instincts, no matter how inappropriate the moment.

“Must I be surrounded by amateurs?” The question was rhetorical, but I still held up a hand to prevent him from trying, and ultimately failing, to respond with an intelligent answer.

Based on the dressed-down state of his athletic street wear, I surmised Nicky hadn’t expected me to stop by. He should’ve known better. How could I not, when the report he’d sent over was so light on detail? I refused to pass such incompetent intel on to the boss.

“We will discuss your appearance later, Nicky.” I wrinkled my nose at his strike one. “And don’t think for a second the boss has forgiven you for picking up a model who wasn’t on the list without gaining his approval first.”

Strike two seemed to really hit home.

Nicky opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking. “I tried to explain this already. The dude was stalking me. He practically fell into my lap. The boss usually appreciates it when we take that sort of initiative.”

First Arturo and now Nicky. There seemed to be an epidemic of stupidity among the boss’s men, especially those who’d fallen out of the Silva family tree. Each one thinking he knew best when he could barely tell his head from his ass.

And with every unauthorized snatch they made, they risked bringing down our whole operation.

I wasn’t about to see all my work ruined. The boss was in charge, but I was the worker bee truly running the show. At some point, I’d get the recognition I deserved.

Assuming these dumbasses didn’t knock the legs out from under everything we’d built.

“There’s initiative, and there’s idiocy. I’m not sure you know the difference.” I held up a hand again to silence the moron’s defense. “You still don’t understand what the boss wants or have the common sense to figure it out for yourself. But now that Tyler’s here, it’s imperative we decipher what he knows and learn how he figured out you were involved with the missing models.”

Nicky jutted out his chin, fists balling at his sides. “Don’t remember when I ever agreed to answer to you.”

I offered Nicky my widest, sweetest smile. “You agreed to work for the boss. He put me in charge of you. And just like your idiot brother, you’re going to do as I say.”

“Arturo despises you. He doesn’t take you seriously for a second.”

“His mistake.” I flipped my hair back over my shoulders, still grinning. “Arturo was a disappointment, getting himself arrested after being beaten by a girl, a scrawny girl, he failed to capture. He paid the price for his hubris.”

Nicky snarled, appearing more like a dumb animal than ever before. “Fuck you.”

Oh, how I wished I could tell him just how high that price had been. Nicky still believed his brother was alive and well in prison. I’d been instructed not to break the news to him just yet, but crushing the little shit would give me pleasure.

Rein it in. Do your job.

“Fuck me, huh? Well, right back at you.” I clasped my hands together, enjoying breaking Nicky’s spirit like he was a stupid, naughty child in the time-out corner. “When the boss decides how to handle your recent screwup, one that’s jeopardized his endeavors, you’ll be looking at your own incredibly painful slap on the wrist. So I recommend letting this pissing match go, getting in line, and listening to the woman your boss put in charge.”

Fear was the ticket. His posture straightened as he folded his arms behind his back. Standing at attention, he made a valiant effort to hold a neutral expression, but his resentment was visible, betraying him with every little quirk of his lips.

“I assumed that, by now, you’d have gotten some information from him.” I glanced toward our captive, wondering how attractive he was under the bruises. Could he at least be used to turn a profit? “However, based on the laughable attempt at interrogation I just overheard, you’re no closer to answers than you were when you brought him in. Is that correct?”

Another hard gulp sent Nicky’s Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’ll get the truth out of him. I was already getting close.”

Tyler let out a disturbing gurgle as he choked on blood. I could have killed Nicky right there for being such a massive and unbelievable imbecile.

“Is that before or after you render him incapable of speech?” I tapped my fingertips gently across my arm, feigning a patience I no longer possessed. “We already know what he’s up to anyway. That much was obvious when he singled you out. Or did that detail somehow slip past you?”

“I was ready for him. Had the boys waiting to make the grab without anyone seeing. I swear I’ve had this under control from the beginning.”

“Bullshit. The fact this model could connect you to our operation is not only distressing. It’s proof that you’re getting sloppy. The boss is considering stringing you up as an example for the others to see.”

“I should’ve realized we weren’t sourcing wide enough. Someone was bound to notice. It won’t happen again.” Nicky’s voice warbled as he nodded a little too jerkily and shifted from one foot to the other. “And I’ll find out what this little snoop knows. He won’t be a problem for us.”

I resisted the urge to backhand him across the jaw, stepping forward until my face was only inches away from his. “As usual, you’re failing to see my point. Get your head out of my ass and listen.”

Shock laced with hatred widened his bright-blue eyes as his jaw flexed. “I’m listening.”

“If that pretty young man tracked you down, how long do you think it would take smarter people to make the connection?” I waited a moment for the answer I was fully aware Nicky didn’t have.

His lips moved as though he were trying to formulate a response. Any response.

But nothing came out.

I shook my head, tsking at him. “Every action has a consequence. If you can’t anticipate the problems and alter your tactics, you don’t deserve to hold this position. And since you’ve already proven useless, handling this dilemma now falls to me. Take your goons and go fetch my tools while I have a chat with the model.”

“Fine.” Nicky gave me a curt nod before ushering his band of idiots out of the room.

“That means a charged generator. Clamps. Camera gear.” No way in hell was I leaving it to Nicky to figure out what I’d need. “Better yet, bring me the surgical tray.”

What I really needed was competent people to work with, but that was a problem for another time. For now, I had a model to break.

I turned toward the bruised and bloodied man chained to the wall. “You must be Tyler.”

6

Sky slid into a red velvet booth at the pizzeria Javier had picked for the group’s dinner meeting. With the waitstaff in black-tie attire, the pizza joint was the fanciest Sky had ever dined at. Javier had assured her they didn’t need to dress up, but Sky instantly regretted her baggy sapphire turtleneck sweater and black faux leather leggings.

“Will the pizza be served on golden platters?” She tossed the half-hearted tease at her sort-of boyfriend as he scooted in next to her. “I could have at least thrown on a pair of heels to class myself up a bit.”

“Ha ha.” Javier grabbed the menu laid out on his place mat. “There aren’t many casual pizza joints in New York that let you rent out the entire place for two hours. I had to step it up a bit to get our group the privacy we need. Sala Rinaldi’s management was more than happy to oblige, for the right price.”

Sky whistled with mock amazement. “They have wine on this menu. I’m guessing it’s not of the boxed variety. Let’s just hope they’re not too uptight for orders of extra, extra cheese with a pile of cheese on top.”

“Something tells me they can pull that off here.” Javier held up a hand as Delia, Sami, and Callie came through the restaurant’s double-door entrance. “The crew’s all here. We can place our order and get down to business, uninterrupted.”

Their friends approached the table, led by a tall server with a stiff smile. He directed them to three chairs facing the booth, handed out fresh menus, and promised to return promptly for their drink order.

“Good grief, Javier.” Sami waited until the server was out of earshot across the dining room. “I’ve got some frozen pizzas in my apartment. They would have worked just fine.”

Callie scanned their luxe surroundings. “And I could have whipped up a casserole just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

Groaning, Javier looked at each of them in turn. “Have you four ever heard of someone doing something nice for you just because? I’ve got it covered. We’ve been ransacking Callie’s apartment and devouring takeout at Sami’s office nonstop for months. I thought, considering everything we’re dealing with, this might be a nice change of pace.”

“I, for one,” Delia raised her hand as though taking an oath, “couldn’t appreciate this more. You’re right. This case stuff is so heavy. A little pampering could do us all some good.”

Sky gaped at the menu. Where were the prices?

“I agree with Delia. But also, we do still have to go over the heavy case stuff while devouring what I imagine is ridiculously expensive cuisine.”

“Obvi.” Delia pointed at her menu. “But that talk’s going to be a lot less stressful with a glass or two of pinot at my side.”

“Fair enough.” Sky’s mouth watered as their server approached with what looked like two giant baskets of gourmet breadsticks. “Let’s get this order in ASAP.”

Within a couple of minutes, they’d ordered four large brick-oven pizzas alongside a robust selection of drinks, and they were left alone once again.

“Well.” Callie sipped from her water glass. “Who wants to go first?”

Sami hung his head. “I’d volunteer, but I’m afraid we haven’t made much headway with our connection chart.”

“Murder board.” Sky corrected him without thinking.

“Right.” Sami waved a hand in her direction. “That. Delia’s been able to name a lot of the people in Megan’s photos, and Sky and I went down just about every road as far as lacing them all together. We still have a few faces to nail down. Mostly men appearing to fall into the smug-and-entitled category.”

Sky squeezed a wedge of lemon into her water. “The models and their loved ones don’t seem to have any connection at all other than the obvious. They were models at some of the big-name agencies. No backgrounds of growing up together or anything prior to meeting in the modeling world.”

“So basically nothing we didn’t already know.” A sigh escaped Callie’s lips. “Arturo’s lawyers have even filed an appeal that might get the bastard off with barely more than a hand slap. I think it might be time to add our unrelenting district attorney to the murder board. Something feels downright fishy.”

The group paused as the server returned, deftly placing a drink before each of them. “Your meal will be just another few minutes.” He flashed the same pasted-on smile as before and retreated just as quickly.

Javier grabbed a breadstick, tearing it in half. “Well, I found the information I was looking for, but I’m not sure it’ll be helpful.”

Delia claimed a breadstick of her own. “Try us.”

Javier stole a quick bite before answering. “I checked through the HR records and found out that Dustin Wint was hired directly by Ashley Duncan. Considering she could barely do her job to begin with, it doesn’t surprise me that she hired a man capable of murder. She probably didn’t even think twice about probing the guy, considering he’d applied for a lowly maintenance position.”

“Ashley was likely just annoyed and disgusted that she even had to think about the custodial staff.” Sky mimed sticking a finger in her throat and puking. “Have I mentioned how much I don’t miss her?”

Javier chuckled. “I know I have. Multiple times. I did go ahead and check out Wint’s résumé, and on the surface it’s clean enough. He had a history of working for big companies and wealthy clients. Even took care of Congressman Jean Mar’s private property grounds for a while. Not exciting or particularly helpful news, but it does give an idea as to how he might have found himself around the rich and powerful on a regular basis.”

Sami’s head bobbed as he listened to Javier. “Okay, and what about Arturo Silva?”

“I’ve got a call in to Nadine regarding Arturo.” Picking up the other half of his breadstick, Javier waved it gently in the air like an orchestra conductor. “He was in her book, so she might have some insight to add to how he was vetted and approved to work with GDL. No promises, though.”

Delia reached into her pocket. “I can text Nadine and nudge her to check her messages, if you’d like.”

“That would be helpful. Yes.” Javier popped the bread into his mouth. “I’m not on her radar as much as I used to be. Especially knowing she’s just as busy preparing for Fashion Week as I am.”

Sami leaned back against his luxuriously cushioned chair. “While we’re putting it all out there, I guess I should admit I managed to pull down the case files for Arturo Silva. Unfortunately, the police really don’t know any more than we do.”

“You did what?” Callie nearly choked on the words as they rushed from her mouth in a hurried squeak. “Tell me you did not break into the NYPD databases again.”

Delia nearly knocked her water glass over while turning to Callie with her hands up in surrender. “For the record, I told him not to.”

“Don’t get mad. I covered my tracks.” Sami attempted to play it cool, but Sky had no doubt he was glad Delia was between him and their resident Mama Bear at the moment.

Callie shook her head. “I’m not mad. But we don’t have to do that sneaking around stuff anymore. Clarkson would have given you the file. I’m sure of it. We’re a part of the JTF now. You kids need to realize how big a deal that is. And you, Sami,” she pointed a finger at him like he was a toddler headed for time-out, “need to respect the police and the Feds and play by their rules for once.”

Sky held in a giggle while Javier put a finger to his lips. “The order’s coming. We’ll pick this up over, or maybe after, pizza.”

Callie’s narrowed eyes and pink cheeks told Sky her dear friend was fighting the urge to launch into a much longer lecture, but as multiple servers arrived with steaming hot pizzas, Callie bit her tongue.

Sky’s stomach rumbled as she eyed the beautiful cheese trio monstrosity set smack in the middle of the table. “Javier’s right. We’ll revisit after pizza.” She helped herself to a large gooey slice while the others chose from the other more refined options.

They could have the margherita or white pizza with Italian sausage or spinach with artichoke pie. But if anyone laid a hand on her layered creation, fit for the highest class of lavish kids’ menus, Sky planned to go full feral.

As the group ate their first bites and voiced their initial oohs and aahs of pleasure, Callie’s phone chimed in her purse. She swiftly retrieved it. “Clarkson calling. I’m going to take this outside.”

Sky attempted to maintain her focus on the delicious pizza but kept her eyes glued to the entrance until Callie returned a few minutes later.

“Something’s wrong.” Sky squeezed Javier’s thigh. “Look at her face.”

All four of them froze as their retired FBI friend returned to the table and sank into her chair, her complexion noticeably paler than when she’d left just moments ago. “You’re not going to believe this. Arturo Silva was found dead in his cell this afternoon.”

Sky’s jaw dropped, her lips twisting in shock. “How did he die?”

“Poison of some kind. Clarkson says the file suggests respiratory failure…like he suffocated, but without any marks of strangulation. And Arturo had no cellmate, so he had to have done it to himself. It’s being ruled a suicide right now. They haven’t had time to do the autopsy.”

Sami pushed his plate away, his appetite clearly gone. “But how would he have…how could he have without⁠—”

“Sounds like cyanide to me.” Callie answered the obvious question they all shared. “I’ve seen the effects of suicide pills in action more than a few times during my career. It’s a quick-acting poison, but not immediate. It takes three to five minutes to shut the body down. And every person I ever saw die that way had the same look frozen on their face…pure, unfiltered horror.”

“Did Clarkson send you a picture?” Sky mentally crossed his fingers.

“No, but I wish he had.” Callie exhaled slowly, her brow furrowing. “If I could see Arturo’s face…I might be more certain.”

“What’s Clarkson’s take on it?” Sky had laid eyes on far too many dead individuals in her own time, but never one who’d died by cyanide.

“Clarkson agreed with me.” Callie ran a finely wrinkled hand across her forehead, pushing aside silvery strays. “The real mystery is how the hell did Arturo get it?”

“More to the point,” Delia stacked her silverware on top of her unfinished meal, “why would a man appealing his case suddenly die by suicide?”

“Obviously he didn’t.” Javier still held a half-eaten piece of margherita in his hand, seeming to have forgotten it altogether. “At least not willingly.”

“Are you suggesting someone slipped something into his food?” Sky twisted to face him. “Like maybe he pissed off one of the other inmates?”

“It’s possible. Inmate fighting is certainly an ongoing problem in our prison system.” Callie took over the inquiry, pressing her lips together in a grim line. “But I was trained on the use of cyanide during my time in the FBI. It’s hard to obtain.”

Sky scrunched her nose. “It is? I thought cyanide came from apple seeds.”

“It does, but,” Callie wiped her fingers on a napkin, “it takes hundreds, even thousands of apple seeds to reach a lethal dose.”

Sami scratched his chin, considering the information. “Not the ideal option to get revenge inside a prison.”

Sky met Callie’s eyes as another idea occurred to her. “What if he had a stash of treats or something in his cell, and one of those treats was poisoned?”

“That would be a good theory…except for one critical problem.” Callie burst Sky’s investigative bubble with a quick shake of her head. “Cyanide tablets must be kept dry. Any candy or treats with sugar in them are natural moisture attractors. That’s why pills always have those little desiccant packs in them. Moisture would have broken them down.”

Unfazed, Sky continued to brainstorm. “Okay, so then someone could have given a cyanide pill to Arturo at some point. And that means he did take it on purpose and died by suicide, as the report is suggesting. Maybe his appeal was rejected?”

Callie’s head was shaking again before Sky finished speaking. “Clarkson said there’s nothing in the reports about a rejection of his appeal. They did list the lawyer he was using. Agent Flores has Detective Houghton digging into him.”

“Good. He’ll get to the bottom of that fast, assuming there’s anything there.” Javier gave an approving nod, but Sky wasn’t fooled by his nonchalance. Detective Dante Houghton had shown romantic interest in her in the recent past, and Javier could barely stand to be around the man, let alone talk about him.

But Javier’s not wrong. If they assigned this to Dante, he’s no doubt knee-deep digging in already. Maybe I could give him a call.

Sky was fairly certain the detective would tell her all he could, but she decided to keep her idea to herself. No reason to upset Javier over nothing.

Delia tapped her French tips across the tablecloth. “What would make him end his life when he had a chance of appealing his case? I can’t be the only one feeling like someone higher up may have had him silenced.”

“Well, for now,” Callie lifted her barely touched wine glass, “Houghton, Clarkson, and Flores are looking into the suspicious death. Clarkson did give me a direction for our group to focus on in the meantime.”

Sky’s heart raced. She was more than ready for the assignment. “What’s that?”

Callie took a second sip of wine before responding. “The JTF hasn’t been able to get ahold of Tyler or Frankie. Clarkson thought we could make a few more calls or visit their places. They want to get as much info about Nicky Silva as possible, and Tyler seems to have done the most digging.”

“Right.” Sky had been hoping to hear back from Frankie and Tyler herself. “They haven’t returned my calls either. Visiting them makes the most sense.”

“One more thing I found on Arturo Silva.” Javier tapped his mouth with a napkin, reminding Sky of the silver spoon upbringing he could never quite shake. “Other than Nicky, the guy doesn’t have much by way of relatives in the world. But he’s got at least one other family member in town. His ex-wife. I’ve got a name and address. Could we chat with her and see if she might give us the lowdown on him?”

“If she’s an ex, there should be no problem talking to her. I’ll bet she’d be more than willing to dish the dirt on Arturo. She did marry one nightmare of a man, after all.” Sky faced Callie straight on. “What do you think?”

“We can’t all go and bombard the poor woman together. Five people showing up at her door might do more harm than good.” Callie tilted her head first at Delia, then at Sky. “I know we’ve got Frankie and Tyler to check in on, and we will. But why don’t you and Delia go meet Arturo’s ex together? You’re young, pretty, and appear much less intimidating than we all know you really are.”

“I think that was a compliment.” Sky winked at Delia and grinned. “We’re on it.”

7

The cowering, half-starved waif could barely lift his gaze to meet mine. I’d crushed bugs bigger than him.

This is the cause of my problems?

A pungent whiff of musky urine wafted up to my nose. I forced myself to breathe through my mouth to avoid the asparagus-laced odor turning my stomach.

As always, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.

“My apologies for your experience with my associate.” Putting on my media-friendly smile to disarm him, I approached the urine-soaked model and inspected Nicky’s handiwork. “As you’ve already deduced, he’s not the brightest bulb in the box. You can’t be a good boy and answer questions if your mouth is swollen shut, now, can you?”

Tyler’s left eye was so puffed and bruised, it resembled a festering boil. I half expected to see pus explode out when it cracked open. The other eye, while not as swollen, had a broken blood vessel, turning it a gruesome shade of red. Clear signs of Nicky’s punch first, ask questions later style of interrogation. Sloppy…but the results provided me with a fine opportunity to play the good cop.

“Who uses…uses shackles these days? You…look like…Hallo…” Tyler took a shaky, labored breath. “Halloween. Your costume.”

Was this half-dead captive being a smart-ass? I held in a chuckle, impressed with his ability to exude sarcasm under such grave circumstances.

“Never mind my costume, Tyler.” Clicking my tongue, I shook my head in mock disappointment as I adjusted my mask. “You must be aware of the heaviness of the…predicament…you got yourself into. You were smart enough to figure out what Nicky was but still made the ill-advised decision to dig deeper. I’m sure you realize your mistake by now. So let’s you and I try to have a more pleasant conversation, shall we?”

“You going to use your…tools…on me if I don’t?” Tyler’s defiant reply came out with a slight slur.

Maybe he was tougher than his appearance would suggest. Clearly, he could take a punch to the face. But I didn’t plan to strike there.

I held my breath as I lowered myself to eye level with him, ensuring he would see the determination in my face. “The application of pain is entirely up to you.”

Tyler flinched, rattling the chains binding him to the wall.

Exactly the response I was hoping for. He has spirit, but not enough to overcome his fear. Now that I know what button to press, breaking him will be too easy.

“I prefer to do things the easy way.” Reaching out, I tousled Tyler’s matted hair like he was a mangy animal, amused by his futile attempt to pull away from my reach.

Behind me, out in the hallway, a cart rattled to a stop. The clink of metallic objects followed before the door to the room opened once more.

Right on time.

I stood, offering one last too-friendly smile before the fun began. “I will, of course, be happy to accommodate your need for painful incentives, based on the level of cooperation you show.”

Tyler’s gaze shifted from me to the cart Nicky was rolling into the room.

I pointed to the corner. “Leave the cart there and close the door behind you. Wait in the hall. This might take a little while.”

“You sure you don’t want me to help?” Nicky’s question came in an obnoxious, hopeful tone.

Tyler sucked in a stuttering gasp as his good eye darted between my face and Nicky standing behind me.

For half a second, I considered the offer. Seeing how much the model feared Nicky, keeping my unhinged and violent associate in the room would make my job easier. Nicky clearly needed to see the proper way to handle an interrogation, but he hadn’t earned the right to benefit from my tutelage, given his recent string of screwups.

Tyler wouldn’t be hard for me to break, and the better punishment for Nicky’s impudence was to show him how little value he had by making him miss the entire show.

I stifled the smile attempting to ruin the mystique of my dominance. “Did I stutter, Nicky?”

“I’ll be outside.” I didn’t need to see his expression. The quiet, forlorn mumble as he shuffled out painted a clear enough picture.

After the door shut and the dead bolt clicked into place behind me, I turned my full attention back to Tyler. “Where were we?”

“Look. You got the wrong guy if you think I’m some kind of spy.” The wretched little urchin had gone white as a sheet, and his voice cracked like a prepubescent teenager’s. “This is all a big misunderstanding.”

Once again, I lowered myself to his level. His swollen and bloodshot eyes were almost as disgusting as the pungent odor of piss wafting up from his body. My eyes watered, but I maintained my composure. “What’s your interest in my associate?”

“I found him on a dating app.” Tyler turned his face to the side, breaking eye contact. “That’s all.”

Though the story was plausible enough, I knew it was false. And if I hadn’t already been in possession of the truth, his avoidant body language would’ve revealed the lie.

I went to the cart and took my time setting up the camera straight across from Tyler. Flicking the on button, I made sure the telltale red light glowed before turning and selecting a shiny scalpel from my array of special playtime utensils.

Dirty tears spilled over the ruin of Tyler’s high cheekbones, creating tracks of blood down to his chin. If he thought that blubbering, begging, bleeding, or weeping would sway me, the poor boy was in for a shock.

“That’s very interesting.” I sauntered back to him, admiring the glint of the overhead lights on the tiny blade. “When most people use dating apps, they chat with a bunch of strangers and have a laundry list of rejected and accepted suitors. Your account, however, has only interacted with one individual. That seems strange, does it not?”

He swallowed. “How would you know that?”

“Nicky must have hit you harder than I thought if you can’t remember him taking your phone. The modern marvels of technology make it so easy to manage one’s life from a single screen that fits in the palm of a hand.” I pointed the scalpel at his crooked, swollen nose. “Word of warning, not that it matters much now, but facial recognition is not a real security measure. You’d have been better off with an actual password.”

Tyler’s lip curled for a fraction of a second until his gaze met mine.

“Now.” I brushed an imaginary piece of lint off the arm of my bodysuit. “You were about to explain why Nicky was your one and only suitor.”

“I’m picky.” He grunted, eyes downcast.

Laughter bubbled up my throat and past my lips. I couldn’t help myself. “If you were truly picky, Nicky would be the last person you’d go after.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tyler jerked his head, staring at me with his one working eye.

Hit a nerve there.

“Don’t feel bad.” Laughing at his expense was a small compensation for the annoyance Tyler’s prying had caused me. I stood to my full height, taking in a long breath. “I’m not holding your lack of taste against you. However, I do wonder why your profile was written specifically with the intent of attracting my associate. Someone did their homework. How long have you been researching him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Once again, as he turned away, Tyler revealed his cards.

“I shouldn’t need to remind you that your level of cooperation is directly proportional to the pain I will inflict to extract the truth. It is in your best interest to be as forthcoming as possible.” I pointed over my shoulder. “That camera is rolling, and something you need to know about me is that I love to make a good film. It’s sort of my specialty.”

“Okay. Yes.” His answer came in a rushed breath. “I wanted to attract his attention. I was hoping for a sugar daddy situation. Modeling doesn’t last forever. And I have expensive tastes.”

More lies. Such a disappointment.

I’d already been through his profile and read his text messages, and I knew he’d been at this for at least a week, maybe more. “Enough bullshit. You were investigating Nicky. Your phone is full of proof. But I wonder what you may have uncovered elsewhere. Who does Nicky work for, Tyler?”

He shook his mangled head. “I have no idea. I really don’t.”

This statement I somewhat believed. But Tyler kept so much close to the vest—details I’d already confirmed—and his obstinance, his ability to keep lying to my face despite the horrific situation he was in, struck a chord of fury deep in my belly.

So maybe he truly doesn’t know anything about the boss. But he’s investigating the missing models, and the piece of shit refuses to admit it.

The one detail that plagued me in particular was the identity of his little texting buddy.

The messages he’d sent were evidence enough he’d been sharing knowledge, but the texts had been cryptic. Often only a few words followed by a phone call.

At first, I was sure the person he’d been communicating with was his friend Frankie. Now, I wasn’t so sure. The number attached to the texts and calls belonged to a burner phone. One of those gas station specials. Would a model be smart enough to hide her communications that way?

I needed to know for sure, and if it wasn’t Frankie, I needed to find the person Tyler had been texting. Loose ends couldn’t be left to fray and cause more problems for the boss’s operation.

The individuals in Tyler’s phone weren’t full names. Most of his contacts were listed under their initials or a nickname. His contacts had the person of interest listed as Fanny Pack.

Ridiculous.

Refocusing on the pathetic, bloody twig of a man before me, I ran my finger over the scalpel. “You’re still holding back, and it’s growing quite annoying. For you, I think modeling will have an abrupt end.”

“Whoa. I’ll cooperate. I swear. Put that away. Please,” Tyler pleaded as he struggled against the chains binding his hands to the wall.

“You have a decision to make. Keep telling me lies, and I’ll make sure no plastic surgeon in the world will be able to fix your face.”

I savored the moment as his breath quickened. His eyes widened so much, even the swollen one opened enough to see the blade ready to strike. “I⁠—”

“Or you can start telling me the truth, and this doesn’t have to get messy.” Now I was the liar. There’d be nothing but mess left when I was done with him. “While you deliberate your answer, keep in mind that I have my boys heading out to pick up your friend Frankie. I have some questions for her too.”

“No. Leave her out of this.” His good eye shifted upward toward my face, a different kind of horror coming over him as his pleading voice sharpened with emotion. “She doesn’t know anything. She was just a friend and roommate to Kelsey. That’s who I was trying to find. Kelsey Vinn. That’s it. I swear. I was just trying to connect the dots to find my missing friend.”

“See, now. Was that so hard?” I tapped the dull edge of the scalpel against my lip, recalling Kelsey’s destroyed, naked body bleeding out on the cold cement floor of Arturo’s studio after Mariela stabbed her.

Mariela. Now there’s a woman who showed the right kind of initiative.

As much as I’d despised Arturo, I couldn’t deny that under his careful framing, he’d caught one of the most magnificent scenes ever filmed.

But I’d admit it to anyone else over my own dead body.

Or his.

I giggled at the thought, then employed an almost nurturing tone.

“When did this Kelsey disappear?”

The skinny bitch was dead, dead, dead, but the emotion in Tyler’s voice told me he was on the edge of breaking, and I needed to give him just the right push to get him there.

“She went missing right after a fashion show on January thirteenth. No one has seen or heard from her since.” Tyler slumped against the wall. He sniffled as his head drooped. “I was just trying to find her.”

I wasn’t sure what was worse, the sound of his sniveling or the snot bubble building at the end of his swollen nose. “Wow. It’s been weeks since then. No wonder you’re so worried.”

“Yes.” He squeaked out the word. “Weeks.”

Turning away from the emotional mess, I smiled directly at the camera. The real fun was just beginning.

“Remember how I said I love to make a good film?” I glanced his way, catching the head bob of a reply. “Well, I’m not the only one. You see, I work for an organization that’s full of talented filmmakers. Some more than others, of course. But maybe I can give you a little update on your dear Kelsey. Slender little thing with a beautiful mouth, yes?”

Tyler’s jaw dropped open, his freakishly swollen lips making the small movement extra pitiful. The fresh bout of tears welling in his good eye told me he had an idea of where this story was going.

“I’ll tell you exactly what happened to Kelsey, but I still need answers, preferably without the blubbering. I can assume that your texting buddy is a female model, like Kelsey. Is that correct?”

Tyler’s head shot up once more. Fear radiated off him in waves. “Leave her alone.”

“Consider your tone here. Respect is always appreciated. Disrespect is punished. I wish to know about this person. Since you confided in her about your plans, I must be assured she isn’t going to pose a problem for me.”

He licked his cracked, bloody lips. “She doesn’t know anything.”

“You forget. I read the texts between you. I thought we were past the lying.” Clucking my tongue again, I crouched down to his level and brought the scalpel between us. “And I know you visited a private investigator. I don’t like liars.”

With two swift strokes, I gave his high cheekbones accent lines. Blood rushed to the surface, but Tyler only moaned.

I leaned closer, my nose centimeters from his. “Give me her name.”

“Why?” Tyler nearly headbutted me, but I was too fast for contact. “So she can disappear just like Kelsey?”

His little display of bravado was impressive. I had to admit, I hadn’t expected such fire at this stage in the game. Too bad the poor boy was quickly outliving his usefulness.

I met his gaze with an unflinching glare. “One would hope she’d last a fair bit longer than Kelsey. That one was a disappointment.”

Face blanching, he tested the limits of his shackles as he lunged at me once more. “What?”

Unflinching, I remained in place, enjoying witnessing the various emotions playing across Tyler’s face.

Shock. Fear. Desperation. Rage. Hatred.

I shrugged. “She just didn’t have the stamina or will to live. Would you like to see the videos?”

“You…you sick bitch.”

“Name-calling now, are we?” I added two more strokes, underlining the first on either side of his face. “Kelsey had a scream meant for horror. Oh, the movies we could have made if she hadn’t given up so easily. Normally, we can pull a good ten or so videos before our subjects expire. Delicate little Kelsey barely lasted three before my colleague found an inspired way to get rid of her.”

Tyler let out a feral shriek. “There’s a special place in hell for people like you!”

I’d heard that before.

“Look around, honey. This is hell. We’re already there, and I’m having a great time, if I do say so myself.” I licked the side of the blade. “Mmm. Now. Your friend’s name. Spit it out.”

Tears leaked from his eyes, tracking down his bloodied cheeks. “You’re bluffing. If you’d sent your boys after her, you wouldn’t need me to give you her name.”

Smart boy.

“The name is a test of how much I can rely on the words you’ve spoken. As you seem to be defiant to the end, when I return with your little friend, both you and she will pay the price for your stubbornness.” My arms tingled with excitement as I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “I’ll let you watch while I break her into pretty little pieces before I put you out of your misery. For now, we can spend the time making our own visual masterpiece.”

“Fuck you.”

I grabbed his chin and planted a kiss on his bloody cheek. “Oh, you’re mistaken. I’m going to fuck you. Again and again and again. Plus, all my sharp, shiny tools over there? They’re going to fuck you in a different way the entire time I’m having my fun. You’re familiar with strap-ons, yes? I wonder…how big is too big for you?”

The men, gay or not, were usually terrified by that line.

Tyler was immediately bargaining, just as I’d expected. I’d made it three steps when he croaked, “Okay.”

I stopped short but kept my back to him. “I’m listening.”

Chains rattled behind me as his raspy voice reached my ears. “Frankie. Her name’s Frankie Jenkins.”

I imagined him struggling to break free, probably hoping to clasp his dirty hands around my neck.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want.” His voice cracked as he took a sobbing breath. “But you have to promise not to hurt Frankie. She doesn’t know anything. I swear.”

Now that I’d broken his spirit, the rest of the information I needed would flow freely from his lips. Frankie Jenkins would be an easy grab. If she was as gullible as Tyler, an impassioned plea to help her friend would have the little bitch hopping the first subway to wherever the hell I told her to go.

“How about your research, Tyler? What do you have on Nicky? On Kelsey’s disappearance? On our organization?” Just the thought of being undone by this weakling made my blood boil.

“Just a stupid spreadsheet.” Tyler’s good eye seemed to flash with an extra-genuine plea. “Just a spreadsheet I made. Random people at random parties. I don’t know anything about your boss or Nicky’s boss or any of this. I promise.”

“And where is this spreadsheet now?”

He swallowed hard. “My phone. I created it on my phone.”

If he was telling the truth, that was retrievable enough. “And no one else knows about this spreadsheet? Frankie? Any other friends?”

“Nobody, I swear. I’m not very techy, and it wasn’t worth showing to anyone yet. Didn’t make any sense or connect any dots.” A tear slipped down his sliced-up cheek. “I’m not a detective. It’s mostly gibberish. I just wanted my friend back.”

This time I believed him, but I wasn’t done.

“And Frankie’s the only person you talked to about Kelsey’s missing person case?”

He let out a long sigh of apparent defeat. “I went to Hayat Investigations. Sami Hayat and Sky Stryker. They know about Nicky and that I was looking for Kelsey.”

And there it is. That much was the truth, at least. I saw him come out of the P.I.’s office with my own two eyes.

If Sky knew, that entire group of Scooby gang rejects did. Then again, Sky was already on my To-Kill List, and so was her dipshit boyfriend. I’d simply have to add a few more names.

Tyler had turned out to be a bigger pain in the ass than I ever would have imagined.

“You know, I’m going to show you a courtesy you denied me and actually tell you the truth right up front.” I made a slow turn on my heel, flashing another dazzling smile at the camera before swinging around to face him again. “Frankie is going to die here, and so are you. And that filmmaking we discussed? It’s not an option. You’re going to be a movie star. And so is she.”

“No.” He appeared to muster whatever strength he had left, wrenching against his binds as if his life depended on it.

Because it did.

“No!” A scream this time. Such a delicious noise.

“And to answer your earlier question,” I gestured toward the wall behind him, ignoring his distress, “I still use shackles. Me. They’re very efficient, and you know what else? They’re sexy as hell. Makes for damn good cinematography.”

8

The morning after their fancy pizza party, Sky pulled her cross-body bag from her kitchen counter and slung it over her shoulder before grabbing her keys from their hook, fully aware that Delia would be waiting for her—impatiently, by this point—in the downstairs lobby. “Okay. I’m out.”

“Right behind you.” Javier placed a hand on the small of her back and leaned over her shoulder, giving her a gentle peck on the cheek. “See you after work?”

“Your place or mine?” Sky winked.

They walked toward the door. Javier opened and held it for her. “Play it by ear. If you and Delia get some good intel from Arturo Silva’s ex-wife, we might all be doing an info exchange dinner at Callie’s.”

Sky locked the door and headed to the ground floor with Javier.

Delia was there as expected. “Ready?”

“Sorry I’m running so late today.” Sky tilted her head to the exit. “Let’s get moving.”

“I’ll give you two lovebirds a pass this time.” Delia reached out for a hug before opening the door. “But Mr. Bainbridge here has a pretty big week to prepare for, and we’ve got a case to crack.”

“Roger that.” Sky planted one last kiss on Javier’s cheek before the three of them hit the sidewalk and went their separate ways.

“Nothing like a crowded subway ride to start the day off right, huh?” Sky spouted the sarcasm while digging in her messenger bag for her phone. The screen showed zero notifications. “Dammit.”

“What?” Delia slowed beside her. “It’s too early for dammits.”

Sky weighed her options for a moment before spilling the full disclosure to her best friend. “I called Dante, erm, Detective Houghton, last night. I thought he might give me the scoop on where the case is at as far as Arturo Silva goes. But he didn’t pick up. So I texted him. He hasn’t answered that either, and it’s really not like him. It’s getting obnoxious.”

Delia put a hand on Sky’s arm. “Um. You sure this is about the case and not the fact that he hasn’t responded?”

Jaw dropping, Sky slipped her phone back into her bag. “Of course it’s about the case.” She picked up the pace, clutching her strap.

“It’s okay, Sky.” Delia’s soothing voice slipped over Sky’s shoulders like a warm blanket. “I know you’re super into Javier. It’s okay if you’re still offended when a guy who went hot and cold on you in the past pulls the same thing. Even if it’s case-related.”

Sky linked her arm through Delia’s. “Maybe it’s a little bit about his Dante-centric ways. No one likes being ignored. But Callie did say Agent Flores had Dante digging into Arturo. Going to him with questions on or information about the guy seems logical.”

“It does.” Delia squeezed her closer. “For now, let’s just concentrate on talking to Arturo’s ex-wife. Worry about Detective Dante Houghton after that. He’s probably just super buried in the investigation.”

An hour later, they reached the street where Crystal Waters, the ex-wife in question, lived.

Like many other residential streets, this one was lined with various buildings. Some were prewar, while others were newer but designed to match the surrounding aesthetic.

Sky checked the address again and pointed to an old redbrick structure. “She’s got the basement apartment, I think.”

A small gate led to a narrow flight of stairs down to the lower-level door. The paint had chipped away, exposing more brickwork.

“Here goes nothing.” Sky pressed the small doorbell. “I hope she’s friendly.”

“Even if she isn’t, I’ll turn on the charm. You know everyone loves me.” Delia beamed a picture-perfect smile at Sky.

Delia was right, of course. Her natural charisma had a way of putting others at ease, and even the prickliest of people couldn’t help but relax around her.

The door lock clicked, and the knob turned.

A petite woman with an A-line bob greeted them.

“Are you Crystal Waters?” Sky wouldn’t call the woman’s expression friendly. Perhaps confused was a better word.

Her gaze shifted from Sky to Delia. “Who wants to know?”

Sky gulped back a knot in her throat. She hadn’t actually figured out how to introduce herself.

Hey, there. I’m the reason your ex-husband went to prison. Oh, and what you probably don’t know yet is that he’s dead now. Suicide, they say, but we have major doubts. Also, he tried to kill me.

Delia stepped up. “So sorry to barge in on you like this. My name is Delia, and this is Sky. We would have called first, but I…well, I didn’t have your number.”

Crystal backed up a step and pushed the door. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any.”

“No, ma’am.” Holding out a hand, Sky stopped the door from closing. “We’re not selling anything. We’re investigators from Hayat Investigations. We hoped we could talk to you about your ex-husband.”

Eyes widening, Crystal dropped her hand from the door. “You’d better come in.” She stepped back and motioned for them to follow her into a small cluttered living room. “Sit anywhere you like.”

Delia took the lead, claiming a spot on a threadbare couch. Sky sat next to her while Crystal sank into an old faux leather recliner that looked like it had mange. The chair creaked under her weight as she spun it around to face the couch.

After a moment, she huffed out a breath. “What do you want?”

“Your husband, Arturo…” Delia hesitated, leaving the name hanging in the air.

Sky had a few choice words to go along with that man’s name, but she kept quiet so Delia could do what she did best.

“That man ain’t been my husband for a while now.” Crystal’s eyes narrowed. “Divorced him a few years back. And let me tell you, I was glad to be rid of the bastard. I drank a toast when I heard he was in prison.”

Clearly, the former Mrs. Silva hadn’t spent any time mourning her ex-husband’s incarceration. But was she aware Sky was responsible for putting him behind bars?

“You look familiar.” Crystal’s dark eyes locked onto Sky’s face. “Wait a minute. You’re that woman. From the news. The cousin of that dead model. Megan Nowicki, right? Yeah, you look just like her.” She cleared her throat. “Sky Stryker. You helped get Arturo arrested.”

“That dead model.”

So easy for others to throw out her cousin’s name like a People magazine fact-check.

Sky took a steadying breath. “I did, but only after he kidnapped and tried to kill me. My ribs are still healing, and he did a hell of a lot worse to other women.”

Delia stiffened beside her, offering a quick follow-up explanation. “There are some charges that Arturo managed to step around.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Crystal punctuated her words with a slap on her thigh. “He always was a slimy snake. I guess this time he slithered a little too far.”

Right into the grave.

“I can’t pretend there’s any part of me that feels bad about Arturo landing behind bars.” Sky had planned to at least attempt to downplay her scorn for Silva, but the feat was becoming more difficult with every passing moment. “He deserves to pay for what he did.”

Crystal traced circles on the arm of the worn chair. “Agreed. He made his bed. You did what you had to do.” Her upper lip curled into a sneer. “Bastard deserved what he had coming to him.”

Sky had plenty of reasons to hate Arturo for what he’d done. For all the crimes he’d committed. But Crystal’s animosity hinted at a whole other list of grievances.

“I guess he wasn’t the greatest of husbands, was he?”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Crystal launched out of the chair and walked past the couch, toward the kitchen. “Where are my manners? I didn’t offer you ladies anything to drink.”

“That’s okay. We’re fine.” Sky twisted around to face the kitchen. Crystal had her back to them, filling a glass of water at the sink. “We really just wanted to know if you might have some information on the people Arturo associated with.”

As the words left Sky’s lips, the glass fell from Crystal’s hand and clattered into the stainless steel basin.

“Don’t go looking for trouble.” Crystal twisted around to face Sky. “It’s not worth it.”

Sky and Delia exchanged glances. This was where Sky hoped her friend would step in, but Delia looked just as lost as she felt.

“Have you been threatened?” Delia’s voice cracked. “By people who know Arturo?”

Crystal’s jaw tightened. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, exhaling with a slight wheeze as she slowly pushed the air out. “Listen. Arturo’s been involved in some seriously bad shit for as long as I’ve known him. And I’m not an angel either. We both dealt heroin back in the day, and he ended up getting busted and serving prison time that, in his mind, was my fault.”

“Are you still…involved with drugs?” Sky posed the question as gently as possible.

“No.” Crystal’s sharp retort left little doubt that she was telling the truth. “I got out of all that when Arturo was in prison. I learned my lesson. When he was released, he told me he wanted us to put the drug-dealing behind us and rekindle our relationship. But really, he just wanted to make me pay for the time he spent behind bars. And he never meant to get out of that life. The whole time he was locked up, he stayed in touch with shady people.”

Delia chewed her lower lip. “Would it help to tell you that we’re trying to build a case against those shady people?”

“Yeah.” Sky stood and walked around the edge of the couch, stopping before she reached the border where the kitchen met the living room. “We think there are more people continuing Arturo’s work. And we’re certain many more people were involved in the crimes he committed. He’s part of a network that absolutely has to be taken down.”

Crystal’s face contorted as if she were struggling to keep herself from speaking. Her lips pressed into a hard line, and the muscles in her jaw twitched.

Sky didn’t want to push her too much, but she still hoped Crystal might have something useful to share. Yet as she looked into the woman’s glistening eyes, she found herself at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be bothering you.” Delia stood and turned to face the kitchen. “You have your reasons for being silent. I get that. I didn’t want to speak, either, after…” Dropping her head, she fidgeted with her hands.

Crystal massaged her left temple with two fingers. “What did they do to you?”

“I had it better than others.” Still gazing down at her fidgeting fingers, Delia shook her head. “But it’s still hard to be alone. Especially at night.”

“Nights are the worst.” Crystal’s voice softened. “When the rest of the world is asleep, that’s when the monsters come out.” Her hand moved to her belly as she let out another sigh.

Something looked off about the way the skin on Crystal’s left arm puckered in a straight line, as if seamed, or maybe scarred. The deformed skin ran from her elbow to the crease of her wrist. It had to have come from a nasty cut.

Crystal met Sky’s gaze, and a moment later, the woman crossed her arms behind her back.

“Was Arturo your monster, or someone else?” Sky was going out on a limb with such a direct question. She tried to soften the words with what she hoped was a sympathetic smile.

Crystal’s lips pursed again. Her nostrils flared. In that moment, she was like a bull trapped in the arena, ready to charge, and Sky was a big red cape.

“Please understand. I don’t mean to hurt you with the question.” Sky struggled to control the volume of her voice. Tact wasn’t exactly her thing. Neither was patience. But this woman clearly knew something. They just had to get her to say it.

“Sometimes it helps to talk about it.” Delia’s soft voice floated through the room as she stepped closer to the kitchen. “For me, there were two of them. One was a photographer. He took the pictures while the…” She heaved a breath.

Sky laid a hand on Delia’s shoulder for support.

“Thanks.” Reaching across her chest, Delia rested her own hand on top of Sky’s. “The other man was the one who paid for me. He liked to punch, especially when I wasn’t moving fast enough or positioning myself in just the right way for him.”

Crystal held her arm out. “See this?” She pointed to the seam Sky had spotted. The scar caught the light just so and revealed the true horror of its thickness. “Broke a beer bottle and threatened me with it one day. He said he had friends coming over, and I was going to entertain them in any way he demanded. So I told him to go to hell.”

“Real Prince Charming there.” Sky slapped a hand over her mouth the moment the words slipped past her lips.

“You can say that again.” Crystal tugged at the neckline of her shirt, revealing a spider web of old scars. “If it had been the first time, I might not have taken him seriously. But I knew he meant it, and I had to put my foot down. Paid for that mistake pretty damn fast.”

With her hand still over her mouth, Sky’s whispered curse couldn’t escape.

Crystal shivered as though she’d been hit with an icy breeze. “It’s really something to get passed around your husband’s friends like a used toy while he just stands there laughing. Wasn’t exactly the marital bliss I’d hoped for.”

Delia crossed the threshold and pulled Crystal into her arms without hesitation. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.” She stroked Crystal’s back until the woman pulled away.

“Every once in a while, I’d lose my mind and try to stand up for myself.” Crystal managed a half smile, the humor not reaching her eyes. “That’s how Arturo lost a finger. Pushed me too far and got a taste of his own medicine.”

“You cut off his finger?” Sky blurted the question, rampant admiration rising in her chest like a fanned flame.

“I did. One minute I’m chopping up a cucumber, and the next…” She rubbed her temple again. “But don’t get too excited about that. He more than made up for it. I’ve been to the ER more times than I’d like to admit.” The poor woman leaned against the doorframe, exhaustion edging her features.

Sky bit her tongue, fighting back memories of the beating Arturo had doled out to her not so long ago.

Crystal’s eyes welled with tears. “You don’t know how terrified I was to divorce him. Even after everything was finalized, for a good six months, he’d sometimes show up here out of nowhere, just to beat the shit out of me. For old times’ sake, I guess.”

“Did you ever try going to the police?” Sky couldn’t help herself. Curiosity always trumped tact when she needed an answer.

“No. How could I?” Crystal sniffled, turning toward the sink to snatch a hand towel and mop up her face. “He was friends with cops.”

“Really?” The word left Sky’s mouth in a sharp squeal, earning a reproachful look from Delia. “I’m sorry. It’s just that a detail like that could really help the case we’re working on. He was friends with cops?”

“Yep.” Dabbing her face, Crystal nodded. “Dirty cops, mind you. But it doesn’t much matter when they’re wearing a badge.”

Delia held up a hand to shut Sky up before she could say another indelicate word. “Do you happen to have a name to pass on?”

A sharp gasp from Crystal silenced the room as the towel fell from her hand. Wordlessly, she shook her head.

“We’re not going to the police.” Delia tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I have a trustworthy friend who’s a former federal agent.”

Delia neglected to mention the joint task force, and Sky understood her reasoning. For one thing, they weren’t at liberty to share a single detail about the classified operation. But most importantly, the idea of so many LEOs being involved in the investigation that Arturo was a part of might scare Crystal into complete silence.

Crystal’s wide eyes shifted from Delia’s face. Her brows knitted together, creating large wrinkles across her forehead as she faced Sky. “Aren’t you a little young to be a former federal agent?”

Sky couldn’t help busting out a nervous chuckle at the very idea.

“Oh, no. Not her. Another friend of ours.” Delia gestured to herself. “So we have a direct line into the agency that’s trying to track down all the missing models. If you can give us anything useful on the crooked cop or officers Arturo dealt with, it might help remove them from service.”

Crystal narrowed her eyes, still staring hard at Sky. “I never got a name. They always had nicknames. Stupid monikers like Fatty or Short Stack. The one I saw most often was Baldy. I’m sure you can guess why.”

“Do you know if he was an officer, patrol, or maybe someone higher ranking?” Sky counted off the options on her fingers.

“Beat cop, I think. He was fat, lazy, and creepy as hell. I doubt a guy like that ever makes it to upper ranks. Not that he needs to. He’s got a pretty sweet life getting away with whatever he wants.” Crystal scoffed and bent to retrieve the fallen towel.

“Thank you.” Delia held out her arms again, inviting a hug. “We appreciate the information you’ve given us. And I’m sorry we dredged up bad memories.”

Closing the gap, Crystal hugged Delia. “It’s okay. I know it’s not much. But if I remember anything or see that skeezy son of a bitch cop out on the street, I’ll let you know.”

As she pulled away from the hug, Crystal grabbed her phone to enter Delia’s number.

Sky waited silently, her mind running with conflicting thoughts. Crystal had been kind to talk to them. And she’d gone above and beyond, considering how painful discussing Arturo’s abuse must have been.

But they hadn’t touched on one major piece of the puzzle, and Sky couldn’t leave without bringing the matter up.

“You mentioned Arturo’s friends,” Sky cleared her throat before dropping the name, “but what about his brother? Did you ever meet Nicky Silva?”

Crystal shook her head. “Arturo didn’t talk about Nicky often. They had a strained relationship, and Nicky was always very busy. He had some important job working for a congressman. Mar. Jean Mar. I think Arturo might have been a little jealous, and I honestly didn’t care to know any more about the guy.”

Sky forced herself to speak despite her mouth having gone dry as the Sahara. “Congressman Jean Mar, you said?”

Javier’s digging into GDL records had shown that Dustin Wint had worked for Mar in the past. And now Arturo was linked—even if only by his brother—to the politician?

No way in hell this is just a coincidence.

“Yes.” Crystal returned to her recliner, sinking into it as though the conversation had drained her energy. “Does that name mean something to you?”

Sky glanced at Delia. “We’re just making notes on everything. Any name could be helpful to the case.”

Especially names we’ve heard before.

Crystal sighed. “Just wish I could give you more.”

“You’ve done great.” Delia gave Crystal a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Sky echoed the sentiment, but as they said their goodbyes and headed back out to the street, all she could focus on was pulling out her phone and placing a call to Dante.

The visit to Crystal had been a gold mine, and the joint task force needed the new information about Jean Mar as soon as humanly possible.

9

Frankie Jenkins kicked off the too-tight heels she’d been wearing since early that morning. Today’s shoot had taken longer than she’d expected.

Stupid pinchy-toed shoes. I don’t care how fierce they look. Those things should be illegal.

Peering at her red, swollen toes, she was certain blisters were forming. The walk home was going to be torture. The subway station alone was at least five blocks. And then she still had to get home once the train dropped her at the stop nearest to her apartment.

Daydreams of hailing a cab and taking the easy way home danced in her mind. Considering her limited supply of cash, Frankie didn’t dare dip into her savings. At least not if she planned to keep a roof over her head for a few more months.

She had to get a new roommate, and quick.

With a sigh, Frankie pushed away the thought. She’d been brooding about her lost roommate for too long, trying to have faith that Kelsey would be found.

Checking her phone for what had to be the hundredth time that day, Frankie desperately hoped this would be the instance she’d see a message from Tyler. He’d said he was going radio silent while he checked on a lead in Kelsey’s disappearance, but deep down in the pit of her stomach, Frankie knew something terrible must have happened.

Tyler had been out of touch for two entire days.

He was the kind of person who couldn’t live without his phone. If he wasn’t on social media, he was texting someone. If he wasn’t texting, he was chatting. That man was allergic to silence. And if he hadn’t responded to her by now, she knew the reason was bad.

Frankie had called and texted him more times than she cared to count. Each voicemail she left, each message she sent, was more desperate and pathetic than the last as she begged for a word.

Any word. She’d have even taken a letter or an emoji or anything he could manage. Any communication to let her know he was okay.

If anyone but him were reading those messages or listening to the voicemails, that person would probably think Frankie was a desperate ex-girlfriend.

Even that would be preferable to the possibility that he’d been kidnapped. Or killed.

No. Frankie couldn’t think like that. Tyler would text her back. She just had to have faith.

She’d been repeating that for days. But at some point, she’d stopped believing it.

First Kelsey. Now Tyler. Despite his insistence that he’d find Kelsey, Frankie knew the truth. Models who’d disappeared in the past had never returned.

Guess it’s a good thing I’m not one of the stunning ones.

The prettier a model was, the more negative attention they seemed to attract. Some of the bigger agencies not-so-secretly operated some kind of side gig pimping out their models for evening escort services. The biggest of them all had been implicated in a prostitution scheme. Meanwhile, Frankie had never once been propositioned.

“Pretty enough for avant-garde fashion.” She glanced down at the shoes that had mangled her feet and scooted them out of her way. “But I guess I should be glad I’m not attractive enough to be pimped out. My ironic silver lining.”

She turned toward the mirror. Her face was covered in so much makeup that the only recognizable part was her eyes.

For half a second, Frankie considered leaving the makeup on. No one ever paid attention to her anyway.

Tyler, on the other hand, is a stone-cold stud.

No. She couldn’t let her mind travel down that path. The thought of never seeing Tyler again was too much. Her heart couldn’t take it.

She made quick work of cleaning up and slid her aching feet into a pair of memory foam sneakers before heading out of the building.

Rush hour foot traffic would be picking up soon, but for now, the crowd was thin enough for Frankie to walk down the center of the sidewalk without worrying about running into anyone.

The nearest subway station was right around the corner, but as per her usual luck, it wasn’t for the right line. At least she didn’t have to take any side streets to get there. Her stroll would be peaceful and well lit.

“C’mon, feet. Let’s get to it.”

Plucking her phone from her purse, she started down the sidewalk and dialed Tyler’s number again. She held the device to her ear, waiting for the hello she didn’t truly believe was coming.

Once, twice, and after the third ring came the pause before Tyler’s recorded voice greeted her.

“This is Tyler. I’m probably in the middle of a shoot, so leave your details, and I’ll call you back. ’Kay? Bye!”

The recording ended with a beep.

“Tyler, please call me. Text me. Something. I need to know you’re okay.”

She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

Admit it. He’s gone. You know this.

Up ahead, a handsomely dressed man in a tailored suit caught her eye. His persona oozed wealth. Frankie couldn’t help but let her gaze linger as they neared each other.

As Mr. Three-Piece Suit paused to loosen his tie, Frankie got close enough to zero in on his chiseled features.

Recognition washed over her body like a deluge of ice-cold water. For a moment her limbs went stiff. Numb.

This wasn’t some random hot stranger before her. She’d seen that face a million times in the pictures Tyler had collected. Not ten feet away from her stood Nicky Silva.

Move.

Frankie found her footing again, zooming past the man and heading for the crossing ahead. Stopping at the curb as a few cars zoomed through the busy intersection, Frankie glanced up frantically to check for the walk signal. While it flashed that big red hand at her, she gave herself permission to peek over her shoulder.

Nicky had changed directions entirely and was now after her.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Traffic seemed to go on forever. The walk signal mocked her, refusing to change, as if it knew she was desperate to cross.

Footsteps thudded behind her. The handsome man in the nice suit was a bona fide model-napper, ready to make her disappear, just like Tyler and Kelsey and who knew how many others.

Lifting her phone, Frankie turned the forward-facing camera on and pretended to take a selfie, all while locking her gaze on her hunter’s fast approaching face.

His lip quirked, but he wasn’t smiling. Eyes narrowing as his brows knitted together, Nicky Silva’s expression shifted between disgust and some sort of predatory darkness.

Frankie snapped the photo and pocketed her phone, taking off across the street the moment the walk signal flashed ahead of her. She fought the urge to break into a sprint for fear that it might inspire Nicky to do the same.

She was in good shape, but so was he. The odds of him catching her were high. So she speed-walked, trying to disappear into the crowds of oblivious New Yorkers.

Yet the farther she traveled, the lighter the foot traffic became. Fewer cars driving past too. The city streets suddenly felt desolate, and the constant soft shuffle-tap, shuffle-tap of Nicky’s cap-toe derby shoes kept in step with her own stride.

Frankie couldn’t stop thinking about Tyler and Kelsey. Her heart raced, knocking at the wall of her chest, desperate to escape. The fact was, her friends were gone. And if she didn’t lose the handsome psychopath behind her, she’d soon be joining them.

A knot formed at the back of her throat. She swallowed hard, but it refused to budge.

If the damn thing got any larger, she might just choke. As it was, every attempt to suck in a lungful of air failed to satisfy her needs. On the verge of hyperventilating, she could neither stop nor slow down.

Frankie had to get to safety. The faster, the better.

Pulling her phone back out, she considered calling 911, but this was NYC. She’d recently read that the response time was over fifteen minutes.

She didn’t have fifteen seconds.

Trying to lose her stalker, she took a left at the next intersection, hoping the small street she’d chosen would throw Nicky off his game. Brownstones lined this street, hopefully full of active families with watchful eyes. Getting to the station might take a few extra minutes, but doing so would be worth it if she could walk the rest of the way in peace.

Regretting the decision the moment she made the turn, Frankie found herself on a sleepy, abandoned street. Not a single human in sight. Likely the residents hadn’t yet returned from their typical nine-to-fives.

A lonely streetlight flickered in the approaching evening twilight, as if trying to communicate a warning to her via Morse code.

But she couldn’t retreat. Every step she took was echoed by the man following her. Nicky stuck to her heels. The only way through was forward.

Frankie crossed in the middle of the road and headed for the next corner. She’d make a right up that way and double back to the original street she’d been heading toward.

As fast as she moved, his footsteps continued to match hers. When she turned, so did he. When she ducked down yet another side street, that haunting shuffle-tap, shuffle-tap was there too.

Panic erupted in her chest, and she broke into a full-on sprint, legs pumping with every last ounce of strength she could muster. She had to find the main street again. But by this point, she had twisted and turned so much, Frankie wasn’t certain where she was.

She didn’t care which subway station she found. Any would be a welcome sight. She’d ride all the way to Brooklyn if she had to. As long as she didn’t end up as another missing model like Kelsey and Tyler.

Reaching into her purse, she set her phone in the inside pocket and snagged her keys.

When she found them, she balled her fist, allowing each key on her chain to slide between the creases of her fingers. Frankie had seen this sort of makeshift brass knuckles used in self-defense before. She might not be able to punch hard, but that wouldn’t matter when she hit someone with a fist full of sharp metal.

Finally spotting the street she’d started on, she raced ahead to retake her path. The subway station came into view.

“Hey,” a male voice called out. “Did you drop something?”

Nope. Not falling for that.

Traffic was light enough that Frankie risked crossing before the signal indicated safety.

Her gaze locked onto the sign listing the subway station and routes it served.

Brooklyn or bust. Just gotta get there.

“Miss, I think you dropped your wallet.”

Nicky Silva wasn’t giving up, but salvation was in view. There were bound to be even more people down in the station. Cameras too.

Taking the steps two at a time, Frankie tore down the stairs as she pulled the back cover off her phone to expose her transit card. One quick beep, and the turnstile allowed her onto the platform. Still, Frankie refused to slow down. Heaving for breath, she struggled to fill her lungs as she lunged toward the awaiting train and tumbled into the car.

“You okay, miss?” An older gentleman held out a wrinkled and trembling hand to help her up.

“Yeah. Sorry. I tripped.”

“What’s a young woman like you doing rushing around so fast? Ease up a little, young lady. Life ain’t gonna pass you by.” The old man had surprising strength as she used his hand to brace herself and get back to her feet.

As the train doors closed, she searched the platform for Nicky in his three-piece suit. In all her rushing, she hadn’t stopped to look back and see if he’d followed her into the station. Could he have jumped into another car when she tripped?

Oh, gosh. If he did…

The train lurched forward, sending her toppling onto a hard plastic seat along the wall.

“You sure you’re okay, young lady?” The wrinkled man shook his head. “Seem a little off your game. What’s got you all out of sorts?”

Frankie wasn’t even sure what train she was on or what route she was taking. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

At least for the moment.

10

The ride back to Hell’s Kitchen served to heighten Sky’s agitation, as further calls and texts to Detective Houghton went unanswered. By the time she and Delia walked into their apartment building, Sky’s frustration levels had neared something more like anger.

She held open the door to the stairwell. “We have a name. A congressman’s name. And Houghton can’t be bothered to pick up the phone?”

Delia tilted her head and shrugged. “I know he’s in charge of digging into Arturo’s suicide, but at this point, we should just tell Callie and have her take the info straight to Lieutenant Clarkson and Agent Flores. Jean Mar’s name-drop isn’t just about the Silvas. Wint worked for him too. This could be the break the joint task force needs.”

Sky started the climb to the third floor, with Delia on her heels. “You’re right. Dante isn’t the only one working on this. And we have Crystal’s mention of dirty cops. That seems JTF-worthy.”

“Exactly. It’s big stuff.” Delia’s best quality was her ability to be a genuine cheerleader without even trying. “Callie texted while we were on the train. She’s out running some errands, but she’ll be home soon. I’ll let you know as soon as she gets back, and you can come over. We can all talk about it, and she can put in a call to Clarkson.”

“Sounds like a plan. Maybe Sami and Javier can come over after they’re done with work too.” Once she reached the third floor, Sky held the door for Delia again. “I’ve got some writing I need to catch up on, so I’ll see you soon.”

Inside her apartment, Sky couldn’t help the nervous energy that sent her pacing a track from the front door to the couch and back. No way in hell was she going to find time to work on her proposal for the next book today.

Nice pipe dream, though.

Learning that Arturo had kept company with dirty cops was disturbing enough. But knowing that Dustin Wint, who murdered Megan, and Nicky Silva, who Tyler and Frankie believed abducted Kelsey Vinn, had both worked for the same congressman?

Sky didn’t believe in coincidences. Not after a lifetime of traumatic experiences. And if Jean Mar was truly evil and had his powerful hand in the NYPD, the corruption went deep.

It left a bad taste in her mouth. Something was clearly rotten within law enforcement.

Could Lieutenant Clarkson or Detective Houghton be part of it all?

A shiver ran down her spine as that thought set in.

Callie had known Lieutenant Clarkson forever, and Dante had been busting his ass on the missing-models case for months. Dirty cops might be involved, but those two were clean as clean came.

“That just leaves the entire rest of the force. No big deal.” Sky gnawed at her lip as she paced faster.

Back and forth. She needed to find another outlet to work off the anxiety before it sent her into a full-blown panic attack.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a knock sounded through her apartment.

“Get a grip.” Scoffing at herself, she crossed the small space to find Delia at the door.

Sky released a breath. “Miss me already?”

A small smile formed on Delia’s lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She pointed to the phone before talking into the device. “Hold on a sec, Frankie. I’m here with Sky, and I’m putting you on speaker so she can hear you too.” She tapped the screen. “Okay, say that again, please.”

Sky motioned Delia inside, waving her to the couch as her pulse raced.

Frankie was finally returning their calls. She and Tyler might have a trove of information to add to the case in addition to the knowledge Crystal had passed on.

“I’m being followed.” Frankie’s voice was a distorted and breathy whisper.

Delia took a seat on the couch. “What do you mean?”

“Remember when we told you about Nicky Silva?” The fear in her voice was palpable. “Well, now he’s following me, and I can’t go back to my apartment. It’s not safe. I need somewhere to hide. Tyler thought he figured it all out, but…he’s gone missing.”

Sky exchanged a worried look with Delia. “Where are you right now?”

“Dewitt Park.”

Good. At least she’s close.

“Stay there. Do not move. We’re on the way.” Delia ended the call as she made a beeline for the door.

“If Nicky’s following her, Frankie’s in big trouble.” Sky stated the obvious as they rushed back down the stairs of the apartment building.

“And,” Delia busted through the entrance, waving Sky past, “it sounds like Tyler is too.”

They made the three-block walk in record time and found Frankie sitting in the park’s dog run, playing with all the rambunctious puppies.

“I didn’t know you had a dog.” Sky kept her voice soft and pleasant so as not to terrify their friend.

Frankie stood and spun to face her, worry creasing her brow. “I don’t. But this part of the park is filled with people, so I thought it would be the safest place for me.”

Her hands were shaking. Frankie fidgeted with them, alternating between stuffing her fingers into the pockets of her jeans and picking at her nails. She glanced around in all directions, keeping her gaze moving.

“Is Nicky Silva here right now?” Delia reached out and took ahold of Frankie’s hand, stopping her twitching. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s walk and talk.” Pulling her hand free, Frankie led them to the walking path that circled the small park. “I know you guys and that handsome P.I. boyfriend of yours,” she glanced at Delia, “were trying to track down Kelsey. So don’t get mad. It wasn’t my idea.”

This can’t be good.

Sky walked on Frankie’s right side while Delia covered the left. In her apartment just a few minutes ago, Sky had felt like all the pieces were coming together. Now she feared everything was falling apart. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. It was Tyler.” Head still on a swivel, Frankie appeared to be checking in all directions as they made their way around the park. “When you guys didn’t seem to be making any progress, he tried to pick up the slack. Kelsey has been missing for too long now, and the chances of us finding her alive are slim. But he wasn’t giving up.”

Shit. She still doesn’t know about Kelsey and the video. About Kelsey being dead.

They couldn’t keep the truth from Frankie forever, but now was definitely not the time to spring such devastating news on her. Not when Nicky Silva could be lurking nearby.

Delia put a hand on the other model’s arm. “So what you’re saying is that Tyler tried digging into Nicky Silva and disappeared. Is that right?”

Frankie nodded. “He sent me a text saying he was going to be radio silent the rest of the day, possibly. He had a lead and was doing some undercover shit. But I haven’t heard from him in two days.”

“Two days?” Sky instantly doubted Tyler was still alive. “Aside from what you both told us at Hayat Investigations, how deeply involved were you with looking into Nicky?”

More bluntly, the real question was how big of a target Frankie had painted on her back.

“Tyler wouldn’t let me do much. He said he wanted to spare me the gory details. But he always checked in and gave me updates on the dots he was connecting. He was fixated on Nicky Silva.” Frankie came to a sudden stop. “I pretended to take a selfie and got a photo of that asshole following me.” She swiped across her phone screen and held it out for Sky and Delia to view.

Sky sucked in her breath. She’d never met Nicky Silva, but the face on Frankie’s phone was undoubtedly the same as the pictures Tyler had shown them at the office. “He was that close to you?”

Frankie nodded, her gaze fixed on a man standing on the sidewalk just outside of the park. “And there he is. He followed me here somehow. I need to find a safe place to go.”

Sky tried to avoid any obvious staring as she casually inspected the man. Well-dressed, with his hair neatly tied into a long ponytail down his back, Nicky stood next to a car outside most people’s budgets.

Then again, expensive cars, expensive suits. That sounded pretty familiar too.

“Okay. Okay. Just keep walking like nothing’s wrong while I think for a minute.” Sky laced her arm through Frankie’s, continuing down the path.

Delia followed suit, linking herself to Frankie like a protective chain. “We can’t go to any of our apartments.”

They needed to go somewhere, though, and fast. The park wasn’t that large, and they’d be rounding the path that led straight to where Nicky was standing.

Frankie balked as the path took them closer to her stalker. “Shouldn’t we be turning around?”

Sky pulled out her phone. “I want to try to snap a few pics as we pass him. Especially the license plate on that car.”

“But what if he tries to nab us?” Frankie leaned hard, digging her heels in to stop from being pulled forward.

“He’s not that dumb. There are tons of witnesses around.” Lowering her voice, Delia worked with Sky to all but drag Frankie forward. “Say something. Act natural.”

“What? Oh. You are too funny.” Frankie was not an actress. That much was certain. The wooden way she spoke and the over-the-top exuberant laughing that followed all but screamed, I’m completely faking this!

But at least she wasn’t digging her heels in anymore. Frankie had picked up her pace a little, likely in an effort to speed past her stalker.

Sky pretended to take selfies of the three of them as they closed in and walked past. Using her phone as a rearview mirror, she watched the man enter the passenger side of the car. “He’s mobile.”

“What?” Again, Frankie ground to a screeching halt in the middle of the path. Her head jerked to the side as she searched for the car.

Sky tried to look for it, too, but the vehicle had vanished. “Time to get out of here.”

Frankie swallowed hard. “Agreed. But where exactly are we going?”

“I’m not sure.” Delia took a deep breath. “He’s circling the park.”

From the corner of her eye, Sky spotted a city bus pulling to a stop at the edge of the park. Instinct kicked in, and she motioned for the others to follow as she sprinted its way. “C’mon. We can try to lose him and figure out where to go while we ride.”

11

Striding into Hayat Investigations more than an hour later with Delia and Frankie on her heels, Sky breathed a sigh of relief.

Sami hurried from his office and pulled Delia into his arms. “Oh, thank God. I was so worried.”

“Sorry, babe.” Delia made no effort to break free of Sami’s grip, clinging to him with matching intensity. “Nicky followed the bus, so we got off with a big crowd and ducked down into the first subway station we could find. That took us to Queens, and we had to take two more trains to get back here.”

Frankie stood just inside the door with her thumbs in her jeans pockets, seeming unsure of what to do. “Thank you for, uh, letting me come here. I’m pretty freaked out.”

“No problem.” Sami flashed her a warm smile and poured a cup of coffee, pressing it into her trembling hands. “I’m just glad you called Delia.” He glanced at his fiancée. “And that you three are all okay.”

Sky bobbed her head in agreement. What would have happened if Frankie hadn’t called Delia, or if they hadn’t gotten there in time? Would she have ended up like poor Kelsey, and now Tyler? Shuddering, Sky tried to shove the thought aside.

Delia swiped some balm over her lips. “We didn’t know where else to go. Heading back to our apartment building wasn’t an option.”

“I’m glad you all came here.” Sami led Frankie to the waiting room sofa and tucked a blanket over her legs when she curled into a corner. “It’s a secure place of business right in the public eye. A lot harder for Nicky or anyone else to lurk around. And smart thinking to ditch the guy and take the subway. Tell me you got some photos?”

“Sure did.” Sky fished her phone from her pocket. After a few taps on the screen, she held the device up for Sami to see. “I got a few at the park, even one of his license plate, and Frankie got one when Nicky first started following her home from her photo shoot.”

“I can’t be sure, but I think Tyler met with Nicky.” Frankie cupped the coffee in her hands but didn’t sip. “That was right before he dropped off the radar. He said I might not hear from him that day, but that was two days ago.”

“We’ve got to figure out where he is. Or at least where he was last.” Sami rubbed his chin, motioning toward Sky’s phone. “Will you send me those? I can look up the plates. We have Nicky’s name, but the registration might give us his address.”

Sky immediately attached the pictures to a text for Sami. “You got it.”

“Thanks.” Sami looked from Sky to Delia and back again before nodding toward his office. “Let’s let Frankie rest while we discuss next steps.”

The model seemed relieved and rested her head back on the cushion.

After double-checking the front door was locked, Sami steered Sky and Delia into his office. “What about the interview with Crystal Waters? Anything there?”

“So much.” Delia sank onto the small sofa in his office. “For one thing, Arturo abused the living crap out of her during their marriage and afterward too. And the main reason she never reported it was because of all his dirty cop friends. Apparently, there’s some filth hiding behind the NYPD badge.”

Sami pinched the bridge of his nose. “Outside of TV shows, bad cops are rare, but they do exist. We’ll need to get this info to the joint task force immediately. Anything else?”

“Yep.” Sky took a seat beside Delia. “Crystal remembers something about Arturo’s little brother, Nicky, working some important job for…get this…Congressman Jean Mar.”

“Holy crap.” Jaw dropping, Sami patted his pockets. “We’ve got to let the JTF know this information stat.”

Sky’s phone buzzed in her hand, the name Dante flashing across the screen. “Speak of the devil. Detective Houghton’s calling me right now.”

And it’s about mother-bleeping time.

“Hello.” Sky spoke the word in a calm, even tone, despite wanting to shout and throw a few f-bombs his way.

“Listen.” Dante’s apology started immediately. “I’ve been incredibly busy. Flores put me in charge of investigating Arturo Silva’s suicide, which, by the way, we believe was anything but. I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Sky bit her tongue, forcing herself to take a deep breath before speaking. “It’s fine. We’ve been busy too. Just had to outrun a stalker by the name of Nicky Silva. Remember him? That person of interest I told you to check into?”

“Yes. And I did.” Barely contained exasperation coated each word. “Where are you right now? Hayat Investigations? With the group?”

“Yes.” Sky glanced around the room. “How did you know that?”

Dante laughed. “It’s a pretty safe bet, Sky. I’m in the neighborhood. Give me five minutes, and I’ll be there. We can all touch base.”

Sky rolled her shoulders before addressing her little group. “Detective Houghton will be here in just a few minutes.”

Sami responded first, his eyebrows raised high. “That’s excellent. He can take everything we have straight to Agent Flores and Lieutenant Clarkson.”

“We’ll give him Crystal’s statements about the dirty cops Arturo ran around with,” Delia gave Sky an encouraging smile, “and what she said about Nicky working for Congressman Jean Mar. Those are two huge things.”

“And we can show him the pictures you and Frankie took of Nicky today.” Sami tapped at his keyboard. “Give him that license plate number.”

Despite her annoyance with Dante, Sky understood that this development was the next best thing to meeting up at the precinct with the entire joint task force team. “I’ll call Callie and let her know to meet us over here. Javier has to work late, I’m sure, but he can join us when he’s done.”

“Most importantly, Detective Houghton has access to CCTV that might allow us to track Tyler’s last movements.” Sami’s stomach growled. “I’ll order in Mexican. I’m starving, and this might be a long night.”

Frankie appeared in the office doorway. “Something that might also be helpful.” She chewed vigorously at her fingernail. “Tyler wouldn’t tell me much about his investigating. Said it was safer for me to be in the dark. But I know for a fact he was keeping some sort of list…like a spreadsheet or something…on his computer.”

“Might be worth a visit to his apartment to see if he’s collected additional data.” Sami paused in the hallway at Frankie’s admission. “Any chance you have keys to his place?”

Frankie’s expression lit up for the first time since their arrival. “I do, actually. We could go over there after our meeting with the detective. Or maybe tomorrow would be better. Nicky could still be skulking around out there.”

“I was thinking the same thing. We should go in the daylight.” Delia nodded as she turned toward Sky. “For now, Houghton is coming, and Callie no doubt will too. This could be a long night for us all.”

“Also,” Frankie held up her hand like a child in school trying to get the teacher’s attention, “can I stay with you guys tonight? I really don’t want to go back to my apartment alone.”

“I was about to suggest that.” Delia patted the sofa she and Sky were sitting on. “This has a pullout bed. We can set you up in here for the night. He’s got a state-of-the-art alarm system here, so you’ll be incredibly safe.”

Sami nodded his approval. “And my apartment is just upstairs, so Delia and I won’t be far away.

Sky sighed. “I’ll stay for the meeting and the Mexican takeout, but then I have to go home and have a hardcore writing session. I have a proposal I have to get done.”

But who was she kidding? After a few hours of case talk, the last thing she’d be doing tonight was busting out any record-breaking word count. When all was said and done, she’d settle for a night of deep and peaceful sleep.

She sent a quick text to Callie, informing her of the impromptu gathering, and followed it up with a similar message to Javier. Fashion Week prep left her sort-of boyfriend with little free time for the joint task force case, but considering that Dante would be present this evening, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for Javier to miss the assembly.

Arriving with a knock at the door and a smile on his face, Dante entered Hayat Investigations at Delia’s admittance in civilian clothes and offered the group a wave. “I guess we’ve got some things to discuss.”

Frankie perked up immediately, and Sky couldn’t blame her. Dante’s wavy black hair and handsome, chiseled features had a way of turning heads.

The dimple in his left cheek was just ridiculous overkill, in Sky’s professional opinion.

Go for it, Frankie. Just prepare yourself for a lot of mixed signals and awkward conversations.

Which made her even more grateful for Javier. Instantly cheered by the thought of him and his steady, patient nature, Sky was determined to move beyond Dante’s silence over the past few days. Dante was a police detective, and she was very aware of the intricate case he was working on.

As an honorary member of the joint task force and a civilian who’d seen far too much concerning the missing and murdered models, she could respect the struggle Dante faced. The man deserved a little grace.

“Detective Houghton. Great to have you.” Sami’s voice carried down the hall as he reentered the lobby, phone in hand. “I’ve got enough tacos and burritos to feed an army on the way. For now, grab a seat, and we’ll fill you in on everything we’ve found.”

For the next hour, Sky, Delia, and Frankie relayed all the events and discoveries of the day, pausing only when Callie entered and when the food delivery arrived.

Dante listened calmly, recording the conversation on his phone but also jotting down notes as the details poured out. When the three of them were done sharing—Sky couldn’t get to her waiting tacos fast enough—their detective friend took over most of the talking.

“First of all, the Jean Mar information could be huge.” Dante’s fingers moved across his phone like lightning. “I’m sending that over to Agent Flores right now. It makes sense too. Rich politician with a lot of power. That could be the missing piece to all of this.”

Adrenaline shot through Sky’s body. She’d thought the same, but having an actual police detective say so out loud was electric confirmation.

“As I told Sky, Agent Flores put me in charge of investigating Arturo Silva’s supposed suicide.” Dante’s gaze slid from person to person as he spoke. “And with some careful footage review and multiple interviews of prison employees as well as prisoners themselves, I’ve narrowed down the search to one guard I’m almost certain is responsible. And…” He glanced at Frankie, frowning.

“And what?” Sky pressed.

He shot Frankie an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but we’ve already shared more task force information than we should have.”

Frankie shot to her feet. “Oh, right. She grabbed another taco and her drink. “I’ll just go to Sami’s office, if that’s okay.”

Dante stood and grabbed a few napkins before walking her to the office. He was back a moment later. “Okay, as I was saying, I’ve narrowed the search down to one guard.”

Callie paused with her fourth taco halfway between her mouth and plate. “That’s fantastic. What’s Clarkson say about it?”

Dante gave a quick shake of his head. “This is more of a ‘me’ type of operation. I’ll speak with the suspect tomorrow at the prison and report back to Agent Flores and the rest of the JTF. Lieutenant Clarkson is a busy man. I want to bring him the facts and answers, not possibilities.”

Though Sky understood Dante’s logic, she still wondered if Clarkson and Flores wouldn’t want the updates in real time, as the information came in, complete or otherwise.

You’re not exactly well-versed in running joint task force operations. Shut up and eat your tacos.

“So given everything we’ve gone over,” Sami had managed to clean his plate throughout the conversation and now leaned back against the lobby sofa with a grunt, “what’s the best way we can assist you and the JTF?”

“Well.” Dante tucked his notebook into his shirt pocket. “Running those plates for an address or any other information they might gain us on Nicky Silva would be great. I can also send over local CCTV to track Tyler’s movements on Sunday before he went missing. Could you handle that for me?”

Sami raised an eyebrow, almost appearing insulted. “Of course. I’ll be on it first thing in the morning.”

“Great.” Dante turned his attention to Sky and Delia. “And if you ladies could accompany Frankie to Tyler’s apartment tomorrow, nab his computer, and take a good look around, that would also save me some time.” He waved a hand at Callie. “You’re welcome to accompany them, of course.”

Callie pushed a strand of silver hair behind her ear, staring hard at Detective Houghton. “Maybe I will. Or I might just touch base with Clarkson. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Dante cleared his throat. “Whatever you feel is appropriate is fine, I’m sure.” His pleasant expression faltered for a moment before he regained a smile. “Now, is it okay if I dig into some of that Mexican food before my stomach growls its way out of my body?”

The mood lightened considerably once the takeout became their sole focus. Sky privately congratulated herself on handling her frustration with Dante like an actual adult.

Later, as Delia located fresh sheets and blankets for Sami’s pullout couch, Callie and Sami fell into conversation about what Tyler’s laptop might tell them.

Sky took the moment to gather the mostly empty food containers and paper plates, unaware that Dante had approached until he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Jeez!” She jumped to the side, laughing at her own startled reflex. “Sorry. I’m a little jumpy after the day’s events.”

He smiled, putting his dazzling white teeth on display. “How could you not be? You and Delia were brave to go straight for Frankie. And I’m not the least bit surprised you also went straight toward the danger.” He huffed, grin fading. “I’m never going to get you to take me seriously about the New York crime scene, am I?”

Sky tilted her head, placing a stack of plates in the lobby trash can. “Oh, I take you seriously. It’s dangerous. I have to watch out for myself. I could get hurt. Trust me. I know all those things are true. I’m just not willing to sit in my apartment and pretend there’s nothing I can do when I know I can help.”

“It’s your best quality.” He chuckled, his dimple reappearing. “And your worst. But I’m learning to live with it. I’m always watching out for you, just so you know.”

Rolling her eyes as dramatically as possible, Sky fought the urge to punch him in the shoulder. “Detective Can’t Return a Call or Text is always watching out for me? That’s hilarious.”

Dante touched her hand for a brief moment before pulling back. “Just because I don’t immediately get back to you doesn’t mean I’m not keeping close tabs on you.”

“That’s touching.” Sky sputtered out a laugh. “And a little creepy. But I guess I’ll take all the protection I can get at this point. I feel like all I’ve done since coming to New York is paint a giant target on my own back. All in the name of justice and research, but still. I know I’ve poked the bear a few thousand times.”

Taking her off guard, Dante’s expression twisted with agony. “You have. You’ve put yourself in more danger than you understand. But I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure you stay safe.”

Surprised by the change in demeanor and more than a little moved by the sentiment behind it, Sky gave him a quick squeeze on the shoulder. “I appreciate it. And we’re going to catch these bastards. Together.” She gently pulled away.

“We are. We’ll get it done.” Dante held up a hand, begging for a high five. Sky slapped it with as much gusto as she could muster, suddenly feeling silly and warm and a tiny bit guilty.

The front door of Hayat Investigations slammed shut, and Sky looked over to find Sami had just let Javier in.

“What exactly are we getting done? Don’t leave me out of the high fives.” Javier’s greeting was civil, but Sky knew how he felt about Dante.

She forced herself to smile, rushing to him and giving him a kiss straight on the lips. “You made it.” She glanced down at her smartwatch, which showed well past nine o’clock. “Kind of.”

“It’s late.” Javier dropped his briefcase and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry. Work is relentless right now. I knew it would be, but I wasn’t aware there’d be so much else going on with the case at the exact same time.”

“Don’t worry about the case.” Dante’s voice boomed with confidence as he approached. “We’ve got the joint task force investigation covered. You just focus on…whatever you do to get ready for this big ole fashion extravaganza coming up.”

The comment was made with a thick show of good humor, but Sky heard the insult that Javier would no doubt take to heart.

They were saving lives. He was planning fashion shows.

Rarely at a loss for a quick comeback, Javier seemed frozen in place. Dante gave him a clap to the back and hollered across the room to the rest of the group. “I’ll touch base with all of you tomorrow. Just get after those assignments. And thanks for the tacos.”

Sky jumped for the nearest distraction possible after Dante’s exit, relocking the door behind him. “We still have some grub left. You’ve got to be starving. Come eat. I’ll fill you in on what you missed.”

Allowing himself to be led toward the reception desk still displaying a fair amount of food, Javier’s lip curled ever so slightly. “Clarkson or Flores couldn’t have come instead? Just had to be that guy?”

“We need that guy, Javier.” Sky squeezed his hand, refusing to feed into the tension that she had not an ounce of control over. “He’s a super important part of the joint task force. And he’s a good man doing good things.”

Javier reached for a still-wrapped burrito, avoiding eye contact. “I think he’s in love with you.”

Sky jolted at the possibility, certainly an exaggeration of whatever Dante truly felt. “Doesn’t matter.” She recovered swiftly, sliding an arm around Javier’s waist. “Rumor has it I’ve fallen for somebody else.”

12

The moment Sky’s morning alarm pierced the silence of her sleepy studio apartment, she was up. Yesterday’s interview with Crystal Waters had opened a whole new window into the case, and the meeting at Hayat Investigations seemed to light a new fire beneath the entire gang.

Despite the comfort of Javier’s presence right beside her, Sky had wrestled with disturbing thoughts all night. Sleep had come in restless fits that had her tossing and turning. She’d been wide awake when Javier left for work well before sunrise.

After he was gone, she’d lain alone with her misgivings about the world. The thought of police officers being involved in the string of missing models was almost enough to ruin her faith in law and order. Although after everything she’d witnessed and experienced, she shouldn’t have been surprised.

Evil had a way of creeping into the most unexpected places, tainting what should have been undeniably trustworthy organizations with quiet, malignant darkness.

But like Sami said, bad cops were uncommon. Sky knew of many more good cops out there. Genuine officers of the law with noble hearts.

Lieutenant Clarkson was one of them. Callie too. She’d served honorably as a federal agent, and those she associated with were on that level.

With stand-up detectives like Dante on the force, the weeds would no doubt be yanked from the garden now that they were properly on the radar.

Hope wasn’t gone. It just needed a little help. And with the prospect of gathering additional clues from Tyler’s apartment and, more specifically, his laptop, Sky’s body flooded with more energy than two shots of espresso could have provided as she headed out the door and took off down to the ground floor.

The sun was just rising overhead as she descended the steps into the subway station to take the train to Hayat Investigations. When Sky came through the front door, Delia was lounging in one of the lobby chairs.

“Who’s ready for a spy mission?” Sky flung her cross-body bag onto the lobby sofa. “We are so lucky Frankie had the keys. Otherwise, we’d be sitting around waiting for a search warrant that might never materialize. Lucky.”

“Someone clearly had their coffee this morning.” Delia’s voice floated through the room in a sleepy cadence that suggested she hadn’t slept much.

Sky fidgeted where she stood, her nervous energy making it hard for her to stand still. “Just eager to learn something that might help us crack this case wide open.”

Delia sat up straighter in her chair. “Why do you sound like you’ve been watching cop sitcoms all night? What’s with the,” she air quoted, “‘crack the case’ crap?”

Sky shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. What else was I supposed to do?”

Delia chuckled. “I don’t know. Maybe write your proposal? Just keep the ‘ten-four, good buddies’ to yourself, okay?”

“Roger that.” As Delia groaned, Sky looked around for their friendly asylum-seeker, but Frankie was nowhere to be seen.

“If you’re looking for our guest of honor, she’ll be down in a minute. She went up to shower in Sami’s apartment.” Delia patted the arm of the chair next to hers. “Sit down already. You’re making me nervous with your jittery tap-dancing. Maybe lay off the espresso a bit.”

“This is all me.” Sky spread her arms out wide and flashed Delia her most chipper grin. “No caffeine at all.”

“Bottle up some of that energy for me.” Delia snorted. “Just don’t get your hopes up too much. Who knows how much Tyler found, or if he kept good notes? This spreadsheet business could turn out to be a mess of a file.”

“I need hope right now. Just let me have this.” Despite Delia’s dose of reality, Sky had to stay positive. She had a good feeling, one she refused to let go.

Taking the chair Delia previously offered, Sky dropped her voice to a whisper. “How’d it go last night? Did Frankie manage to get some sleep? And did you sleep?”

Delia rubbed her temples. “I’m fine. I’ve been through worse.”

That much was true. She’d endured some pretty horrible shit in the short time Sky had known her, and somehow, she’d remained kindhearted through it all.

Delia slouched back against the chair again. “Frankie’s pretty rattled. Apparently, Tyler’s been her constant companion since Kelsey disappeared. They’ve held each other together.”

Her heart wrenching for their friend, Sky swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Kelsey’s death still hasn’t been released to the public. We can’t keep Frankie in the dark forever.”

Delia bit her lip. “I know, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell her.” She balled her hand into a tight fist.

Sky placed her hand over Delia’s and met her gaze. “Don’t forget, the police ordered us to stay quiet about Kelsey’s fate. The blame isn’t on you for keeping that one close to the chest.” She gave the fist a gentle squeeze of solidarity. “But since when have we obeyed orders? Maybe today’s the day we tell Frankie the truth. Part of her has to suspect already, and waiting in limbo is eventually going to crush her.”

“Crush who?” Frankie appeared at the mouth of the hallway.

Oh, shit.

Delia and Sky exchanged wide-eyed glances.

How did she get so close without us noticing?

Her light-brown hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, makeup flawless, shoes on, purse in hand. She looked ready to walk out the door and face the world, completely unaware it had already shattered behind her.

Sky stood, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. “Just…talking through some things. Heavy day.”

Delia jumped in without missing a beat. “We were trying to psych ourselves up for everything still ahead. Hope you didn’t hear too much.”

Frankie didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t press. “I’ll bet Tyler has some good dirt locked up in his apartment.” She moved into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa, running a hand down the strap of her purse like it gave her something to hold on to. “He just has to. If he weren’t such a hottie, he’d make an excellent detective. Maybe he could join Sami when his modeling days are over.”

Assuming he’s still alive at all.

“Sounds like someone has a little thing for Tyler.” Sky hoped a bit of harmless teasing might keep the mood light. If they truly decided to tell Frankie the truth about Kelsey’s death today, the poor woman had enough heartache coming.

“He plays for the other team.” Frankie rolled her eyes. “And even if he didn’t…Tyler’s like a brother to me.”

Sky had had a few buddies like that in her lifetime, starting with Jarrod Mitchell, her friend from her Albany days. Everyone deserved a Tyler in their life. “How long have you known him?”

“Not long, actually. It was one of those instant-connection things.” Frankie waved her hand in the air as if swatting a fly. “Bet we knew each other in another life or something. The moment Kelsey brought him home, we were like family.”

“Kelsey was the one who introduced you guys?” Sky tried to suppress a cringe as she said the name.

“Okay. I know it sounds weird.” Leaning forward, Frankie balanced her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands. “Kelsey is one of those gentle souls. So she kind of had a habit of picking up strays.”

“Like dogs?” Delia’s brows furrowed as she turned her attention to Frankie.

“People, silly.” With a laugh, Frankie stood and began pacing the lobby. “She hated to see others suffer. Kelsey found Tyler on the verge of alcohol poisoning one night and nursed him to health. After that, she made it her mission to get him back on the straight and narrow.”

Delia’s expression softened. “How’d she do that?”

“Within a week, she had him enrolled in AA and got him to switch agencies. He was with that wretched woman, Veronica Kernrow, and the witch had destroyed his self-esteem. But with Nadine managing him, Tyler was like a whole new guy. When they weren’t hanging out at our apartment, she was making sure he was going to the gym and helping him manage his casting and booking schedule.”

“Wow. She sounds like a saint.” Sadness weighed like a heavy stone in the pit of Sky’s stomach. After all she did to help others, Kelsey’s reward had been the torment Arturo had put her through. A special place in hell existed for assholes like him.

Fingers crossed he’s screaming in a lake of fire as we speak.

“She was certainly something else.” Frankie’s expression darkened. “I only hope she’s still out there. Tyler too. It’s still possible, right? We just have to find them.”

The air dried in Sky’s throat as she tried to breathe. Knowing Kelsey’s fate was one thing, but hearing the wistful hope in Frankie’s voice broke her heart.

One look at Delia confirmed she was struggling as well, biting her lip so hard, Sky half expected to see blood.

“Delia?” Sky reached out from her chair to grab her best friend’s hand. “I think it’s time.”

As Delia nodded, her eyes welled with tears. “You’re right.”

Frankie froze, her chin trembling before anyone said anything. “She’s gone, isn’t she? Kelsey’s gone. And both of you have known for a while. You kept it from me.”

The model wasn’t as unaware as they’d thought. Deep down, Frankie had known.

“The NYPD gave us direct orders not to tell you.” Sky braced for the rage Frankie was bound to let loose. “We couldn’t say anything. Honestly, I’m still not sure we’re supposed to. They’re sitting on the information while they try to bust these assholes for good.”

Delia stood and rushed to Frankie, throwing her arms around the model’s shaking shoulders. “But screw them. You deserve to know. Kelsey’s gone…she was taken from us far too soon. It’s horrible, unforgiveable, and one of the main reasons we have to catch these psychopaths before…”

Tears flowed from Frankie’s hazel eyes. “Before any more models die. Before Tyler dies…if he’s not dead already. And I…I think he might be. I think Tyler might be gone too.”

“Don’t give up yet. Let’s get over there and see what Tyler might have found.” Sky stood and shouldered her bag. “He may end up saving his own life with the digging he did.”

But as she headed for the door, with Delia and a sobbing Frankie following behind, Sky admitted to herself that in her heart of hearts, she felt Tyler Cochran was gone.

A quick train ride followed by a short walk got them to Tyler’s place. His building was a typical five-story walk-up on a mostly residential street. Sky had been in Manhattan for long enough to get used to how tightly packed the city was, but it never ceased to amaze her just how efficiently the buildings made use of their tiny spaces.

Frankie had entered an eerie state of catatonic calm on the way over. She was likely in shock. For now, her numb demeanor would serve to get them in and secure Tyler’s computer and whatever information or evidence he’d uncovered.

“Tyler’s roommate, Bastien, is out of town doing a shoot in Milan for a couple of weeks, so we’ll have the place to ourselves to explore.” She slid Tyler’s spare key into the building’s entrance lock, waiting for the telltale click before grabbing the handle and ushering them inside.

Frankie was already halfway up the flight of stairs by the time Sky’s foot hit the first step. The model appeared to have forgotten anyone was with her at all. Her movements were zombielike. Straightforward yet mindless.

She’s not going to be herself for a very long time. She’ll probably never be who she was before.

Sky’s stomach clenched with empathy. Frankie’s nightmare had only just begun.

They reached Tyler’s apartment on the third floor, and Frankie stuck a different key into this lock, pushing the door open and walking inside. “It feels wrong being here without him.” She trailed her fingers along the wall as she stepped past the kitchenette and into the living room.

By Manhattan standards, the apartment was enormous. Sky turned around, taking in all the space. Two of her apartment could probably fit in here, though the sparseness of the bachelor-style furniture might have contributed to her perception. Two gamer chairs flanked a large entertainment console with a movie theater-size screen on top. Dark curtains hung throughout the space, blocking out the light.

“Not much for decorating.” Delia walked toward the curtains and peeked out through the window. “Not much of a view either.” She closed the curtains and turned to face Frankie, who stood in the tiny kitchen area.

For bachelors, it probably did the job, but the economy-size kitchen reminded Sky of a child’s play set. Her apartment, though tiny, at least had a full fridge and stove.

Tyler’s kitchen fit into a closet-like space between the front door and the wall. The half-size refrigerator and slender oven with a two-burner stove took up most of the wall space. A sink that might fit a single cup and plate before overflowing stood over a half-size dishwasher. All the amenities, though smaller than their normal size.

“I’m going to venture a guess that neither roommate was a chef.” Delia’s comment earned a hollow laugh from Frankie.

She shook her head. “Those boys could burn water.”

“Not with that Easy-Bake Oven.” Sky came up to what she assumed was the dining table. A white plastic folding table, the kind used for picnics, sat between the kitchenette and the living room. The apartment was cute and had everything she’d expected, but it didn’t feel lived-in.

Her apartment was never this clean. In fact, more often than not, her studio looked like a tornado had gone through it. Tyler’s place was more than spotless. The space was stark and bare.

“Did the boys chip in for a maid or something?” Sky hoped her question wasn’t rude.

Surrounding the plastic dining table were three metal folding chairs. Definitely swap-meet quality. Some carried bits of old paint and rust.

“Tyler and Bastien aren’t much for decor, but they’re both neat freaks. I wouldn’t put it past them to pool their funds for maid service once a month or so.” Frankie left the kitchen area and headed toward a closed door along the wall to her left. “Tyler’s bedroom is over here.”

While still much sparser than Sky’s sleeping area, Tyler’s bedroom at least had all the mess and clutter she expected to see. A single twin-size bed fit end to end under a window with fire escape bars. Shelves lined the walls in a haphazard pattern that ate every last inch of space. Here were the knickknacks and tchotchkes that revealed the life of the person who called this room home.

On the highest shelf, Sky spotted a few trophies. One had a boy holding a basketball in his wide-spread hands. “Tyler played basketball?”

Frankie whipped around to face her. “He didn’t come to the city to be a model. He was an athlete. But you know how it goes. Follow the money.”

“Was that what sent him into the alcohol spiral?” Delia’s soft voice floated on the breeze. She put a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, giving her a squeeze of solidarity.

“Probably. You’d have to ask Kel…” Frankie turned away, covering her face as she sniffled. “It’s going to take me a long time to get used to the idea that she’s actually gone.”

Delia stayed at Frankie’s side, stroking her hair. “That’s totally normal. There’s no rush. You’ll deal with it at your own pace. And if you need to step out⁠—”

“No. This is important. I have to do this.” Frankie swiped at her eyes. “We’d better start searching.”

Though having three of them packed into the slender space made it difficult to maneuver, Sky twisted around to face the door. A step later, she had enough breathing room to move freely.

Along the wall of shelves, a laptop perched atop a rolling cart-style table next to a small desk and a metal folding chair matching the three from the kitchen. Next to the desk, a pocket door sat half open, revealing an overstuffed closet ready to avalanche.

Sky shook her head at the explosion waiting to happen. “Typical bachelor.”

Delia jerked her head toward the partially open closet door. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, as if trying to see past the clutter. “Bet that closet is filled with high-fashion clothes he can never wear. None of us can wear that runway garbage. It’s just for show.”

“Right.” Frankie stepped toward the desk. Her fingertips grazed the top of the laptop, but she didn’t attempt to open it. “I wonder what he’s doing right now.”

Delia closed her eyes. Her chest rose and fell as she exhaled a loud breath.

Being in this place wasn’t healthy for any of them. Both Delia and Frankie seemed like they were slowly crumbling the longer they lingered in the room.

“You can ask him when we find him.” Sky plastered on a positive smile and did her best impression of a cheerleader. “So let’s do what we came here to do, team.”

“You really think we’ll find him?” Frankie’s sniffling grew louder, despite her attempts to hide her face behind her hand. She lowered her head and stared at the floor. “I’m trying to have faith, but it’s hard. Especially now that I know Kelsey is gone. With every day that goes by⁠—”

“Don’t you give up hope.” Sky hadn’t intended to be so loud, but the overly enthusiastic reply tumbled from her lips before she could stop it.

Realistically speaking, none of them could honestly declare that the outlook for Tyler’s fate was favorable. But saying that would only make their situation harder. Delia appeared on the edge of her own breakdown, and Sky couldn’t manage them both.

Sky took a deep breath. “Let’s see if we can’t figure out what clues Tyler found, okay? If we follow those, we’ll find him.”

Delia reached for a nearby shelf, dancing her fingertips over tiny wooden figures that looked like misshapen animals. “She’s right. Dwelling on the what-ifs is only going to drive us crazy.”

“I might as well go crazy. I don’t have anyone else.” Frankie wiped the back of her hand across her nose with another loud sniffle. “After Kelsey disappeared, Tyler was all I had left. She’s not coming back. And if he doesn’t…”

“Hey. You have us.” Sky reinforced her plastic smile as she faced Frankie. “Don’t we count?”

Delia straightened her posture, managing her own weak grin. “Sky’s right. You’re not alone. No matter what happens.”

“Thanks, guys.” Frankie lifted her head with one last little sniffle. “I’m sorry. I’m really trying to hold it together right now. If Tyler’s still alive, who knows how much time he has left? We should get to work.”

Sky couldn’t agree more. “I’ll have a peek in this closet. Why don’t you boot up the computer?”

“No.” Delia reached a hand out and rested it on the laptop. “We can take that with us. Sami will want to check it out. Just search for any documents or notes. Anything he might have scribbled on while he was looking for his clues could be helpful.”

Frankie eyed the device warily. “Won’t the police want the computer? Should we just give it to them first?”

Sky’s stomach twisted. “Dirty cops. Crystal didn’t know who they were, but she was sure they existed. What if we give vital case information straight to some jerk who’s going to destroy it immediately to cover his own ass?”

“We have people we can trust.” Delia delivered the gentle reminder. “Agent Flores. Detective Houghton. Lieutenant Clarkson. The joint task force was formed to make this investigation stronger. We have to lean on them.”

“But,” Sky reached for the closet door, “we’re also a part of the joint task force. They brought us in. They trust us. Which means Sami digging into the computer first isn’t just allowed but encouraged. Right?”

Neither Delia nor Frankie had a rebuttal for that.

Diving into the task before her, Sky found the closet provided nothing of interest, though Delia had been right about the high-fashion garbage Tyler stored in there. Lots of colorful fabrics and interesting patterns, but nothing that would pass as clothing someone could wear out in public.

Sky hoped to find something of interest in the shoeboxes he had stuffed at the top of the closet. She often kept mementos and pictures in boxes like that, but Tyler’s held actual shoes.

She scoffed as she replaced the boxes.

“Well, unless he hides things in the mattress, there’s nothing else to check in here.” Delia flopped onto the bed and reached under the pillow. With a frustrated sigh, she pulled her hand back out, empty.

“All I’ve got is a sticky note with a name written on it.” Frankie shrugged, her lips dropping into a dejected pout. “‘Nicky.’ We’re all pretty aware of that guy by now.” She tucked the paper into her jeans pocket.

“Okay. So we didn’t get much aside from the laptop.” Sky struggled to find the silver lining Frankie clearly needed to hear. Hell, she needed it too. “But Tyler’s computer was the main thing we came here for, and we found it. Now we just get it back to Sami and let him work his magic.”

13

I crossed my arms, loving every minute of the scene playing out before me.

Nicky cowered before the boss like the sack of shit he was.

“The only reason,” the boss’s thunderous boom bounced off his office walls, “you are still employed is because Ms. Duncan assures me that the disposal of Tyler Cochran’s body went smoothly.”

I envisioned the body bag—properly weighted down this time—sinking into the rough waters of the river with a battered and very much dead male model inside. Smooth as butter.

“Yes, sir.” Nicky bobbed his head. “I understand that.”

“Had you mishandled this situation the same way Dustin Wint fumbled Megan Nowicki’s abduction, you’d be in a bag at the bottom of the Hudson yourself.” The boss cast his petrifying glance my way for only a moment, enough to remind me that I, too, had been a part of the Nowicki screwup.

“Understood.” The tremble in Nicky’s voice was pitiful and would only serve to make our boss think even less of him.

Assuming that’s possible.

The boss’s gaze narrowed to two angry slits as he continued his verbal assault on Nicky. “If you ever decide to take matters into your own hands again, be it kidnapping another model or painting your bedroom a new color without my permission, there will be no chance for redemption, Mr. Silva. You will be terminated. In every sense of the word.”

Nicky nodded, wisely keeping his mouth shut. As dumb as he was, he was smart enough not to escalate the situation.

“Now,” our leader gestured toward the door, “get the hell out. You’ll be informed of your next assignment shortly.”

Averting my eyes as Nicky scuttled from the room, I used every ounce of willpower in my body to not burst into laughter. Not long ago, Nicky Silva had eavesdropped while the boss berated me in this very office.

The little shit even went so far as to imply that he hoped he’d get to kill me when I screwed up again.

But I hadn’t screwed up again. True, Sky Stryker was still freely walking about the earth, but that was mostly Nicky’s fault. His Tyler Cochran side project had delayed my plans to pluck the obnoxious auburn-haired thorn in the organization’s side.

“We have new developments to discuss.” The boss refocused his attention on me. “You of course know that I had no choice but to have Arturo Silva killed. He was a shady man, and it was only a matter of time before he talked in prison. D.A. Jobe wouldn’t be able to get him off, no matter what rules he bent.”

I hadn’t expected Arturo to last a week behind bars. The boss had zero tolerance for loose ends. “His suicide came as no surprise to me, sir.”

The boss leaned back in his chair, resting his head as though we were discussing the weather. “Of course, law enforcement was going to dig until they figured out that Arturo was actually murdered. So I sent someone in to make sure that Silva’s suicide, or should I say assisted self-homicide, was pinned on a prison guard. This guard is not responsible for the murder of Arturo. He is not on the payroll. But he will take the fall, and he’ll take it willingly.”

A patsy. The “someone” who really killed Arturo for the boss also found some unsuspecting idiot to blackmail into taking the fall.

Business as usual.

I liked it. “Let me guess. This guard has an auntie or a mommy or a little baby girl he doesn’t want six feet under.”

The boss smiled, a rare occasion by anyone’s standards. “If the formula works, you work the formula. Like I said, he’ll be taking the fall willingly, and that little mess will go away for now. But this means the public will soon be informed, and Nicky cannot get word of his brother’s death just yet.”

“It might prove difficult to keep him out of the loop once Arturo’s murder hits the news.” I could count fifteen different ways off the top of my head that Nicky would get the info within an hour of that press release.

“Well,” the boss stretched his arms over his head, “part of Nicky’s punishment and road to redemption will be my requirement that he hand over his phone. After that, he will be working solely with you on what I now deem the most pressing matter affecting my business.”

With Tyler taken care of, I’d assumed I’d be free to pursue Sky…and, with any luck, that entire group of dim-witted busybodies. The boss wanted her gone every bit as much as I did. “What’s the most pressing matter now, sir?”

“The safe houses.” The boss locked eyes with me, prying into my soul. “Every single one. I want no evidence of the models, the kidnapping, the torture, the filmmaking, left for anyone to find. We’re going to have to do a reset of sorts to keep the business safe. And that starts with eliminating…burning down, blowing up, I honestly don’t care…all the safe houses.”

“You want Nicky and me to make the safe houses disappear.” The mere thought of spending more time in close quarters with that smarmy rat turned my stomach. “That will take some doing.”

The boss smiled again, his well-known watch your step grin that was more of a warning than anything. “It will take some doing, yes. Nicky’s good at rigging things to burn. To blow up. It’s one of his more useful skills, albeit crude. I need him to do this for me, and I need you to babysit him and make sure he doesn’t fuck it up.”

“Okay.” I swallowed, reminding myself that the partnership wasn’t permanent. “And after we’ve accomplished this, would it be too forward of me to request working with anyone else from here on out?”

“Ms. Duncan, don’t think I’m not keeping your best interests in mind.” He clasped his hands together on his desktop. “When Nicky finds out Arturo was murdered, and more specifically, murdered at my order, he’ll become a problem. If he ever puts together that you were the reason his brother ended up in the mess that put him behind bars, he’ll become a problem. You see the dilemma.”

I doubted Nicky’s dumb ass would ever add those particular numbers together, but I liked where the boss was going with this.

“Once all the buildings are rigged, you need to make sure one goes up while Nicky’s still inside. I’ll no longer have any use for him, and I refuse to spend another second of my time concerning myself with the unhinged actions he might take when he realizes the truth of his idiot brother’s undoing. I want him gone, and you, my dear, have the privilege of making him disappear.”

“Sir.” I could have cried with glee, but I held back, since the boss disdained tears. “Thank you. Thank you so much. It will be an honor.”

The boss nodded, waving a hand my way. “You deserve a reward for how well you’ve been performing. And after the safe houses, after Nicky, you may return to your pursuit of Sky Stryker. She can’t disappear soon enough. But only after. Priorities will be respected, or consequences will follow.”

“I have the utmost respect for your priorities.” Though I’d put squeezing the life out of Sky’s pretty little neck at the top of any to-do list, were I in charge. “I’ll take care of the safe houses. And Nicky.”

“And then you will finally end the ridiculous nuisance of that petty, overstepping waif of a D-list tell-all writer.” The boss clapped his hands together. “Accomplish all this, Ms. Duncan, and I see great things ahead for you.”

Smiling from ear to ear, I internally celebrated. I’d just leapfrogged several rungs up the ladder. I’d never be at the top—not while the boss was still alive—but someday I could be his number two. I could wield his power by proxy over all the tiny-dicked minions doing his bidding.

“Again, thank you.” I turned toward the door. “For the opportunity. For the faith. I will not disappoint you.”

The boss broke into a short bout of laughter, sending a chill down my spine as I paused at the doorway, reluctantly meeting his gaze again.

“Just keep in mind that this is make-or-break time in my business. Lots of rearranging. Lots of upset that will need to be smoothed over quickly and thoroughly.” He pointed a finger directly at me. “You need to be at your very best, Ms. Duncan. I know you want that top spot, but you are not the only one contending to be my right-hand man.”

14

A freight train of hellish pain had run straight through Frankie when she’d gotten confirmation that Kelsey was dead. Though the pain was new, she’d always known the truth, deep down.

How long had it been since she last believed Kelsey was alive? The tragedy was thick and suffocating, but she’d been accepting it one ounce at a time for well over a week.

Her mind had entered some type of protective cloud, like she’d been shot up with opiates or drenched in numbing fluid. She’d hoped to stay in that daze for as long as possible, but she couldn’t have predicted the overwhelming wave of emotions that struck her when she, Delia, and Sky went through Tyler’s apartment.

His place had lost all its warmth, leaving it cold and sterile, like her friend’s spirit had gone. Like he was lost forever, just like Kelsey. The others couldn’t truly understand her anguish because they didn’t know Tyler.

He was a special kind of bright light. The best kind, illuminating the world for everyone he encountered. How could they possibly comprehend the weight of his loss on top of Kelsey’s?

Sky had tried to be supportive. Delia too. But by the time they made it back to Sami’s office, Frankie had hit her limit. All the energy had been sapped from her body, and she had nothing left to give. The sun was still shining when she retreated to the pullout couch and wrapped herself in a cocoon of blankets.

She didn’t want to give up on Tyler, but the more days that passed, the more she became convinced her friend was dead. The likelihood that the same people who’d taken Kelsey had taken Tyler was high, and if they’d disposed of Kelsey so quickly, what reason did they have to keep Tyler alive for any longer?

The shrill cry of her phone roused Frankie from the depths of a dreamless sleep. Any other day, she might have ignored the noise, but when any call could potentially be from Tyler, she couldn’t ignore a single ring.

She flew from the pullout couch and swiped her phone, answering before she registered the caller ID. “Tyler?”

“This is a courtesy reminder from Traffic Busters,” a mechanical voice droned in her ear. “You have a payment due for…loitering. A reminder that this ticket cannot be paid online and must be handled at the court clerk’s office. Failure to do so⁠—”

With a frustrated growl, she disconnected the call.

“Thanks for the courtesy call. Fat lot of good Traffic Busters did for me.” Traffic Busters was supposed to make the damn ticket go away, but after she paid all their fees, they didn’t get her ticket dropped at all.

She’d have been better off just paying the damn thing when she’d gotten it.

“Who gets a ticket for loitering anyway? Shouldn’t the police be, I don’t know, going after real criminals?”

At least the reminder was helpful. The last thing she needed was another set of fines or a warrant issued for failure to pay.

She pulled on a fresh t-shirt and pair of jeans Delia loaned her. After brushing her teeth in the office bathroom, pulling her hair into a sloppy bun, and making the couch bed, she ventured from Sami’s office, down the hall, and into the lobby.

Delia was nowhere to be found, probably still tucked into bed sound asleep, but Sami was at the reception desk, clicking away at the computer keyboard.

“Good morning.” He offered her a sleepy-eyed smile. “How did night two in our five-star hotel treat you?”

Frankie immediately sank into a puddle of guilt. “I’m so sorry to intrude. I promise I’ll be out as soon as it’s safe. Maybe tonight, even.” Though the idea of returning to her apartment while Nicky Silva was still somewhere out there running around was less than attractive.

“Don’t be silly. You should stay with us until the case is solved.” Sami waved her worries away. “At the very least until Silva is apprehended.”

“Thanks.” Frankie could tell by Sami’s unbothered expression that he meant it. “I’ll probably take you up on that, as long as you don’t get sick of me. But for now, I gotta run out anyway.”

Sami straightened in the desk chair. “Why? Where?”

“A loitering ticket I need to pay down at the courthouse.” Frankie headed for the front entrance. “No big deal. But I have to pay it in person.”

“You think it’s a good idea for you to just wander out there all alone?” Sami’s tone clearly relayed his doubt.

Frankie tried to force out a chuckle, failing miserably and sounding more like a wounded goose. “What are the odds that Nicky Silva is awake and active at eight in the morning? With any luck, I’ll be at the courthouse and back before Delia has her morning coffee brewing.”

“No. No way.” Sami shook his head. “I’ll give you a ride. Just let me leave Delia a quick note.”

After a few quick scribbles, he put a hot-pink sticky note on the reception desk computer monitor. “All good. Let’s hit the road.”

Outside, the city street was already alive with the morning rush of vehicles and pedestrians heading off to their daily drudgery.

Las Vegas might have been called the city that never slept, but Manhattan truly lived up to that name.

Privately, Frankie was relieved to get into Sami’s Jeep instead of scurrying between people, weaving in and out of traffic, and hoping to make good time while avoiding any lurking psychopaths all at once.

Sami flipped on some soothing yacht rock, and the ride went smoothly until they hit a huge traffic jam just two blocks from the courthouse.

“Damn. Everyone and their dog is trying to get through here.” He checked the clock. “Hope you didn’t have an exact deadline you were trying to make.”

His tone was pleasant enough, but Frankie didn’t want to push her luck. These people barely knew her and were already doing so much to take care of her. “It’s just a couple of blocks. I’ll get out and walk, and you can turn around at the next street.”

“Hey.” Sami held up a hand. “I said I’d get you there, and I meant it.”

“I appreciate it.” Frankie laughed at his dedication. “But come on. We’re there. I’m a New Yorker now. If I can’t handle two blocks in broad daylight by myself, I’m never gonna make it.”

Frankie cringed at the poor choice of words, but she stood by the sentiment behind them.

Even Sami seemed to allow that the remaining distance was trivial when he thought it over. “Fine. But when you’re done, call me, and I’ll head back. Even if you have to walk a couple of blocks again, I can pick you up and make sure you’re not making the whole trip alone.”

“Deal.” Frankie flashed him a grateful smile. “Thanks so much. This means a lot.”

With a final wave, she hopped from the Jeep and made a careful weave to the crowded sidewalk.

Broad daylight. Close to an official building. Tons of people. It’s going to be fine.

Ahead, the walk signal blinked with a red flashing hand.

She could make it. She wasn’t wasting any time this morning. The sooner she finished her errand and got back to the safety of Sami’s office, the better.

Putting on a little extra speed, she stepped into the crosswalk and rushed to the other side.

A loud whistle pierced through sounds of traffic.

“You there! Green purse. Stop where you are.”

Dammit. Not again.

Frankie groaned. Her gaze drifted down to the green bag clutched in her hand.

“Stay there.” A commanding voice boomed over the din of the street.

Other pedestrians took a wide berth as they passed her, each one glancing at her as if she were a pariah, as though they’d never rushed through an intersection when running late. Just Frankie’s luck she was singled out.

“Like none of you have ever tried to cross at the last minute. Go on. No need to stare.” She returned their accusing gazes with her own judgmental glare.

“Didn’t you see that light?” the loud voice asked.

Frankie whipped around and came face-to-face with a familiar police officer, an overweight and balding man. He had a hawkish nose that reminded her of a beak.

The name on his badge said Redkin.

Of course it would be him.

She slumped against a blue postal box near the curb. Of all the people she had to run into.

“I saw other people walking. I thought I had time.” Frankie tried to sound as innocent as possible.

“Don’t give me that crap.” His eyes drifted south from her face but stopped short of reaching her hands. “Let’s see some ID.”

The way his leering gaze hovered around her chest sent a chill down Frankie’s spine. She reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet.

He swiped the little card from her hand, and his eyebrow arched as he took a long look. “I thought I recognized your face.”

Of course he did. He was the reason she was out here this morning in the first place. This bastard lived to give people tickets.

But she held her tongue, biting back the nasty—albeit true—words she wanted to say.

Officer Redkin pulled out his ticket book and pen. “Repeat offender. That’s going to cost you extra.”

Frustration rolled off Frankie in waves. “That’s not fair. I have an appointment to get to.”

“So do thirteen million other New Yorkers this morning.” He snorted and began scribbling in his book. “You want to show me what makes you more important?”

“I’m not. I didn’t mean…” By the time his words registered, she’d already fumbled her reply. “Show you what now?”

“That’s what I thought.” His lip curled as he glared down at her. “See, that’s the problem with you women. You think you can get away with anything you want. But you’re not willing to pay the price.”

“I never said…what exactly are you implying?” This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Frankie crossed her arms over her chest, blocking him from further leering. “How much is this ticket?”

“The price depends on your cooperation.” Redkin clucked his tongue with disappointment. “But if you keep arguing with me, the sky’s the limit.”

“That’s not fair.” Needing an outlet for her rage, Frankie slammed her hand on the top of the post box. “I wasn’t arguing.”

He pointed the end of his pen at the box. “That’s destruction of public property right there.”

Though she couldn’t see a mark or dent, she had no doubt he would follow through with his threat of adding it to her tally. As if she didn’t already have enough money problems.

She buttoned her lips, holding back from giving him a piece of her mind.

“Life’s not fair. You think I’m happy about losing my hair?” He ogled her, daring her to say something. “That’s right. Learn your place. A little respect and cooperation go a long way. Something you might remember next time you want to be treated fairly.”

Frankie thought of Kelsey. Tyler. She was under no illusion that life was fair.

The lights must have changed. A sudden rush of pedestrians came like a crushing wave onto the sidewalk where Frankie and Officer Redkin were standing. Forced to move or be trampled, Frankie found herself pressed up against the brick exterior of a building.

An empty coffee cup clattered to the ground next to her.

Officer Redkin stabbed his pen into his ticket book and resumed scribbling. “Littering too.”

“You know that’s not mine.” Her shrill reply didn’t seem to faze him. The jerk probably got yelled at for his nasty attitude all day.

“Prove it.” He looked down at the discarded cup rolling to a stop at her feet. “From where I’m standing, the evidence is pretty conclusive.”

“You enjoy bullying people, don’t you?”

He smirked. “I’m here to serve and protect.” He tore the ticket from his book with a toothy grin. “You’ve been served. Have a nice day.”

If only Frankie could slap that self-satisfied smirk off his face, it would be worth the price of the ticket. But that would probably land her in jail.

Cops like him gave the rest a bad name.

Dirty cops. Just like Sky and Delia had discussed yesterday.

This dumbass hardly seemed capable of pulling off a real crime, though. And helpless as she was to change the situation, Frankie bit her tongue, hoping to take her ticket and be rid of Officer Redkin.

He handed over the fat slip of paper and her ID. “Remember to follow those walk signs.”

Nostrils flaring with anger, Frankie crumpled the paper and stuffed it into her purse.

Officer Redkin’s eyes were locked onto her, but again, his gaze was south of her face. It sent a chill through her body, raising goose bumps all down her arms.

He must have spotted her reaction. His grin widened until he looked like the Cheshire cat.

She balled her fists, pushing her nails into her palms. Pain helped to steady her as she turned around and headed down the sidewalk.

Frankie had met plenty of disgruntled officers in her time, but Redkin was a class all to himself. Something she’d make damn sure to mention when she got to the courthouse. And maybe she’d even pull together enough money to get a lawyer to represent her when the day came to have this ticket brought in front of a judge. Someone had to blow the whistle on him.

15

Sky woke with the sun, but when she walked into the Hayat Investigations lobby, the light was already on. “Sami?”

“I’m here!” He stuck his head out of his office door, hollering down the hallway. “I had to drop Frankie by the courthouse so she could pay a ticket.”

Dread dropped into the pit of Sky’s stomach like lead. “What? By herself? How close to the courthouse?”

“I told her to call me when she was done so I could pick her up.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed, tapping the speaker icon. “Let’s see what she has to say.”

“Hey. Still waiting in line.” Frankie’s voice held an apologetic tone. “You seriously don’t have to wait around on me. I’m safe inside the courthouse. And I’m perfectly capable of walking back. You’ll probably just get stuck in another traffic jam anyway.”

“Fine. But the moment you leave, I want you to get on the phone with one of us.” Sami looked to Sky for approval, and she flashed him a thumbs-up. “If we can’t be there with you, I want to at least know you’re okay on the route back. I’ll try to get as close as I can so you don’t have to walk the entire way.”

“I can do that. But it might be a few hours.” Frankie disconnected the call.

Sky glanced above them, assuming Delia was just barely making it out of bed at that point. “Does Delia know Frankie left?”

“Not yet. Didn’t see the need to wake her up just to worry her.” Sami slapped a palm to his forehead. “And speaking of Delia, I told her I’d make coffee. She’s got a casting call soon.”

In his absence, Sky made her way to the reception desk, dropping her things on top as if this were an ordinary work day. She glanced at the front door. Without any new cases walking in, she had time to be working on her book proposal.

But the current case…

Ugh.

Five minutes later, Sami returned to the lobby and Sky seated behind the reception desk, where she stared at the blinking cursor on an open document. “Coffee’s brewing if you want some. Shouldn’t be long.”

As much as Sky craved some morning caffeine, what she really wanted was the scoop on Tyler’s computer. “Thanks. So, um, have you made any progress on the laptop?”

“A little.” Sami pulled out a chair and lowered himself into it. “I spent the better part of the evening cracking the password to get past the operating system log-on. And I ran the license plate search from the photos you sent.”

She sat up straighter. “And?”

He chuckled, probably at her eager expression. “Belongs to a rental company, so no home address for Nicky Silva, and their business records didn’t reveal any red-flagged names. Anyway, I cloned Tyler’s hard drive, and I’m going to see what I can find out this morning.”

“Congressman Jean Mar.” Sky blurted the name haunting her. “I know Dante said he was sending the info straight to Agent Flores, and I’m sure she’s working on it by now. But we haven’t heard anything, and I figure it can’t hurt to start doing our own digging into the guy.”

Sami nodded. “You figure right. He’s on the list for today too.”

The front door chimed, and in walked Callie with a large brown paper bag in one hand, a cardboard beverage box in the other, and a cheeky grin on her face. “You two are up and at it early.”

“Well, Sami was,” Sky admitted the truth of the matter. “And he’d no doubt be making progress on Tyler’s laptop if I weren’t here pestering him.”

“You’re part of the joint task force.” Sami shook his head at her. “Stop it.”

Sky grinned up at the retired FBI agent, eyeing the bag still in Callie’s hand. “What’s that?”

Callie set the bag and beverage box on the reception desk. “Guilt-induced breakfast gifting.” She winked, a sparkle in her hazel eyes. “I feel bad for being less than helpful in this case.”

“You literally ran the last case,” Sky reminded her. “Have you checked in with Lieutenant Clarkson like you said you might?”

“Yup.” Callie’s lips dipped into a frown. “He told me to rest and let the kids handle this one. I told him that’s never going to happen. So then he said I’m the official RAC of our side of the joint task force.”

“RAC?” Sami tilted his head, as if he should know the acronym but couldn’t quite get there.

“Retired agent in charge.” Callie busted out a laugh. “I think that means I bring food and make sure you kids don’t get shot in the shoulder. Or anywhere else, for that matter.”

“Do I smell muffins?” Delia strolled down the hallway, tennis shoes squeaking against the tile with each step. She stopped short at the door, her gaze traveling from Sami to Callie, then to Sky. “Where’s Frankie?”

“Dropped her off at the courthouse earlier. Paying a loitering ticket or something.” Sami moved to Delia and pulled her into a hug. “I called to check on her. She’s fine. And she’s been instructed to call the minute she leaves the courthouse.”

Delia leaned over, peeking into the brown bag. “I’ll go down there. I don’t like her being alone.”

“Don’t. You have work today.” Sami glanced at his watch. “And that’s why she’ll call when she’s ready to leave. Don’t worry.”

Delia crossed her arms and gave the group a hesitant look. “Okay, well, as long as you promise you’ve got Frankie covered, I’d better be on my way. Fashion waits for no one.” She pulled a muffin from the bag. “Oh, yeah. Did you get anything from the laptop yet?”

“About to dive in. I’ve got his hard drive open and ready to explore.” Sami kissed Delia on the cheek and followed it up with a smooch to the lips. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

Sky didn’t want to be in the way, but she also wanted a clear view of everything Sami found on Tyler’s computer. “Mind if Callie and I perch on your shoulders like nosy owls?”

With a grin, Sami motioned to the paper sack and coffee. “Grab those muffins and coffee and follow me.”

Pulling up chairs behind Sami’s desk, they munched on muffins while he explored Tyler’s computer.

Tyler was impressively methodical. Most people dumped files all over their desktops—Sky was guilty of it herself—but Tyler had an organized structure. He’d created one file for images, one for news articles, and one for scheduling.

Even more impressive, it seemed Tyler had been working on a spreadsheet—just as Frankie said—matching missing models with the dates of their last-known bookings. Each model had a tab that further broke down the people in attendance at their final gig.

Tyler had highlighted selected names in various colors. Dustin Wint was marked in yellow. Another name appeared with alarming frequency—Nicky Silva—highlighted in blue. Arturo Silva, highlighted in red, came up too. All the names they had associated with this case.

Sky peeked over Sami’s shoulder as he moved to the images folder. Tyler had clipped photos from all over the web. Dustin, Arturo, Nicky, and others each had their own file.

Deeper in the spreadsheet, Sami searched for other names worth checking into. Ashley Duncan popped up on nearly every model’s list. But they’d expected that, given her previous position with GDL. They dismissed her name and continued to the next. With each, they cross-referenced the listing with Tyler’s image folder.

Too bad he had to go and disappear. From the level of organization in those files, Tyler would have made a damn good private eye.

As Sami continued to shift between digital folders, Sky spotted a text file labeled Check Later.

“What do you think that is?”

Sami clicked the file. “No idea.”

The file contained a single name.

Jean Mar.

“Bingo.” Sky slammed a fist on the desk in victory. “That jerk was on our to-do list for today anyway. I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. This is the third time his name has come up since we started this case. Dustin worked for him. Nicky worked for him. And now Tyler thinks his name is significant.”

Sami clicked rapidly and huffed. “No image file associated with that name, but he’s a congressman.”

“Way ahead of you.” Callie held up her phone to show the results of her search. “He’s the representative for New York’s eighteenth congressional district. Looked this up right after our meeting with Detective Houghton.”

The man appeared normal enough. Somewhere around forty with unexceptional features and a bland smile. Sky got the distinct feeling she’d seen him on television before, which made sense, considering his politician status.

If the kidnapping ring really had infiltrated Congress, the joint task force might be wasting their time investigating. With the right amount of leverage and application of power, a case like this could be made to go cold. To completely disappear.

Callie’s phone rang in her purse, disrupting the silence that had fallen over them. “It’s Clarkson.” She answered the call on speaker mode. “Hello there, handsome.”

“No time for that, Agent Baros.” The humor of Lieutenant Clarkson’s words did not match his severe tone. “I’ve got big news. And I mean big news.”

Sky grabbed Callie’s hand, hoping to steady them both.

“What’s that?” Callie crossed her fingers.

“Well, we were already looking into the guy.” Clarkson cleared his throat. “But now our prison guard who’s admitted to faking Arturo’s suicide is dropping the same big name that we’ve been running across. Congressman Jean Mar. The guard swears he murdered Silva on orders from Congressman Jean Mar.”

“Holy crap.” Sky could almost hear the gears churning in her friends’ brains. “We definitely picked up the right scent.”

A fresh flood of impatience overwhelmed Sky. They had to get this guy. Fast.

“There’s something else.” Clarkson’s tone morphed from serious to severe. “It’s big news as well, but it’s very bad news.”

Callie pulled Sky to her, whether to comfort herself or her young friend, Sky wasn’t sure. “Go ahead. We’re listening.”

“We found Tyler Cochran’s body floating in the Hudson.” Clarkson spit the information out quickly, as though he were pulling off a horribly painful Band-Aid. “He was in a body bag, just like Megan Nowicki. Looked like whoever dumped him tried to weigh the bag down with bricks. And also, the autopsy will confirm, of course, it looks like he was tortured.”

Sky put a hand to her mouth, forcing herself to swallow the vomit rising up. She’d had to identify Megan’s body herself. The images came rushing back with zero mercy.

And now they were going to have to tell Frankie that her dear friend—someone who’d been like family—had suffered the same fate.

They hadn’t determined a clear connection between Tyler’s murder and Jean Mar just yet, but Sky had the searing inkling that they’d find that damning link soon enough.

16

Sky fidgeted with the lobby stapler, fighting the urge to chuck it across the room. “He’s squeaky clean. Disgustingly clean.”

Gritting her teeth, she looked across the reception desk at Callie, who’d pulled up a chair and was doing her own digging into Congressman Jean Mar on her personal laptop. Maybe the former federal agent’s research had proved more fruitful.

“Not so much as a speeding ticket.” Callie leaned back in her chair, peeking down the hallway of Hayat Investigations before hollering, “Making any progress with Tyler’s spreadsheet?”

Sami emerged from his office and sulked down the hallway. “Not on Mar. He didn’t date any of the models or even seem to know them. Didn’t attend fashion shows or after-parties. Didn’t keep company with anyone who did, as far as the spreadsheet covers anyway.”

“His personal life is a big zero of incrimination as well.” Sky waved a hand from her computer to Callie’s. “Mar grew up. Went to college. Pursued a career in politics. Never made a mistake that anyone documented along the way. Remains single and childless. No ex-wives to interview. No pissed-off kids who might throw their father under the bus.”

“It’s like trying to get a solid grip on a snake covered in oil.” Callie slapped her laptop shut. “The guy is either as clean as he looks or did an amazing job of making sure he looks clean.”

“No way he’s connected to Dustin Wint and Nicky Silva and clean. Detective Houghton should be able to dig deeper than us.” Sky pointed out the obvious, desperate to encourage her friends. “Agent Flores is probably using all her resources to crack that egg as well. Tyler’s spreadsheet is far from an exhaustive source of info, so we can’t get discouraged already.”

Sami crossed his arms, eyes narrowed as he peered out the front window of the business. “You’re right, and they’ll let us know soon enough. But I hope they find something on the guy, because to get a warrant on a congressman…the JTF is going to need more than the testimony of one admitted murderer. The guard who just killed Arturo Silva won’t win any medals for most reliable source anytime soon. Especially not in a judge’s eyes.”

The entrance to Hayat Investigations burst open as Frankie hurried in, her cheeks red as cherries. “Yes, I know. I was supposed to call. Traffic was an absolute nightmare, so there was no way anyone was going to get close to pick me up. I just hurried back on my own. I…jogged, sort of.”

Judging from Frankie’s breathless words and heaving chest, the jog had been anything but smooth. Sky stood and approached their stowaway model, giving her a one-armed hug. “I don’t approve of your decision, but I’m glad it worked out okay. You’re lucky Delia’s not here to lecture you, because she would be losing it right now.”

Frankie swiped a palm across her sweaty forehead. “Maybe we don’t have to tell Delia?”

“I won’t say anything.” Sami held up his hands in surrender. “But if she asks directly, I’m not lying either. Like Sky said, I’m just happy you made it here all right.”

Sky, Sami, and Callie had agreed that Delia was the best candidate to break the news about Tyler’s death since she was the closest to Frankie. Sky wasn’t sure the decision was fair, as it put quite a hefty burden on someone already carrying so much.

And the worst part? She didn’t even know yet. Not about Tyler’s body being found. After everything the models had endured—including what Delia’d been through—this would hit hard. Maybe hardest of all.

How much more can we all feasibly take?

“I made it back just fine, but there was a little struggle on the way there,” Frankie admitted, flopping into one of the lobby armchairs with a thud.

Sami whipped his head toward Frankie so fast Sky wondered how he’d kept his skull attached. “On the way? You mean after I dropped you off?”

“Why didn’t you say anything when we called to check in?” Sky’s inner alarm system blared sirens in her brain. “Was Nicky nearby? Were you lying so he wouldn’t hurt you?”

Callie stood, joining the frenzy with narrowed eyes. “If you saw him, he probably followed you back here and⁠—”

“Whoa.” Frankie held up a hand to stop the madness. “I didn’t run into Nicky Silva. I didn’t see him. Not once. It’s this beat cop. Officer Redkin. He’s an⁠—”

“Hold up.” Sami raised a finger. “Did you say Redkin? That name rings a bell for some reason. It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

“Redkin, yeah.” Frankie scrunched her nose like she’d stepped in something smelly. “He’s an ass and a pervert, and I swear he has it out for me. He was the one who gave me my original loitering ticket, and today he popped a second one on me, calling me a repeat offender.”

Sky cocked her head to the side, studying the model’s flushed features. “Were you loitering?”

“Kind of, but that’s beside the point. It’s like he’s waiting around for me or something. He also cited me for destruction of public property for smacking my hand on a mailbox and added a littering ticket for standing next to someone’s empty coffee cup.”

Sami grunted. “Abuse of power. Check.”

“Right?” Frankie shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “And the whole time he was standing there being an ass and lecturing me, he could barely keep his eyes off my chest. Wasn’t even trying to hide it. He’s a piece of shit.”

“And potentially a dirty cop.” Callie made the severe statement, turning quickly to meet Sky’s gaze. “Crystal Waters said Arturo had plenty of dirty cop friends. Maybe this Redkin guy was one of them.”

“Wait.” Sami turned toward the hallway. “Redkin. That name was familiar for a reason. I’ve spent most of the morning matching fashion shoot and runway show schedules from Tyler’s notes to the roster of employees listed to work those events. Redkin’s name appeared a couple times.”

This revelation sent the room into silence for a moment before Frankie spoke again. “You didn’t find that weird or noteworthy before I mentioned him?” Her brows knit together in apparent confusion.

“Not really.” Sami ran a hand through his long black hair. “I mean, a lot of cops worked security for more than one of those shows. Maybe Redkin showed up more than others. I need to look again. Come back here with me.”

He barreled down the hallway toward his office. Sky and Frankie both took off after him, but Callie stayed put.

“We need food,” she called after them. “Nourishment. I know you kids think it’s not important mid-case, but it is. I’m running out to the deli to get some sandwiches.”

Stomach rumbling at the mere mention of food, Sky flashed Callie a smile over her shoulder. “Thank you. That sounds amazing.”

Callie chuckled, heading for the front door. “Someone has to make sure you don’t all wither away and pass out where you’re standing. Be right back.”

In the short time it had taken for Sky to reach Sami’s office, he’d already run Redkin’s name against Tyler’s spreadsheet. “Redkin’s name shows up a lot more often than other officers at the fashion shoot and runway shows.”

Frankie popped behind Sami’s desk, focused on the computer screen. “Okay. So, apparently, he does a lot of security in his spare time.”

“That’s odd.” Sky scrunched her face in confusion. “Why would a cop who spends all his time walking a beat want to work so much security in his off-hours ?”

“I wondered the same thing.” Sami gestured at his computer. “So I took a quick look into his living situation. From what I see, Officer Redkin enjoys a comfortable life. Or at least, one more comfortable than a typical cop’s salary would allow him to enjoy, if the price estimate on that town house he lives in is any indication.”

“You sure it’s not an inherited home?” Sky didn’t want to undermine Sami, but it never hurt to check every angle. The last case they’d worked on had proven that inherited property was a very real thing.

“Even if it is, the upkeep on a place like that can’t be cheap.” He shrugged. “Which would help explain why he moonlights as a security guard at fashion shows to make ends meet. But check it out.”

Excitement rippled through Sky as Sami clicked through the pictures of Redkin’s grandiose gated community. “Holy crap. That’s not get a second job in security nice. That’s become a top lawyer or plastic surgeon nice.”

Sami bobbed his head in agreement. “Exactly. No way Redkin should be able to afford living there unless another employer is paying him some heavy cash.”

“Like a rich and powerful congressman, possibly.” Sky’s skin prickled with the conviction that they’d found another link to Mar. “That’s got to be our smoking gun, right?”

“It’s a good start, but we still need ironclad proof connecting Redkin to Mar. Or proof of a crime Redkin has committed.” Sami’s fingers flew across his keyboard as he pulled up the information he’d been collating. “I’ve got him listed as working security for three fashion shows in the last couple of months. And we have models missing within the same time frame. Models who walked those shows.”

After the screwup with Arturo’s arrest, Sky knew they couldn’t afford to make a mistake like that again. But Redkin was dirty as the day was long. Proving it couldn’t be that difficult.

“Ugh.” Frankie wrinkled her nose, backing away from the desk. “So Redkin’s been at all these events just watching and waiting. Gross.”

“Watching and waiting…” Sky tapped her index finger on her bottom lip and started pacing the slender space behind Sami’s chair. “What if he’s surveillance? Not actually security? He keeps a watch on the target models until they’re picked up?”

“But where are they picked up? How?” Sami twisted around in his seat and studied Sky like he wasn’t completely on board with her theory. “If Redkin is only watching at the fashion shows, then once the models leave, he’s done. He can’t be in two places at once.”

“Um…dressing room talk,” Frankie chimed in without missing a beat. “Girls are always chatting about the clubs and restaurants they’re headed to.”

“That’s a good point.” Sky stopped dead in her tracks and slashed a finger through the air, pointing at Frankie. “He could easily learn their next location from listening in while they change. And since he’s security, none of the girls are going to pay him any attention.” She cringed as the last part left her lips.

Staff working events were often invisible. Most people didn’t even actively try to filter them out. They simply didn’t notice those working in the background.

Sami rubbed at the stubble on his cheek. “I like where you two are going with this. Redkin could get the models’ home addresses and records and whatever else he wanted off the internet, let alone from the databases he has access to. He could be a stakeout man. Easier to keep his hands clean that way.”

Frankie hugged herself. “Can you check Kelsey’s records? See if she was given a citation before she disappeared?”

“Sure thing.” Sami went to work, clicking keys and tapping on his mouse. “Looks like roughly a month ago, Redkin issued her a ticket.”

“So it’s safe to assume he’s very familiar with where I live.” Frankie’s voice warbled as she lifted a hand to cover her face. “And also that I’m one of his next targets. If he’s working with Nicky, who was very obviously following me, then we can all but assume I’m next.”

Sky instinctively pulled Frankie into a hug.

“Possibly.” Sami shot the model a sympathetic look. “But if it’s any consolation, you’ve never been safer. You managed to get out ahead of whatever they had planned for you and surround yourself with a team of people dedicated to taking down this organization.”

“He’s right. You’re not alone in this, Frankie, and none of us are going anywhere. We’re with you through the whole mess until it’s over, okay?” Still holding tightly to Frankie, Sky looked at Sami. “Can you look up Megan’s record?”

Twice could be written off as a coincidence. But three times?

If Redkin was linked to Sky’s cousin, that made for a much stronger case to bring to Agent Flores and the rest of the joint task force. However, it also meant that Redkin had been operating for at least a year. Possibly longer. Who knew how many models he’d helped to make disappear off the streets?

“Yeah. Give me a minute.” Sami held up a finger. While he worked, Sky envisioned all those poor models whose lives were ruined by that man and the network of people he worked for. “Looks like she got a ticket for littering. Redkin again. A week before⁠—”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Sky dropped her head into her hands as she crumpled onto the couch. She didn’t need Sami to finish the sentence.

A week before she was murdered.

“You okay?” Frankie’s arm snaked around Sky’s shoulder, returning the compassion she’d just been shown.

“That bastard targeted my cousin.” Sky’s voice came out in a low growl.

“We’ll get him. Don’t worry.” Sami’s voice boomed so loud, Sky had no choice but to pay attention. “We need to get all this information to the JTF. They’re going to put these bastards behind bars. Every last one of the sick crooks.”

The confidence in Sami’s tone helped to calm Sky’s nerves. She sat up straight and wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand. “You’re right. We need to touch base with Agent Flores and put together all the evidence required to nail these unbelievable assholes.”

A soft smile tipped the corners of Sami’s lips. “Now you’re talking.”

“Message me the pictures Tyler has on file of Redkin.” Sky swiped her phone screen, a stab of guilt slicing through her chest as she spoke Tyler’s name. “I’m going to follow up with Crystal Waters and make sure the guy we know as Officer Redkin is one of the ones her ex-husband dealt with. Linking Redkin to Arturo Silva for certain strengthens the web of interconnected thugs.”

“Sending over a few clean shots of Redkin as we speak.” Sami’s fingers were flying over the keys again. “As soon as Callie gets back, I’ll have her call Clarkson. We need to meet with the JTF ASAP.”

“Great.” An idea jolted Sky like a lightning bolt. “Also, we should check over Megan’s box of pictures again, with a focus on Officer Redkin this time.”

Sami gave her an approving thumbs-up. “Agree.”

Sky placed her call to Crystal and squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe they weren’t holding the smoking gun right this second, but they were closer than ever to destroying the twisted organization that took her cousin from her.

Justice is almost here, Megan. I promise.

When Crystal failed to answer, Sky left a detailed message and asked for a callback.

Frankie gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “She’ll call. It’s all going to come together. I can feel it.”

The smile on Frankie’s face broke Sky’s heart straight in half. She didn’t have the heart to wait for Delia to share the awful news of Tyler’s death. Enough time had passed with Frankie worrying for first Kelsey and then Tyler.

She deserved the truth. Now.

“Hey.” Sky grabbed Frankie’s hand, giving a gentle tug toward the hallway. “Come with me up front. I need to tell you something…something that we found out today while you were gone.”

Frankie froze, closing her eyes as her lips began to tremble. “It’s bad news, isn’t it.”

“Yes.” Sky barely croaked out the word.

“I knew it. I’ve known it.” Sinking to the floor, Frankie broke out in heart-wrenching sobs. “Tyler’s dead.”

17

Sky surveyed the occupants packed into the NYPD precinct conference room. The entire Hayat Investigations team had come for the joint task force meeting. Sami, Delia, Callie, and Javier all sat shoulder to shoulder with Sky in metal folding chairs lining the wall. At their request, Frankie had been allowed to sit in as well. Given her firsthand connection to several victims, her insight was too valuable to leave out.

Agent Flores, Detective Houghton, and Lieutenant Clarkson prepared to helm the meeting at the head of the room, and the rest of the space was filled with officers Sky didn’t recognize. While grateful for the support and dedication of NYPD’s finest, she couldn’t deny the uneasy churning in her stomach. Dirty cops were a rarity, just as Sami said. But what if one of those rarities had sneaked their way onto the JTF?

“I’m so nervous I could throw up.” Frankie hunched closer to Sky’s left side as she kept her voice low. “They’re going to announce this plan, and then…I have to do it. What if I screw it up?”

Sky grabbed one of Frankie’s shaky, sweaty hands and squeezed. “You won’t screw anything up. We’ll all be right here with you. Just hang in there.”

Before Sky could give Frankie more reassurance, the meeting began.

“We have strong reason to consider Congressman Jean Mar as being part of, if not the head of, this entire operation.” FBI Special Agent Guadalupe Flores stood around a foot shorter than Detective Houghton, her dark eyes locking onto each member of the joint task force in turn. Not deceived by the agent’s small stature, Sky could vouch for Flores’s shrewd and dedicated nature.

Posing as Lupita Franco, the agent had fooled Javier and the entire staff at GDL, working undercover as Ashley Duncan’s executive assistant. When the time had come to blow her cover, Flores hadn’t so much as batted an eyelash. She’d been doing her job, trying to find inside information on the case, and anyone who couldn’t appreciate that was of no concern to her.

Agent Flores focused on the murdered and missing models, giving special attention to the sadistic ring of criminals who’d been using New York City as their own private kidnap-and-torture playground.

“What we don’t have,” the agent flipped her long wavy brown hair over the shoulder of her black blazer, “is enough evidence to secure a warrant. I can’t find a judge who will touch this with a ten-foot pole until we obtain further evidence. So we’re going to take a bit of a detour, though our ultimate goal is still to bring Mar in for questioning.”

She gave a quick nod to Detective Houghton, who seamlessly picked up the flow of thought. “Officer Sheldon Redkin is a person of interest in our investigation. He was friends with the late Arturo Silva, according to testimony from his ex-wife, Crystal Waters, and substantiated by photographs taken by the late Megan Nowicki.”

Sky had been certain that Megan’s box of photos held valuable views into the darkness encircling the New York fashion scene, and she’d been correct. Arturo and Officer Redkin appeared buddied up in three different photographs.

“Redkin targeted several models shortly before their disappearances, and we believe that he, along with Nicky Silva, who’s still a person of interest in the death of Tyler Cochran, now has his sights set on Frankie Jenkins.” Detective Houghton’s gaze flitted to Frankie for a brief second. “We’ve decided that the weakest link here is Officer Redkin, and also that he is the most likely to break and give us the intel needed to secure our warrant for Jean Mar. That’s why we plan to set Officer Redkin up, using Ms. Jenkins as bait.”

Frankie remained calm beside Sky, despite the looks the entire room shot her way. Along with Sky, Sami, and Callie, Frankie had spoken with Agent Flores and Detective Houghton before the meeting’s start. The model’s instant agreement to be the bait for Redkin had set the plan in motion for the JTF and earned Frankie some much-deserved respect from all involved.

As far as Frankie was concerned, she was willing to do what it took to avenge Tyler and Kelsey.

Crossing her arms, Agent Flores retook the lead. “Lieutenant Clarkson has obtained Officer Redkin’s schedule for tomorrow. Redkin will be working his usual nine-to-five. The plan is to send Ms. Jenkins into his territory toward the end of his shift. She’ll get his attention and proceed to walk toward her apartment.”

Agent Flores pointed her pen at the map behind her. Sky made out the bright-red line meant to represent Frankie’s path through the streets of New York. This would misdirect Officer Redkin into believing she was headed for the apartment she’d shared with Kelsey Vinn.

“But before arriving,” Detective Houghton circled one of many buildings represented on the map by squares, “Ms. Jenkins will slip into the Full Tank Bar and Grill two blocks west of her home. This will give Redkin a chance to engage her in a more intimate setting and believe that he’s going to manage a clean snatch-and-grab. Some of the Hayat Investigations team will also enter the bar, keeping a close eye on Ms. Jenkins and ensuring she is not alone for a second.”

Rage simmered just under Sky’s skin, a low burn that had nowhere to go.

Why did men like Redkin or any of these sick fucks always think they could take what they wanted? Like a woman’s body was something they could just claim—a thing, not a person.

Snatch-and-grab.

Like she was a purse. Or a six-pack.

Not a human being with a name, a life, and people who’d be shattered if she didn’t come home.

And the worst part? He wasn’t an outlier. This wasn’t some freak occurrence. It was a pattern. A sick, relentless pattern.

Guys like him—predators—weren’t born in the dark. They were groomed in daylight. Let off the hook by locker room jokes and “boys will be boys,” emboldened every time the world looked the other way.

And women paid the price. Again. And again.

Sky clenched her jaw, holding the heat in. The only way to fix this was to stop him. Stop all of them. And maybe, just maybe, shut down the sick message men like him kept trying to send.

“In addition,” Agent Flores whirled a finger above her head, indicating the entire room, “we will all be camped out surrounding the bar when they exit. As soon as Redkin takes hold of Ms. Jenkins, at my lead, we move in and make the arrest.”

Detective Houghton clapped his hands together. “Redkin will be brought in and receive the appropriate charges. We will interview him…specifically, I will interview him. And given some time in the hot seat, we believe he’ll break and give us the information we need on Mar.”

Javier offered Sky a small smile of solidarity. She wondered just how stressed he truly was, knowing every minute he dedicated to the case was stolen from his responsibilities to GDL and Fashion Week.

Sky leaned closer to him, whispering in his ear. “Thank you for being here.”

He gently touched the tip of her nose. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Sweet as the sentiment was, Sky knew Javier’s plate was beyond full. Yes, he cared about the missing and murdered models. He wanted to bring down the horrible organization terrorizing the city.

But more than anything, Sky knew Javier wanted to be present to support her.

As soon as they had a peaceful moment alone, Sky intended to show this beautiful man…without words…just how grateful she truly was.

“It’s late, and we’ve got a big operation to pull off tomorrow.” Agent Flores’s commanding tone cut through Sky’s distracted thoughts. “But before I send you all home, I’ll take questions.”

The entire plan seemed simple enough. Frankie, though technically putting herself in danger, would be surrounded with safety nets. Lieutenant Clarkson and half the JTF would be stationed in Redkin’s neighborhood while the dirty cop was still on the clock. Agent Flores, Detective Houghton, and the Hayat Investigations team would cover Frankie’s route and the restaurant.

The joint task force would be ready and waiting when Officer Redkin made his move.

With such a large group of individuals homed in on every step Redkin and Frankie took, what could possibly go wrong?

Sky shivered and slid a hand behind her chair to silently knock on the wood-paneled wall.

18

Trying to keep their distance, Sky and Javier allowed for plenty of room as they trailed Officer Redkin and Frankie. He’d taken the bait almost immediately, zeroing in on the model before his shift ended like the predator he truly was.

Sky huffed with impatience as Redkin rounded the corner up ahead that Frankie had taken not ten seconds before. “I don’t like losing sight of him. What if he takes off running and disappears her into a back alley before we can do a damn thing to stop him?”

Does he know we’re following him? Are we walking too close?

Questions swarmed around Sky’s mind as they turned down a quiet residential street, regaining their view of Redkin and Frankie farther ahead.

Javier grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We get any closer, he might sense he’s being followed. Frankie’s almost to the bar. This is going to work. We just have to go through with the plan and not panic.”

Sky appreciated the encouragement, but with so many ways their plan could go wrong, she wondered if he wasn’t putting on a bit of a fake it ’til you make it front.

Regardless, he was right. They had to follow through with the plan. The JTF couldn’t move forward on Congressman Jean Mar without stronger evidence. And Redkin was a prime candidate for giving them exactly what they needed to secure the warrant for Mar.

They had to take this risk.

Rounding another corner, they emerged onto a busier street amid a swarm of pedestrians heading home from their jobs. Not exactly the best time to be following someone on foot.

Fortunately, Officer Redkin was a large guy with a shiny bald head. He stuck out among the suited workers, scrambling down the streets. Just as helpful was Frankie’s above-average height. With an added boost from her high heels, Frankie’s lush light-brown locks stood out in the crowd, even at a distance.

Sky squinted against the setting sun peeking through the high-rise buildings in fiery streams. “The Full Tank is just up ahead.”

As if she’d been cued, Frankie came to an abrupt halt along the busy street and turned to her right, entering a business with several neon beer signs lighting up the windows.

With alarming swiftness, Officer Redkin copied her movements, an overhead light reflecting off the back of his head as he ducked into the little hole-in-the-wall bar.

“C’mon.” Sky yanked Javier down the sidewalk, desperate to get her eyes on Frankie again. “It’s go time.”

“Don’t forget she’s not alone in there. Callie, Sami, and Delia are ready and waiting.” Javier picked up the pace, reaching the door first. He held it open for Sky.

Always the gentleman.

She pulled her phone out before she crossed the threshold. “I’ll text Callie that we’re here.”

The bar was big on the inside and filled with the savory aroma of ground beef, onions, garlic, and fry grease. Sky’s stomach growled as her hunger awoke. “Looks like Sami and Delia are taking advantage of the opportunity.” She nodded toward the bar, where their friends munched away on a large basket of fries, pretending to be deep in serious conversation.

Javier led Sky to a booth along the far wall. Redkin had taken a table in the back, near the bathrooms.

Sky slid in across the smooth vinyl cushion, stuffing her phone into her pocket. “Why sit alone in a booth and not at the bar?”

Javier took a seat across the table from her. “Hopefully we’ll find out.”

“Doubt we’ll have much time to eat, but we might as well order some food and make this look normal.” Sky reached for a laminated menu stuffed between the napkin holder and the wall. “I haven’t spotted Callie or Frankie yet. You?”

Javier snatched another menu from the end of the table. “Callie’s behind you at one of the high-top tables, talking up a server. Don’t turn around. Way too obvious.”

The door to the ladies’ room swung open, and Frankie strutted out as though she didn’t have a care in the world. She proceeded to one of the two-seater tables lining the opposite wall and sat with her back to Redkin.

“Frankie just left the restroom. She’s seated across the way.” Sky indicated Frankie’s location with her eyes. “Redkin is watching her like a hawk. A disgusting old creep of a hawk. Actually, strike that. It’s an insult to all birds everywhere.”

“I get the idea.” Javier grabbed her hand across the table. “He’s homed in.”

“Yup.” From her vantage point, Sky could easily keep an eye on Redkin. Despite his covetous gaze locked on Frankie, she believed her new friend was safe. The Full Tank was littered with friendly faces should Frankie need an immediate ally. “Looks like Frankie just placed an order. We might have time to eat after all.”

Another server stopped at the officer’s booth, jotting down something on a notepad in her hand.

“Redkin’s eating too. What should we get?” Sky’s stomach growled an emphatic yes to food.

Javier gestured at the menus they’d barely touched. “Burgers and fries seems to be the appropriate response.”

“Yes, please. And onion rings too.” Salivating, Sky studied the description for a barbecue burger with coleslaw. “And iced tea. With lemon.”

The server headed toward their table. “What are you having?”

As Javier placed their order, Sky casually peeked over her shoulder, catching Callie’s eye. Callie gave a quick nod and proceeded to munch on a mozzarella stick.

They were all ready and waiting. The question was simply how long and how smooth the operation would go.

Sky returned the menu to its spot between the wall and the napkin holder as the server scurried away. “You think Frankie’s actually going to go through with it and eat what she ordered?”

Javier leaned forward, grabbing one of Sky’s hands and holding it between his own. “I don’t know. Not sure I could if I was in her shoes. Live human bait. We need to stay sharp and be ready to move.”

Sky agreed, and a few minutes later, when Frankie’s server returned with a small order of fries and a lemonade, it became apparent that eating was the last thing on the model’s mind.

Understandable.

Soon the server arrived with Javier’s and Sky’s plates. Despite the high-stakes situation, Sky dived into her burger. As she hit the onion rings, her ravenous pace slowed, and she let her gaze wander.

Across the bar, Redkin attacked what looked like a heavy plate of steak and potatoes.

He was in no hurry, eating at a leisurely pace and taking time to cut his steak for each bite. His gaze always returned to Frankie’s back.

“Redkin is so freaking calm.” Sky angled her head at Javier as she mumbled through a bite of thickly sliced fried onion. “You would never know he was planning to kidnap someone at any moment.”

“If he’s a true psychopath, he probably is calm.” Javier shrugged. “This is just another day for him.”

“Just another kidnapping.” Sky froze, holding her half-eaten onion ring in midair as disgust coursed through her soul. “I hope Agent Flores throws everything in the book at that piece of scum.”

Javier dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. You know they’re waiting outside and itching to arrest him.”

“Good.” Sky took a quick glance Frankie’s way, noting the model appeared anything but calm. She tapped a foot under the table in a rapid beat and nibbled at a single French fry, gaze locked on her lemonade. “Frankie’s not gonna make it much longer. You ready for this?”

“Ready to take down a bad guy?” Swishing a fry through the pile of ketchup on his plate, Javier gave her a wink. “Of course. Just another day for us.”

19

Javier should have been backstage right now, smoothing over one crisis or another for Guillermo De Luca. It was Fashion Week—his entire world was on fire—and yet here he was, parked in a sticky booth inside a dive bar, watching a sting operation unfold through a haze of beer, fried food, and barely concealed nerves.

And strangely enough, there was no place he’d rather be.

He’d always prided himself on loyalty—loyalty to the brand, to the job, to the image. But this? This was different. This was about people he loved. About doing what was right, even if it meant pissing off a very powerful employer.

If he got fired for it, so be it.

Despite giving off major ready-to-bolt vibes, Frankie had stayed in her seat, taking baby bites of fries for the last thirty minutes.

“She’s running out of food.” And she looked more than a little green, if he were honest. “Unless she plans on ordering more, she’s gotta move soon.”

“She might have frozen.” Sky gathered the array of dirty napkins littering their table. “If I have to, I’ll step in and help her. But we’ll give her a little more time first.”

The last thing Javier wanted was Sky stepping straight into the line of fire yet again. Frankie could take another hour as far as he was concerned. Redkin and the JTF would just have to wait.

“Are you sure you don’t want to finish my last onion ring?” Javier nudged his plate toward Sky. She had to have a hollow leg with the way she’d put away her burger and onion rings, not to mention some of the food off his plate.

“Stakeouts make me hungry, I guess.” Sky shrugged, not an ounce of apology in her voice.

He liked being with someone with a healthy appetite who wasn’t afraid to show it. Javier had been on too many dates with women who barely nibbled a leaf of lettuce in front of him.

Just another reason Sky’s special. She’s the one.

Jolted and embarrassed by his inner thoughts, Javier chugged the last of his iced tea. “It’s not a bad thing that she’s taking her time. Lets Redkin believe she really doesn’t realize he’s following her. The more relaxed he is, the easier it’ll be taking him off guard.”

“I think she’s getting ready to move out.” Sky nudged Javier’s foot. “She just laid some money on the table. Redkin’s doing the same. Now she’s up and walking. Redkin is…”

She lifted her glass to take a long drink just before the man passed by their booth.

“We’d better get moving too.” Javier stood and laid a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill on the table. “That should cover dinner and tip.”

Standing and spinning on her heel, Sky started for the door. Luckily for them, Redkin remained focused on Frankie. He didn’t seem to notice the fierce, freckled tell-all writer charging up behind him.

Javier waved a hand to Sami and Delia while Callie seamlessly joined the parade.

“Slow down, girl.” Callie grabbed Sky’s hand and applied the brakes. “I sent the text. They’re waiting for him, and he’s about to get caught. But the whole plan goes to hell if he figures out he’s being tailed.”

Sky obediently halted, her cheeks turning red from the influx of adrenaline. “I just want to make sure we get him. Frankie just walked outside. He’s right behind her. We have to go.”

As Sami and Delia brought up the rear of their group, Sky allowed Callie to set a much slower pace. They all even politely paused as she called out her goodbyes to the server.

Although Callie was allowing a reasonable amount of space to form between them and Redkin, Javier thought Sky’s head might spin off her slim shoulders if she was forced to wait any longer.

When they finally made it outside, the click-clack of Frankie’s heels echoed off the sidewalk as she hurried down the street with Redkin lumbering after her. The sun had long since set, and the streets seemed as empty as they were dark.

Javier looped his arm through Sky’s, worried she might take off running at any given moment. “Easy. Flores and the others are out here. We have to trust them to do their jobs.”

Sky yanked her arm free. “If you think I’m going to stand idly by while Frankie gets followed and kidnapped, you’re insane. I’m going to be right there waiting for her with open arms when they rescue her.”

“Listen.” Callie held up a hand, keeping her voice low. “There’s no harm in following as long as you don’t interfere with law enforcement’s takedown of Redkin. But we can’t all follow. The street is dead right now, and our group is too easy to spot.”

Sky slid a challenging gaze from friend to friend. “Someone can come with me, but I’m going.”

“I’ll come with you.” Javier wasn’t about to let her out of his sight if he could help it.

“And we’ll follow at a reasonable distance.” Sami put his two cents in, backing up Callie’s theory that they needed to pare down their numbers. “I’ve spotted at least five vehicles parked up and down that block that I’m pretty sure are undercover with the joint task force. We all need to relax. This is going to be fine.”

Javier agreed with his friend, but Sky was practically vibrating in place beside him. The situation had her wound tight, and God himself wouldn’t be able to stop her from staying close to the action.

“So let’s go.” Sky locked eyes with Javier for a moment before taking off at a brisk walk down the sidewalk.

Javier grabbed Callie’s hand and squeezed. “I’ll take care of her.”

“You’d better.” Callie’s and Delia’s response came in unison.

Javier hurried after Sky, loving her for her spunk and simultaneously wishing she had just a smidge less of it. For her own sake.

Following Officer Redkin again, Javier steeled himself. It was only a matter of time before the goon made his move. “Frankie has to be losing her mind. Letting yourself get stalked by a guy like that must be terrifying.”

“She knows how important this is.” Sky didn’t so much as blink at the comment. “She wants justice for Kelsey and Tyler and Megan and Delia and all the other models who’ve been ruined by these assholes. She’ll be okay.”

The residential street they wandered down was lined with old brick row houses varying in color from white to red. Tasteful iron fencing added character to the aesthetic, and large ceramic pots decorated the concrete stoops.

Redkin followed Frankie for so long that Javier began to fear he meant to break into her apartment after she arrived home. That wouldn’t stop the joint task force from taking him in, but it would complicate things. Their plan would go much better if he abducted her on the street.

Naturally, the dirty cop would try to be smooth about it, but he couldn’t hide a blatant kidnapping from the umpteen LEO witnesses in place for this event.

Minutes ticked by at a glacial pace as they walked in silence. Javier’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He read the text in one glance. “Callie says, ‘Do not engage. We can’t screw this one up. Clarkson assures me the street is packed with task force members.’”

“Of course we’re not going to engage, but what’s he waiting for?” Sky whispered, balling her fists in frustration. “It’ll be a lot harder to protect Frankie if he nabs her in her apartment. Do you think he knows this is a setup?”

Javier spotted a white unmarked van parked in front of a flat gray town house up ahead. “I think Redkin was waiting for that.” He pointed at the vehicle a few yards ahead of Frankie.

“Get back.” Sky threw out a hand to stop Javier as she ducked behind a set of concrete stairs. “He’ll be looking for the all-clear soon. He can’t see us directly behind him.” Her phone in her hands, she snapped pictures of Frankie with Redkin right behind her and of the van and its license plate.

“No doubt Flores and the others have already spotted that thing.” Javier nudged Sky’s shoulder. “It’s a kidnapping van if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Yeah. That monstrosity has creeper vibes for—” Sky lost her words as the officer gave a brief glance over his shoulder and proceeded to take off at a jog toward Frankie. “Shit. He’s going in.”

As Frankie’s slender, tall silhouette closed in on the van, Javier realized he was more on Sky’s side than he had previously thought. In this moment, he didn’t care about screwing up the investigation. If the JTF wasn’t truly waiting to jump this creep the second he took Frankie, Javier would have to try something.

No more women dying on my watch. I’m done with that.

Redkin had almost reached his target. Frankie even made it easier for him by stopping to adjust the strap of her heel.

“What do we do?” Sky whispered, her eyes wide in understandable panic for her friend.

“Nothing. Just keep record of everything that happens.” Javier held his breath, his attention dancing between Frankie and the asshole about to take her.

It happened in one flash of a nightmarish moment. Redkin closed the rest of the distance between himself and his prey, slapping a hand across her mouth from behind as he pulled her to his chest with a meaty arm. Unable to scream, Frankie kicked like a wild animal, her survival instincts overriding all else.

Redkin dragged her toward the back of the van, yanking open the door with one arm while the other continued to suffocate his hostage. Her kicks and slaps grew steadily weaker as her oxygen supply diminished. Shoving her into the van, Redkin delivered a punch to her face that sent her flying backward.

“Son of a bitch!” Sky began to move, but Javier held her back.

“They’re on it.” Everything in his mind and body told him to take off after the piece of shit himself, but they weren’t alone here.

Stick to the plan. Do not engage.

Sky kicked and slapped at him in much the same fashion that Frankie had her captor. “Bullshit they are! He’s taking her, Javier. We have to⁠—”

Sirens sounded. Multiple vehicles screeched around corners of the surrounding streets, some pulling out of alleyways, all with their cherry lights flashing.

A giant black SUV pulled to a stop in front of the white van. Squad cars packed it in on all sides.

“Sheldon Redkin! This is the FBI.” Agent Flores’s voice boomed through a megaphone, echoing throughout the entire neighborhood. “Step away from the woman and put your hands in the air. Now!”

Redkin’s expression twisted into a mask of malice and horror.

But the man knew he’d been beat. He raised his hands obediently, snarling as cops closed in on him like a swarm of bees.

Sky sagged against Javier. “He hit her. Did you see that? He hit her so hard!”

Detective Houghton himself stepped in, slamming Redkin down on the pavement and cuffing him as Agent Flores read him his rights.

An ambulance arrived, weaving its way through the police cruisers. Paramedics rushed to the van to check on Frankie, who appeared to be sitting up. “She’s still conscious. She’s gonna be okay.” Javier finally released the breath he’d been holding.

“I’m going to be right there with her.” Sky took off toward the ambulance as the emergency personnel loaded Frankie onto a stretcher.

With the threat apprehended, Javier made no attempt to stop the love of his life.

Though Redkin shouted many an expletive at anyone who would listen, the man was clearly done for. He wouldn’t be making Frankie or any other models disappear ever again.

Another piece of the justice puzzle slid firmly into place.

20

Callie straightened as a stone-faced Detective Houghton cuffed Officer Sheldon Redkin to the interrogation table.

“Comfortable?” The detective made the inquiry as he took his seat.

Agent Flores had granted Callie permission to sit in on the interview due to her former FBI status. Callie hadn’t missed the flicker of disapproval in Houghton’s eyes at the offer.

He either thought she was no longer qualified to be in the room, or he simply didn’t want her there. Callie hadn’t decided which was the more plausible conclusion just yet.

“I’m cuffed to a table that’s bolted to the floor.” Redkin snarled, his head glinting like the sun in the overhead fluorescents. “What the hell do you think?”

“Come on now, Sheldon.” Houghton nodded toward the ceiling-mounted camera. “Last chance to call your lawyer before we begin.”

“Fuck off.”

Houghton shrugged and tapped the table mic. “As you wish. How about we start with why on earth you’d want to do this without your lawyer present. What’s up with that?”

Slumping back in his chair as best he could, Officer Redkin was the epitome of a defeated crook. “I don’t need my lawyer in here listening to everything we say just so he can go telling stories to other individuals.”

“Interesting.” Houghton cocked his head to the side. “Maybe you just need a better lawyer. Attorney-client privilege is a real thing. Your lawyer could be disbarred for sharing anything they heard in this room.”

“Ain’t about getting someone better.” Redkin barked the statement like a pissed-off Doberman. “When a gun’s pointed at a lawyer’s head, they suddenly don’t care so much about being disbarred. They’ll spill some beans, lawyer or not.”

Callie crossed her legs, anticipation growing. He probably hadn’t meant to, but Redkin was leading himself in the exact direction they’d wanted to guide him…toward the big bad he was working under.

Houghton pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket, despite the recorder being on. “So who exactly do you believe would threaten your counsel, were you to have any? Who would make them talk?”

“Why would I tell you that?” Officer Redkin’s scowl deepened, enhancing the extreme creases in his forehead. “You think I want a gun to my head too?”

“I think,” Houghton offered the man an almost friendly smile, “that you’re screwed no matter what. You were caught stalking and kidnapping a woman. We know you’ve been involved in way more than today’s illegal activities. In all likelihood, you’ll never again be out in the free world for someone to come after you, and if people inside the prison walls intend to take you out, there’s not much you can do to avoid your fate.”

The detective’s assessment was harsh but accurate. Redkin was in a classic rock-and-hard-place situation. Callie spotted the sweat beading on the officer’s forehead.

“Listen.” Redkin locked his icy glare with the detective’s. “You think I’m depraved, but you have no idea what that word means. I’m small potatoes. A nobody compared to the psychopath running this show. And if you want information on him, I want a deal.”

Houghton smacked a hand on the table. “What makes you think we’d offer a piece of shit like you anything? We’ve linked you to known criminals, missing models, dead models. No deals, Redkin. You’re going to prison. Guaranteed.”

Officer Redkin’s hostile gaze shifted to Callie, acknowledging her for the first time since he’d entered the room. A moment later, he flicked his gaze back to the detective. “You all have been digging and digging and digging into these model kidnappings and murders for quite some time now, yes? Aren’t you getting tired of it? Wouldn’t you like to do something else aside from beating your head on the same damn wall every motherfucking day for the rest of your career?”

“Okay, Sheldon.” Detective Houghton clasped his hands together. “How about this? There’s no reality where you’re getting less time or a lesser sentence. None. You deserve the sentence you get. However, I could possibly put some protection on the table. Keep you out of gen-pop, if the D.A. signed off on it. But only if you start answering questions now.”

Redkin gritted his teeth. “So fucking ask one.”

“Who’s in charge of the kidnapping ring? Who’s the top dog?” Though Houghton spoke calmly, Callie wondered if his heart was pounding as hard as her own.

“Congressman Jean Mar.” The name slipped swiftly past Redkin’s lips.

We were right. We knew it.

Callie swallowed, wishing she could jump in on the action but staying dutifully silent.

Detective Houghton scribbled something down in his notebook, keeping his expression neutral. “Okay. Congressman Jean Mar. See how easy that was, Sheldon?” Houghton grinned, lifting his pen and pointing it at the disgraced officer. “Anybody else? More names might just equal more protection for your inevitable future in lockup.”

“I know he’s got some lapdogs still out there.” Redkin’s expression drooped like a deflated balloon. “You think you’re ending it with him, and that’s probably true as far as the kidnapping ring goes. Operations will likely come to a halt. But you have no idea how deep this goes or how dirty this city really is.”

“Names.” Houghton’s calm demand was laced with well-controlled rage.

Keep it together, kid. He’s giving us what we need. This isn’t the time to remind him what a waste of oxygen he and his kind are in this world.

“I don’t know them. I was lower-level scum on the ladder.”

“And you always will be. Minus the ladder.” Houghton spit out a humorless chuckle. “Names.”

Redkin’s eyes narrowed. “Are you deaf? I don’t know any names. Just Mar.”

“And Mar is the head of the snake.” The detective leaned in closer. “You’re sure?”

“No question about that.” Redkin enunciated each word with extra malice. “My guess is his lapdogs scatter after you take him in. They’ll just be hoping he keeps his mouth shut, and he will. Because that man is going to be waiting for someone to break him out or bend some rules to help him slither through the court case.”

Houghton tapped his pen against the table. “Mar expecting assistance doesn’t mean anyone is actually going to help him. Maybe his associates will be relieved he’s done for.”

“Or they’ll be so scared of what happens to them if he gets out while they sat idly by that they’ll take crazy action like you wouldn’t believe.” Redkin shook his head, something like a smile tweaking the corner of his mouth. “You people have a battle ahead of you, even once he’s behind bars.”

“We’re prepared.” Houghton returned Redkin’s smile with his own much wider version. “And I have a feeling that Mar’s a lot less loyal to his people than you think. He’ll give us what we want. It’s just a matter of time.”

Redkin scoffed at the detective’s confidence. “You won’t get shit out of him if he dies behind bars. He may be master of his own universe, but he’s got plenty of enemies.”

“How unfortunate.” Houghton picked an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve. “I think I can speak for everyone when I say that whatever Mar gets behind bars while awaiting trial…or even after the trial…is what he deserves.”

Callie stiffened at the commentary, hoping that Detective Houghton was bluffing in an attempt to make Redkin even more uncomfortable. They wanted Mar alive, and feeding him to the wolves might prevent them from rooting out the hidden remains of his disgusting crime ring.

If Mar dies behind bars, there won’t be a trial. No clean ending.

“Fair enough. But I get protection, right? You said that was on the table.” A tremor entered Redkin’s voice. “I’ve given you Mar. And I haven’t killed nobody. Not one girl.”

Detective Houghton jotted down more notes in his tiny book. “Saying you haven’t killed anyone isn’t the same as actually not having killed anyone. And you’d be out there still happily taking part in the kidnapping ring if we hadn’t caught you.”

“But—”

“Even if you truly haven’t killed anyone, how many models have you traumatized? How many have you abused? Or how about raped? How many have you handed over to individuals you knew were going to kill them…after days and sometimes weeks of torture? You’re an accessory to murder and a vast list of other crimes, at the very least.”

Redkin said nothing, staring down at the shiny metal table where his distorted reflection peered right back. “I know what I did. I know what I am. I’ll serve whatever sentence the judge sees fit. All I’m asking for is protection. Solitary, if necessary. I’m giving you the man you need to end this. That counts for something, right?”

Detective Houghton’s jaw worked circles as he glared at Redkin. “You’ll get your protection if District Attorney Jobe grants it. But you know as well as I do that a lot can happen behind bars despite any protective orders, you piece of shit.”

Callie squirmed in her seat, studying the detective’s twisted features. In this light, he looked like a different man. Gripped by malice.

She didn’t disapprove of his words. But the malevolent edge in Detective Dante Houghton’s voice alarmed her.

Houghton shoved his notebook back into his pocket. “I think we’re done here.”

21

I kept my focus zeroed in on the boss’s building as the flashing lights of squad cars lit up the late-evening sky. I’d picked the upscale sushi bar specifically for its up-close—but not too close—view of the scene unfolding just a few doors down and across the street.

The sensational dragon roll I munched on as I sat in my plush velvet chair was just the cherry on top.

Word traveled fast among the lackeys. Sheldon Redkin had gotten himself busted a few hours earlier. The boss went into an immediate state of panic, not trusting someone so low in status and IQ to properly hold his tongue.

Given another day, the head of our organization would have been fleeing the country and never looking back. But the cops hadn’t given him a day.

My boss, Congressman Jean Mar, was being arrested. Right now.

The newscast played its breaking report quietly on my phone screen. Mar had been escorted out in handcuffs, his head down, while the NYPD raided his penthouse. Certainly, they’d move on to his mansion next.

Redkin had squealed immediately, like the dirty little pig he was.

The boss would be waiting for his underground network of faithful employees to get him out of this bind. But I had my doubts as to whether anyone would truly go out of their way to help the merciless bastard now that he was in custody.

If anything, his ring of assholes would lay low and hope that someone murdered him in prison before he decided to drop names.

I planned to tend to myself and hope the inmates took care of Mar.

Or at least I’d be tending to myself after I finished up the business of blowing all the safe houses to smithereens. At this point, I wasn’t doing it for the boss. I was doing it for me.

Careful though I’d always been to keep my footprint light, I recognized the inherent risks with filmmaking that involved such a special brand of “making love.” The movies I created were intimate to a degree that most people couldn’t imagine.

I needed every last one of those buildings to burn and take my DNA with it.

“Refill, ma’am?” A smartly dressed server appeared at my tableside, pointing to my almost empty martini glass and dazzling me with his radiant eyes and handsome jawline.

“Absolutely.” I gave him a sweet grin.

He glanced out the window, nodding down the street. “New York City. Never a dull moment, am I right?”

“You sure are.” I giggled, biting my lip as he walked away with one of the tightest little asses I’d ever seen.

He’d be so good for business. I could make a whole series of films with that body.

I checked myself. No time for that, given the current state of the business. Pausing the news, I dutifully opened the camera feed playing live footage of Nicky Silva sitting alone in one of the safe houses he’d rigged just that day.

That moron was bouncing a tennis ball off the wall and back to himself over and over again. The boss had confiscated his phone. His punishment for the Tyler Cochran fuckup was total seclusion from the world except for me and my orders.

Nicky was complying surprisingly well. Too bad his reward for good behavior would be getting blown up inside of one of the buildings he’d rigged himself.

“Idiot doesn’t even know about Mar’s arrest.” I forced myself to contain my amusement and sent a text to his burner phone…the only phone he was allowed to have until our assignment was complete.

The boss has been arrested. Tomorrow we set the timers on all the houses. The next day, we’re done with this. Follow the instructions you’re given, or I’ll carry out the consequences he had planned for you.

I observed my phone screen as Nicky received the text, read it, and swore directly at the camera before typing out a response.

Understood. Timers tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you to pick me up.

He knew I was watching him. Or at least that I might be. He’d been ordered to stay within view of the camera. His bathroom was a bucket in the corner…and still within my view. One of the most satisfying shows I’d ever been gifted.

The utter and complete humiliation of Nicky Silva.

Dispatching more lackeys to kill him would take just a simple call, and he knew it. Therefore, Nicky obeyed like the mangy mutt he was.

And that’s good, you little dick-smack. Because I have a very handsome problem to take care of.

Mar was behind bars. Nicky would be dead soon.

Javier Bainbridge and his gag-inducing girlfriend were the last of my major issues to deal with.

They would follow each other to the end of the earth, which meant I only needed to trap one of them…and wait for the other to come running.

After that? One simple boom would wipe them from the face of the planet.

Initially, I’d been unenthusiastic about the task of eliminating the safe houses, but the assignment was turning out to be very productive. Fire could get rid of anything…and anyone.

I was in control of my destiny now, and my priorities were the only ones that mattered.

22

Sky clasped her knees to her chest as she huddled on Callie’s couch alongside Javier, Delia, and Sami. They were glued to the ongoing news reports of Congressman Jean Mar’s arrest.

The takedown of Redkin and Mar had happened so fast, it seemed unreal.

Jean Mar was done. His kidnapping ring was finished.

The joint task force had won.

Except for Tyler. He was found in the Hudson, drifting along like Megan had. Another charge to add to Mar’s extensive list. Frankie had gone home, wanting to mourn in private.

Callie cruised back into the room, setting her phone on the coffee table and sinking into an armchair with a wide smile on her face. “Clarkson says it’s all real. They successfully took in Mar. Flores’s and Houghton’s teams are searching his penthouse and mansion as we speak.”

Sky let out a long sigh, her muscles relaxing for the first time in weeks. “It’s over?”

“Well,” Callie glanced at the television screen, “it won’t be over until he’s been formally tried by a judge and jury of his peers. But yes. We’ve chopped the snake’s head off. You should all be very proud of yourselves for the dedication you showed to this case. To all the cases we’ve encountered over the last year.”

Sami clapped his hands high over his head. “Callie’s right. For a bunch of amateurs, we’ve proven to be a pretty amazing group of sleuths. I’m proud of us.” He proceeded to make a round and high-five all of them in turn, his enthusiasm contagious.

Justice for Megan. Kelsey. Tyler. Justice for so many others was finally here. The crime ring was done.

Weight lifted from Sky’s shoulders as though it had wings. She leaned against Javier, a lightheaded giddiness coming over her. “We did it.”

Delia tossed her hands up in the air. “We should celebrate. Tell me this doesn’t deserve a celebration. A real one. Let’s go out! Let’s dance and drink and scream at the top of our lungs.”

Sky’s pulse quickened. A night out to celebrate. Truly celebrate without any horrible unsolved case hanging over their heads. “Let’s do it. We need it. I need it.”

“I’m in.” Callie held up a hand like a kid in class. “My arm barely even hurts anymore from the bullet graze. My doctor okayed all forms of exercise, so I’m assuming that includes dancing. Let’s go.”

“I can’t.” Javier gave Sky a squeeze, flashing them all an apologetic frown. “I have to get back to GDL and pound out as much work as humanly possible for at least a few hours.”

Sami huffed, looking more like a pouty little kid than a grown man and professional private investigator. “Fashion Week ruins everything.”

“It’ll still be fun.” Delia slapped his arm playfully. “Don’t be a party pooper.”

“But I will be a party pooper.” Sami gestured at the trio of women. “’Cause this is definitely going to turn into a ladies’ night where I’m just the fourth wheel holding purses. So, um, love you guys, but I’m out.”

The mood dipped, but only for a moment. Javier dug around in his wallet, pulling out a shiny gold card. “To make it up to you, I think I’m going to send you ladies off to a very swanky club using my private membership. It’s called the Forty-Forty Club, and I guarantee you’ve never seen anything like it.”

Though she was intrigued, Sky couldn’t quite shake the disappointment at Javier not being able to join them. “It sounds awesome. But I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” He planted a kiss on her lips. “Soon life will go back to normal. I promise. You guys have fun. You need it. I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t be lonely?” Sky realized she sounded like a sappy girlfriend, but for once, she didn’t care. “Up there in that office all by yourself?”

Javier laughed. “I have my work to keep me company. Besides, I get way more done when the building’s empty.”

“That settles it.” Delia clapped her hands, demanding Sky’s attention. “Time to get dolled up, ladies.”

23

From the moment the velvet ropes parted to allow her and Callie inside, Sky knew she’d be ruined for other clubs in the city. Aside from the supremely swanky Refined Stallion Society, which the corrupt and perverse powers behind the Mill had run, she couldn’t remember ever setting foot into a club this nice.

Most of the places she’d gone to were loud, overcrowded, way too dark, and filled with headache-inducing strobe lights. Though she’d only made it as far as the coat check, the 40/40 Club had marked itself as a cut above the rest.

“Delia said she’d grab a table for us.” Sky shrugged off her coat at the counter and passed it to the attendant. Even the thrumming beat of the music filtering into the room was at a perfect level, loud enough to hear but not loud enough to prevent conversation. That might change once she actually made it inside, but for the moment, she appreciated that she didn’t need to shout.

Callie slipped her arms free from the leather jacket she’d worn for the train ride over and laid it on the counter. “You know…once your new book hits the shelves, you’ll be on every list in town. You’ll never have to wait in a line again. And I’ll say I knew you when.”

Sky hoped her latest book would do as well as Callie predicted. Publishing was a slow beast, and it seemed like forever since she’d turned that one in. Even now, knowing the book would soon be stocked in stores all across the country, she couldn’t help but feel like release day and the subsequent book tour were distant dreams.

“Well,” Callie clapped her hands together and gave Sky a once-over, “let’s not waste these gorgeous outfits standing here chatting in the coatroom.” She held her arm out to escort Sky. “Let’s go make our entrance. Should we take bets on how many gentlemen will want to buy you drinks? With a dress like that, you’ll have guys lining up to take your order.”

They’d had a little pregame drink back at Callie’s before heading out. And clearly, the older woman was feeling the buzz if she was openly joking about guys when she’d been one of the happiest that Sky had finally started dating Javier.

“No thanks. I can buy my own drinks.”

“Doll, you have a lot to learn about clubbing if you’re spending all your money on drinks.” Callie scoffed, and the hand she’d offered to Sky a moment earlier came down on her hip.

Maybe the alcohol was to blame. How many drinks were in that pitcher of margaritas Callie made for them? Sky’d only had one, but she’d caught a glimpse of the empty container when they were heading out.

This could be an interesting evening.

Drunk or not, Callie looked amazing. Sky had never seen her neighbor in anything so slinky. Even more surprising was finding the damn near skintight dress with the plunging neckline in Callie’s closet. The outfit was the kind of thing Sky would have donned, but Callie wore it like the gown was made for her.

Red lace on top of beige silk gave the illusion of nudity while still offering modest coverage. And the heels she’d chosen were devilishly high. Sky would have broken her ankles in those skyscrapers. Even tipsy, Callie had enough confidence and balance to pull them off.

“Hey.” Callie gripped Sky’s shoulder. “You’re allowed to have some fun. Javier trusts you, so trust yourself.”

“Isn’t that…I don’t know…false advertising if I accept a drink from another man? Javier and I aren’t official, but we’re…definitely…something.”

“Oh, bless you. I forget sometimes you come from a small town.” Callie chuckled and drew a finger down the spaghetti strap of Sky’s black formfitting dress. The overhead lighting danced across the crystal butterfly accents that fluttered up from Sky’s navel to the strap Callie touched. “Drinks aren’t currency. If a man buys you one, just thank him. You have no obligation other than to be polite.”

Sky wasn’t as backwater as Callie was trying to make her out to be. From her experience, guys purchased drinks for women to invite them to flirt. And she wasn’t the kind of woman who flirted when she was getting serious with someone else. But rather than waste more time in the coatroom arguing her point with a tipsy Callie, she reached out and took her friend’s arm. “How about I escort you inside?”

“I don’t know.” Callie winked. “Will I owe you something if you do?”

They headed for the double doors leading inside the club. “How about a drink?”

“Touché.” Callie snickered as she reached for the handle.

Expecting flashing lights and too-loud music to assault them, Sky held her breath as Callie opened the door.

Beyond the dim coatroom, a magical land awaited.

“Wow. Whoever designed this ultra-lounge knew what they were doing.” Sky gawked at the subtle blend of vibrant colors.

Cool blue, purple, and teal lighting created an undersea atmosphere. Vivid though the colors were, they didn’t assault her eyes. They filtered into the room from every corner and recess, shined in strategically rather than being directed by heavy spotlights.

Offsetting the brilliant hues, the furniture and seating featured a monochromatic brown color scheme. The contrast between the two gave the place a welcoming and cozy atmosphere.

The flooring was so dark that, at first, Sky assumed it was wood, but as she stepped across the threshold, the bottom of her heel landed with a wobble. Her left leg slid out from underneath her and kept going. She took a stuttering step forward, arms waving like a bird flapping its wings.

Marble. I should have known.

“You okay?” Callie grabbed Sky’s arm. “One too many margaritas got you feeling a little woozy?”

She’s one to talk.

With a forced laugh, Sky hoped to play off the embarrassment in case anyone in the club saw her stumbling entrance. “That would have made for a great spectacle, me going ass over tits.” Heels looked great on her feet, but she didn’t always have the balance to pull them off, especially on smooth flooring.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re probably not the first to do that. This floor is a little slick. Let’s hope the dance floor has been properly worn in.” Still holding on to Sky’s arm, Callie guided her down a set of steps to the first of many tiered seating areas filled with U-shaped loveseats in that rich chocolate brown she’d been admiring.

Most of the seats on this level were already taken, but one tier down, Sky spotted Delia waving them over. As promised, she’d secured a great spot for them. A set of three loveseats surrounded a glowing purple cube table.

Delia was dressed to impress, wearing a shimmering white wrap dress. She had the bride look already, complete with bishop sleeves. Though the plunging neckline that ran so deep it touched her belt would have given Sky anxiety over a potential wardrobe malfunction, Delia could pull off the look. She was a model, after all. Everything looked gorgeous on her.

She lifted her hand to flag down a server passing by.

“What can I get you ladies?” The server held an opaque circular tray in his left hand. Like the cube tables in their little seating area, it glowed, lit by a purple light within.

“We’re celebrating.” Delia winked at Sky. “Let’s start with three shots. You do lemon drops here, right?”

“Of course.” The server nodded. “And since you’re starting off with citrus and vodka this evening, you might enjoy our bartender’s specialty. A cranberry blood orange mule would be an excellent follow-up.”

Sky licked her lips. He was speaking her language. Citrus, vodka, and ginger beer. “That’s perfect.”

“Two shots each and the mule to chase it.” Callie pumped her fist in the air. “We’re getting this girls’ night started right!”

Delia looked at Callie as if she were seeing the woman for the first time, but after the momentary shock passed, she joined in. “Girls’ night!”

“Be right back with your drinks, ladies.” The server spun on his heel and weaved a path farther into the club.

Callie and Delia exchanged high fives with a giggle before claiming a loveseat. Clearly, those two were way ahead of Sky in the tipsy department. She’d have to catch up fast before they went further down the rabbit hole.

But not too fast. I don’t want to end this night worshiping the porcelain gods.

They’d barely settled onto the loveseats before their server returned, tray held high and stocked with their order. He passed around the drinks and promised to return with refills in due time before leaving them to indulge.

Surprising Sky with her suddenly somber expression, Callie lifted her glass. “To Megan. May she rest in sweet peace.”

“To Megan.” Delia clinked her glass against Callie’s, her smile wide despite the tears in her eyes.

“She would have loved this place.” Sky raised her own glass, her chest swelling with warmth at the bittersweet moment. “To Megan.”

24

A message alert chimed on Javier’s phone. The fifth one in as many minutes. He blinked away the glaze over his eyes from staring at spreadsheets for too long. Maybe he needed to call it a night.

Reaching for the phone caused a twinge in his back, right between his spine and shoulder blade. “Yeah. Definitely time. I need a break.”

The phone screen lit up as he swiped his thumb across, and an image of Sky, Delia, and Callie popped up. He couldn’t quite tell what was going on, but as he tilted his head, Javier made out what looked like Delia’s hand. She was holding a shot glass to Sky’s lips. Behind her, Callie appeared to be supporting Sky’s head.

They seemed to be having a great time, though Javier didn’t want to guess who was holding the phone to take that shot.

The next image showed the three of them clinking shot glasses. He loved the way Sky’s eyes lit up when she was really smiling.

“Maybe I should have gone with them. It’s not like I’m making much headway here.”

Since losing Lupita—or more accurately, Agent Flores—Javier hadn’t seen the bottom of his inbox, and his emails were so backed up, he was days behind on responding to them. Fashion Week was the worst possible time to be without an assistant.

He swiped the screen, and another picture of the trio came into focus.

“Is that a stripper pole?” Javier quickly swiped to the next image, praying Sky still had her dress on.

A table filled with empty glasses came into focus. An obligatory brag shot to prove how much they’d had to drink. Javier hadn’t taken one of those since his military days. He and Sami had certainly put back their fair share of booze back then.

Shaking his head as he chuckled, Javier swiped to the last image. No longer inside the club, this recent shot showed the women on the street. And Sky had included a caption.

Taking this party on the road!

His first instinct was to fire back a message asking where they were and where they were going, but Javier stopped himself from being the overbearing and worried boyfriend figure.

Maybe nab the actual title before you go acting like one.

None of them were strangers to the dangerous elements of Manhattan.

They might be tipsy, but Sky, Callie, and Delia were three smart, capable, and self-defense-trained women. The last thing they needed—especially when they were having a night out on the town—was a man trying to butt in and tell them what to do.

Instead, he sent Sky a picture of his overflowing desk.

Wish I could be there. Have fun. You three deserve it.

Javier set the phone down and took another look at the papers piled up all over the desk. Work that would be waiting for him when he arrived in the morning, no matter how late he stayed.

It was already past midnight. For a moment, he considered just working through the night. He had a couch in his office. If he needed a nap, he could take one. Going all the way back to his apartment for a few hours of sleep felt like a waste of time. And Sky wouldn’t be there for him to snuggle up with.

He loved the nights when Sky slept over. Holding her in his arms as the sun’s light gently roused them from sleep was his definition of bliss. And now that he had it, Javier never wanted to let it go.

Sky was unlike any other woman he’d ever dated. Real in every sense of the word. She challenged him with her stubbornness, pushed him to be innovative with her creative approach to the world, and made him see the value in himself when others only saw his bank account.

How did he get so lucky?

“Luck?” Scoffing at that thought, Javier pushed up to his feet. “Luck didn’t earn me Sky’s trust. It took pure patience, determination, and vulnerability.”

No other woman who’d come into Javier’s life had made him work so hard. But that made this relationship so real.

And one day, maybe they would follow in Sami and Delia’s footsteps.

They still had a long way to go before they got to that stage, but Javier could already imagine Sky walking down the aisle in a gorgeous white gown, carrying a big bouquet of lilacs.

Smiling as the image played out in his mind, Javier pocketed his phone and snatched his keys from the desk.

“One day. But for now…sleep.” Flicking off the desk lamp, he left the long workday behind him and headed out of his office toward the elevators.

Having anticipated a late night, Javier had driven his Escalade to work. The streets would be clear, and he could get home to sleep a few minutes faster than taking the subway. He didn’t always drive, but he fully intended to do so each day this week.

The hallway lights were dimmed, with a few left on for the patrolling security guard to make his rounds. Down the hall and past the reception desk, Javier boarded the elevator, which arrived seconds after he pressed the button. About the only benefit of working so late was no one from the other floors hogging the elevator.

As Javier rode down to the basement-level parking area, he was already imagining how comfortable his bed would be. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to a nearly empty garage. He spotted his black SUV where he’d parked in a row with two other vehicles.

As he crossed the garage, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Probably another message from Sky bragging about the new place they found. Smiling as he fished the device out of his pocket, Javier swiped the screen.

Another photo popped up. All three ladies were sitting on bar stools with fresh drinks in their hands. The scene was perfectly framed. They must have gotten someone to take that photo.

I should have gone out with them. Javier walked around the SUV, heading for the driver’s side door. There will always be more work to do. I should be there having fun with my friends. His expression twisted into a grimace as he shoved the key into the door lock. Not single-handedly trying to keep GDL afloat.

A chill swept the garage, and the hair on the back of Javier’s neck lifted like static. He stopped. Turned.

Nothing. Just shadows and silence.

Still, it was definitely time to get the hell out of here.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the tension coiling up his spine. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t slept. His brain was short-circuiting, inventing ghosts out of corners.

Still, the unease lingered. He scanned the shadows again…empty. His own footsteps echoed back at him as he reached for the car door.

Greasy cheeseburger. Fries. Maybe a milkshake. Anything to anchor him in the real world.

Javier grasped the door handle but paused.

No breeze this time. No sound. Just that crawling feeling again, like something was behind him. Closer this time. Watching.

His breath caught.

Don’t turn around. Don’t give it weight.

He let out a shaky exhale and yanked the door open. It’s fine. You’re just tired. Just⁠—

A sting. Sharp. Precise. Right at the base of his neck.

His hand shot up to swat it away, but his arm moved like it wasn’t his. Like it belonged to someone else.

Warmth flooded his spine, fast and unnatural. His knees buckled.

No—

The world tilted violently. He dropped, his limbs folding beneath him like they’d been cut loose. His mind still screamed commands, but his body had stopped listening.

He couldn’t feel the ground beneath him. Couldn’t feel anything.

Then…a shadow. Boots. A figure in black stepped into his fading field of vision.

Javier tried to blink, tried to speak, tried to do anything. But his body was a shut-down machine, hijacked. His lungs strained. His vision narrowed to a pinpoint.

Sky.

Her name bloomed in his mind like a flare in the dark.

He wasn’t ready to leave her. Not like this. Not without⁠—

His thoughts stuttered. Slipped.

The world tilted once more before falling completely out of reach.

25

When her alarm clock blasted through the peace of her dreams, Sky cracked an eye open with a hiss as sunlight flooded her vision.

She pawed at the nightstand, hoping one of her random swats would land on her phone and silence the incessant, shrill beat of her alarm. But with each wild swipe, her fingertips missed the smooth surface of her smartphone screen.

She’d have to risk opening her eyes to the blinding light once more.

Groaning, Sky rolled over to find her phone still trilling at top volume on the edge of her nightstand. “Why does the sun always have to be so damn bright?”

And why did I forget to close the blinds?

By the time she silenced the device, she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.

Her body ached as if she’d gone three rounds with a prizefighter. An odd, fuzzy sort of film coated her throat and tongue, and even in the quiet, her ears rang like the reverb from an amp.

Sky tried to remember all she’d done the previous night. Drinking, obviously, but after the fifth or sixth shot, she’d lost track.

Swiping the phone from her nightstand, she pulled up her text messages.

Apparently, she’d documented the whole evening and sent Javier a running log of her escapades. No wonder her head was pounding with the drinking, dancing, and⁠—

Holy crap. She gaped at her screen. Is that Callie…spanking me? And I felt the need to send that to Javier…why, exactly?

“Going to have to come back to that later.” Sky scrolled to the bottom of her message feed, expecting to see a good night text from Javier. Poor guy burned the midnight oil while she was bragging about partying all night.

Surprisingly, as she got to the bottom of the thread, she saw no final message from him.

Not that she could blame Javier. She’d have been a little annoyed if the tables were turned.

However, she did notice a text from Sami asking her to come in when she got the chance.

Probably something to do with Jean Mar’s case. New information about his crimes. Sky debated whether she really wanted to open that can of worms, considering the ice pick currently hammering into her skull.

But if Sami had any important revelations, she’d have to drag her happy ass down there.

She fired off a message asking if he wanted her to pick up food on the way and said she’d be heading over after a shower and some painkillers.

Going back to her texts with Javier, Sky hoped he wasn’t upset with all her crazy photos from their girls’ night. She typed out a quick message.

Hope you didn’t have to work too late. I miss you.

Javier wasn’t the petty type. And with any luck, he was still sleeping. He deserved that much after all the hard work he put in at GDL.

As she started to get ready, her phone buzzed.

“Javier?” The name flew from her lips as she jumped to answer.

No food. But coffee, and lots of it, please.

Not the message she’d been hoping for, but Sami was spot on. If Delia and Callie were half as hungover as Sky, they’d need all the caffeine they could guzzle down to make it through the day.

“Have no fear. The coffee is here.” Sky held up a tray of steaming hot drinks as she walked through the door to Hayat Investigations at nearly noon. Though she’d decided to come in, getting here had been a much longer slog than anticipated.

Callie snatched a beverage before Sky could reach the magazine table to set the drinks down. “I’m going to need about ten more of these.” She guzzled from the cup, seemingly unbothered by the temperature.

Sky could relate. The coffee she pulled from the tray was her third of the day, following the two cups she’d downed at home along with a few painkillers. The throbbing in her head had lessened to a dull pulse, but the ache was still there as a reminder she’d gone overboard the night before.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m never drinking again ever.”

Delia smirked. “It was worth the hangover. I haven’t had that much fun in ages.” She plucked a coffee from the tray. “But Callie still gets the award for best dancer.”

The sound of Sami’s laughter preceded his appearance in the lobby. “Was that the picture with the stripper pole?”

“No. She was all skill.” Delia snorted mid-sip. Giggling as she pulled the cup from her lips, she wiggled her hips and dipped into a half squat before coming back up. “I still want to know how you got down so low.”

“Back in my day,” Callie’s cheeks flushed as a smile spread wide across her face, “I could drop it like it’s hot all night long. Hit the floor and make it all the way back up without spilling a drop of my drink.”

“I believe it.” Delia tipped her cup in a salute to Callie. “You’re going to have to teach me that.”

“Last night was a onetime show, sweetie. If I try to get down that low again, I might never get up.” Callie’s lip twitched as she dropped her free hand to massage the right side of her hip. “Something these old lady hips of mine are making damn sure I remember.”

With that stupid grin still on his face, Sami looked among his friends. “Did Javier enjoy the slideshow of debauchery?”

Javier still hadn’t texted Sky back.

Surely he was up by now.

Sky checked her phone again but had no new messages. “You don’t think he might have been mad, do you?”

“I mean, I was kicking myself after a few of the spicy shots Delia sent.” Sami leaned in and kissed his fiancée on the cheek. “But I get it. Girls’ night is a sacred institution. If Javier or I had been there, y’all wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun.”

Delia’s smile fell flat as she faced Sky. “Did Javier say something?”

“No. That’s just it. I haven’t heard from him all morning. He was working late, but he normally texts me on his way to the office.” The last message she’d received from him was around midnight. “He didn’t even text me when he got in last night.”

“He might have slept at the office. I’ve done that a few times, and my apartment is just upstairs.” Sami grabbed his coffee and sat in one of the open chairs. “If he’s that snowed under at work, he might have just jumped right in as soon as he got up.”

Sky wanted to believe Sami, but something seemed off. Even when he was super busy, Javier always had time to send a quick message. Then again, she didn’t want to be that girlfriend. Especially when she hadn’t even granted them the official couple title yet. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am. That man is head over heels for you.” Sami leveled her with a you know I’m right so stop being stupid look. “If anything, he’s kicking himself for not taking the night off. And probably working overtime so he can surprise you tonight.”

That did sound like something Javier would do. Sky breathed a sigh of relief and took the empty seat next to the magazine table. “Okay. Fine. I’ll stop worrying.”

“Good. Let’s get down to business, then.” Tipping his cup, Sami took another gulp of coffee and set it on the table. “We’ve got a surprise lunch date stopping in. Several of them, actually.”

“Say what now?” Sky hadn’t even showered today.

Callie’s jaw dropped. “Sami, none of us are exactly in tip-top shape this morning.” She gestured between herself, Sky, and Delia. “What are you talking about?”

Sami busted out a few chuckles. “Well, admittedly, I didn’t realize just how crazy you three were going to get last night, so I apologize. But you all look beautiful, and our guests will be arriving any minute now.”

With hints of vomit creeping up her throat, Sky dug in her bag for a piece of gum so her breath wouldn’t send their surprise guest running for the hills.

26

Javier gasped, roused from a nightmarish sleep where shadowy figures stalked him through a fog, striking at every turn. He was awake now, but the world was still dark.

Though he tried to move, his arms were pinned back and secured with something that scratched and pinched the skin of his wrists. His feet were immobilized, tied to what felt like chair legs.

If this was reality, why couldn’t he see? At least in the dream, his pain was little more than an echo. What had started as a dull pinch when his eyes popped open was now a head-splitting ache.

“Hello?” Javier croaked into the darkness.

His words echoed around him, returning to his ears like a muffled whisper. That meant he must be indoors. In a basement, perhaps. No window gave any hint of light. Maybe a panic room. With the way his voice echoed back, that might make sense.

A more pressing question tickled the back of his aching head.

Who would want to kidnap me?

Even as the thought rolled through his brain, Javier scoffed at his own foolishness.

More like who wouldn’t?

He was a man of obvious means. His family name was Manhattan royalty. That alone put him on just about every kidnapper’s ransom dream list. But his wealth was only the tip of the iceberg.

Since Sami’s move to the city, Javier had helped his old army buddy solve cases and put away criminals. He wasn’t exactly flying under the radar. Plus, he’d made enemies just being in the competitive, cutthroat fashion industry.

A handle jiggled before a door opened with the metallic whine of protesting hinges. Light filtered into the room.

“Someone’s finally up from their little nap.”

That voice.

Javier knew it all too well. Even before the light cast her into silhouette, he recognized the sultry yet condescending tone of Ashley Duncan.

“What’s going on?” Indignation rose within him. “Why am I here?”

“So many questions. But you’re not the boss anymore, Mr. Bainbridge. I’m in charge now, and you’ll show me the respect I’m due.” She flicked on a switch, and the room lit up.

Javier moaned as brilliant white light assaulted his eyes. He squeezed them shut to ride out the pain.

Ashley tsked. “You’re right. We should set the mood. Fluorescent light always washes me out.”

When he opened his eyes again, the room was dim, as if lit by candlelight. He gazed around at the collection of furniture filling the space, some of which was familiar. The four-poster bed with built-in stocks at the headboard and cage underneath was something he’d seen before, but as his gaze trailed up to the ceiling, he spotted items he’d only heard about. Suspension frames and sets of chains dangling overhead. Javier’s heart began to race.

Ashley hadn’t trapped him here for fun and games. His prison wasn’t a BDSM playroom. It was a sex dungeon. Torture porn-worthy.

He’d acted out light fantasies of domination with Sky, but only sane and consensual play. It made sense now that the room had echoed his voice back. The space was built for soundproofing so no one would hear what was going on inside.

The screaming. The agony. For our ears only.

Javier held out hope that if Ashley was into this kind of lifestyle, she might at least play by her own set of rules. Her taste might call for a far greater amount of pain than he was comfortable enduring, but surely she had limits.

As his gaze traveled to her face, he caught her sadistic, red-lipped smile and narrowed light-brown eyes shimmering with a devious, murderous glint.

Javier’s slender thread of hope frayed.

“Like what you see?” She drew her hand down her body, highlighting her hips packed into a full-body leather catsuit. “I had a feeling about you the first time I met you. Mr. Perfect. Never a hair out of place. Loves to be in charge. Bet you’re a natural dom. Am I right?”

“Let me go, Ashley.” Javier tested the restraints pinning his arms to the chair. The material had to be rope. The fibers scratched at the tender skin of his wrists, but as he tugged, he felt some small give. “I’m not playing your stupid games.”

“Still think you’re in charge?” She sauntered around the room, laughing as her hips swayed in and out of his vision. “Here’s the thing. You might be a dom out there. But in here, I’m the mistress. And you’re just…a dumb toy.”

She twisted around him from behind, lifted a booted foot, and planted it right between his legs. Javier gulped back a gasp as all his attention centered on her pointy toe hovering terrifyingly close to his crotch.

Ashley drew a manicured fingernail under his chin, forcing Javier to look up at her. “If you’re nice, we can have a lot of fun together. But if you’d rather not,” she pressed her foot down, putting just enough pressure to make him hiss, “it’s really up to you how this works out.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Javier prayed this was all some twisted dream. The result of working too many hours at GDL and his unresolved underlying anger at Ashley for being the cause of his stress. But when he opened his eyes, Ashley was still there, studying him like a tiger stalking her prey.

“We don’t have to be enemies, you know.” Her tone softened as she removed her foot from his crotch. “I’ve always had a little thing for you, Javier.” Ashley slithered onto his lap. “But try as I might, that little redhead keeps getting in my way.”

The weight of her hips pressed his already aching legs into the hard wooden seat of the chair. Her nimble fingers began working at the buttons of his shirt.

Javier grimaced. If only he’d been more alert in the parking garage last night, this never would have happened.

The absolute idiocy of letting someone like Ashley Duncan kidnap me like a⁠—

“Kidnap.” Staring at her wicked, soulless face, the truth hit him like a bolt of lightning. “You…are part of the…part of the kidnapping ring.”

Ashley made a show of pouting. “Hey, now, honey. Let’s get something straight. With Jean Mar in prison, I’m not part of the kidnapping ring. I am the kidnapping ring. And I’m far from done having my fun in this city.”

The sneak-attack stab to the neck. The instant paralysis followed by nothingness. A seamless transfer to an unknown, soundproofed location.

Javier’s personal experience was a story he was all too familiar with by now.

He wasn’t Ashley’s first victim. Not by a long shot.

“Who else did you help take?” Javier clenched his fists, a fresh wave of rage ripping through his body. “Who did you help kill? What have you fucking done?”

Ashley giggled, twisting a finger around her red-dyed locks. “Wow. I wasn’t sure you’d ever put that puzzle together, Sherlock. Good for you.” She clapped her hands, momentarily leaving his clothing alone. “I’m proud of you. I truly am. The burning fire of brain cells it must have taken for you to make that connection. Impressive.”

“Screw you,” Javier growled, wanting nothing more than to buck her clean off his lap into the dungeon walls.

But was she wrong? How long had he and the gang been investigating this kidnapping ring? Almost a year? And Ashley had been right in front of him the whole time, an active participant in this rampant evil.

“We’ll get to that.” Ashley returned her fingers to his shirt. “I suppose I should warn you that, at the end of this, I’ll have to kill you. It’s a shame, but it’s true. You’d never be able to keep your noble, pretty mouth shut about all the naughty things I’ve done…and am about to do. I can accept that, and I won’t even try to change your mind. Lost cause. I get it.”

Grunting, Javier attempted to jerk away, but his binds kept him from moving even an inch from the hellcat on top of him. “Let me go now, and you have time to make a run for it. You can disappear. Go play the wicked witch in some other city.”

Ashley’s smile vanished. “Still trying to give the orders, huh? I guess you deserve what’s coming to you. It’s time you understand what domination truly is. You’re going to beg in languages you didn’t know you spoke. You’re going to see God before this is all said and done.”

“The devil, maybe.” How Javier hated her. More than he’d ever dreamed he could hate anyone or anything.

She leaned in, whispering directly into his ear. “How do you know they’re not the same person? I’m your almighty power…good and evil…for what’s left of your sad, pathetic life.”

He tried to spit, but his mouth was too dry. “You’re delusional.”

“I’m a lot of things. And it’s a pity you never took the chance to see the, um, benefits of all I could have offered you.” She finished unfastening the buttons, opening his shirt to reveal his chest. Her greedy, hungry eyes widened with interest as her fingertips explored the hills and valleys of his muscles. “We would have made a beautiful team, you and me.”

Javier cringed as she licked her lips. Her every touch made his skin crawl. Ashley wasn’t a bitch. She was a psychopath. And right now, she held all the cards in her crazy little hands.

“What do you say, Mr. Bainbridge? Wanna play?”

“Get your hands off me. Enough with the games.” He jerked his head away from her lips, revulsion crawling down his spine. “Let me go.”

She chuckled, smacking him on the chest. “Oh, Javier. I haven’t even begun to play yet.” Her hand dipped to the waist of his pants. With a flick of her wrist, she had the button undone. “But before I do…” Her hand slipped down. She cupped him and gave a little squeal of delight as she squeezed.

Bile rose in the back of his throat.

Javier sucked in a breath, his whole body stiffening with a jerk at her intrusion.

“Hello, big boy!” Ashley waggled her eyebrows and gave one more squeeze before letting go and pulling her hand from his pants. “Just what I was hoping for.”

Anger coursed through Javier at her violation. She clearly intended to do as she pleased, regardless of his willingness to participate, but what sent his heart pounding a hole through his chest was the knowledge she’d set it up so that no one would hear him or stop her.

Javier tested the restraints holding him to the chair again, but he still couldn’t find enough of a gap to slip his wrist through. “Kidnapping, assault, murder. I guess that’s just another day in the life for you, isn’t it? You must realize you’re going to end up in prison for the rest of your life. Just like Mar. It’s only a matter of time, and yours is running out.”

“You do see your surroundings, right? We have nothing but time.” She stood and backed up a step. Her lusty gaze turned icy. “That being said…I wonder how long it’ll take to break you.”

Javier’s breath hitched, but he caught it before it rattled out.

Control your breathing. Slow your heart. Don’t give her anything.

The room pressed in—no windows, no visible exits. His mind flicked through his old military training…survive, resist, endure. Buy time. Stay calm.

He leveled his gaze at her, steadier than he felt. “You’ll be disappointed.”

She giggled. “We’ll see, but first things first.” She reached up and tiptoed her fingers along the links of a set of heavy chains dangling from the suspension frame above. “I have to send a message to your precious little redhead. Let her know what you’re up to. Wouldn’t want her thinking you just abandoned her, now, would we?”

Javier didn’t want Sky to see him like this. But even more, he didn’t want her to worry, and she’d be beside herself as soon as Ashley messaged her. “Why are you doing this?”

She grinned. “Because I can.”

“But if you really wanted me like you say you do, why kill me?”

“Are you really that stupid?” She trailed her fingers down his cheek, ending with a little slap. “I said I had a thing for you. I didn’t say you were fucking Romeo. You refused to acknowledge the asset I was to you. Refused to give me the slightest bit of respect. And then you had the nerve to strip my position from me, to try to take my power.”

Javier’s heartbeat pounded in his brain as Ashley ran a finger across a large hook connected to one of the chains. “Look, I⁠—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Now Sky’s going to get to watch me take you, and you’re all going to learn a rather painful lesson about real dominance.”

He fought back the urge to scream in her disgusting face. “You can still walk away from this.”

“Oh, thank you, Master, for your permission.” Ashley reached down into his pants and took a firm grip. “But I think I won’t. I think I’ll take my time and do whatever the hell I feel like doing to you…and then, when I’m bored, I’ll kill you.”

Javier choked on his words, unable to release more than a groan while Ashley had him in her grasp. She’d clearly lost her grip on sanity. Maybe he was to blame for firing her the way he had. She needed help, but he wasn’t in any position to offer it. And she wasn’t going to listen to reason in her current state.

Beyond the obvious plans she had to torture and kill him, one more thing was now abundantly clear. When Ashley was done with him, she’d fixate her anger on Sky.

The woman he loved was next on Ashley’s list.

Her cruel eyes narrowed as she looked straight into his face. “And since you’re being so defiant, I think we’ll have to start our playtime with a little training.”

She released her grip, her hand slithering free of his pants.

Javier sucked in a lungful of air as she strutted over to the wall, where various leather straps, whips, and gags were mounted.

“Look, do whatever you’re going to do to me. Just leave Sky out of this. You’ve got what…you’ve…” He coughed to clear his throat and breathed deeply to steel his courage.

“Such chivalry.” She put a hand to her chest and sniffed, miming wiping a tear from her eye. “But I don’t think you understand the absolute shit show that freckle-faced whore has caused me. First, she had to shout from the blog-bitch rooftops about Megan Nowicki’s murder. That was an accident, okay? The dumb bitch wasn’t supposed to die.”

“You…killed…Megan.” Javier knew he shouldn’t have been surprised, given Ashley’s participation in the model kidnappings and murders.

“You’re not listening. She had some kind of allergic reaction to our knockout drug. She was supposed to go to Mar himself.”

Javier gaped at her. “Kidnapping her and selling her into sex slavery isn’t better!” He wanted nothing more than to strangle Ashley and leave her body floating in the Hudson.

His incredulity was lost on his captor, however.

“You have no idea how poorly that reflected on my professionalism. She died when she wasn’t supposed to…unlike Sky, who keeps dodging death.” Ashley spun around to face him, holding a ball gag. “No worries. I’m about to fix that. She’s going to die, and so are all your obnoxious, busybody friends. You first, though, of course.”

An icy chill jolted down Javier’s spine. Ashley wasn’t kidding. She fully intended to kill everyone he cared about. Had her off the deep end heart set on it.

Ashley reached out and tickled the underside of his chin with her fingernails. “Open up, big boy.”

“Please. I’ll do whatever. Just leave Sky out⁠—”

She stuffed the ball into his mouth before he could finish the sentence. “You talk a good game, Bainbridge. And I know you can’t help it. That sweet little bitch has your heart, after all.” She reached around and fixed the strap at the back of his head. “But once I cut it out of you, that won’t be a problem any longer.”

Rage flowing through his veins, Javier tried to scream his protest, but with the gag in place, all that came out was an unintelligible muffle.

“I know you’re excited.” Ashley walked back across the room and pulled on a leather mask that covered all but her mouth and eyes. “Let’s have a little fun, shall we?”

27

Sky wanted to smack Sami sideways. “You’re going to have to be more specific. What kind of guests are we talking about here?”

“Relax.” Sami lifted his hands, laughing but also backing away. “It’s just a few ladies who wanted to express their gratitude for our part in ending the danger that’s been circling them like sharks.”

“Models?” Delia cocked her head to the side. “You’re talking about models, right?”

Before Sami could respond, the front door burst open. Sky stood by Callie as a group of women entered, some familiar, some not.

Nadine Barrett, the founder of Barrett Model Management, led the way, her chestnut hair in a neat bun and her makeup exquisite. Shocked as Sky was, nothing could have prepared her for who stepped in next.

Shannon Shanahan. Sky hadn’t seen the former model since her rescue during the FBI raid of the Mill. She appeared to have recovered physically from her ordeal, having filled back out to a healthy weight. But she also had the untold depths of the horrors she carried with her every day. Shannon’s big brown eyes glittered with emotion as she entered.

Frankie came next, and behind her followed Amber Gregory and Tiffany Bianco. Behind them was a trio of young women Sky didn’t recognize.

Charging toward Delia, Nadine pulled her into a hug. “None of us can ever thank you enough. What you and your friends have done to secure the safety of women in this industry is beyond important. You all deserve medals.”

“Really, you do.” A young model Sky had met months ago, Serenity McCreedy, stepped inside next. She had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. “I’m tired of high-powered men always thinking they can get away with taking advantage of vulnerable people. You’ve served justice.” She raised her glass and then headed over to join Shannon.

A tsunami of similar hugs and thank-yous followed. Sami and Delia accepted the attention gracefully. Even Callie appeared to pull herself together on the turn of a dime. Sky couldn’t help thinking she wasn’t sure she even smelled decent, but as the models milled around, eyes shining with tears and gratitude, she chided herself for caring.

Although Sky hated that her team hadn’t been able to prevent Tyler from dying, or Kelsey, or Megan, or so many others, she was thankful she’d played a part in ending the kidnapping ring and giving the friends and families of its victims real closure.

“I wanted to stop by and bring you these.” Frankie handed over a round cookie tin. “It’s not much, but we all appreciate what you did to bring our friends’ killers to justice.”

“They look delicious. Thank you.” Sami popped the lid open and smiled. “Homemade?”

“Of course.” A meek smile spread across Frankie’s face. “Family recipe. You’ve never had a sugar cookie like my mom’s. Tyler…” She took a breath, pinching her eyes closed as if to hold back tears. “He loved them.”

Sami stopped chewing the cookie he’d already popped into his mouth. With a hard gulp, he nodded. “They’re amazing. I wish the outcome could have been a happy one for Tyler. And Kelsey. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Frown lines no doubt earned from hours of crying creased at the edges of Frankie’s eyes. “I think I speak for everyone here when I say that you brought us peace.”

Delia reached out and gave Shannon a hug. “How are you doing?”

“I’m…managing.” She returned the embrace and wiped at her eyes. “I found an amazing therapist who’s helped me through the worst of it. Still have bad days, but lots of good ones too. The madness is over for us models now. We’re safe. That’s what matters.”

“We won’t stay too long.” Frankie pulled back from embracing Callie and seemingly took charge of the room, impressing Sky with her newfound confidence. “We just thought that good people who’ve dedicated so much of their time to helping us and others like us deserved a moment of special recognition.”

Callie wrapped an arm around Sky, pulling her close as Nadine and the small group of models clapped their agreement.

“There have been so many who weren’t as lucky as us and aren’t with us today.” Shannon pushed back a stubborn strand of her long chestnut hair. “Bailey, Megan, and Nicole. Stephanie. Kelsey. Tyler. We all want to honor them by using the second chance they weren’t given and living good lives. Helping people the way we were helped. I think that would make all of them very, very happy.”

Frankie’s lip quivered, a tear glistening in the corner of her eye. “And I have no doubt that Tyler and Kelsey are looking down on all of us and smiling.”

For the next half hour, the group made small talk. Some of the models shared their plans for the future, while others, like Frankie, expressed anxiety and sadness over the impending funerals for their friends.

Sky wrapped Frankie in another hug and didn’t let go right away. “It’s okay to fall apart a little. You don’t have to be strong for them…you just have to show up. And you’re not doing it alone. Delia and I will be right there with you, every step.”

“Thank you.” Frankie’s mascara ran as a fresh torrent of tears broke loose. “That helps a little.”

Sky had been to so many funerals, she almost felt like an in-house expert. And the truth was that she hadn’t been able to view any of them as that sunny celebration of life until long after. Sometimes years later.

Regardless, she hoped the sentiment truly did help her new friend.

When Nadine and the group of models had all exited Hayat Investigations, a kind of peace settled over the lobby.

Delia shook her head as if needing to clear her brain. “That was unexpected but really nice. How long did you know about this?”

“Frankie texted me after Mar’s arrest last night.” Sami admitted the secret with a guilty-as-charged expression on his face. “But in my defense, she wanted it to be a surprise. So I was honoring that. And honestly, you ladies were three sheets to the wind. I’m not sure you would’ve remembered even if I’d told you.”

Callie placed her hands on her hips. “If it wasn’t such an incredibly sweet thing to do, you’d be in trouble, Sami.” The smile on her face made it crystal clear that he wasn’t.

“It was sweet.” Delia threw her arms around her fiancé. “Even with the hangover.”

“Raging hangover,” Sky corrected. “And come to think of it, I’m due for another painkiller.”

They laughed as she dug around in her messenger bag, but Sky stopped the search when her phone buzzed. Yanking the device from the coffee table where she’d left it, she hoped Javier was finally calling to tell her he’d overslept or his phone had died or something equally logical and explanatory. But it was an email from Maria instead. She swiped it open.

See tour schedule attached. I’ll be sending you a hard copy shortly.

Delia rested a hand on her arm. “Javier finally messaged you?”

“No. Just Maria.” Sky looked over the dates, her eyes widening as the list seemed to go on for ages. “Wow. I’m going to be busy with this tour. The Drew Barrymore Show. Oh, my god. Good Morning America! Not sure I’m ready for that level of attention.”

A wave of dizziness—half nerves and half hangover—nearly knocked her over.

“You’re going to be famous.” Delia wrapped an arm around Sky’s shoulders. “And we’ll all be cheering you on.”

“I might have to take some extra time off, Sami.” Sky looked up. “Looks like I’ll be gone a little longer than I initially thought.”

“I’ll pick up the slack while you’re away.” Callie waved her hand in the air. “I’ve been fiddling with the idea of getting my P.I. license anyway. And one of us will need it when we take over during the lovebirds’ honeymoon.”

She had a point. Sky wanted to get her license as well, but with the schedule Maria had outlined, there wouldn’t be any time until she got back.

Delia waggled her eyebrows. “Sky won’t have time for us anyway when she becomes a big-name author.”

“Excuse me?” Sky narrowed her gaze on Delia. “I don’t think so. You’re my friends. At this point you’re my family. I’ll always have time for you.”

Delia rolled her eyes. “I meant for the P.I. work, silly. Obviously, we are too awesome to ignore.”

“Actually, our investigations are where I get my best stories, so I can’t give that up. But I will have to put the license on the back burner for a little while. At least until this tour’s done.” Sky scrolled to the bottom of the list. “In like…six months. Holy hell. That’s a lot of travel.”

“You’re going to love it,” Callie promised. “You’ll see so much beauty traveling across the country. I’m so proud of you.”

Before Sky could respond, her phone buzzed again. Another email, but not from anyone she recognized.

As if her gut knew something her brain didn’t yet recognize, it began to twist into something she could only think of as dread. Steeling herself, she swiped it open and read the subject line.

Watch me.

The chill was immediate. A ripple of cold laced down her spine, followed by a hard, sick wrench that coiled deep in her stomach. Her grip tightened on the phone.

Delia took a step toward her. “What is it?”

Sky didn’t—couldn’t—answer right away. Her pulse had gone uneven, her mind already leaping ahead to the worst-case scenario.

“I don’t know.” Her voice came out thinner than she wanted it to. She turned the screen so Delia could see. “But there’s a video attached.”

Please, no more videos.

Memory hit like a slap.

Kelsey Vinn, brutalized. Tortured. Forced to fight like an animal in a ring she never had a chance of winning. The sickening footage that had haunted them all—that had nearly broken Frankie. That had broken Sky more than she’d admit.

But those videos had been taken by the twisted hands of Arturo Silva, who was dead. Gone. Surely this couldn’t be another torture-porn clip.

Delia, Sami, and Callie all hovered close as she finally opened the file. A woman dressed in a formfitting leather catsuit appeared on the screen. It covered her whole body except for her eyes and mouth.

Sky’s stomach snarled into a thousand brutal knots.

“Hello, Sky Stryker.” The name rolled from the woman’s ruby-red lips like the purr of a satisfied cat.

It took a moment for Sky to realize who was speaking.

I know that voice. I do.

Within seconds, it came to her. “Is that…Ashley Duncan?”

As if she could hear Sky calling out her name, the woman shifted to the side.

Sky slapped her hand over her mouth. Javier was there, bound and gagged, in the center of the screen. Someone had ripped his shirt apart, leaving what remained clinging to the sides of his arms as it draped to the ground.

“I’m guessing by now you’ve realized you lost something very important. Maybe you should have kept a better eye on him instead of whoring yourself around town last night, huh?” Ashley giggled.

“No…” Sky sank to her knees. “Please…no.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been making sure he behaves.” She crossed the screen, waving a leather flogger in her hand. “And he’s so naughty. But you already know that, don’t you?”

She whipped her arm through the air, sending all the leather tongues of her flogger straight at Javier’s chest.

He let out a noise and tried to say something, but the gag prevented anything understandable from coming out.

“Sadly, try as I might, he just won’t do as he’s told. I’m afraid I’ll have to get rid of him. Toys are supposed to be fun to play with, and this guy is just…not.”

Sky’s heart cracked as she watched Javier, utterly helpless. The worst part was knowing this was a recording. How much more torture had Ashley inflicted on him since this footage was taken?

Was he even still alive?

Rage simmered to the surface. She wished she could reach through the screen. Oh, the things she would do if she got her hands on this crazy psychopath. Every ounce of pain Ashley inflicted on Javier, Sky would return tenfold.

But even as she entertained thoughts of revenge, Sky couldn’t stop her mounting anxiety. What if she was too late? If Javier was already…

Her breath caught in her lungs, and her throat constricted, threatening to cut off all her oxygen. She couldn’t finish that thought. No. Javier had to be alive.

He couldn’t die on her. Not after Tessa and Jarrod and Megan and Chloe…

“It’s you I really want to play with, Sky.” Ashley’s words brought her back to the present.

Despite every instinct begging her to look away, Sky watched as Ashley gave Javier another hard smack to the chest.

She wanted to vomit but remained frozen like an ice sculpture.

Ashley’s smile was more sinister this time as she faced the camera and purred. “How about we make a trade?”

Sky’s hand shook as she balled it into a fist so tight, her nails dug into her palms. But even that pain failed to register over the rage building within her chest. “I’m going to kill her!”

Another swat landed across Javier’s chest, his skin blooming an angry red where the straps bit into him.

“The longer you wait, the more I’ll play.” Ashley chuckled with delight. “Don’t take too long to decide.”

Another strike caused Javier to cry out through the gag stuffed into his mouth.

Sky yelped as if her own skin were tearing open.

“Your little gang should have no problem finding me, but if any of your friends come with you to make the trade, I will kill Javier. I want you and you alone. Understood?”

Ashley dropped the flogger and bent at the waist, licking a slow line up Javier’s ruined chest.

“Better hurry. And heed my words. Come alone. No police.” This time, she struck Javier across the face with her bare hand. “No FBI. No friends.” Another strike caused Javier to jerk back and rattle the chains holding him up. “Just you.”

She cocked her hand, and Javier flinched. That earned a smile from Ashley. She stroked his reddened cheek before gripping his chin and pressing her lips down on his.

The more he squirmed, the tighter she pressed against him.

Witnessing Ashley treating Javier like her own personal plaything sent a new wave of fury ripping through Sky. Her blood boiled with a wrath hot enough to melt the cocky grin from Ashley’s face.

“Oh, and Sky?” Ashley twisted to face the camera. “Don’t test me.” She strolled forward until her face was all Sky could see on the screen. “Whatever you think my limits are…you’re wrong. I don’t have any.”

The screen had gone dark, but Ashley’s voice still echoed—slick and venomous—clinging to Sky’s skin like oil.

She wanted to scream. Punch a wall. Anything to release the fury clawing at her insides. But more than anything, she wanted Javier back. Alive. Whole. He didn’t deserve this. None of them did.

Ashley had taken him. Was hurting him. And now she was daring Sky to come alone.

The vile woman had always given off a distinctly sour vibe. As far back as Sky could remember—in the early days when Megan had introduced her to the fashion world, Javier, and GDL—Ashley’s omnipresent sneer had been one of her defining characteristics.

Callie planted two hands firmly on Sky’s shoulders. “She’s obviously sick in the head. But we’ll stop her. We’ll get Javier back before anything worse happens to him.”

“We will.” Delia echoed the claim, sinking to the floor with Sky as her knees gave out. “We just talked about how that’s what we’re good at, right?”

Closing her eyes, Sky envisioned Megan’s waterlogged body after it had been pulled from the Hudson. Her cousin had been poisoned. Taken. Disposed of like an old toy.

“Toys are supposed to be fun.”

That was what Ashley said. Ashley, who had access to all the parties and models, to the agents and clientele. Not to mention the private records at Guillermo De Luca. Ashley, who they’d laughed off as ever being a possible suspect in Agent Flores’s undercover investigation.

Ashley, who checked every box that other members of the kidnapping ring had checked.

“She’s part of it. She’s always been a part of it. The kidnapping. The torture porn. The murders.” Shaking with rage and sadness, Sky turned to Sami. “Figure out where Javier is before it’s too late. I’m going to kill that bitch.”

28

Sky couldn’t stop shaking. Not from cold. Not just from concern.

It was a potent cocktail of fear and fury, sharp enough to hollow her out and set her blood on fire.

The video replayed in her head on a cruel loop…Javier chained, bleeding, used. And she wasn’t doing anything but standing there, hovering over Sami as he typed like the keyboard might explode beneath him.

Every second that passed was another second Ashley had her hands on him.

What is she doing to him now?

Sky clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. Rage surged again, sharper this time, but underneath it—panic. Fear bordering on despair.

She couldn’t lose him. Not him.

“I’m running every program that can help us nail that location,” Sami explained as he pounded away at the keyboard. “A GPS coordinate locator, maps, an EXIF data viewer, a metadata extractor. Assuming the movie was taken with Ashley’s cell phone, and she wanted us to find her, the raw file won’t have been altered. If that’s the case, the geotag and coordinates should be in the EXIF or hidden metadata.”

Sky hadn’t learned enough tech skills from Sami yet to keep up, but she had grasped one fact concerning their search. Once they located Javier, her friends would have to sit this one out. Ashley had made it clear that no one but Sky was to show up.

“We’ll need a plan once we get that location data.” Callie made the statement with the calm authority Sky had come to expect from her.

But the retired federal agent’s logic did nothing to change the actual situation.

“I have a plan.” Peering up, Sky focused an unblinking look on her older and admittedly wiser friend. “I’m going alone. Ashley said only me. I’m not risking Javier’s life or any of yours. Understood?”

Callie’s jaw set tight as her nostrils flared. “There’s no way in hell we’re just letting you go off alone. You’d be walking into a death trap.”

“She’s right.” Sami didn’t look up from the computer screen, but the conviction in his voice rang out. “The fact that Javier’s in trouble is bad enough. We can’t risk anything happening to you too.”

“We’re going to get him back. You know that, right?” Delia closed the gap between them and threw an arm around Sky’s shoulders.

Sky broke free from Delia’s embrace, eyeing all of them in disbelief. “Did no one else hear what she said? Come alone. Just me. Do you really want to test the threat of a crazy woman?”

Callie shot an icy don’t you argue with me about this glare her way. “You’ve got every right to be upset. But no one’s doing anything stupid. I’m going to call Clarkson, and we’ll give the location to the joint task force. Have them do their job, go pick Javier up, and arrest Ashley.”

Sky struggled to understand how Callie could act like that was the only and most obvious choice. “Go pick up his body, you mean? You seem to forget that Ashley’s capable of anything. She’s a horror.”

Visions of Ashley’s snarling face catching sight of an approaching horde of LEOs assailed Sky. The woman would no doubt immediately kill Javier. Shoot him in the head. Slit his throat. Break his neck. Something quick. Something final.

“It’s obviously a trap.” Callie softened her voice, but she didn’t retract her suggestion. “You’re smart enough to see it for what it is, Sky.”

“But what choice do we have? Javier’s there.” Sky’s voice went up an octave. “He would go if it were any of us, and you all know it.”

Callie nodded, allowing for the truth of the statement. “Javier would. You’re right. He’d rush out the door like the knight in shining armor he is. And he’d be just as likely as you to get himself killed. We have to call the JTF.”

“And just trust that they’ll be able to save Javier without any consequences?” Sky held her head between her hands. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Listen.” Sami finally tore his gaze away from the screen. “I understand what you’re feeling. The helplessness. I’ve been there once before when my sister disappeared. I would have done anything to get her, so I don’t blame you for wanting to go. But I know if you take off alone, there’s a real chance we’ll never see either of you again. And I think you know that too.”

Sky couldn’t outright disagree, yet she still tried. “All I know is⁠—”

“Stop.” Sami’s voice emerged darker than Sky had ever heard from him before. “You’ve become like a sister to me. I’ve already lost one of those. I’m not losing another.”

“Sami’s right.” Callie put her hands on Sky’s shoulders. “We’re not risking you just to lose you both. You understand that, right? Ashley is clearly unhinged. And if she was involved in the other models’ disappearances, we have to assume she’s good at getting rid of evidence and bodies.”

“Like it or not, Sky, it sounds like Ashley is a pro at this.” Delia’s soothing tone smoothed the edges of Callie’s words while still completely supporting her message. “We need the JTF to take the lead and make the plan this time…for everyone’s safety.”

“Guys. We’re in business.” Sami breathed a sigh of relief, interrupting the tense moment with an actual ray of hope. “Just have to pop these old-school coordinates, latitude and longitude, into the map, and we’ll get the exact spot the video was recorded.”

Sky forced herself to take deep breaths. Sami was making progress. They were a step closer toward getting Javier out of this mess.

As much as it pained her to admit it, her friends were right, of course. Going by herself would be suicide. Javier wouldn’t want her rushing straight into her own murder.

Haven’t you run headfirst into enough sketchy situations by now? Learn from the past. You’re not the same girl who moved to New York over a year ago. You’re wiser. Tougher.

Sami raised a fist in victory. “There. See that tiny target on the screen? That’s them. They’re farther out on the map than I would’ve liked. All the way in Brooklyn. Prospect Park area. Appears to be a residence.”

“Calling Clarkson now.” Callie already had her phone pressed to her ear. “As soon as—” She stopped, eyes narrowing as a muffled voice came from the device. Then she held out her phone, smacked the speaker button, and laid it on Sami’s desk for all to hear. “Say that again, Clarkson. Slower this time.”

“I said whatever it is, it’ll have to wait!” The lieutenant was practically shouting. “Mar gave up a whole list of safe houses he used for business. Flores, Houghton, and I have all split up with our own teams to raid the first three on the list. Might be some victims still inside, but we’re also looking for any evidence, DNA, hopefully, to help prosecute Mar’s case.”

Callie waved a hand in the air, as though she could stop Clarkson with the simple movement. “But we’ve got some big developments on our end. Ashley Duncan has taken Javier Bainbridge hostage. We believe she’s always been a part of the kidnapping ring. She’s torturing him in a building in Brooklyn.”

“That could be one of the safe houses.” Clarkson seemed to truly hear Callie for the first time. “There were several in Brooklyn. If⁠—”

A thunderous boom in the background broke off his sentence.

Sky gulped, exchanging frantic looks with her friends. “What was that?”

“Holy shit! The entire damn place just exploded!” Clarkson’s voice blasted from the phone. “McHart! I think Phillips and Ridger were entering from the back alley. We’ve gotta find them as quickly as possible. Langcross, call the bomb squad, stat!”

“Clarkson.” Edged in concern, Callie’s words came out severe and militant. “What in the hell’s going on there?”

“The building was rigged.” Clarkson barked his response, his breathing heavy and rapid. “I have to get my people out of there. Text the address where she’s holding Bainbridge to Flores, Houghton, and me. We’ll get this mess handled as soon as possible.”

“Lieutenant!” A shout in the background barreled through the airwaves. “We found Phillips!”

Clarkson inhaled a sharp breath. “Baros, I have to go. Stay connected, and stay out of trouble. That goes for all your team. We’ll handle the situation with Mr. Bainbridge.”

As the call clicked dead, Sky put a hand to her chest. “We can’t just wait for the JTF to take action. They’re obviously in the middle of their own mess. We have to do something.”

Every minute wasted means time Javier is left suffering.

Callie grabbed her phone from the desk and began furiously tapping the screen. “I’m sending the address to Clarkson, Flores, and Houghton. Between the three of them, someone will show up. But Sky’s right. We can’t just sit here and wait. Maybe if we put our heads together and take a minute to plan instead of rushing off half-cocked, we can come up with something.”

“Okay.” Sami clapped his hands. “Let’s do this.”

Sky’s heart soared with a mixture of love and optimism she never would have believed possible under current conditions. Callie nodded her approval, and Delia stepped to Sky’s side, squeezing her hand.

“Ashley wants you to come alone.” Callie pointed at Sky as she spoke, switching gears to a former version of herself—the shrewd federal agent who’d lived every day thinking on her toes. “All we have to do is offer up the illusion that she’s getting what she wants. Then comes the blindside.”

“Okay?” Sky wasn’t sure where Callie was going with her plan, but they desperately needed the start. “So I show up by myself, but you guys are…around.”

“Sami can drive us as close as we dare.” Callie pointed at the screen where the map showed Ashley’s location. “Then circle around back, like this.” She drew her finger across two streets to the south, two streets to the east, two to the north, and one to the west to put Sami on the other side of the block in question.

“I can sneak up to the house. Armed.” Sami added the last word with a hint of disgust in his tone. “Ashley’s not bulletproof.”

Sky held up a hand like a kid in class. “Do I get a gun too?”

Callie hesitated. Her expression twisted into something like pain. “No. Too easy for that to get turned on you. I’ve got to believe Ashley is acting so cocky because she has some backup waiting.”

“So now the place might be guarded too?” Delia stood, stiff as a board. “Maybe we need to rethink this. Sending Sky straight to one of Ashley’s goons unarmed seems…unfair.”

“No. No gun.” Callie shook her head. “ That might throw the entire rescue off right there.”

“You’ve still been taking Krav Maga classes, right?” Sami scrubbed a hand over his face, visibly stressed but far from beaten down. “That’s mostly hand-to-hand stuff, and we all saw what you did to Arturo Silva.”

“She’s pretty tough with nothing in her hands,” Delia agreed.

High praise from Delia, who’d done her own share of ass-kicking. They had Callie to thank for encouraging them to take the classes to begin with.

Sami pulled open a desk drawer and rummaged around. “I have no doubt Sky can hold her own in a regular fight, but what if Ashley has weapons at her disposal? Something a little tougher than her cat-o’-nine-tails? I vote we send you in with a Taser, as well as rigging you up with our pin camera and earpiece.”

“Perfect.” Callie pointed at the computer screen again. “After Sami takes off on foot, Delia and I will drive in and wait here until Sami is inside and gives the go-ahead. Then we’ll approach to either extract or join you. Whatever you need at that point.” She indicated a street one block north of the location in question.

The plan could work. Ashley would be somewhat off guard once she saw Sky had followed her orders. Sami would swoop in with the surprise backup—and the firearm—and level the playing field. Callie and Delia would join. Ashley would be outnumbered, outsmarted, and forced to free Javier.

With any luck, someone from the joint task force would also show and make the arrest.

Callie crossed her arms, brow furrowed despite the feasible plan they’d thrown together. “We have to keep in mind that the safe house Clarkson was at was rigged to explode. Maybe that was a one-off. But if this location is another safe house, we can’t fully rule out explosives being present. In fact, Mar might have given the addresses to the JTF as a setup to get them blown to smithereens.”

“I don’t see Ashley doing all this in a house that’s set to blow up, though.” Delia pressed her fingertips to her temples. “She’s entirely too concerned with self-preservation. Even if Mar sent Clarkson and the others into a trap, this feels separate. Personal to Ashley’s vision for settling her vendetta.”

Sky couldn’t have agreed more. “Ashley loves Ashley. She’s not risking her safety for a second. She gets off on dominance and hurting others. We have to figure she chose this location because of how confident and safe she feels there.”

Callie allowed the theory to stand. “But there’s also the possibility that Ashley and Javier aren’t even at that location. The video could be a decoy to get you there. So keep your eyes open. We don’t have the full picture yet as to how closely Ashley worked with Mar or what her endgame truly is.”

“You mean she may have just fed us this address to blow us up?” Sky bit her lower lip until she tasted blood. “Awesome. No worries there. But honestly, she can’t torture me and have her fun if I’m dead. I really think she wants me alive so she can kill me herself.”

“We’ll be vigilant.” Sami tapped his watch. “Prospect Park is a good forty minutes away with traffic. We need to get moving. Every minute we spend here…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

They all knew every second they spent at Hayat Investigations was an opportunity for a complete psychopath to further torture Javier.

29

Sky sat stiff in the passenger seat as Sami’s Jeep hummed down the highway, her eyes fixed on the road ahead—but her thoughts had tunneled elsewhere.

She was heading toward Ashley. Toward Javier.

Alone.

Her pulse thudded in her throat, but she kept her breathing steady, her body still. Terror was a given—Ashley had made damn sure of that. But beneath it was something stronger. Conviction. She knew what she was doing. She knew why.

Sky could survive fear. She’d done it before.

Supposed location, she reminded herself. Would anyone really be surprised if Ashley fed them a lie just to twist the knife?

Sami had prepared her for the worst. Before leaving, they’d gone through every scenario. He’d outfitted her with a Kevlar vest to wear under her t-shirt and given her a Taser he’d assured her would knock anyone off their feet in a matter of seconds. He’d attached the pin camera to the seam of her coat collar and given her the earpieces to turn on when she got to the house.

What Sky really wanted was a gun, but Callie and Sami were right. In the worst-case scenario, if she somehow lost the gun or had it taken from her, she’d be dead and unable to help anyone, least of all Javier.

Sami pulled his Jeep over along a tightly packed street. “Sky, start walking. We’ll make the circle, and I’ll be right behind you in no time at all.”

“And we’ll be there shortly after Sami. To extract you or do whatever else you need.” Callie clapped her on the shoulder from the back seat.

“Be careful, Sky.” Delia’s voice trembled as Sky exited the vehicle.

Armed with her tools, Sky was physically ready to go in and find Javier. But as she took the first step away from Sami’s Jeep, anxiety sent her heart racing. Cold and clammy, she struggled to get her feet moving.

She had to do this. It was her idea, after all.

I’m not alone. Sami is here. Callie and Delia will be nearby. I can do this.

If everything went according to plan, they could save Javier and finally put a stop to the models being kidnapped and used for prostitution and snuff films.

In the back of her mind, Sky acknowledged that serious actions like this never truly went as intended. Even with perfect planning, something could go wrong.

What if Javier doesn’t make it out alive? What if he’s already dead?

If that’s the case…

No. Stop thinking like that.

Just do what you came here to do.

With a breath to steel her courage, Sky pushed herself on and headed down the street.

Satellite photos of the house had given her an idea of what to expect, but as she turned the corner to head down a tree-lined street with actual houses, she couldn’t help but admire her surroundings.

Since coming to Manhattan, she’d become accustomed to seeing row-style houses of four or five stories as well as mid- and high-rise apartment buildings that were so common in such a tightly packed metropolis. But this was like walking back into any neighborhood in her childhood town of New Pleasant. The houses were all single residences and detached.

And they had driveways too. With backyards. Real ones, not just small slabs of concrete, each big enough to hold just a barbecue grill. The entire area was an oasis in the middle of the concrete jungle. No one would ever suspect a deranged murderer had bound and gagged a man in a basement somewhere nearby.

“Possibly a basement. You’re just guessing. Now move.” She hurried on toward the address.

Not even thirty seconds into her walk, the purr of an approaching vehicle crept up behind her.

God. She’s not even going to let me get to the house.

Sky slid her hand into her coat pocket, grabbing the Taser and preparing herself for battle. If Ashley had a goon, they’d probably followed Sky and her friends all the way from Hayat Investigations.

That meant Ashley would already be aware that Sky had allies in the neighborhood. That Sky had disobeyed direct orders. And the immediate consequences of such an infraction…

What if Javier is…what if she already…

“Sky.” A low voice—a familiar one—sounded behind her.

Spinning around, Sky met the intense gaze of Dante Houghton as he hung out the driver’s side window of a black SUV. Heart soaring with new optimism, she hurried toward him. “We were hoping someone from the joint task force would come.”

He motioned to the passenger seat. “Get in. I’ll update you on what’s going on.”

Sky glanced around. Her destination was still two blocks away. Sami and the others were long gone. Scurrying to join Dante in the vehicle, she could barely contain the tornado of emotions stirring up her throat. “I can’t stay here. I have to get to the house Ashley has Javier trapped in. Sami is going to come around the back way and bust in when the time is right. You can’t be seen either. Not at first.”

“Whoa.” He held up his hands. “Slow down. First of all, you should know that four other safe houses have blown up across the city. This could very likely be next. Clarkson said he instructed you all to wait for us, but I came as soon as I got that text. I know you. No way in hell would you sit tight while your…boyfriend…is in danger.”

Wondering if Dante was waiting for her to confirm or deny the title, Sky let it stick. She didn’t mind the sound of it, and if they all made it through this day alive, she’d make sure Javier understood her fear of a defined relationship status was long gone.

Dante and his adorable single dimple would find someone just as amazing as him. Someone who was not Sky.

“I didn’t come alone.” She kept a grip on the door handle. “I came with the whole team. And we made a plan first.” Anxiety at the thought of four entire safe houses blowing up made her heart skip several beats. “Did anyone…did anyone die in the explosions?”

“Officers Phillips and Ridger were hurt pretty bad in the first explosion. Phillips might not make it.” Dante lowered his eyes for a moment. “They were with Clarkson’s group. But once he got the word out, our other teams approached much more carefully. The address Agent Flores took went up next. Then my team’s targeted building.”

“No injuries there?” Sky swallowed, imagining what might have happened to Dante if Lieutenant Clarkson hadn’t gotten ahold of them in time.

Dante shook his head. “We used drones to approach the entryways. They triggered the explosions.”

“And the fourth house? Was there another team there?”

“No.” Dante gritted his teeth. “That one was reported by neighbors in Queens. A couple of little kids playing near the building got some major injuries. Mar did all this on purpose. Pretended to be cooperating for a deal, but he was really just sending the JTF to their deaths.”

Sky shivered, imagining Ashley’s malevolent smile as she gazed into the camera. “Was this address on the list that Mar gave up?”

“No.” Dante held up a finger. “But that doesn’t mean anything. It might be one of Ashley’s private spots. According to Mar, he has a female lieutenant he trusts to keep his business going regardless of how long we hold him behind bars. And he doesn’t seem to think that will be very long.”

“He thinks someone will break him out?”

Dante’s lip curled into a sneer. “He’s damn near positive about that. Thinks whatever jackasses he has left working for him will be loyal to the end. I don’t think the asshole is going to make it to his trial, to be honest. He doesn’t quite grasp how hated he truly is.”

In certain instances, the detective’s normally calm demeanor had taken a turn toward harsh—dark, even—and this seemed to be another example of that mood swing. Something like pure hatred had twisted Dante’s handsome features into a frightening mask.

Can I blame him? He’s talking about Mar. Everyone wants Mar to pay for the absolute hell he’s brought into this world. The man’s as evil as they come.

“You think he’ll get killed in prison?” Sky asked the question quietly.

Dante locked his dark-eyed gaze on Sky. “A lot of people die in prison.”

Shivers ran down her spine. What was it in Dante’s voice that made her believe he’d be happy to kill Mar himself?

“Not important right now.” The detective appeared to pull himself together. “Callie sent the video Ashley emailed you over to the JTF. From what I saw of it, Javier’s time is limited. We need to get in there and stop that psycho.”

Sky opened the passenger door slightly. “Exactly. And that’s what I’m going to do. I’ve already stayed here too long. You can do the same as Sami. Follow on foot but stay hidden. I have to at least appear to be showing up alone, just like she demanded.”

“Agreed.” He paused, eyeing her as though he were searching for something. “Tell me that P.I. gave you a Kevlar vest at least.”

“Yep.” Sky patted her chest. “And a Taser in my pocket. Add that to my awesome Krav Maga skills, and you can see how I’m going in fully prepared.”

Dante busted out something like a laugh. “I don’t know about fully. But you’re right about the awesome part.”

Even under these circumstances, Sky’s cheeks warmed. Dante might be determined to get another chance with her, but this day had clarified, at least in her mind, that no one but Javier would ever have a shot again.

“I’m going.” She hopped down onto the street. “You get this beast hidden and back me up, okay?”

Dante sighed, clearly unhappy with the plan despite its necessity. “You got it. Please be careful.”

Sky shut the door and took off at a speed walk toward the waiting address. Though she’d lost time by touching base with Dante, she was thrilled to have a police detective right behind her, in addition to Sami’s backup. Ashley certainly wouldn’t see all of them coming, and she’d be far outnumbered. Outgunned. Outdone.

Sky refocused as she neared the house in question. It stood at the end of a narrow tree-lined block…an old three-story brownstone with ivy climbing one side and a rusted iron gate guarding the front steps. It was beautiful, in that Manhattan kind of way. Elegant but tired, like it had seen too much and stopped caring.

A short private alley ran alongside the building, ending in a gated entrance to what looked like a tiny backyard. There was even a basement-level door, barely visible from the street.

Sky clocked the details automatically. The alley fence was only hip-high. Easy enough to clear if things went sideways.

She stopped at the edge of the yard, searching for any sign of inhabitants. The sun was close to setting, but the streetlights hadn’t come on yet. If any lights were on inside the house, they would be invisible from where she stood. Closed curtains hung in all the windows. She saw no twitching, no hint anyone was spying on her.

Despite that, Sky knew someone inside had to be watching. The eerie pressure of unseen eyes weighed on her, leaving her feeling raw and exposed.

Sami would be getting close by now, and Callie and Delia were probably already circling the blocks.

Dante couldn’t be far. Wouldn’t allow himself to fall behind. That much she knew.

Sky wasn’t totally alone, but that did little to help her nerves.

With a gulp to swallow her anxiety, she put one foot in front of the other and took the walkway to the front porch. Stairs creaked, announcing her presence as she put her weight into each step. The porch, too, whined loudly as she walked to the front door.

If Ashley and whoever else she had waiting inside that house hadn’t known Sky was there before, they certainly realized it now. Sky reached out, hesitating as her hand hovered over the brass knob.

The wind picked up, sending a breeze across her face as goose bumps erupted all down her arms.

Before she could grasp the handle, Sky caught a shadow coming up to the side of the porch.

“You got this.” Dante’s whispering voice reached out from beyond her sight.

With that little nudge, she finally turned the knob.

“Ashley?” Her voice warbled as she called out into the seemingly empty house. “I’m here.”

The outside of the house might have been exquisite, but inside, the place was gutted all the way to the studs. Barely a bit of drywall in sight. There was nothing but the thick wooden frames belonging to the load-bearing walls and the staircases. Acting as the spine of the house, they ran up to the next level and down into the basement, keeping the building upright despite its stripped-down state.

“Hello? Ashley?” Sky’s voice echoed through the empty house, bouncing off exposed beams and dust.

“You must be Sky.” A voice came from her left…male, smooth, too calm.

Sky nearly jumped out of her skin. The floor looked open, gutted, nowhere to hide. But she hadn’t seen him. Hadn’t heard a step.

Coiled like a spring, she edged across the threshold, sweeping the corners. Floorboards creaked to her left.

A fist came out of nowhere.

She ducked—barely—the Krav Maga training saving her from a blow that would’ve shattered her jaw. Sky spun to face him, muscle memory dropping her into fight mode.

He wasn’t big—lean, wiry—but the arrogance was unmistakable. Nicky Silva.

Of course.

“What the hell?” She needed to speak. Distract him. Keep him reacting instead of thinking. “You greet all your guests with a sucker punch?”

He wore a powder blue tracksuit and a bun, trying for mobster, landing somewhere closer to club promoter. Sky didn’t have time to analyze the aesthetic.

“Nope.” He licked his lips. “Just you.”

Nicky lunged, and Sky slapped his hand away and took a step back, lifting one hand in a warning.

“Try it again. See how fast I drop you.”

Let him think she was reckless. Let him underestimate her—most men did.

His grin widened. “Feisty. She said you would be.”

No point in dancing around it. Say the name. Watch the eyes.

“Ashley? She's your boss, right?”

His jaw flexed. “She’s not my boss.” His voice grew sharp, brittle.

Gotcha.

“That’s not what I heard.” Sky forced a laugh. “Then again, I guess it’d sting…having a woman calling the shots.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“Sure I do. You’re up here playing guard dog while she’s…what? Downstairs handling the real work?” She made a show of examining his outfit. “Or maybe you just got demoted from stalker duty.”

Nicky’s nostrils flared. “You think you’re clever?”

“I think you’re stalling.” Sky slid a hand into her coat and pulled the Taser. “And I think you’re out of your league.”

He scoffed. “Do you even know how to use that?”

“Wanna find out, big⁠—?”

He moved faster than she expected, striking hard enough to knock the Taser from her grip. Sky ducked under his lunge and used his momentum against him, slamming him forward. He hit the ground hard, face-first.

Blood poured from his nose as he pushed up on one elbow. “You broke my nose.”

Sky dove for the Taser, not breathing again until it was in her hand. “Not my fault you face-planted.”

He spat red onto the floor. “I should kill you for that.”

You were gonna try either way.

Behind him, movement. Footsteps. A figure appeared in the open doorway.

“You’ll have to give up that pipe dream, dickhead.” Dante’s gun was raised and steady. “Detective Dante Houghton, NYPD. You’re done.”

Nicky froze, but something else happened. Recognition flickered across his face.

“You,” he whispered. “I fucking know you.”

“I’m a detective.” Dante stepped forward. “A lot of people do.”

“No.” Nicky licked blood from his lip, eyes narrowing. “I saw you. Mar made me drive him to the docks. You were there. He gave you orders.”

Sky’s breath caught.

The Taser still hummed in her hand. But the floor dropped out from under her feet.

Nicky grinned through the blood. “You’re a dirty cop.”

30

Sky stiffened as she swiveled her head toward Dante. He kept his eyes locked on Nicky, trembling with apparent rage and fingering the trigger of his gun.

“Dante?” Her voice cracked. “What’s he talking about?”

Laughter rumbled out of Nicky’s bloody mouth. “Oh, no. I just burst your bubble, didn’t I? Knocked your hero right out of the sky.” He tsked, lifting a finger to point at Dante. “You better tell her Santa isn’t real, too, while you’re at it.”

“Shut your mouth, or you’ll end up just like your brother.” Dante’s snarling threat sent ice through Sky’s veins.

Nicky giggled deliriously. “Seems unavoidable now. Kinda looks like you’re headed there yourself. Maybe the three of us can share a cell.”

Oh, my god. He doesn’t know his brother’s dead.

Dante stepped toward Nicky, gun still raised. “I meant you’ll end up six feet underground. That’s where your brother is, you dipshit.”

That wiped the smile right off Nicky’s face. If the Silva brothers weren’t demented rapist murderers, Sky might have felt sorry for him.

“He’s not dead.” Nicky’s jaw hung slack. “I would’ve heard about that.”

Dante grinned, appearing every bit as villainous as Nicky. “You’ve been a bit cut off from the world lately, haven’t you, jackass? Had your phone taken away. Put in a days-long time-out, right? A lot of things you need to catch up on. Your dead brother being one of them.”

Nicky’s lips trembled. His eyes blazed with hatred, and Sky could only imagine the venom he intended to spew at Dante.

Instead, Dante spit the venom. “I watched him die. It was ugly.”

Sky’s extremities turned to ice. No one had been able to explain how Arturo had gotten ahold of the cyanide. Dante had been the one to investigate the death. But one of the guards had taken the blame.

Is this the truth?

Her mind scrambled for a foothold. Maybe he’s undercover. Maybe this is part of something deeper, bigger. It has to be.

But if it was…why did it sound so personal? So final?

Dante glanced at her, as if sensing her shock. “Silva hurt you. He tried to kill you. And Mar had no further use for him.”

Was Dante expecting his explanation to win favors from her? Sky could only gape.

Striking like a snake, Dante whipped Nicky with the butt of his gun, knocking him to the floor. Sky watched as the slimy bastard’s eyes rolled back into his head. She finally found her voice as Dante lifted his gun again.

“Don’t! Don’t kill him.”

“Why?” Dante glanced at her.

Sky took two steps backward, raising the Taser again and pointing it at Dante. “You work for Mar?”

Dante ran a hand through his dark waves. “Yes. No. It’s not like that. I took care of some things in the books. At the precinct. And only because I had to.”

“Was Arturo Silva one of those things you took care of?” Sky’s mouth had gone dry as sandpaper.

“Listen.” Dante slid his gun into its holster and held up both hands. “Anything I’ve done for that man, I did to keep my sister alive. She’s blind. I’ve been taking care of her since she was a teenager. After our parents died in a car accident, Mar needed someone on the inside. He threatened her. Said he’d make his first ever ‘sexy blind girl snuff film.’”

Sky didn’t know if she could believe a word falling out of the man’s mouth. How could she? He’d been lying to her this whole time.

“Your sister, if she even exists, would be disgusted to know what you are. What you’ve done. You’ve aided and abetted sex trafficking, abductions, torture, rape, and murder. You murdered Arturo yourself. And God knows what else you’ve done, you sick bastard.”

Dante shook his head. “Sky, I only did what I had to do. No one hates Mar more than me. I wanted this madness to end. That’s why I’ve worked this case so hard. Mar thought I was dedicated, but my only true dedication was to destroying him and every evil thing he’s created in this city.”

A tear slipped down Sky’s cheek. “You. You’re one of the evil things he’s created in this city. You’re not a good man. You could have told Clarkson and Flores everything you knew. You could have gone into witness protection with your sister. You didn’t. You’ve been running around feeding the sickness, telling yourself you’ll put an end to Mar and suddenly be a hero. That’s not how it works.”

“My sister’s alive because of the decisions I made, and that’s all that matters.” Dante swallowed hard, searching Sky’s face for…what? Pity? Sympathy?

Sky’s insides turned to stone. “That’s all that matters, huh? Why don’t you tell that to Kelsey? Or Tyler? Or my cousin?”

“I had nothing to do with those murders.” Dante held his hands up. “I swear to you I had nothing to do with them.”

“You worked for Mar.” Sky hated herself for crying, even if the tears were pure fury. “You had everything to do with what he did. Megan’s murder is on you just as much as it’s on him. And you’re going to pay for what you’ve done.”

“Hey.” A new tremor of fear entered Dante’s voice. “Let’s not make any hasty decisions here. Your boyfriend’s still somewhere in this house. I can still help you save him. Throw Ashley behind bars right alongside Mar. Let’s focus on Javier while he’s still alive.”

As desperate as she was to find Javier, Sky had to make sure Dante wasn’t even dirtier than he’d admitted so far. Was he trying to lure her into an even bigger trap? “No. I’m going to focus on the fact that you just admitted to murder, among other things, on video.”

Dante’s eyes widened. “Shit. I should have known you’d come in here wired. Where’s the camera?”

“No bullshit here.” Sky smugly grabbed at her coat collar, feeling for the pin camera, only to find it wasn’t there.

Had it fallen out when she scuffled with Nicky? Before she’d even made it into the house?

Earpieces. Sami, Callie, and Delia are hearing this entire confession.

Putting a hand to her ear, Sky realized in the terror of approaching the house, she’d never turned the devices on. “Shit.” She could only manage one word amid the raging sea of turbulent emotions she was drowning in.

“You…don’t have the camera…do you?” Dante put a hand to his chest, blowing out a long, hard breath. “No, that’s good, Sky. That’s excellent. There’s no proof this conversation ever happened. Let’s go save Javier, and, after that, I’ll take my sister and get out of town. Start a new life somewhere. You’ll never have to see my face again.”

“Dante.” Her voice barely carried. “You could have done that before. You could have done that instead of working for Mar.”

He didn’t respond. Just looked at her—eyes sunken, shoulders sagging—like a man who hated himself almost as much as she hated him.

Almost.

“Sky, please. Put this aside. Just for now. Let’s save Javier. Come with me and⁠—”

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” Sami’s voice cut through the air like a blade. Low. Steady. Final.

Dante spun, hand twitching toward his gun. He froze when he faced Sami’s weapon.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dante warned, lifting his hands. “You don’t want to be known as a cop killer. Not in this city.”

“I’m not the one who’s dirty.” Sami’s smile was hollowed-out and sharp. “In fact, I’m so levelheaded, I didn’t even rush in here to kick your ass when I heard what you are. I recorded every word of your confession. It’s already on its way to Flores and Clarkson.”

Sky’s chest swelled. Sami…brilliant, loyal, relentless. A better man than most. A better friend than she’d ever deserved.

“Stop!” Dante’s voice snapped through the moment, sharp and panicked. “Don’t come any closer.”

Sky whirled, trying to understand. Was this a trap?

“You’re not in a position to give orders anymore.” Though Sami sounded confident, his eyes told a different story. His gaze darted toward where Dante was now pointing at something above the front door.

“That light.” Dante swallowed hard. “It just started blinking. And the wires along the ceiling…I didn’t see them before. I was too focused on Nicky.”

Oh, no. He was right.

“This place is rigged. It’s a bomb, and it’s live. Get out! Now!”

“I’m not leaving without⁠—”

“You have to,” Dante barked. “Go!” He raced toward Sky, eyes wide with urgency. “Under the staircase…now!”

Sky’s legs wouldn’t move. The blinking red light pulsed like a countdown, and her body locked up under the weight of too much—too much betrayal, too much fear, too much everything.

We’re going to die here. All of us. And for what?

She watched Dante coming at her before her brain caught up—just a blur of movement and force.

Before she could even take a breath, he slammed into her like a freight train, knocking her flat as chaos swallowed the room.

31

An explosion rocked the room above Javier, rattling the ceiling and sending dust cascading from the air vents. He flinched, ducking—not that he had anywhere to go, chained to the chair like he was.

Ashley’s delighted laughter cut through the pounding in his head. She was still watching the feed on her phone, eyes wide with glee. And Javier…he’d seen everything. Every second of that godforsaken scene had played out on her screen—Sky, Sami, Dante. The argument. The flashing red light. The panic. The blast.

“You really know how to pick ’em.” Ashley waved the phone mockingly in front of him. “Dirty cops, clueless boyfriends, and wannabe heroes. All toasted. Poof.”

Javier’s heart twisted, cracking into shards. Sky had come for him. He’d begged her not to, albeit around the ball gag, but she’d still walked into that deathtrap, just like he knew she would. And now…was she gone?

Javier strained his wrists against the restraints, bile rising in his throat. In the time since recording the video for Sky, Ashley had maneuvered him into chains that hung from the ceiling. They rattled every time he moved, but that was the only sound. The room above remained eerily silent—no footsteps, no shouting. No signs of life.

My sweet, funny, quirky, beautiful Sky…is gone.

In the moments of silence after the dust settled, Javier strained to listen. The sound proofing of the room might have been damaged. Maybe there’d be some movement.

Stomping, dragging, anything. He’d sell his soul if it might save Sky.

As if some higher power had heard his silent plea, there came a loud thud. Then another. Heavy steps, by the sound of it. Or was it all his imagination?

Javier struggled against the chains that held his arms up overhead. He turned his ear toward the ceiling.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

That had to be footsteps. At least one person was still alive up there.

“You heard it too?” Ashley giggled like a small child as she skipped toward the door and placed her ear to the wood panel. “I ordered the explosive be big enough to take everyone upstairs out. Not us, of course. I’m not that sloppy.”

Javier barely listened to the sadistic monster. He refused to believe that Sky was gone, just like that. Someone had survived, and it had to be her.

Ashley returned to his side and unclipped the strap of the gag, releasing it from his mouth. “Go ahead and call for her.”

“Why trigger an explosive up there?” Javier’s stomach turned in vomitous circles. “I thought the whole point was getting Sky down here. Continuing your sick little games. You can’t torture her if she’s dead.”

“Well, yes, the original plan was torture, but my god, who knew how painfully boring waiting for something to happen up there would be?” Her smile widened. “But that’s why we always have a backup plan. If at first you don’t succeed…just blow everybody up.”

But now someone was still up there, and Ashley wanted him to lure them to the basement. Maybe he still had time to do something. To stop this and save anyone who’d survived the blast. He had to try.

“Go on.” Ashley smacked him on the side of the head. “Call for help. Bring Princess down here for a pretty little reunion…if she’s not currently bleeding to death.”

“Ashley, please. This has to stop.” His voice came out in a breathy rasp. “Please. Enough.”

“Mr. Bainbridge.” She clucked her tongue. “Still trying to make demands. Have you learned nothing from our time together?” With her lip jutting in an exaggerated pout, she leaned in and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “And I had such high hopes for you and me.”

His every instinct was to shrink away from her, but Javier held still, even as her hand came up and her cold fingers tiptoed across the raw wounds on his chest. “Look, do whatever you want…with me. But please⁠—”

“Javier!” Sky’s voice carried weakly through the floorboards. “Javier, where are you?”

“I knew that bitch was the survivor.” Ashley sneered at the stairs leading to the first floor. “Un-fucking-believable.”

“Please.” Frantic now that he was certain Sky was still alive, Javier couldn’t keep the desperation from his voice. “Just let Sky go.”

“That’s not going to happen, Javier dear. But it’s so cute to see you keep trying.” With a condescending pat on his wet cheek, she walked past, leaving him dangling there.

He tugged against the chains and let out a hoarse growl. “You’ve got me. Is that not enough?”

“You already pitched me that sale, remember? I’m sorry, but I just don’t see a future for us. You’re too…good. It’s disgusting and mundane.” She clasped her hands together. “Plus, now you and your beloved little redhead can die together. Isn’t it all just so romantic?”

Stall. Keep her talking. Keep her busy.

“What do you want, Ashley? Money? You can have it.” He tried to twist around to see her, but there just wasn’t enough give in the restraints. At the edge of his vision, Ashley stood near the four-poster bed with its shiny metal cage underneath and removed her mask. She reapplied lipstick in the gilded reflection of a hand mirror, like she had all the time in the world.

She capped the lid with a loud clip and dropped the tube into her purse. She smiled again, the picture of fatal perfection—flawless on the outside, rotting beneath. “I don’t need your money. That much should be obvious.”

Javier could only imagine the fortune Ashley had made working for Jean Mar and his ring of depravity. “Tell me, then. What do you want from me?”

“All I’ve ever wanted is respect. Something people with boobs never seem to get.”

She’s not wrong.

He knew exactly what she meant, and how many women had lived that truth. He also knew Ashley wasn’t here to educate him. She was here to hurt.

She angled her head, mocking his silence. “Right. Can’t say anything to that, can you? The youngest exec GDL ever had, and still you think you earned it on brilliance alone.”

Javier didn’t answer. Not because he agreed, but because he recognized the trap. She wanted a reaction, something she could twist, something to justify whatever came next.

“I played the game the way I was told to. Smiled. Networked. Put in the hours. But every time, the promotion went to someone with a penis and less talent.” From the depths of her purse, Ashley pulled out a small black remote. It looked like a key fob, but the way she held it—careful, almost reverent—told Javier it was something far worse.

“If this is about me firing you⁠—”

“That?” She waved the remote dismissively. “That doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And now you’re going to mansplain how I feel?”

Shit. Wrong move.

“I didn’t mean⁠—”

“Of course you did. You’re a man. Men always mean it. They just never admit it until it’s too late.” Her voice dropped into something quieter, sharper. “But behind every one of you, there’s always a woman doing the grunt work. And I’m done hiding behind anyone.”

Her smile returned, but her eyes had already moved on from him.

The footsteps were much clearer now and sounded as if they were coming down the steps.

“Not long now.” Ashley pulled on a long coat over her catsuit. “Wish I could be here to see the fireworks, but I think the show will be better from outside. Fresh air and all. Good for the soul.” With an impish little shrug, she turned toward the bed again.

Javier hadn’t been able to get a good look, but it didn’t take a genius to know she had a way out back there. Some type of basement exit.

And her thinly veiled hints…explosive reunion, fireworks…mixed with the remote that was most definitely not a key fob told the story all too clearly.

She’d rigged the basement to blow just as she’d done upstairs.

In front of Javier, the doorknob jiggled, and something heavy slammed against it, but it didn’t open.

Gaze fixed on the door, Javier debated what to do.

I could scream. Send her away.

He had to stall for time. He had to find a way to stop Ashley from leaving. If she was still in the room, she couldn’t blow it up. “You’re right. I was disrespectful.”

“Nice try, Bainbridge. But it’s too little, too late.” Ashley’s words were drowned out by the scrape of wood against concrete. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard, making Javier cringe and tug against his chains to protect his ears. “I’ll be sure to say something nice at your funeral, though. Don’t you worry. Ta-ta.”

Hinges creaked from the far corners of the basement, followed by a rush of cool, fresh air and the loud crash of a door slamming shut.

The knob at the door in front of him twisted.

Sky’s head poked in. Her hair was covered in soot. “Javier?” She croaked the word.

Panic clawed at his chest. “Bomb! Get out!”

She seemed confused. “It already went off.” Her shirt was shredded, and she limped as she crossed the threshold and headed toward him, stuffing something into her pocket. She’d survived, but she was far from okay.

“No. There’s one in here too. You have to get out of here.” Javier tried to push his weight against her, but she wrapped her arms around him and refused to let go. “There’s no time. Ashley took off out a back door. She has a bomb set in this basement, and she intends to blow us to pieces. This whole place is going to crumble. Get out.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.” Sky moved behind him, examining his chains. “But I’ve never picked shackles before. Just give me a minute.”

Sky pulled a bobby pin that was now in the shape of an L from her pocket.

“Sky. You have to go. She has a remote to detonate this place. As soon as she gets far enough away, she’ll trigger it.” His heart threatened to explode.

Was Sky in shock? She didn’t seem to even hear him.

“Got it.” Sky cheered as the pressure released from Javier’s right hand. She was on to the left before he dropped his arm to the side.

Delicious warmth flooded into his icy hands, sending tingles like pinpricks down to his fingertips. But as good as the sensation felt, Javier’s main focus was escape.

Sky released his left hand and scrambled across the room, finding the exit almost immediately.

Apparently, she did hear me.

“You sure she went through this door?” She pounded her fist against the wood. “It’s not budging. We’re not getting out this way.”

No. That can’t be true.

Javier charged to Sky’s side, yanking on the door with aching, cramped hands. “It has to open. Ashley just left.” He turned in a circle, glad that fear and adrenaline made moving less painful than it should. “There must be stairs outside leading up to ground level.”

Sky looked up into Javier’s eyes, dazed and drained from the first explosion she’d somehow survived while preparing for the next. “We’re not getting out this way. She must have locked us in. The upstairs looks like a war zone…I could only go down. We’re not getting out that way either.”

They were goners. Ashley had to have been far enough away by now to detonate her explosives at any second.

Javier pulled Sky to him. If they were going to die, they’d do it in each other’s arms.

32

I closed the basement door behind me and slid the locking pin on the bolt latch in place. The day was going according to plan.

I hopped the waist-high fence that separated the backyard from the driveway. As I came around the front of the house, I stopped short.

Well, that was…disappointing.

Smoke curled from the splintered window frames, and part of the front porch was gone—more like a blast remodel than a full detonation. Nicky had been stationed here. His only job had been to stall Sky until the first charge went off. Fucking idiot.

C-4 was meant to be precise, not pathetic. It should’ve dropped the whole front of the damn house if Nicky hadn’t been such a damn moron about where he’d placed it.

Sky was still alive…but not for long.

I made my way through the back alley to the side street. The initial explosion would, no doubt, inspire some caring person to call the cops. The police might even be on their way this very moment.

But I still had one more thing to do before I could leave.

Crossing the street, I found a spot behind a hedge in a neighboring yard. Far enough away from the blast zone but still close enough that I might enjoy the fireworks without being seen.

“Bye-bye, Sky.”

Little Miss Untouchable. She might be a fighter, and she might have some sleuthing skills, but there’s no way in hell she could have known she was walking into her tomb.

Safely hidden among the foliage, I pointed the remote toward the house and pressed the button.

A muffled boom was followed by a small burst of dust erupting from the remaining windows on the first floor. Not exactly the fireworks I’d envisioned. I’d hoped to see some fire or part of the building crumbling in on itself. But for all my anticipation, the blast was anticlimactic.

Then again, it was the basement.

To be safe, I pressed the remote button a few more times.

Nothing else happened.

Sirens wailed nearby.

Right on schedule.

A bit disappointed, I was still hopeful the explosion would be enough to take care of both Sky and Javier. Either way, I didn’t have time to check. I had to get out of here.

I emerged from the hedge and started down the sidewalk, away from the destroyed safe house.

No need to stick around. If the police found identifiable remains for Sky, Javier, or Nicky, I’d hear it on the evening news.

What kind of wine pairs best with successful revenge?

Two police cruisers sped past me, sirens blaring, lights flashing.

I flicked a casual glance over my shoulder to make sure they were stopping at the safe house. “That’s right, boys. Go find the mess I left for you. Body parts and all.”

Everything was going as intended. All thanks to my carefully planned, well-researched, and patient execution. “If you want something done right, you get a woman to do it.”

An unmarked black SUV sped by. Was that Sky’s little P.I. friends? I popped the collar of the coat up higher to hide my face in case they were nearby.

Down at the distant end of the street, tires screeched as yet another black SUV hooked around the corner and headed in the same direction at full speed. My little explosives must have gotten more than one caring person’s attention. How many concerned New Yorkers had called in the blast?

I chanced a look back at the broken structure. Two cop cars and two SUVs. How many more would arrive on the scene before they were done?

The black SUVs were the same vehicles federal agents had used at the Mar arrest. But Feds wouldn’t be responding to something as boring as a house explosion.

Unless…

A flash of red interrupted my train of thought. A small but growing plume of black smoke drifted into the sky. Finally. No way anyone was getting out of that house alive.

Fire was the great eraser. Of evidence. Of pesky human beings.

I’d done it. Achieved everything I’d set out to. All that remained was a quick trip on the subway, and I could spend the rest of the day in the comfort of my Manhattan high-rise apartment.

Mar had paid me a pretty penny to take care of the safe house problem, not to mention the Nicky Silva problem. After a good night’s sleep, I could decide if I had more left to do in New York or if it was time to get out of Dodge.

Tires came to a squealing stop in front of me. I glared into the tinted window of yet another SUV that had entered the neighborhood. “Hey, I’m walking here.” Unable to see the driver, I gave them the one-finger salute in typical New York fashion and continued into the intersection.

The vehicle lurched forward, just enough to knock me to the ground.

“What the f⁠—”

I barely had time to process what I was seeing before Delia Shaw launched out of the SUV like a rabid animal.

She slammed into me, all flailing limbs and fury. “Where are they?”

I tried to cover my face from the worst of it. “Get off me!”

Pain exploded in my cheek as her fist connected with my jaw. She was screaming, spitting, clawing—nothing like the polished mannequin she pretended to be on magazine covers.

“Where’s Sky? Where’s Javier? Where’s my fiancé?”

I thrashed beneath her, trying to get hold of anything—an arm, a fistful of hair—but she was too fast, too unhinged.

What the hell is she on?

“Get off me, you crazy bitch!” Struggling to reach for an arm or bit of clothing, anything to help me gain some ground, I found my efforts had little effect. Delia was just too quick.

How was this even possible? Models were supposed to fall over in a stiff wind, not fight like street brawlers on bath salts.

“Where are they?” Spit rained down as Delia snarled again. “They had all better be okay or so help me…I will end you myself.”

“Ashley Duncan.” The voice was measured but deadly.

Delia slowed her assault but remained mounted, legs straddling my torso. The retired FBI agent who couldn’t accept that it was time to knit blankets and watch soap operas put a hand on her shoulder.

Baros fixed me with an unwavering glare. “Are you Ashley Duncan?”

“I don’t have to talk to you. You’re not a cop.” I might have been down, but I wasn’t out yet.

Sprawled across the asphalt, with Delia sitting heavily on my chest, I refused to look at or talk to them. I would not go down like all the others. I knew my rights. And I could afford the best lawyers.

“Correct. You don’t have to speak to me.” Baros tipped her head as her attention moved to a new target. “But you might want to before my friend here takes you into custody.”

“You didn’t have to hit her with the car.” A familiar female voice joined the group. Lupita Franco.

Why the hell is she here?

When Lupita flashed an FBI badge, my eyes rolled so hard I thought they’d pop out of my head. Agent Guadalupe Flores.

I liked the woman a lot better when she was playing the meek little assistant. That tacky FBI jacket with the mousy low ponytail tied at the base of her neck gave her a mannish, I don’t care what you think air that immediately irritated me.

Guadalupe no doubt thought she was better than me in every possible way, and she’d spent every day at GDL hiding behind that fake little helpful smile, all the while just judging the living shit out of everyone around her.

I wanted to wipe that smug look off her face. “You do remember how I like my coffee, right?”

“Criminals don’t get coffee, Ms. Duncan,” Guadalupe deadpanned. “They get to sit in a holding cell until I’m ready to deal with them.”

“You’ve got nothing. I’m a citizen of this city taking a peaceful walk. Is that against some law I’m forgetting about?” Even as I spoke, disbelief shined in every pair of eyes gazing down on me.

“In case you missed my first message,” Baros handed her phone to Guadalupe, “the footage of Ms. Duncan torturing Javier is here. Should be plenty enough to get you started.”

“You can take the agent out of the Bureau, but there is no taking the Bureau out of the agent, is there, Ms. Baros?” Guadalupe looked like she’d just won a jackpot. After pocketing the phone, she reached out to shake the retired agent’s hand. “I’ll call you once we’re ready to take statements.” The smile she’d shared with Baros turned into a loathing scowl as her gaze lowered to mine. “For your sake, you’d better hope we don’t find dead bodies in that house.”

“C’mon, Delia, sweetie.” Baros put a hand on the model’s shoulder. “Don’t get your mind racing until we know for certain what’s going on.”

Tears leaked from the edges of Delia’s emerald eyes. Her lips were moving, but no sound came out. She looked on the edge of a breakdown, but at the urging of her friend, she stood.

As one weight lifted, another came down hard. Guadalupe dropped low and, with a swift shove, pushed me over on my stomach. Pressure came down like a heavy barbell, pinning me to the ground as the agent took hold of my hands and cuffed them behind my back. With more strength than I thought possible, she hauled me up to my feet.

“I didn’t realize how strong you were.”

Guadalupe shoved me forward, walking me back to the scene of what I’d thought was my victory.

Sirens blared as a firetruck pulled up in the center of the road.

The flames were small. Smoke still leaked from the windows, but nothing as grand as I’d envisioned. In fact, I wasn’t even sure the two explosions would be sufficient to wipe the evidence I’d been inside that house.

Great job, Nicky. Way to fuck up the last thing anyone ever asked you to do, you bastard.

“Watch your head.” Guadalupe growled and shoved me into the back of her black SUV.

Hope wasn’t lost yet. I’d successfully set off two detonations. Not nearly as spectacular as they should have been, but in a confined space, no way anyone in there could have survived.

Dead bodies couldn’t talk.

No witnesses. No hard evidence. And a blind hatred of me. They don’t have a case. They have mudslinging. My lawyers will eat them alive.

I snickered at all the uniforms scurrying around like ants in the yard.

I’m not beaten yet.

33

Curled in the back corner of the steel cage beneath the bed, Sky blinked against the haze clouding her vision. The blast had hit just seconds after they’d scrambled inside, metal slamming shut around them like a coffin.

Her ears rang. Her limbs refused to move. But she was breathing. Conscious.

Alive.

Somehow, they’d made it.

“Tessa?” She choked the word out. Her throat burned from the dry heat still lingering in the air.

Weight pressed down against her body, but she couldn’t see anything. The room was solid black.

The cave. She was in the cave, and everything was dark, and Tessa had stopped responding. The friend she loved most in the world was dying in her arms. Might be dead already. She was warm but utterly motionless. Was she still breathing? In the dark, Sky couldn’t be sure.

“Tessa.” The word barely escaped her lips.

No. That’s not right.

Sky wriggled an arm free and forced herself to think. She wasn’t in a cave. She was in a basement. A bomb had gone off as she and…

“Javier?”

Soft. Warm. A body.

“Javier!” She shoved with her free hand.

Javier’s groan sent relief flooding through her body.

She nudged him again. “C’mon. Wake up.”

“Sky?” His voice was just above a whisper, but it didn’t matter. He was alive.

“I’m here, Javier. I’m okay.” Despite every inch of her body aching, Sky was thankful the man she loved had survived. “But we need to find Sami. I don’t know what happened to him when the first bomb went off.”

Her experience upstairs came rushing back like a tidal wave.

“Sami was here too?” Javier’s panic was evident in the way he scrambled to sit up.

“Yes.” Sky envisioned Sami as she’d seen him last, framed by the front doorway and scanning the room in fear. “And Dante… Dante was here…he knocked Nicky out and…and he’s dirty. Dante was working with Mar.”

Javier squeezed her hand. “I know. Ashley live streamed the entire thing. Can’t believe we trusted that guy.”

Tears streamed down Sky’s cheeks. She was too tired to respond.

Outside, sirens announced approaching emergency vehicles. Javier breathed another sigh of relief. “Don’t worry about Houghton right now. Just hold on. Someone will find us.”

Sky could see nothing in the dark, but police sirens were wailing in the distance and getting closer. Help was on the way.

“Quick thinking, using the bed as a bomb shelter.” Javier tried to laugh, but the extra force on his windpipe sent him into a coughing fit.

“Who knew…a BDSM bed…could be so,” Sky struggled between breaths, “useful?”

“We might have to get one of these.” Javier even try to laugh this time. “For the next occasion when someone tries to blow us up.”

“The table is the real MVP.” Sky was babbling, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Just enough of a shield to keep most of the blast from hitting us. Smart thinking to knock it on its side. I’m smart. You have a smart girlfriend.”

“Didn’t think I had a girlfriend.” Javier sputtered out a few more coughs. “Something about no labels is coming back to me…”

Sky chuckled, the sound emitting as a raspy snort. “I think we’ve achieved official couple status. You’re my boyfriend. Deal with it.”

Javier leaned his head back against the wall of the cage, a tired grin tugging at his lips. “I guess if I’m your boyfriend, that means I’m allowed to say it.”

“Say what?” Sky stroked his face.

He turned his face toward her, eyes rimmed with soot but soft. “That I love you.”

Her breath caught. Not because it was a surprise…she’d known. But hearing it now, after everything, settled something deep inside her.

“I love you too.” There was no hesitation, no defense. “Even when you’re being a stubborn, noble idiot.”

Javier chuckled, then winced. “Ouch. Still tender.”

Sky shifted closer, brushing the dirt from his cheek with a shaky hand. “We’re both going to be tender for a while.”

“But together.” He laced his fingers with hers.

She nodded. “Yeah. Together.”

“Hello?” a muffled voice called from somewhere outside. “Is anyone in there?”

“Yes.” Sky tried to yell but coughed again. “We’re here. Hurry!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the pounding began. Each forceful bang and crash of the rescue crew was music to Sky’s ears.

It took them a few minutes to work through the rubble, but once they’d freed enough of the shattered stone and drywall to allow fresh air to seep inside, Sky breathed it in.

“We’re going to be okay. Just hang on a little longer.” Javier tried to reassure her, but all Sky could think of was Sami.

Dante had told him to get out. He’d told her to take shelter. Had tried to protect her in the end.

His betrayal would leave a fresh scar. An addition to the collage of heartache she’d gathered over the years. But the man had saved her life.

And she wasn’t so sure he’d preserved his own.

Time moved at an odd pace as Sky processed the day’s events, some moments slow, some flashing by in a blink.

When the rescue workers arrived, they pulled Sky out first. Nothing felt broken, but she wasn’t sure she was operating on all cylinders quite yet. Shock and adrenaline might have been masking some of the damage.

Javier came out next, weak and moaning in pain.

Maybe some women had fantasies of big, strong firemen carrying them to safety, but Sky’s thoughts were only of the man she loved. She had to know he was okay. But despite the torture he’d suffered, he insisted she be checked out first.

Luckily, there were enough paramedics to go around.

Sky would have rather walked on her own. But when she tried to take a step, her ankle sagged, and pain shot up her leg.

Even as she protested, one of the rescue team members scooped her up and carried her out to the ambulance.

Javier went next, with two firefighters assisting him. He could walk, just barely, but Sky knew his wounds were deep. Some of them would take much more than medical attention to heal.

Delia and Callie were there to greet them, pulling the pair into hugs that were immediately interrupted by the attending medics.

“Sami’s alive.” Delia busted out the grand revelation with tear-streaked cheeks. “The blast threw him right out the front door. His arm’s broken…and some ribs, they think. But he’ll be okay. He was so lucky. You were both so, so lucky.”

As Delia began to cry, Sky searched Callie’s face for the rest of the story. “Nicky Silva? Dante? Did either of them make it?”

Callie shook her head. “The first blast, which Sami thinks was C-4, took them both. Clarkson and Flores received Sami’s text with the recording of Dante’s confession. There’ll be no punishment now aside from his premature death. But maybe we can do something to help his sister.”

Sky liked the sound of that. Making sure Dante’s sister was taken care of—without any involvement in organized crime—righted the situation as much as such a tragedy could be righted.

But as she sat in the back of the ambulance, she was incredibly pleased to spot another familiar face.

A short distance away, inside one of the FBI’s SUVs, sat Ashley. She refused to make eye contact.

She knows she’s busted. She’s done.

Lieutenant Clarkson’s round figure filled Sky’s vision, blocking her view of Ashley. “Well, now. I must say, young lady, you’ve made quite the impression on this police force. And in particular, this old lieutenant here.” His good-natured tone and calming smile helped to ease some of her rage.

But Sky still wanted to strangle the life from Ashley Duncan.

Of course, she couldn’t. Not unless she wanted to prebook her own cell at Rikers Island. But a close second would be seeing that woman get sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

Sky seethed. “Tell me you have everything you need to put Ashley Duncan away for the rest of her life.”

“Well, we’re piecing together what we have and looking to tie it with previous cases.” Clarkson’s tone was light, but Sky picked up on the eagerness behind his words. Maybe he wanted to get the book thrown at Ashley as much as she did. “I’d say this case is pretty much in the bag, at least from where I’m standing.”

“Good. Because she needs to go away. Forever.” Sky lifted her hand to point at Ashley, but a shooting pain through her shoulder stopped her from fully extending her arm. She hissed as her muscles strained to cooperate.

“Easy now. You need to heal. Got pretty banged up in there.” Clarkson tapped her hand with his thick fingers and gently pressed her arm down. “The JTF is on this like a dog with a bone. Don’t you worry.”

“Thanks.” Sky looked over at the second ambulance, where Javier was getting an IV.

“Relax. Everyone is going to be okay.” Clarkson met her gaze, eyes full of kindness. “Sami is already at the hospital. They’ll stitch him up good. Might have to be saddled to a desk for a few months, but he’ll be all right. There’s nothing for you to worry about right now.”

“Can’t help it. Sorry.” Sky dropped her head and took a breath. Even with the assurance, she still struggled to control the ache in her heart. She’d come so close to losing Javier. She never wanted to go through that again. “We almost lost him. All because of her.”

“I know. And trust me, Agent Flores and I are going to make sure she sees justice.” Clarkson held Sky’s eyes even as tears blurred her vision.

Sky managed a small smile as she nodded. “Thank you. I mean it.”

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “All I need to do now is take your statement, and you can go home and rest up, all right?”

“Okay. Sure.” Rest was the last thing on her mind. Once she and Javier were cleared, she was grabbing hold of the love of her life and never letting go.

“I mean it, Ms. Stryker. Rest.” The stern command from Clarkson snapped her back to attention.

“Yes, sir.”

Maybe a little recuperation wasn’t such a bad idea. At least until Maria started her on the marathon book tour. In this moment, Sky could barely fathom the idea.

But until then, she planned to spend every moment she could in bed with Javier. Her boyfriend. Her forever.

34

Sky could hardly contain her tears as the string quartet came to life. Delia appeared at the end of the aisle. A cascading bouquet of peach, white, and red roses spilled from her clasped hands.

The day was long anticipated but had always felt too distant. Sky wasn’t prepared for the way her emotions overwhelmed her. She’d spent the last six months touring the country in the promotion of her book. Though she’d helped with wedding planning through videoconferences and text messages, she’d only just come back into town a week before the big day.

As she stood there watching her friend walk toward her future with Sami, everything seemed surreal.

Marriage was fine for most people, but Sky had always feared giving her heart away. At least completely. Delia, however, appeared to have no apprehension at all as she practically floated down the aisle.

Her best friend was a vision—not that Sky would have expected less—in a corset-topped, billowing ball gown made to order. The dress was a gift from Javier and the first in GDL’s newest line of wedding attire.

As thoughtful as he was practical, Javier had found a way to use his friends’ celebration to help the company’s bottom line and keep costs for Sami and Delia down.

The entire wedding party was wearing GDL attire. Bridesmaids wore peach, with Sky as maid of honor and Javier as best man in a rich rust color that matched the darker flowers in Delia’s bouquet. Sami, too, carried the colors, looking especially dapper in his own rust-colored suit, white shirt, and pale-peach tie.

Being a model, Delia was at home strutting in fancy clothes, but this was special. Even with camera shutters clicking, the transformative energy of Delia’s journey up the petal-strewn aisle shined through. Sky couldn’t quite put her finger on what made it so different.

The model glowed like a goddess as she moved, her dark, grown-out hair cascading around her face in beachy waves that nearly tickled the tops of her bare shoulders.

All around the room, cameras clicked as photographers from wedding magazines and the couple’s personal wedding photographer worked to get every angle of the beautiful ceremony.

As Delia joined Sami, the music stopped.

Sky reached out and took the bouquet from Delia. “You got this, girl.”

Not that Delia needed any encouragement. From the moment she and Sami got together, they’d been a match made in heaven. Delia adored Sami with every fiber of her being. It only took a glance to see the feeling was mutual.

The lovestruck gleam in Sami’s eyes had never faded. Not for a moment during the whole time Sky had known them. Even as he trembled, taking Delia’s hands in his, it was clear that she was the most important person in his life.

Callie, who was ordained and serving as their officiant, stepped forward and took the couple’s hands into her own. “Welcome, friends and family.”

The hall went silent, except for the continuous clicking of shutters as cameras captured the moment.

“And various media publications.” Callie nodded to the army of photographers stationed to her left and right. “We’re all here to celebrate the long-awaited joining of these two wonderful people.”

Delia shot a nervous glance backward before turning her attention to Callie, but Sami’s eyes didn’t stray from the object of his desire.

“I cannot think of a more perfect union. I’ve had the privilege of watching Delia Shaw and Sami Hayat’s love grow through trials and tribulations that most married couples would not withstand. Together, they have weathered many a storm and come out stronger with each challenge.”

Callie’s words had tears welling in Sky’s eyes. All the memories. The cases they’d worked on. The pain, loss, and success.

They’d all been through so many storms. And just as Callie said, Sami and Delia had weathered them all. Their love and trust kept petty issues like jealousy and misunderstandings at bay. Unlike most couples, they never shied away from being honest, even when it might have been easier to tell a little white lie.

Theirs was the kind of relationship that seemed like a fairy tale from the outside, but Sky knew the truth. Their authenticity was exactly the kind of hard work that made them so strong. They were willing to face the ugliness head-on rather than ignore it. All the cards were on the table when they fought.

Glancing past the happy couple, Sky met Javier’s eyes. She couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face as she fixed her loving gaze on him. Delia was the reason she’d finally allowed her walls to come down. If not for her friend’s tactful nudging, Sky might have never given Javier the chance to become the love of her life.

“The bride and groom have chosen to write their own vows,” Callie announced to the assembled mass. She handed the microphone to Sami.

He cleared his throat and pulled a slip of paper from the inner pocket of his jacket. With a nod to Sky, he sent a silent thanks for helping him with words he was about to say.

“Delia,” his voice was steady but thick with emotion, “from the moment I met you, I knew my life had changed. I didn’t understand it at first…how someone so fierce, so radiant, could look at a guy like me and see someone worth knowing. Worth loving.”

Delia blinked fast, her lips already trembling.

“You are the most generous, maddening, stunning human I’ve ever known. You challenge me. You calm me. You make me laugh when I want to punch a wall and somehow make me feel safe just by being in the room.”

As he spoke, Sami gazed into Delia’s eyes as if nothing else in the world existed except for her.

The way it should be.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he brushed it away.

“I’ve watched you bring light to every person around you. You see the good in people, even me, on days I couldn’t see it myself. Being loved by you has changed how I see the world. It’s made me want to be better. Not because you expect it, but because you believe in it.”

Emotion blurred Sky’s vision. She might have written some of the words, but he spoke the truth of them into existence.

Sami paused, breath catching. When he continued, there was a tremble in his voice. “I can’t promise a life without struggle or storms. But I can promise this…I will show up. I will fight for us. I will love you, completely and fiercely, for every day I get to be yours. And if I ever forget the words, just look at me the way you’re looking at me right now, and I’ll remember.”

Javier smiled at Sky again and gave her a sly thumbs-up. He’d caught her scribbling out that speech a few nights earlier.

Taking the mic from Sami, Callie handed it—along with a folded piece of paper—to Delia.

Delia sniffed, hands trembling as she unfolded her vows. “Sami, how do I put into words what you mean to me?” She took his hand. “You’re my best friend…but that doesn’t even begin to cover it. With you, I’m more than just a pretty face or a headline. I’m seen. I’m safe. I’m me.”

Murmurs of adoration filled the room as Delia took a breath.

“You didn’t just accept my quirks…you made space for them. You met me in the weird, danced with me in it, and built a home there with me.” She laughed through a sniffle, her voice wobbling. “You say I’m the one with the gifts, but if it weren’t for your enormous, stubborn, ridiculous heart, I’m not sure I ever would’ve had the courage to use them.”

Around the hall, Sky caught misty eyes and shared tissues. Even Callie’s eyes gleamed.

Tears streaked Delia’s cheeks, but her smile was radiant. “You are my mirror and my anchor. You remind me who I am when the world tries to make me forget. I don’t need riches. I don’t need perfect. I just need you. Because with you, I already have everything.”

Sky sighed, knowing her best friend meant every word.

Delia squeezed Sami’s hand, gaze locked on his. “I love you with everything I’ve got, and I promise to show you that love in a thousand little ways, every single day, for the rest of our beautiful, messy, wonderful lives.”

Tears dripped from Delia’s eyes, but her smile was bright enough to light the entire room.

Lip quivering, Callie reached for the microphone.

Sky stepped in with a handkerchief to dab the happy tears from Delia’s cheeks before the two exchanged rings. “That was beautiful.”

Callie beamed with pride as she took Delia’s and Sami’s hands in hers and finished the ceremony. A few minutes later, she proudly pronounced them husband and wife.

Everyone in attendance was on their feet, clapping and cheering for their union.

Sky stole another glance at her boyfriend. Maybe she was caught up in the moment as the newly bonded couple shared their first kiss, but for the first time, she wondered if she and Javier might one day marry and have their own happily ever after.

She’d always feared that kind of commitment, but seeing Delia and Sami, it didn’t seem like such a terrifying prospect any longer. Besides, she and her friends had overcome far worse dangers since she’d arrived in the Big Apple. And when it came to facing anything scary, it always paid to have a partner. Maybe Sky had been thinking about relationships and marriage the wrong way this whole time. Giving her heart away didn’t have to be a liability.

Music swelled as the couple took their first steps down the aisle hand in hand as husband and wife.

The joy on their faces was infectious, and Sky couldn’t hold back her grin as she took Javier’s arm and followed the happy couple, ready to see where the next phase of their lives would take them.

Somewhere behind the rows of smiling guests, movement caught her attention.

Two security guards stood watch near the media, keeping the semi-high-profile event running smoothly. A third man approached, tapping one on the shoulder, and handed over a small piece of paper.

All three uniformed men frowned as they read it.

“Let it go, Sky.” Javier gave her a gentle tug, keeping them on the move. “It could be anything. A burst pipe in the reception hall. A traffic jam. Missing cocktail shrimp. You’re off the clock, remember?”

Sky grinned up at him, offering a wink and a nonchalant shrug. “I’m a tell-all writer, dearest boyfriend. My job is never done.”

The End

Turns out, happily ever after isn’t just

for fairy tales.

I’ve got mine. And this time, no one’s stealing it.

Love, Sky

WHAT’S NEXT?

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How did it all start for Sky Stryker?

Before she moved to The Big Apple, Sky Stryker was just a small-town girl whose shattered life was spiraling out of control. Discover how tragedy shaped her into the relentless investigative writer she is today, driven to uncover the truth and bring justice to light. Dive into Sky's transformative journey in this exclusive short story, completely free. Interested?

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I have a new book available.

If you loved Fatal Perfection, I’d love to introduce you to my Amelia Storm Series.

Storm’s Fury (Amelia Storm Series: Book 1)

Military veteran Amelia Storm returns to her hometown of Chicago when her beloved police officer brother is killed in the “line of duty. Now she is a special agent with the FBI. No longer a scared girl, she vows to avenge her brother and do what she can to end the city’s deep wells of corruption. A television documentary puts a spotlight on a four-year-old kidnapping. Amelia and her colleagues in the Organized Crime Division know there’s more to the girl’s case than meets the eye. The twelve-year-old wasn’t just abducted. She was targeted by a human trafficking ring. Intrigued?

Click HERE to download Storm’s Fury now!

SERIES READING ORDER

Fatal Beginnings (Sky Stryker Series: Prequel)

Fatal Secrets (Sky Stryker Series: Book One)

Fatal Lies (Sky Stryker Series: Book Two)

Fatal Beauty (Sky Stryker Series: Book Three)

Fatal Massacre (Sky Stryker Series: Book Four)

Fatal Act (Sky Stryker Series: Book Five)

Fatal Terror (Sky Stryker Series: Book Six)

Fatal Turn (Sky Stryker Series: Book Seven)

Fatal Wound (Sky Stryker Series: Book Eight)

Fatal Perfection (Sky Stryker Series: Book Nine)

MORE BY THE AUTHOR

New Series

Genevieve Steel Series

Claire Legacy Series

Crime Fiction

Journey Russo Series (Completed)

Ellie Kline Series (Completed)

Winter Black Series (Completed)

Autumn Trent Series

Emma Last Series (Completed)

Charli Cross Series (Completed)

Shadow Island Series (Completed)

Amelia Storm Series (Completed)

Stella Knox Series

Sky Stryker Series (Completed)

A Villain’s Story Series (Completed)

Kylie Hatfield Series (Completed)

Psychological Thrillers

Don’t Tell

Gone Viral

Her Perfect Lie

UPCOMING NEW SERIES

Indie Reign Series (pre-order now)

In Sherwood County, Detective Indira "Indie" Reign and her K-9 partner, Broc, are an unstoppable team—both a little rough around the edges, fiercely loyal, and brilliant at what they do. Broc isn’t just a partner; he’s family, and together, they tackle the town’s darkest secrets. But when the cases start hitting close to home, Indie realizes the biggest mystery may be her own past. As bodies turn up and the line between friend and foe blurs, Indie and Broc will have to outwit villains who prey on innocence—while Indie confronts the truth behind her family’s disappearance.

Olympia Smith Series (coming in 2025)

Journey to Hawaii with FBI agent Olympia Smith. She might look like the all-American girl next door, but beneath her easygoing vibe lies a mind obsessed with puzzles and patterns. Using her sharp investigative skills and expertise in mentalism to solve Hawaii’s most violent crimes, Olympia’s greatest mystery is her own past. Orphaned at three with no memory of her family, her search for the truth will lead her into a dangerous web of secret societies, international espionage, and a family legacy steeped in betrayal. As bodies drop and secrets rise from Hawaii’s shadowy underbelly, Olympia will discover that some puzzles were never meant to be solved.

Ivy Chance Series (coming in 2025)

When Ivy moves to Key West for a fresh start with the FBI, she’s focused on building a new life for herself and her four-year-old daughter. But fate has other plans. A chance encounter with someone who looks exactly like her turns Ivy’s world upside down. What begins as a shocking meeting with a supposed doppelgänger reveals a deeper truth—they’re twins, torn apart by madness and lies at birth, brought together by fate. But the secrets that kept them apart for so long aren’t done yet. And some truths are more dangerous than the killers Ivy hunts.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

How does one adequately express gratitude to all those who have transformed a shared dream into a stunning reality? Let us attempt to do just that.

First and foremost, our families deserve our deepest thanks. Their unwavering support and encouragement have been our bedrock, allowing us the time and energy to translate our collective imagination into the words that fill these pages. Their belief in our vision has been a constant source of strength and inspiration.

As coauthors, our journey has been uniquely collaborative and rewarding. Now, with Mary also embracing the additional role of publisher, our adventure has taken on an exciting new dimension. This transition from solely writing to also publishing has been both a challenge and a joy, opening doors to share our work more directly with you, our readers.

We are immensely grateful to the entire team at Mary Stone Publishing — a group who believed in our potential from the very beginning. Their commitment extends beyond editing our words; it encompasses the tireless efforts of designers, marketers, and support staff, all dedicated to bringing our stories to life. Their expertise, creativity, and passion have been vital in capturing the essence of our tales and sharing them with the world.

However, our greatest appreciation is reserved for you, our beloved readers. You took a chance on our book, generously sharing your most precious asset—your time. It is our fervent hope that the pages of this book have rewarded that generosity, offering you a journey worth taking and memories that linger.

With all our love and heartfelt appreciation,

Mary & Bella

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary Stone

Nestled in the serene Blue Ridge Mountains of East Tennessee, Mary Stone crafts her stories surrounded by the natural beauty that inspires her. What was once a home filled with the lively energy of her sons has now become a peaceful writer's retreat, shared with cherished pets and the vivid characters of her imagination.

As her sons grew and welcomed wonderful daughters-in-law into the family, Mary's life entered a quieter phase, rich with opportunities for deep creative focus. In this tranquil environment, she weaves tales of courage, resilience, and intrigue, each story a testament to her evolving journey as a writer.

From childhood fears of shadowy figures under the bed to a profound understanding of humanity's real-life villains, Mary's style has been shaped by the realization that the most complex antagonists often hide in plain sight. Her writing is characterized by strong, multifaceted heroines who defy traditional roles, standing as equals among their peers in a world of suspense and danger.

Mary's career has blossomed from being a solitary author to establishing her own publishing house—a significant milestone that marks her growth in the literary world. This expansion is not just a personal achievement but a reflection of her commitment to bring thrilling and thought-provoking stories to a wider audience. As an author and publisher, Mary continues to challenge the conventions of the thriller genre, inviting readers into gripping tales filled with serial killers, astute FBI agents, and intrepid heroines who confront peril with unflinching bravery.

Each new story from Mary's pen—or her publishing house—is a pledge to captivate, thrill, and inspire, continuing the legacy of the imaginative little girl who once found wonder and mystery in the shadows.

Discover more about Mary Stone on her website.

www.authormarystone.com

Bella Cross

Bella Cross spent the past fifteen years teaching bored teenagers all about the Dewey Decimal System while inhaling the dust from the library books she loves so much. With each book she read, a little voice in her head would say, "You can do that too." So, she did. A thousand heart palpitations later, she is thrilled to release her first novel with the support of her husband, twin girls, and the gigantic Newfoundland she rescued warming her feet.

Connect with Mary online