Cady stared out the window at the woods surrounding the secluded farmhouse. It was located on twenty-five acres out in the middle of nowhere, which made it a perfect place to hide out until things blew over.
She pulled her arms around her, the emotional scars from the past two months far outweighing any physical scars she’d obtained.
“You should move away from the window,” Vann, the marshal in charge of overseeing her safety, said.
She was a detective. She could make these choices for herself. Yet she straightened the curtain and backed away. She wasn’t sure what she’d been wanting to see anyway.
Members of DH-7 emerging from the woods with guns, ready to kill her? Raul coming back from the dead? Thugs dragging bats across the ground, headed her way?
Cady still couldn’t get the sound out of her head. When she closed her eyes and lay down at night, she could hear the wood scraping against the asphalt. Could feel the pain she’d been anticipating.
Maybe that’s what she deserved.
Deserved? Where had that thought come from?
She shuddered.
Whenever she let her thoughts drift, she saw them coming for her. Just like they’d come for Samantha.
Samantha . . .
She’d been a member of DH-7 who’d been desperate—but unable—to get out. She’d realized she was in over her head and that the gang was bad news. The police had turned the woman, and Samantha had agreed to fake her death so Cady could earn Raul’s trust. Samantha had been promised safety and security, and she’d been whisked off to a secure location.
But DH-7 found her somehow. She’d gone on the run, but they’d found her again.
And that was when she’d been killed.
Cady shivered. She imagined it all playing out. She pictured how Samantha must have been feeling—the cold, stark fear—as she recalled her broken promise to the woman.
Cady should have done more to protect her. How had the breech happened?
“Mr. Samson is on his way,” Vann told her.
Her heart raced a minute. Ryan? He was coming here? She knew he’d take all the right security precautions. She also knew if he was coming, it was important.
She hadn’t seen him since all of this went down. No, she’d been whisked from the scene of the crime to this safe house on the outskirts of town. The FBI had spent hours questioning her and finding out everything she knew about the gang.
She’d collected evidence. Pictures. Fingerprints. Recorded conversations. Everything they needed to put the four men at the head of DH-7 behind bars for a long time. Not for being gang members. That wasn’t illegal. But they were going to jail for murder. For selling drugs. On weapons charges. And that was just the beginning.
Cady’s testimony would be essential to helping put them away for life.
Ten minutes later, Ryan arrived. Handsome, debonair Ryan who had the whole world in front of him. No one could deny how intelligent he was. He’d graduated at the top of his class. Had passed the bar on the first try. He had his pick of jobs and wanted to work for the government as a DA instead.
Not only that, but he was a head turner with his thick, dark hair. He had a well-cared for body, flawless skin, and a perfectly symmetrical face.
He nodded an aloof greeting when he walked in the door.
That was right. No one knew he and Cady were dating. Ryan thought it was better this way until after the elections, where Ryan was planning on running for prosecuting attorney for King County. Cady’s dad could be an alienating figure, and Ryan didn’t want that fact to sway voters.
So they’d been dating in secret for four months. Two of those months, Cady had been deep undercover with DH-7. It wasn’t an ideal way to start a relationship, but when you had something good, you fought for it. Go to war for the things important to you.
“Can we have a minute?” Ryan asked.
She nodded, and they slipped into a downstairs bedroom. As soon as the door was closed, he pulled her into a hug. The scent of his spicy cologne filled her. She wished the smell was comforting, but for some reason, she’d never liked it.
But cologne wasn’t a deal breaker. That would be petty.
“How are you?” he whispered.
How did she even begin to answer that? “I’ve been better.”
He pulled away and cupped her face, his blue eyes searching hers. “You look . . .”
She frowned, already knowing the answer. “Terrible. I look terrible.”
She knew she had a black eye and a cut on her forehead. Her skin was pale and her hair hadn’t recovered from the harsh, unkempt look she’d utilized while undercover. She’d traded her business suits and neat hair pulled into a bun for some black sweat pants, an old white T-shirt, and a sloppy ponytail.
Maybe it wasn’t any of those things that really made her look terrible. Maybe it was the anxiety that churned inside her, keeping her up at night and replaying the worst moments of her life over the past two months.
Mostly, she remembered how close to death she’d felt. She remembered the things she’d had to do while undercover. Things she wouldn’t ever speak of. Ever.
“What did they do to you, Cady?” Ryan muttered, studying her face. “What happened while you were undercover?”
Nausea rose in her at the question. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Cady wanted another hug, another reassurance. Instead, Ryan dropped his hands and paced away, getting down to business.
“You did good work,” he said. “The evidence you brought in is substantial enough to put them away for a long time. But it’s going to be your testimony that really seals the deal.”
“I’m glad my time undercover wasn’t all for nothing. How long do I need to stay here?” She was anxious to get back out in the field. To resume her life as a detective. To see her dog, Colombo, to explore her relationship with Ryan and to search for Lucy’s killer.
“We’re still assessing the situation. Your dad is concerned about you.”
Or was he concerned about his image? Worried about how this would affect him and his companies? A pang of bitterness resonated in Cady.
Ryan stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Listen, I have to go. I just had to see you for myself.”
She nodded, her bitterness turning to disappointment.
She should be used to being alone, she supposed. The only child of two absentee parents who pushed her, not to have a social life, but to engage in self-improvement and studying. They’d created someone nearly as aloof and cold as they were—a robot whose conscience felt like a self-help book.
Cassidy had always in some way felt alone, especially since Lucy had died. Lucy had been the one person who’d understood her. Lucy’s parents had also been wealthy, and together they’d called themselves tycoon orphans. Lucy was one of the only people who understood what it was like to grow up in a house like that.
Ryan planted a kiss on her lips and then briskly left the room. As he stepped out and into eyesight of Vann, he acted like nothing had happened.
And that only made Cady feel even more empty.
Ten minutes after he was gone, Cady sat down on the couch and pulled a blanket around her. There were few things worse than having nothing to do but contend with your thoughts. She’d always thrown herself into her work, into proving herself, into trying to make a difference.
This was like a strange new world to her.
Just as she closed her eyes and began to ruminate on things she should have done differently in her life, a window shattered.
Her head swung toward the door just as gunmen invaded the house.