In this Honor Bound romance, a perilous change of heart looms for two former lovers...

Exactly why should P.I. Vince Sutton take his ex-wife’s case? Because she, assistant district attorney Simone Armstrong, put his brother in jail? Because the ambitious spitfire still drives him crazy? No, he’ll take it because “The Avenging Angel” makes him a deal he can’t refuse. Sparks fly when Vince works all-too-closely with Simone to locate her missing key witness...but in the process, they are drawn into a cold case. As much as he tries, Vince can’t deny that he’s never gotten over beautiful Simone, but can he admit his feelings to her—and himself? And can he save her from the danger that’s heading their way?

“Careful, Simone. Baiting me will only make me do something you’ll regret.”

“Like what?” She crossed her arms over her chest and inched up that defiant chin of hers.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

“Yes, you are, aren’t you?” He moved in, cupped the back of her head and dropped his mouth onto hers. He wasn’t certain who was more surprised.

There was only one thing more invigorating than kissing an expectant Simone and that was kissing an angry one. He drew her so tightly against him he wasn’t certain whose heart was beating double time.

She nipped at his lip gently. He grinned even as he pulled back and opened his eyes to stare into hers.

“Anytime you want to add sex to the deal, you let me know.”

She lifted a hand to his face, stroked gentle fingers down his cheek before she curled her fingers under his chin. “I hope you got that out of your system, because it’s not going to happen again.”

* * *

Be sure to check out the next stories in this exciting miniseries!

Honor Bound—Seeking justice...and falling in love

* * *

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Dear Reader,

I’ve often wondered at what age we are most vulnerable as children. At what point can something happen that’s so devastating that we are changed from whatever fate meant us to be? For me, I was nine and the event was my parents’ divorce. I can trace so much of what makes me who I am directly to that event.

When the idea of the Honor Bound trilogy first took hold, I knew: three friends had survived something tragic, their childhood friend’s murder. From a psychological and writing perspective, the idea that Simone, Allie and Eden would deal with Chloe’s murder in entirely different ways made writing these stories even more exciting.

When Simone Armstrong first appeared in More Than a Lawman, I realized she would do whatever it takes to protect those she considers “hers.” As a prosecutor, her dedication gives her what she needs: the opportunity to put dangerous criminals behind bars. But at what cost to herself? I could find only one answer: her marriage. Can you hear me cackling with glee at the discovery of who her hero had to be?

You guessed it. Her ex-husband.

Vince Sutton fell hard for Simone from the moment they met, but as a former soldier who continues to fight his own personal battles, he wasn’t a man used to taking second place. And that opened up a lot of those “conflict” doors.

I’m a fan of reunion stories and as soon as I’d found these two characters, I knew I’d struck gold. It’s a serious battle of wills and one I hope you enjoy reading.

Anna J.

Reunited with the P.I.

Anna J. Stewart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANNA J. STEWART, a USA TODAY and national bestselling author, loves to spend a free weekend curled up in her favorite chair with Snickers, her cat, remote in hand, flipping through whatever streaming service her Wi-Fi will connect to. A geek at heart, she loves blow-’em-up action and sci-fi movies and has rarely met a superhero she didn’t like. Anna writes both sweet contemporary and romantic suspense for Harlequin and believes that, when all is said and done, there’s nothing better than writing about falling in love, with a little action thrown in for good measure.

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For Brenda Novak

who never let me forget this was the dream.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

“Miss Armstrong, is the state ready to proceed with opening statements?”

Simone gripped the gold-tipped fountain pen her father had given her for law school graduation, a graduation he couldn’t be bothered to attend. An unfamiliar rush of uncertainty flooded her body and pulled her to her feet. She ignored the not-so-subtle murmurs of the packed courtroom along with the amused gleam of challenge in high-priced defense attorney Silvio Poltanic’s beady-eyed stare.

“Respectfully, Your Honor...” Thanks to the five years she’d spent in the Sacramento County DA’s office, none of the unease in her belly eked out in her practiced, determined voice. “The district attorney’s office would like to request a week’s postponement.”

“Your Honor!” Poltanic pushed his significant bulk out of the wooden chair. His nasal voice made Simone dig her manicured nails deep into her palm. “The jury has been chosen. My client has been waiting for over four months for his day in court. We are ready to proceed immediately.”

“And we will. In one week. I apologize, Your Honor. I take full responsibility for my lack of preparedness.” The words nearly sliced through her. There hadn’t been a day in all of Simone’s twenty-nine years that she hadn’t been prepared for whatever life threw at her, but even she hadn’t expected the call from Mara Orlov’s protective detail this morning letting her know that sometime in the last twelve hours her star witness had vanished.

“I do see where the original trial date was set for next month.” Judge Buford glanced over his wire-rim glasses from Simone to the files on his desk. The tension in Simone’s chest eased even as she sensed Poltanic’s blood pressure rise from across the aisle. “I also understand the district attorney recently let three of his full-time investigators go.”

“One of whom was assisting me on the case, Your Honor.” It wasn’t a lie...exactly. She had been assigned an investigator when the fraud investigation into Denton and his business practices first landed on her desk. Before Christmas. Last year.

“As it is a Thursday and there’s no court tomorrow, I’m inclined to grant the prosecution’s request,” Judge Buford said.

“But—”

“In light of that, Judge.” Poltanic held out a hand to calm his protesting, panicking and suddenly pale client. “I would like to revisit the issue of bail for Mr. Denton. As I’ve previously argued, he has a wife, children.” He motioned to Marilyn Denton and their two teenage sons sitting in the gallery behind their father. The older boy had a defiant, controlled expression on his face while his brother looked...lost. “Along with a business that needs tending, not to mention Mr. Denton has strong ties to the community.”

“The charges levied against Mr. Denton certainly constitute strong ties to some in the community.” Simone shifted her focus to the judge. She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of sympathy when it came to the Denton family. It wasn’t their fault who they’d been saddled with. Well, his sons at least. After a few run-ins with Marilyn Denton, Simone had little doubt his wife knew exactly the type of man she’d married. “I would remind the court the business Mr. Denton is so concerned with would be the same one we believe he established specifically to launder illicit funds.” Simone took a deep breath. She hated having to lay even one card on the table, let alone half her hand, but she needed time to find Mara. “Our ongoing investigation has uncovered multiple criminal connections that would make Mr. Denton’s fleeing the jurisdiction a definite possibility.”

“Then might I suggest you get on with presenting your case instead of trying new stalling tactics?” Poltanic sneered.

Simone didn’t react. She kept her eyes on the judge, with his wrinkled grandfatherly face and kind eyes. Judge Buford was, above all, a civil man. He appreciated patience and respect. Only the law itself ranked higher on the acceptable scale than professionalism.

“Will one week give you the time to complete your preparedness, Miss Armstrong?” Judge Buford leaned his arms on his desk. The skepticism she saw in his gaze told her he didn’t buy the “I’m not prepared” argument for a second.

“I certainly hope so, Your Honor.” Before she crushed the fountain pen and sent ink exploding all over the table and her white silk suit, she set it down. “You have my word.”

Poltanic’s derisive snort was the last bit of ammunition needed as Judge Buford slid a disapproving glance the defense attorney’s way.

“Well, let’s be certain, shall we.” The judge offered a tight smile. “I’ll give you until a week from Monday to get your case in order.”

Simone’s lips twitched. “Thank you very much, Your Honor.”

“Your Honor!” Poltanic puffed up to the point Simone worried the buttons on his strained vest would become lethal weapons.

Judge Buford held up his hand, gestured for his court clerk to approach. Simone curled her toes in her shoes, not an easy feat given the sharp points on the designer pumps.

“We will reconvene in ten days ready for opening statements. If,” Judge Buford said with a pointed look at Simone, “at that time the DA requests another delay, I’m going to give serious consideration to Mr. Poltanic’s request for bail. Get it together, Miss Armstrong. That’s all for today.” He banged his gavel and brought an end to Simone’s overly crappy morning. “Court dismissed.”

“Care to comment for the Sacramento Journal, Simone?” Benedict Russell, recently promoted feature crime reporter held out his cell phone like a recorder. His hawk-like brown eyes and sallow skin reminded her of a bird of prey swooping in on yet another one of its victims.

“On the record?” She waited until a flare of hope flashed in his gaze before she arched a brow and snapped her case shut. “I’m just an ineffectual, pedantic political pawn, Russell. Those were your words last year, weren’t they?” She hoisted her briefcase off the table and offered him her best “I could kill you with my pinky finger” smile. “I can’t imagine your readers are interested in anything I have to say.”

“They’ll be quite interested in what the valley’s own Avenging Angel has to say, actually.” He smirked at the moniker he’d tagged her with.

“Don’t call me that.” She might approach every case with her eye aimed on justice, but that didn’t mean she had anything resembling an angel’s wings. Far from it. She did whatever she could to balance the scale for victims. She wasn’t vengeful. Just...determined.

“Hey, it’s not my fault it’s caught on.” But didn’t he look proud of himself. “And you’re wrong. Our readers are more than interested in what someone who’s thinking about running for district attorney has to say.”

Had Simone not spent most of her life keeping a mask of impassiveness in place, she might have tripped over her stiletto heels. How had The Troll found out when she hadn’t even made up her mind?

“No comment.” She pushed through the gate, unable to avoid the tear-filled accusatory glare Marilyn Denton aimed at her as she headed from the courtroom. She couldn’t matter, Simone told herself. Denton was a criminal. His so-called businesses had helped other, more dangerous criminals. She was certain of it. He belonged behind bars. End of story.

Russell’s scurrying footsteps behind her called to mind a rat targeting a particularly nice pile of garbage. Before she reached the stairs, she spun around and held up her hand. Russell skidded to a stop and nearly plowed into her.

“Did I stutter? No comment, Russell.” She needed to remind her assistant Kyla to be extra vigilant in manning her phone. She wouldn’t put it past the reporter to get someone else to do his dirty work by trying to scam a statement.

“So this delay isn’t the DA’s means of stalling for a deal with Paul Denton?” Russell demanded.

Anger washed over her as the last trace of humor faded from her face. What was it with everyone thinking there was a deal to be made? First the DA, then his political advisor, now Russell? “There will be no deal.” Shoot. She’d just given a statement. She glanced around the slick, tiled hallway, through the crowd of overworked public defenders and disgruntled potential jurors. May as well make her morning a complete loss. She motioned to Russell’s phone and waited for him to click the recorder back on. “It is my intention to see Mr. Denton pay for his crimes by serving a significant prison sentence. The maximum sentence. If he chooses to try to mitigate that time by offering evidence against those he’s worked for and with, we will be more than happy to take that into consideration after his trial. But again, there will be no deal.”

“And if I called DA Lawson and asked him to comment?” Russell was practically salivating at the idea.

“He’ll tell you the same thing.” The chances of Benedict Russell making it past Ward Lawson’s gargoyle of a receptionist were slim to none. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.” Beginning with finding out how the hell her witness had managed to disappear despite two experienced deputies sitting outside her apartment.

She was downstairs and outside in record time, listening to a stream of messages through her earpiece. Days like this, when the DA himself left a terse “we need to talk” message on her voice mail, Simone would give anything for her office not to be less than a few feet away from the courthouse. They’d already discussed deal options for Denton, none of which sat well with Simone. While the DA hadn’t pushed—exactly—she knew Lawson would be happy to make this case go away as quickly as possible. She’d offered to step down, publicly of course. But the obvious discord in the DA’s office signified it was something the beleaguered Lawson couldn’t afford, with his stagnant approval ratings. The Denton case remained hers.

For now.

Despite Poltanic’s accusation making perfect sense, Simone wasn’t interested in stalling.

Unless of course said stalling included stopping for a triple-shot latte from her favorite coffee cart on the corner.

Simone might, as Dr. Allie Hollister—one of her best friends—often accused, live life as part rabbit with her penchant for salads, nuts and an inordinate amount of blended juices, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a weakness. Especially on a day like today.

Simone looked forlornly at the chocolate croissant peeking out at her from the pastry case. Okay, two weaknesses.

Coffee in one hand and warm, gooey croissant in the other, she slowed her pace and crossed the street, detouring to the underground parking lot for one of those quick, private pull-it-together sessions she’d started holding in her car during law school. Between the adrenaline rush of getting her delay and the dawning realization that Mara Orlov had turned her case upside down, she needed a few minutes to decompress before tackling whatever her boss—and fellow prosecutors in the office—were going to lay on her.

She couldn’t shake the feeling her time as the office’s rising star was about to come to a screeching halt.

She dumped her briefcase in the passenger seat, stashed her cup in the holder and leaned her head back. One, two, three deep breaths later, she finally felt the calm descend...

Ah. There. Now she could savor the combination of chocolate and caffeine.

She sipped. And nibbled. And just about swooned.

Her phone rang. Simone groaned. Leave it to the DA’s office to make sure reception was crystal-clear in their parking lot.

Seeing Allie’s grinning face pop up in caller ID had Simone smiling in spite of herself. She tapped her ear. “What’s up, Al? I’ve got about five minutes before I have to face a firing squad.”

“I tried to catch you at the courthouse, but you didn’t hear me.”

“Sorry.” Simone sank her teeth into the pastry and moaned. Wow, this was better than sex. “Bad morning in court. My brain’s a mess.”

“Must have been. Eden’s never going to believe you gave Benedict Russell five seconds let alone two and a half minutes.”

Simone could envision Allie’s trademark pixie smile shining from under her cap of dark hair. “Eden’s not up to believing anything until she gets back from her honeymoon.”

Allie laughed. “It’s just like Eden St. Claire to celebrate catching a pair of serial killers by getting married.”

The residual tension in Simone’s spine eased. “Our friend has always prided herself on being unpredictable. Why else would she leave journalism and have accepted that new job as a police consultant in their cold case division?” Eden and Allie. Simone smiled. Sometimes she swore her life began that first day in kindergarten when they’d found each other on the playground. Sisters from the start. Simone, Eden, Allie and...

Simone squeezed her eyes shut against the unwanted image of a freckle-faced, redheaded little girl with mismatched sneakers. Chloe. Simone brushed her finger against the heart pendant at her throat.

“You have a court case today?”

Allie sighed that exhausted sigh that normally took her weeks to build up to. “I’ve been consulting on a custody battle that’s getting nasty. This poor kid. Hearing her parents fight over her and their failures as human beings is taking its toll. She’s a sad little thing. Hard to believe her name is Hope.”

“How old is she?” Simone sipped her coffee and settled into BFF mode. Whatever was lurking upstairs could wait a few more minutes.

“Nine,” Allie said after a slight hesitation. “The age when everything changes.” Simone dug her manicured fingernails into the hem of her skirt. How well they knew. After twenty years of trying to put the murder of her childhood friend Chloe Evans behind her, behind them, Chloe’s killer had resurfaced and begun bestowing special “gifts” on her, Allie and Eden. The gifts she could handle, for the most part. It was the psychopath’s attention to their professional—and personal—lives that got to her. He’d wedged himself into Eden’s case, nearly costing an FBI agent his life. It was all Simone could do not to think about what Chloe’s killer might be planning next. As much as Simone agreed Chloe Evans’s case should be readdressed, the wounds that came with it weren’t ones Simone was in any hurry to revisit.

The pastry and coffee churned in her stomach as the image of wilted violets and pink stationery came to mind. Push it aside. Focus on the case. On Mara. On what you can control.

“You sound stressed. I take it you can’t do lunch today?” Allie asked.

“Any other day, Al, I swear. My case is circling the drain and I have massive damage control ahead of me. Ah, how about dinner tonight or tomorrow?”

“I’m leaving tonight for a conference in Los Angeles. How about next week after Eden and Cole get back?”

So it wasn’t a one-on-one she needed, but a community confab? “It does for me if it does for you. Allie...” she trailed off, almost afraid to ask. “You haven’t gotten any more notes, have you? This doesn’t have anything to do with Chloe’s killer, does it?”

“There’s been nothing since Chloe’s missing shoe was mailed to the police last month. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with that. Well, not directly. Just something that’s come up I need to talk out.”

“You know what?” Simone knew how much it took for Allie to ask for help. Their stalwart “take on anything” friend was one of the most logical, stable people Simone had ever known. She was also a terrible liar. “How about a late lunch? I can probably get out of the office around two—”

“It can wait, Simone,” Allie cut her off. “Honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. You have enough on your plate without adding my sudden insecurities to the mix.”

Since when did Allie feel insecure about anything? “I’m a phone call away, or a text.” Simone looked down at her phone as a second call came in—another from her boss. A headache pounded against the side of her head as if asking permission to be admitted. “Chin up, Al. The world isn’t used to seeing you frown.”

“How do you know I’m frowning?”

“Because I know you and Eden better than you know yourselves.” She hadn’t earned her mother hen reputation by accident. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah. Good luck with the boss.”

“I’m going to need it.” Simone disconnected and tested her stomach by plucking off another flaky bite of chocolaty goodness. She heaved an Allie-worthy sigh and leaned her arm on the door, rubbing her temple as she willed the caffeine to take her away.

The sharp knock on her window had her yelping. Coffee sloshed over the back of her hand, spattering the side of her white shirt, and left her seeing red. “Son of a—”

Simone leaned back and stared out at the familiar, slightly pudgy middle-aged face. “Russo?” The senior deputy who had been assigned to watch Mara stepped away as she shoved open the door. “What do you think you’re doing sneaking up on me like that?”

“I needed to talk to you.” He motioned her into the shadows. “Alone.”

“Well, nothing gets the attention of a single woman faster than stalking her in a parking garage.” Simone planted her hands on her hips and dipped her chin. After a calming breath, she looked at him, only then noticing he wasn’t in uniform. But he was wearing his sidearm. “Is there any news on Mara? Tell me you found her.”

“Can’t say that.” Russo’s eyes narrowed. “And I won’t be getting any updates since Ernie and I have been advised by our union rep not to discuss the investigation.”

“What investigation?” Simone crossed her arms as alarm bells clanged in her head. “It’s not your fault she’s rabbited.”

“Apparently that’s not how the higher-ups see it. Dereliction of duty was one of the phrases my boss and one of your lot from the DA’s office were throwing around. Dereliction, yeah, right.”

One of her lot? The hostility in his voice shoved her off-kilter. Russo was as easygoing as anyone she’d ever known. It was one reason she’d specifically asked for him where Mara was concerned.

“Ernie and I did everything by the book,” Russo continued. “From the time we parked in front of her apartment at six p.m. We did the routine checks, confirmed arrangements for this morning to bring her to court. She even made us a big thermos of coffee before she turned in around midnight.”

“Sounds like Mara,” Simone said. “Then what happened?”

Exhaustion crept over the deputy’s face as his anger seemed to abate. “One second we’re drinking coffee and eating oatmeal cookies, and the next, the sun’s streaming through our windshield and Mara’s gone. We didn’t even have a chance to get our bearings before we’re called into the station and put on indefinite administrative leave effective immediately.”

“You’re suggesting Mara drugged you.” There wasn’t any way to keep the disbelief out of her voice. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Show me one thing that’s made sense with this case from the get-go,” Russo said. “That's not even the weirdest part. As we started asking questions about this morning and tried to explain ourselves, our captain informs us the orders for our suspension came from a higher-up. We’re off the case.”

“And the higher-up he’s referring to is someone in my office?” Could this day really get any worse?

“My only other guess would be the Feds stuck their nose into the Denton case, but I haven’t heard one word about them sniffing around, have you?”

“No, I haven’t. Who was it you spoke with from the DA’s office?”

“Didn’t get his name but I’ve seen him around the last few months. I don’t know what happened last night with Mara, but in all my twenty years on the job, I’ve never once fallen asleep. I can only hope it was Mara who drugged us.”

“But what would she—”

“She’s gone, isn’t she? Our best guess is she wanted out. Maybe she came to it on her own, maybe she had help.” Concern and suspicion shone in his dark eyes. “I hate to think of anything happening to her, Simone. Especially when she was under our watch.”

Not just under their watch; Mara was her responsibility. Not that it had taken much convincing to get the young woman to testify against her former boss. Other than last-minute panic a couple of weeks ago, the recent college graduate had seen her involvement in the case as a grand adventure. How many times had Simone wished all her witnesses were as eager to help? “Wait. Back up a second. Did you say your boss called you to the station before you could report Mara as missing?”

“Now do you see why I wanted to talk to you away from your office?” Russo asked. “Whatever’s going on with your witness, with this case, someone’s putting their thumb on the scale. It’s like we’re five steps behind. It’s bad for Mara, she’s either out there alone getting into trouble, or...”

Simone held up her hand in defiance as guilt and fear rose. “We’re going to assume it was her choice to run until we have evidence to the contrary.” Simone had been distracted lately. Maybe she’d missed something with Mara. Maybe she hadn’t been as convincing as she’d thought. But the more Simone digested it, the more it didn’t make sense. How many times had Mara told her she was still running and crunching numbers, that she was determined to lock down every penny of money Paul Denton had funneled through his companies, both legitimate and shell? Simone had told her there was enough data already. But she hadn’t specifically warned her off.

Simone’s arms began to tremble and only then did she realize she’d clenched her fists so hard her muscles were rebelling. “You’re sure she didn’t give any indication she was going to bolt?”

“I’ve guarded my share of witnesses, Simone. She was nervous, sure, but she was solid. Besides—” He hesitated and winced.

“Besides what?”

“She didn’t want to let you down. She looks up to you, Simone. You’re a bit of a hero to her.”

A new layer of guilt overtook the sense of responsibility she’d felt. “Tell me about this guy from the DA’s office.” She needed to put all this into some kind of order before she talked to her boss.

“I snapped this before I left the station.” He pulled out his cell phone and tapped on the screen. “I’m assuming you know who he is.”

Simone looked at the thirty-something, impeccably dressed blond man. The icy blue eyes were all too familiar even from the far distance. Simone’s world tipped. “That’s Cal Hobard, special assistant to the DA. He came to work in this office about six months—” Six months ago. The same time she’d officially filed charges against Paul Denton.

If Simone was the type of person who believed in them, she’d think this was a coincidence. She and the DA had always had a cordial relationship despite his belief the Denton case was a no-win situation, one that could even put his political future in jeopardy. Whereas everyone else in the office seemed to understand Denton’s conviction could be a career maker.

Simone gnawed on the inside of her cheek. Still, there was no telling what anyone’s agenda might be.

“We need to find Mara,” Simone said. Not only because the case hinged on the young woman’s testimony, but because Simone had promised to keep her safe. “Can you get me copies of all your notes? Anything you might have kept track of since you’ve been watching her?”

“Absolutely. You want me to deliver them to your office?”

“No.” She couldn’t risk it—someone in the office was working against her. Right now, she couldn’t shake the sensation that returning to the DA’s office three floors above would be tantamount to walking into the enemy’s camp. “No. Get everything together and deliver it to Jack McTavish in Major Crimes. Do you know him?”

“Sure. Jack’s good people. Excellent cop.”

That Simone had been dating him off and on for the last few weeks should help. Apart from Jack’s partner, Cole Delaney, there wasn’t anyone she trusted more in the police. Jack would never betray her. “I’ll give him a heads-up to expect something. I also want to know what you were dosed with. I don’t suppose you kept the thermos—”

“We had to turn it in to confirm our story,” Russo said as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small vial in an evidence bag and handed it over. “But to be safe.”

She’d definitely brought the right cops on board. “I’ll get this tested.” One of the reasons she kept up good relations with her former expert witnesses. “You might mention to Jack that you turned in the thermos to your superiors, to get that information out there and on the record. Meanwhile, if you need to get in touch with me, contact me through this email address.” She ripped off a piece of paper out of his notebook and scribbled the backup email she, Eden and Allie shared on Eden’s private server. And here she’d called Eden paranoid when she’d first set up the arrangement. “Have the subject line say ‘A Bert and Ernie update.’”

Russo smirked. “Gee, that’s a new one.”

“Blame your partner’s parents for naming him Ernest,” Simone said. “You good now?”

“I won’t be good until Mara turns up.” Russo shook his head, his concern palpable. “I’ve dumped a huge mess in your lap, Simone. You can’t do this alone. There has to be someone you can trust to help you.”

“There is.” Simone’s throat tightened in dread. “But he’s not going to be happy to see me.”

Chapter 2

“Now that’s not something you see every day.”

The dazed wonder in his most recent hire’s voice had Vince Sutton glancing up from where he’d been filling a third pitcher of beer. It was a Thursday night and the regulars were in The Brass Eagle. “What’s that?”

Since he’d hired Travis Fielding all of three months ago, Vince had found there was little that didn’t amuse the college senior. Tall and gangly with an odd penchant for retro seventies’ paisley and sideburns, the computer science major seemed to be off in his own world most of the time.

“Tell me that’s not an angel who just walked in.” Travis suddenly jumped back as he’d over-poured the line of tequila shots. The pungent liquid dribbled over the lip of the bar and onto the kid’s pristine white sneakers.

Despite hearing the distinct cha-ching of lost cash, Vince tossed Travis a towel. When he glanced over again, he found his employee’s “angel” standing directly across from him. “Simone.”

Vince went numb as he took in the familiar lush waves of thick hair, her startling sapphire-blue eyes that, despite every attempt, couldn’t hide her emotions. Not from him, at least. Had it really been three years since he’d touched her face, those cheekbones? Trailed his finger down that pointed nose that only hinted at the stubbornness he knew she possessed? Traced that small tattoo on the base of her—

“Hello, Vince.”

Her voice washed over him, sultry, intoxicating. How two words could hold so much—a greeting, a promise, a reminder—was beyond him. Then again, he’d stopped trying to figure out Simone Armstrong around the time he’d served her with divorce papers.

As if by rote, he reached for a bottle of Riesling. He poured her a glass before her tempting smile captured him completely. “You’re looking good.” As if Simone could ever look bad.

Beside him, Travis guffawed and blinked wide eyes at Vince as if he’d become his idol.

Simone still had that classic Hollywood blond bombshell thing going for her. But beyond the seductive touch of Veronica Lake and the fulsomeness of Marilyn’s curves, there was more than a fair share of the smart spitfire combo of Hepburn and Bacall.

“So are you.” With a slight nod, she accepted the wine he offered. “Hello.” She offered her other hand to Travis, who scrubbed both his palms hard against his chest before taking her hand. “I’m Simone Armstrong.”

“She means Deputy District Attorney Armstrong. The Avenging Angel,” Vince added with enough venom in his voice to make Simone’s eye twitch. “And this, Simone, is Mr. Travis Fielding. I’m betting he’ll find his voice once he picks it up off the floor along with his tongue.” His gaze skimmed her as low as he dared. “I see you haven’t exhausted the fashion industry’s supply of white fabric yet.” His eyes stopped on the tiny pearl button between her full breasts, and then on the pendant at the base of her throat. The open collar of her tailored silk shirt dipped respectfully enough for office attire, but allowed a peek at those luscious curves of hers. Did she still invest in that barely there underwear? His fingers itched to discover whether she wore lace or silk. Or anything at all.

“Why change what works?” Simone flicked an annoyed expression at him before offering a warm smile to Travis. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Travis. Do you mind if I have a word with your boss for a few minutes?”

“N-no.” Travis’s breath came out in a shudder.

Vince walked around the kid to move beyond the bar. “Don’t forget those shots for your customers. And take two pitchers to the back table for me. The construction workers are getting restless.”

Travis nodded and blinked himself out of whatever hormonal trance Simone had put him in.

“Do you mind?” Simone stopped him when he led her to a booth by the front window. “Back there?” She gestured to the cubby beside the bar where he normally did the daily books. The stubble of hair on the back of his neck prickled as he noticed the tight grip she had on her briefcase. Simone was nothing if not professional, but now he saw something he wasn’t quite used to.

His ex-wife was nervous.

Whatever pleasure he might have taken in causing her some temporary discomfort vanished as every ounce of training—from his service in the Marines to his subsequent years as a private investigator—put him on guard. Whatever was going on had to be bad for Simone to turn up on his doorstep.

“Sit wherever you’d like.” He maneuvered her ahead of him, getting her situated before he sat facing the room. He kept one leg out and braced in his usual “just in case” posture. “What’s going on, Simone? You don’t do social calls on a whim.” Or ever. “And certainly not after this much time had gone by.”

She cringed, her knuckles going white around her glass as she drank half its contents. “I want to hire you.”

If she’d come in here saying she wanted to reconcile she couldn’t have surprised him more. “You need a bartender for a private party?”

“I need an investigator I can trust.”

For an instant, the desire for a beer overtook his power of speech. He shook his head and shifted his attention to the bar, keeping the memories—and the nightmares—at bay. “I’m out of that business.”

The brief flash of sympathy that crossed her face had him gnashing his teeth. Of course she knew what had happened. Everyone in the whole valley knew what happened.

“I heard about the Walker case. That you’d taken a break after...” Her soft voice hit his heart like a sledgehammer. “I didn’t realize you’d decided to make it permanent.”

“Now you know.” Vince had made it permanent because it was the only way to save his sanity. A man could only witness the sickening things people did to one another for so long before he started to expect the worst. Not that anything would change the endless nights he spent wondering if he’d missed something, if anything he could have done might have stopped a young girl’s murder. If he’d been a day, hours, even minutes faster. “This is my focus now.” He indicated the polished wood paneling and brass fixtures, the tables he’d refinished himself. “The building’s mine free and clear. I’ve got a steady clientele, one that doesn’t expect anything other than a topped-up glass and a full plate. Best of all? I don’t answer to anyone other than myself and my employees.”

“I really don’t want to be difficult about this,” Simone said.

“Since when?”

“I can’t take no for an answer, Vince.”

He smirked. “Want to bet?”

“Oh, for...”

She scrubbed a hand across her forehead and only then did he notice the tired, dark circles under her eyes. He’d always worried that her job would eventually get to her. Clearly he’d been right.

“If this is about Jason—” she began.

“It’s not.”

Her eyebrow arched so high it almost disappeared into her hairline.

“It’s not just about Jason, Simone. But since you brought it up.” He rested his arms on the table and leaned toward her. “You sent my brother to prison.” It took all his effort to keep his voice down. “Without a second thought. You never once allowed yourself to consider the extenuating circumstances that happened during that robbery. To top it all off, you and I were barely back from our honeymoon when you advised the prosecuting attorney to throw the book at him, at a kid who’d gotten in with the wrong crowd.”

“First.” Simone leaned far enough in that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face. “Jason always ran with the wrong crowd. Second, I can’t believe you’re still blaming me for doing my job. And, not to repeat myself, but at the time I had no idea what specific case they were asking about. I read the notes and gave them my opinion. I didn’t realize they’d use the strategy I came up with to prosecute your brother.”

“Nor did you step in and try to stop it when they did. He’s family, Simone. He was your family.”

“I can’t believe we’re still having this conversation.” She pressed her fingers into her temple and squeezed her eyes shut. She was trying to hide it under all that fancy makeup, but she looked as if she was doing more than burning the candle at both ends. It looked like she’d torched an entire candle shop. She took a deep breath and released it. “There was more to the case against Jason and you know it. He could have taken the deal he was offered and testified. And I’m sorry, but you’ve never been objective where your brother is concerned. You know this. You’ve told me so yourself.”

“The line between good and bad gets blurred when your father beats the crap out of you and your mother lets it happen.”

“And yet you turned out fine. It all comes down to choices. You made good ones. Jason didn’t. Funny how you’re all about consequences except in this scenario.”

That Simone was right—had always been right about his kid brother—never did sit well with him. It didn’t matter how many times he’d gone to bat for Jason, tried to help him, detour him or get him a job, the kid was a wreck. If he didn’t have bad luck, he’d have no luck at all. Part of Vince had begun to believe he had to choose: his brother or his wife. And the more he dwelled on it, the more he resented it. And her. That the press had dubbed her an avenging angel hadn’t surprised him. What had taken them so long? “Okay, fine, but I’m making another choice now. Find yourself another investigator, Simone. I’m not your man.”

He hadn’t meant to sound taunting, or cold, but he’d always seemed to say the wrong thing around his former wife.

“Are you so determined to punish me for something that happened years ago you won’t even hear me out?”

“You should have asked whose file it was.” And here he thought he’d set the resentment aside when he’d filed for divorce. He braced himself as she looked at him in silence. “You should have paid closer attention to whose life you were about to destroy.”

“You’re right.” She drank the rest of her wine and cringed as if the admission burned. “I should have. If I’d known it was Jason, maybe I would have done things differently.” She hesitated. “If that’s worth anything now.”

“It’s not,” he lied. Her personal learning curve was one of the qualities he admired most about her. Simone wasn’t one to make the same mistake twice. But she’d made one that put his brother behind bars for ten years for a crime he hadn’t technically committed, and it wasn’t something Vince would get past anytime soon.

“Good to know you’ve moved beyond it.” She toasted him with her empty glass. “At least let me tell you about this case before you shut me down. Please.”

“Nothing you say will change my mind.”

“So long as you’re keeping an open mind.”

There it was. The sarcasm. The passive aggressive mind games she excelled at. “Why me?” He sat back and kept a steady gaze on hers. “Those expensive investigators at the DA’s office not cutting it? You need to slum it with us mere mortals?”

“If you must know I’m having some trust issues with the people I work with, and by the way, I never thought of you as a mere anything, Vince. Not once.”

If she meant the statement as a peace offering, it was a pretty good one. Hating himself, fighting that stomach-clenching dread that his world was about to open up under his feet again, he gave in to her. “I assume this has something to do with Paul Denton?”

Her brow furrowed. “You’ve been following things?”

More like he’d been following her. Just because he’d ended it between them didn’t mean he wasn’t proud of Simone’s accomplishments. He knew she’d blown through college and law school in record time, landed at the DA’s office weeks after graduation and won her first case a month after that. Her ambition and determination were what had attracted him to her in the first place. Until he’d realized that same ambition and dedication to the letter of the law didn’t leave much room for him.

“It’s been difficult not to,” Vince told her. “Front page headlines for the past few weeks. Corporate kickbacks, shell companies, money laundering. Sexy stuff.”

“I’m convinced it’s the tip of an iceberg,” Simone added as she pulled out a file folder and set it on the table. She flipped it open to show a small photograph stapled to the top of a report. A pretty, dark-haired young woman. Green eyes. Green eyes... Vince forced himself to look. Did they always have to have green eyes?

“Mara Orlov was fresh out of college when she started in Paul Denton’s private office as his record keeper,” Simone continued. “She’s smart, Vince. Like supersmart, with an eidetic memory, and she picks up on everything. So when she came across a pattern in his books, she dug deeper and uncovered Denton’s fraud. Money that should have been dispersed was getting moved from business to business and then it would vanish. She wrote out a detailed report, photocopied all the records and brought everything she had to a friend of hers in my office who brought it to me.”

“Why you?”

“The DA was in the hospital. Gall bladder surgery and then complications,” she explained. “Luck of the draw meant he was out of the office for weeks.”

Vince smirked. “Luck? You never take a day off and were there, ready and able, to assume control.”

“She’ll be a star in the witness box.” Simone’s eyes narrowed as she plowed on. “She’s unshakable, actually. Or so I thought. We hit a rough patch a little while ago and she got spooked. She thought someone was following her. So after some convincing, I assigned two deputies to watch her. She was back on board, until this morning.” She was staring at him, hard. “She took off, Vince. Poof. The deputies guarding her were drugged and when they went up to her apartment to get her, they found she was gone—her car, too. Now they’ve been suspended pending an investigation that shouldn’t even be open. I need someone completely unconnected to law enforcement. This could be good for you, Vince. Maybe you need this. I need you.”

If only that were true. “You’re certain she took off?” Vince purposely flipped the pages over to obscure the photograph. The facts and details blurred, got lost behind the past, locked away by sheer will. “You sure she wasn’t bought off?”

Simone inclined her head and frowned; he recognized the move. “Bought off? You mean bribed?”

“You didn’t think of that?” he asked. Could his ex be that naive? He wouldn’t have thought so.

“No.” She sagged in her seat to the point he wanted to reach over and gently erase the lines of concern between her brows. “No, honestly, it never crossed my mind. She’s not that kind of person, Vince. But you thought it immediately, which proves I’ve come to the right person. Maybe she got scared again, or...”

“Or maybe someone got to her.”

“I can’t let myself think that.” He heard a hint of desperation in her voice, one that had slipped through her defenses. “Not yet.”

Whatever sharp retort Vince considered throwing at her became stuck in his throat. He might know what buttons to push when it came to Simone and her devotion to protecting people—especially women. But he wasn’t so callous as to use the unsolved murder of her childhood friend as a verbal weapon against her.

“Will you please take the case?” she pleaded.

“Based on what you’ve told me?” Despite his instincts, his mind was already ticking off avenues to pursue: the girl’s address, her friends, family. He still had contacts at various phone companies to trace the girl’s cell phone. Wouldn’t take much to get a feel for things. “No.”

“If it’s money—” His eyes narrowed and she held up her hands in surrender. “Sorry. I know. Touchy subject.”

“Only where you’re concerned.” Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he’d end up marrying a woman with a trust fund larger than a small country’s national budget. She hadn’t lorded it over him, but her too-generous offer of spousal support had left a giant hole in his ego. As if he needed or wanted anything from Simone other than...Simone. “There has to be more to this than a simple missing witness, Simone. What aren’t you telling me?”

“A lot.” Her lips were pinched. “But nothing I can prove. Yet. I only have ten days before I’m back in court. If we can find her by then—”

“What do you mean we? You hire me, I do the job and report to you. I don’t play well with others. And you definitely don’t play well with me.”

“Right. It said that on the divorce decree.”

“Simone—”

“If you take the job, you work for me,” she said. “My terms. Not the DA’s office. And not officially. I’m paying you. Off the books. In cash. Up front if you want. But I need to be involved, Vince. Especially when you find her. I need her to verify on the stand where those books of Denton’s came from. Without her, my case falls apart and Denton—and whoever he might be connected to—will get off.”

When he found Mara, not if. Did she honestly expect to find...no! He couldn’t go down this road again. Except that deep chasm opening moments before hadn’t been despair, he realized; it had been Simone’s rabbit hole of a conscience. Mara was one of Simone’s crusades; one of those “I’m going to save her and fix her” situations his ex kept getting involved in.

When was she going to accept that no matter what, she couldn’t go back and save Chloe Evans?

Vince tapped his fingers against the file. It didn’t matter how long Simone spent in the criminal justice system, she clung to that optimism of hers like a life preserver. In Vince’s experience, cases like this rarely ended well. But he also knew Simone well enough to admit that telling her would only make her dig her heels in.

He honestly didn’t know what she’d do if he didn’t take the case.

“Well?” Simone asked. “Are you going to help me?”

“Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

Vince’s eyebrows shot up. Did she just whine? “Depends if you’re honest with me about when was the last time you ate.”

“What’s that got to do with—?” There it was again, that tightness in her voice, as if it was a rubber band about to snap. When she pushed her hair behind her ear—her telltale sign of nerves—her hand trembled. “All right. I ate part of a croissant after court this morning.”

Vince chuckled. She might excel at taking care of other people, but when it came to taking care of herself, she was last in line. “That’s what I thought. Stay here. Decompress for a few minutes. I’ll fix you something in the kitchen. And no,” he added when she opened her mouth. “It won’t be anything you’d usually have. You need some protein. I’ll have Travis bring you coffee since we know what happens when you’ve had too much wine on an empty stomach. We’ll eat, we’ll catch up a bit and then maybe discuss Mara’s situation.”

She grabbed his wrist as he stood and squeezed hard enough to make his heart skip a beat. “Thank you, Vince.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t said yes.”

But even before he left the table, he knew he would.

Chapter 3

He’d help her.

Simone saw it in his eyes, beyond the reluctance, the suspicion. The grief. The distrust and betrayal that had come between them years ago wouldn’t matter. When all was said and done, Vince Sutton was too honorable a man to say no when he could do something to help someone. Even her.

With Vince in play, with her feet on more solid ground, she called her boss.

“Would you like to guess how many times I’ve thought about firing you today, Simone?” Ward’s tense voice made her cringe. “It’s not like you to run and hide, not to mention dodge my calls.”

“Damage control takes concentration.” She dug her fingernail into a groove on the table. After her Deep Throat conversation with Russo, the last thing she felt comfortable doing was confiding in people she wasn’t sure of. And if whoever was behind this was going after Russo and his partner, she had to be on someone’s hit list, too. “I needed to regroup and I couldn’t do that surrounded by a dozen voices yelling at me.”

“No one was going to yell at you,” Ward said. “I run a civilized office.”

“Tell me you didn’t have at least half the office offering to replace me on the Denton case?”

“A little less than that, actually,” Ward replied. “Look, Simone, we can both agree that your hinging the Denton case on one witness seriously backfired. I’m sure the pressure got to Mara, but without her and now this postponement—”

“The postponement is so I can find her,” Simone interrupted in the hopes of derailing any deal-making he might be considering with the defendant. “Please issue a material witness warrant for her, Ward.” The more people they had looking for Mara, the better. “At least give me until Monday before you concede. You know me. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”

Vince was an exceptional investigator. Sure, he’d had some bad luck and she could understand his reticence about opening closed doors, but this could end up being good for him. He needed to come to terms with what had happened with the Walker case.

Her boss’s silence pressed in on her. She counted off the seconds, half expecting to be updating her résumé before the end of the day. “Are you still there?” she asked the DA.

“You really think you can find her?”

“I do.” Simone bit her tongue to avoid admitting out loud to having a secret weapon. “If you genuinely believe the case is already lost, Ward, there’s no more damage I can do, right?”

“There’s always more damage that can be done.” He sighed. “But, okay. However, I’m only giving you until Monday to make some progress. Cal’ll be unhappy about this. He’s already pushing me to settle this Denton business now on your behalf.”

Simone’s stomach clenched. Cal Hobard again. “I don’t get this obsession he has with my case.” She couldn’t repress the concern any longer. In fact, she should press for more information about Ward’s newest employee. “He has no vested interest in Denton, right? Besides, I thought he worked for you.”

“I have to let him have a say in some things, especially where public perception is concerned.”

So Ward had definitely decided to run for AG, which put Hobard in charge of damage control if this case spiraled out of control. Was that what he’d been doing at the police station with Russo and his partner when they were being questioned? Protecting his candidate? Or was there more to it? “I appreciate the extra time. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“First thing, Simone. Don’t make me hunt you down. I’ll get that warrant issued before I turn in for the night. Should be processed by the time you get up. As if you’re going to sleep.”

Truer words were never spoken. “Thank you.” She turned off her phone and dumped it into her bag.

When she ran her hands through her hair, she felt shaky. When she’d gotten out of bed this morning, she’d had little to worry about other than her usual before-court butterflies.

That she’d ended the day sitting across from her ex-military ex-husband was something she couldn’t have fathomed if it had been written by a bestselling novelist.

Vince. Simone groaned.

Why couldn’t he have acquired a beer gut, grown a Santa beard or at the very least developed an attitude worthy of a hermit who’d been done wrong by his woman? Because he was Vince.

Six feet and more of solid muscle with arms she’d bet could wrap around the world as easily as they’d wrapped around her. A face that was a cross between chiseled perfection and stony acceptance. Vince had taken the buzz cut to the extreme, his barely there hair making her fingers itch to explore. That he hadn’t shaved in what she guessed was almost a week should have put her off, but instead the stubble boosted her estrogen levels. He could still melt her with that steely, blue-eyed stare of his. She’d never met someone who could read her so easily, someone she couldn’t hide from. That had been intoxicating and more than a bit scary. Whatever mask she attempted to don, whatever attitude she cloaked her insecurities in, it always fell away around him.

It also didn’t hurt that he could turn her on as easily as one struck a match. Their first kiss was the best she’d ever had. Their second? She blew out a long breath. Until Vince, every minute of her life had been meticulously scheduled, keeping her on the road she’d sworn to walk twenty years before. Until Vince, she’d never considered another path. She should have known the one impulsive move she’d made in her life—marrying him in less than three months of meeting him—would end in disaster.

What unsettled her more than anything, however, was the fact that now that she’d seen him again, she realized how much she’d missed him.

She murmured her thanks to Travis as he delivered an oversize mug of steaming coffee. She’d always thought Vince owning a bar was a bit of a pipe dream, one of those “maybe someday” goals that she’d encouraged. Sure that was when he was thriving as an investigator and turning away clients by the carload. Part of her had expected a run-down hole in the wall, not this polished, welcoming pub that she’d bet did exceedingly well during sports seasons.

Located in downtown Sacramento, and close enough to the new arena and entertainment complex to ensure a steady customer base, this place appeared to have given Vince everything he’d ever wanted. At thirty-five, and after having served in Afghanistan, he’d been out of the military a good six years. No doubt he still valued the Corps, given the name of the bar. He’d be smart to turn away from this mess she’d brought him. Their marriage might have gone down in flames, but aside from Allie and Eden, and perhaps Cole Delaney and Jack McTavish, there wasn’t anyone else she could trust. Vince had not only refused any spousal support when they’d separated, he’d walked out of their marriage with the same military duffel bag he’d arrived with.

Simone squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her chin on her hand. What was she doing here? Asking for his help and taking a dangerous stroll down memory lane? She inhaled the aroma of frying burgers, hot oil fries, fresh brewed beer and...she sniffed and opened her eyes as Vince deposited a large plate in front of her. “You made me a steak?”

“I was fresh out of lawn.”

Despite the joke, he barely cracked a smile. What she wouldn’t give to hear that laugh of his. That unexpected and infrequent burst of humor never failed to lighten her heart. “You sound like Allie.” Her stomach growled as she unwound the napkin-wrapped fork and knife. He’d acquiesced to her vegetable preference by loading half her plate with steamed broccoli. Memory like a steel trap, that’s for sure. If only they could both forget certain personal things as easily. “I wasn’t complaining. It looks great.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve ditched that menu app that tells you when you can have your one-red-meat-a-month meal?”

“I kicked it up to two a month,” she said, smiling. The baked potato swimming in butter could very well throw her into a carb panic, but it would be worth every glorious calorie.

He set his own steak dinner on the table—sans broccoli—and reclaimed his seat. “I did consider throwing it all in a blender so you could drink it.”

“That would have been a crime.” She cut off and stuck a rather large piece of fillet in her mouth. “Thank you.” When she looked at him, she found him watching her, tight gaze on her mouth. Out of nerves—or maybe to test the waters—she licked her lips and tasted tiny droplets of butter.

“Don’t, Simone.”

She swallowed and wished she had another glass of wine. “Don’t what?”

“You know what. You’ve always made me as hot and ready as a teenager. Trust me when I say nothing has changed.”

She bit back a gasp when his leg brushed against hers.

“And you should know, turnabout is fair play. Thanks to that skirt you’re wearing, I bet it wouldn’t take much to find that spot on the back of your knee—”

“Sex isn’t part of the deal.” She grabbed her coffee, drank down enough to scald her throat. The last thing she needed in her life right now was Vince Sutton in her bed.

Vince grinned, displaying that stunning smile she’d first seen from across a ballroom at a charity event for the military one Fourth of July. The memory of him in his dress uniform and that granite-strong jaw of his, how his lips quirked and stretched into a promise of so much more than she’d ever expected came back to her. Even the medals on his chest hadn’t distracted her that night. Or the next night. Or the next.

“Then you’d best stop looking at me like that,” he said. When he switched his attention easily to his dinner, she realized what he’d been doing.

“You’re distracting me.”

“Never took much,” he said. “Except that one time during the Tasher case. Do you still have that dining room table?”

“Yes.” The steak was rare enough to bleed, so she stabbed it. Again. “Despite your best efforts to break it.”

“Our efforts. Okay, truce. Let’s talk about something neutral. How are Eden and Allie? Other than unavailable?”

“What makes you say that?” She cut her broccoli into tiny florets.

“Because you’re sitting across the table from me and not having one of your wine-and-pizza confabs with them.”

“It’s kind of creepy how you remember everything about me.”

“You’re a difficult person to forget.”

Great. Something else to dwell on when she couldn’t sleep tonight. “You’re right. Normally I’d have talked to them, but Allie left town tonight on business and Eden’s on her honeymoon—”

“Eden got married?” He held up a hand. “Sorry.” She grinned at his laugh, which she’d wished for only moments before. The sound didn’t disappoint. “That came out far ruder than I’d planned. Who had the nerve to take her on?”

“Remember Cole Delaney?”

“Detective for major crimes?” She tried to recall Vince ever looking so shocked. “Eden St. Claire married a cop? How did I miss the headline? I didn’t think she had any time for them.”

Simone relaxed, happy to shift to a topic she couldn’t resist. There might be conflicts between them that they’d never resolve, but one thing she’d always loved about Vince was how much he’d liked her friends. He’d also understood how important they were to her. Never once did he appear to resent them or ask her to choose between him and them. He got the importance of family. All the more reason to regret her actions when it came to his brother. “You heard Eden had a hand in catching the Iceman a few weeks back?”

“That I did read. Sounded as if she had a close call.”

“Mmm.” Simone nodded. “A wake-up call, too. She decided to...shift her priorities. Good thing given what’s coming down the road.” A chill shot up her spine as she thought about Chloe’s killer rearing his head after two decades. Vicious monsters should stay locked in basements where they belonged.

Vince shrugged and then tilted his head, a silent urging for more details that she quickly detoured away from. Chloe’s murderer didn’t have any bearing on the Denton trial, and besides, it wasn’t any of Vince’s business.

“What about Allie?” he asked.

“Flitting about like the goodwill fairy she is. Still a child and criminal psychologist, and still doing family counseling when she’s not consulting for the police or the FBI. Speaking of goodwill, I talked to my boss while you were in the kitchen. There’s been a change in plan.”

“That’s a good trick considering there isn’t any plan yet. But let me guess.” Vince carved up the rest of his steak before gesturing to Travis for another coffee. “He doesn’t approve of you attempting to hire your ex-husband.”

“I didn’t tell him about you.” She focused on her dinner again.

“Why not?” His tone sounded as if he was suspicious.

“Because I don’t want anyone knowing what I’m—what we’re doing. It’s tricky.”

“I can solve that, I’m not taking the case.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Really?” Did he have to make it sound as if she’d issued a personal challenge? “No, wait. First things first. Before I turn you down again, what’s this change you’re talking about?”

“I need to find Mara by Monday.”

“Three days.” He stopped eating, set his fork and knife down, and picked up his napkin. He stared at her while he wiped his mouth, then pushed his plate aside and leaned his forearms on the table. “You want me to find this girl in seventy-two hours and she’s got what—almost a twenty-four-hour head start?”

“You’re good, Vince. If I didn’t think you could do it—”

“You said you had over a week before you had to be in court again.”

“I do. But I need to have information to give him on Monday morning if I’m going to keep my job.”

“So this is a bait and switch. Lure me in with promises of a cash payout and no sex and hope I’ll come through. Yeah, not real tempting, honey.”

How did he manage to make that endearment sound so inviting? “What if I sweeten the offer?”

“Clearly you overestimate how far my goodwill will stretch.”

Simone reached for the blue file in her briefcase. “If you won’t help me because of the demons nipping at your heels or because it’s the right thing to do, how about you do it to help your brother?” She set the file down and waited for him to read the name Jason Sutton scrawled across the top.

She’d considered every angle, spent the day thinking this through. As much as she hated the idea of dangling his brother’s case over his head, she couldn’t take the chance he’d turn her down. She was betting big here and not only with her career. She was gambling with Mara’s life.

“It’s been enough time for me to gain some power in the DA’s office,” she said, dropping into the rehearsed explanation. “I can justify taking a second look at Jason’s case without raising suspicions. Help me find Mara Orlov by Monday morning and I’ll take that second look.”

She couldn’t remember ever seeing his hands shake, but they did now as he brushed his fingers over the file before he asked, “What are the odds you’ll find something to get him out?”

“Slim.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “I told you, I’ve been over the files before. He could have flipped on his accomplices for a lenient sentence, he could have done a lot to help himself, but instead, he played martyr and threw himself on his sword. I could have missed something,” she lied, shoving the guilt aside as she kept an image of Mara in her mind. “Something that might lessen or end his sentence.”

“This case, your job, they’re that important to you?”

“Mara is that important to me.” This was what she’d been dreading, what she’d hoped to avoid. Admitting the truth to anyone, that whatever trouble Mara was in could very well be her fault. “I told her I’d take care of her, Vince. I promised she’d be okay.”

He shook his head in that slow, disbelieving manner he had. “You’re a smart woman, Simone. You know finding her, saving her, fixing her life, none of that will change what happened to you and your friends all those years ago.”

“I am well aware.” She flinched and swallowed the tears that threatened to form. That he refrained from mentioning Chloe’s name touched her heart. “Mara’s a starry-eyed kid trying to do the right thing, Vince. Partly because she loves the excitement, but also because I talked her into it. This can’t go bad for her. I can’t let it.”

He winced as he shifted his gaze to her empty wineglass before he took hold of her coffee cup and downed the last of its contents. “I can’t promise you the outcome you want.”

“I know that, too.” But she’d cling to hope as long as she could. “Does this mean you’ll do it?”

“You’re asking me to trust you with my brother’s life. Again. You want me to believe you won’t put your job, your career above Jason or even me. You’ve shown me before you’re incapable of doing that.”

His words, however softly spoken, felt like arrows to the chest. “You’re right. I have.”

“There’s only one thing you can say to me to convince me you’re worth taking a risk on.”

“What’s that?”

“You swear to me on Allie’s and Eden’s lives that you’ll do your best by my brother. You’ll come with me to see him, you’ll talk to him, reexamine every file, every bit of evidence. You swear that oath and I’ll believe you. I’ll agree to take the case.”

“Why?”

“Because Eden and Allie are your family. Just as Jason is mine.” He held out his hand, curling his other around the edge of his brother’s substantial criminal file. “Do we have a deal?”

Power plays had been her bailiwick for longer than she could remember. She could outlast, outmaneuver anyone. Except maybe one man. This man. But she was out of options and Mara might be out of time. “As long as you understand this is my case. And that means following the law. My rules. My playbook.”

“Until it needs to be mine.”

It was as close as she was going to get. Desperation overrode common sense. Getting anywhere near Vince was asking for trouble, but if she was going to find Mara, win her case and solidify her future with the DA’s office, she didn’t have a choice. “I swear on their lives.” She locked her hand around his and braced her heart against what was to come.

“Then we have a deal.”

Chapter 4

“Thanks for meeting me, Kyla.” Simone slipped into the chair across from her assistant at Monroe’s and offered her a small smile. The fifteen-minute drive from Vince’s bar to the coffee shop had given her enough time to think. And question. And have second thoughts. Then third...

Vince had been right about one thing: she really wished she’d had Allie and Eden to talk to if for no other reason than to convince her she was wrong about where she and the case were headed. Maybe she was overreacting to something and letting fear get the best of her. Simone might have been able to cling to that belief if Vince hadn’t voiced his own similar suspicions. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Like a date?” Kyla flipped the multicolored scarf behind her narrow shoulders and sent her ebony curls bouncing. “Well, I was deeply involved with this ten-inch-thick textbook on property and tax law. Do you want coffee?”

She’d already had enough to ensure she wouldn’t blink for weeks. “No, thanks.” Simone shook her head and waved the waitress away. “Were you able to get the information I asked for?”

“I boxed up all your files and left them underneath the desk in your office.” Kyla cringed. “Glad you reminded me about the new email monitoring program. Printing the hard copies didn’t take me as long as I thought it would and I would have brought it all with me, but there was no way to be sneaky about it.”

“Not to worry.” Simone added an early morning stop to the office to her mental agenda.

“I also added the background information on Mara and everyone else that’s involved, however peripherally, in the case. I’m surprised the copy machine didn’t short out.”

“What would I do without you?” Simone couldn’t wait to start combing through everything from top to bottom. “I appreciate you covering for me today.”

“Felt like I was in a spy movie. Nice break from studying for the bar.” Kyla folded her hands on the table. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or is this some roundabout method of giving me more ‘tests’ for homework?”

“I wish that was the case. What did you hear around the office?”

Kyla shrugged, her gaze shifting to the table. “Not much.”

“Kyla Bertrand.” Simone pursed her lips. “You’re a beacon for gossip in that place. Spill.”

“Okay, I might have heard that your main witness went missing, and you somehow managed to get a delay from a judge notorious for sticking to his calendar. Your colleagues started a pool on how long you’ll have a job.”

“What odds are they giving?” Maybe she should place a bet and get a jump start on her unemployment.

“I didn’t ask,” Kyla said with a hint of defense in her voice. “I never bet against my boss and I plan on you sitting in the big chair this time next year.”

“I appreciate your faith,” Simone said, even as her own began to fracture. If she blew this case, the career she’d always wanted, had worked so hard for, would be over. And Paul Denton and his coconspirators—whoever they may be—would avoid justice. Something Simone refused to abide. “I wanted to keep you in the loop so you know what not to tell people.”

“By people you mean DA Lawson?”

“I mean any people.” Simone didn’t want to tell Kyla about her growing suspicions of Cal Hobard or her concern others in the DA’s office were involved. The farther away she stayed from everyone at her place of work, the better. At least until she got more information herself. “I’ve hired an outside investigator to hopefully track down Mara. I’m keeping it under wraps. I don’t suppose anyone would believe if I called in sick tomorrow?”

Kyla’s expression confirmed her thought. “They’ll believe you’re working on a new angle for the case.”

“That works.” Keeping people on edge gave her an advantage.

“Come to think of it,” Kyla said. “You’ve never been sick in all the years I’ve known you. Must be all those plants you eat.”

“What is it with people and how I eat?” To be contrary, she reached across the table and snapped off half the chocolate chip cookie Kyla had been nibbling on. “First Vince, now you—”

Kyla slapped her hand on Simone’s arm as her mouth dropped open. “Vince, as in the ex-husband you never talk about Vince? Now it’s your turn to spill.”

“He’s a private investigator, and I needed someone outside the office I could trust.”

“You can trust your ex-husband?” Kyla’s confusion mirrored Simone’s. “Is that even possible?”

“When it comes to something like this, yes, it is.” Describing Vince to someone who had never met him was a bit like trying to describe the Easter Bunny to a newborn. There wasn’t any point. They’d never understand. “I’m going to give him your cell number in case there’s more information he needs, information I can’t get to. Does that work for you?”

“I’m your assistant.” Kyla’s defiant brown eyes sparked in that way that had convinced Simone to hire her. “You tell me what you want me to do, I do it. No questions asked.”

“Keep that in mind because as we move forward, no matter what, this will all be over Monday morning.” Simone picked up her bag and got to her feet. “Keep your head down, okay, Kyla? Let me know if you hear anything else about the case.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure. But I have this odd feeling my world is about to crack open. I don’t want you getting swallowed by it.”

“Then maybe it’s me who should be telling you to keep your head down. Hey, before you go, answer one thing for me.” Kyla waggled her eyebrows. “Any chance in all of this that you’ll introduce me to your ex-husband?”

Simone couldn’t help it. She smiled. “Something tells me I won’t have a choice.”

* * *

Vince cleaned the last glass, turned off the neon open sign and locked the front door to the bar. The clock had hit 2:00 a.m. or, as he planned to call it from here on out, the hour of regret.

He’d heard of hitting a grand slam before, but how he’d managed to sit through dinner with his ex-wife, agree to work with her and dive into what was probably another hopeless missing person’s case could easily be added to the record books.

He never should have congratulated himself on knowing what buttons to push to unsettle her. Karma had caught up to him with Simone’s offer to reexamine his brother’s conviction. When was he ever going to learn?

Vince flicked off the lights, picked up Jason’s file and headed down the narrow hallway, passed the bathrooms, to the stairs that led to his apartment. He bypassed the second floor that, until a little over a year ago, had served as the office for Sutton Investigations.

The calm that normally descended when he closed out the rest of the world didn’t manifest as he shut his apartment door. Instead, the restlessness he’d brought back from Afghanistan rattled through him, prodding him toward the thin edge of control.

He tossed the file onto the cluttered stainless-steel island. If he cooked, he did so downstairs. If he worked, it was downstairs. His life was...downstairs. The one-bedroom apartment, with its simple king-size bed and matching dresser, the no-frills throwback leather sofa, and a flat-screen TV he used more for background noise than anything, did little than give him a place to sleep.

On the occasions sleep wasn’t possible, there was a window to stare out at the Sacramento skyline. Some nights, glancing at the tip-top of the golden Tower Bridge, standing sentry over the city, was all he needed. Other nights?

He grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, dropped onto the sofa and clicked on the digital music station on the TV. The muted strains of Bach drifted from the speakers and eased the tension that had cocooned him the instant Simone walked into the bar. His heavy metal music days had disappeared in the desert, replaced by the meditation-inducing melodies of the classical masters. He might not be an educated man, but he was smart enough to recognize genius and artistry.

Vince’s gaze landed on the table beside him. He opened the drawer and pulled out the framed wedding photo. Gut-tightening regret coiled as it always did whenever he looked at his and Simone’s smiling faces. He didn’t recognize that man in the photo, couldn’t relate to the happiness and joy that now seemed as lost as a dream. Was that the last time he’d worn his uniform? He could remember the teasing glint in Simone’s eye as she’d walked down that short brick pathway in Napa overlooking a blooming vineyard. Her gorgeous, figure-hugging lace gown that sparkled in the sunshine had nearly undone him. When she’d reached out her hand for his, she’d leaned in and, in barely a whisper, told him the plans she had for him and his uniform in the hours to come. The years to come.

Years that came to a screeching halt months later.

Vince stared into Simone’s radiant blue eyes. He could almost smell that perfume of hers that he’d been convinced was part love spell. The ugliness that had followed him most of his life had vanished the day he’d realized he’d fallen in love with her.

And yet he’d left without a fight.

Vince set the frame face down on the table and shook his head to clear the past. Marrying her hadn’t been the worst mistake he’d ever made. Leaving her? Yeah, that might be up there with his thirteen-year-old self throwing lighted firecrackers at a patrol car.

And yet, today proved she was still cagey and still knew how to work the angles. There was also her smile, always a weakness of his. He wouldn’t kid himself though, her career always came first. It was her trial, her job on the line. She was using his brother as a means to an end and while the idea of that didn’t sit well, he certainly understood her reasons for it. That she knew how easy it was to manipulate him should worry him more. Aside from Simone, Jason was the only person he’d ever valued. Thanks to his ex-wife, there was a chance he could get his brother home. So if that meant diving headfirst into his own personal nightmare, so be it.

All he needed to do was stay in control, not like on the Walker case. Somehow he’d have to remain detached, unemotional and see the search out to its end. Whatever that end might be.

Leaving the TV on, he headed into the next room, stripped and dropped naked onto the unmade bed, begging the past to leave him alone long enough for sleep to consume him. His prayers were answered, but only after one last thought shot through his head like a bullet: starting tomorrow, everything was going to change.

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