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It’ll be a delicious lesson. She’ll be stronger for it.

Ready for Oliver.

“Dad, are you coming?” Topher’s voice reaches from the hall, coming closer.

“Yes.” I open my palm, release the lock of her hair into my pocket, and grab my bag. “See you at ten,” I tell Oliver.

A clipped nod from myfriend, and I’m off to meet Topher, Camden, and Miley, my associate on the case. We walk together to the bank of elevators.

“You going to slay them today, James?” Camden’s amused, as usual. Everything’s a fucking joke to this kid. Unfortunate for him that death is a very, very serious business.

“We don’tslayanyone.”

Topher shoots me a look.

I don’t hold his gaze, affixing it to the elevator doors. He’ll have to take up his Daddy issues with someone who actually gives a damn.

Brett, one of the firm’s drivers, greets us at the company’s SUV, and we climb inside. The three of us in the back of the car. Less than ideal since I don’t want to be anywhere near the two of them.

But giving my back to my enemies is out of the question.

Miley takes the passenger seat. She pulls out her phone and starts talking to our client as soon as Brett puts the car into gear.Part of her responsibilities is to ensure that they’re there an hour before the trial starts.

Neither I nor my clients have ever shown up late to court. I won’t start just because my mind is going in a million directions. I hold a level of respect for the system I’m rigging.

“We had an awesome time away from the office, Dad and I.” Camden directs this at me. Topher already heard all about the Morgans’ holiday. I have my investigators to thank for that information. “We ate, like, a ton. Watched movies together. Slept. Did some…searching.”

As I stare at him from my place near the window, I wonder if I’ll be doing him a favor by killing him. Euthanasia of some sort.

Camden wags his eyebrows at me. I refrain from rolling my eyes in response.

“Topher needs to step up his game.” He slaps my son’s shoulder. “It’ll be so cool if we end up like our dads.”

Miley and Brett would never understand what he’s implying. He’s putting us at risk regardless. “Cut it out.”

A bump in the road throws Topher, who sits between the two of us, in my direction.

It takes him a minute to return to his seat.

A minute in which his pants pocket rubs mine.

Once. That’s all it takes for Ophelia’s lock of hair to be pushed out of my pocket.

I sense it before I see it. I’m as attached to these few strands of her hair as I am to the rest of her.

Completely. Irrevocably. Maddeningly.

And when my fingers flatten on them to put it back in its place…

When my gaze goes there…

So does Topher’s.

I catch him staring at my fingers. At the lock of hair I’m trying to cover. A black lock of hair, the color so deep it’s nearly raven-black.

It could belong to any number of people in the city. In the state.

In the motherfucking country.