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I walk into the kitchen to find Kane standing with Kit and Raz, their voices low, words unintelligible, and, of course, there’s not a glass of liquor in sight. Kane didn’t want a drink. He wanted out of the conversation with Andrew.

In the meantime, my pie sits between the three men, but the price of conversation I’ll have to pay to get it and a fork just isn’t worth it. I’m kind of tired of that damn pie anyway, at least tonight.

“Hello, boys,” I say. All eyes lift to me in the doorway, and now that I have their attention, I add, “I’m done with Enrique. If he shows up on my team one more time, I’ll shoot him. That’s it. Go back to whispering things you don’t want me to hear, but I’ll find out anyway.”

I walk away, leaving them behind in every sense possible. I have messages I have not even looked at, and not one, but three murders to solve. I head toward our lower-level bedroom that was once upstairs, but Kane surprised me a month back with a remodel. Now our primary is not only on the lower level, but he had a proper loft version of Purgatory, just like I had in my mother’s place, created.

We still haven’t done anything with the property that holds the charred remains of my memories, now ash beneath the structure, but I’ve refused to let go of the heart bleeding in the rubble. In fact, I’ve been leaning toward something wonderful, like a museum celebrating her life that also saves puppies. It might seem like a weird combination to some, but if they knew my mother and how earnestly she approached helping animals in need, they’d understand.

There’s a twist of emotion in my belly that few things create in me but this.

Her.

Her death.

Kane surprising me with the loft.

Damn it, he will not soften me up over this mob thing. Nope. Not happening. Because what good is a loft if we’re dead? And I’m not dying yet. There are too many people to kill to leave this soon. I suppose I can settle for putting them in jail. I do put people in jail. I just keep getting pitted against killers who try and kill me and leave me no options.

I enter our room to find some guy I don’t know messing around the bed, checking under the mattress for who knows what he thinks Ghost might have done in here. It’s ridiculous. “Get out,” I order, and open the door to the loft and start the walk upward.

Kane’s voice sounds behind me, a muffled exchange in Spanish I ignore but understand, though I’m amused by the fact that few people know that fact. I’m married to Kane, and I’m an FBI agent. Do they think I’m stupid? I actually hope they do. It’s pretty much perfection to understand what those around you believe you do not. They say shit. I hold it against them.

I enter the upstairs, an exact replica of my prior loft, which translates to a desk with big white boards lining the walls. My phone buzzes for about the millionth time with a text message, and I sit down in one of the two chairs on the left-hand wall, or rather plop down. It’s been a hellish day. I could place the desk between me and Kane, but why? I welcome confrontation.

I’m not hiding.

I snake my phone from my pocket and read through a dozen messages from Tic Tac, picking out what is important. Number one, the president is going to call me, so watch for an unknown number. Ellis is still offline. His phone pings at the Walker ranch with Elsa’s phone and is not moving. What do I want Tic Tac to do about it? Lucas never contacted Tic Tac, and Tic Tac is freaking out. He’s got an agency guy helping him track Elsa, but has given “her” limited information. So, the guy is a girl.

I’m about to call Tic Tac when Kane appears in the doorway, looking all Latin hotness and holding a bag of chocolate. It pisses me off. I set my phone on the table next to me and stand, angling toward him. “Chocolate will not save you.”

He closes the short space between us and captures my hand, pressing the chocolate into my palm. “You love chocolate.”

“Chocolate will not save you,” I repeat, “or me. What the hell were you thinking, Kane?”

His chin lowers, and he releases my hand, stepping backward while I set the chocolate on the table next to my phone. The battle is on. And we’re not leaving this loft until it’s settled.