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Julia sat on the barstool she’d occupied hours earlier and refused to think of the kiss she’d shared with Sergeant Britt Rollins just three feet away.

Correction: the missing Sergeant Britt Rollins.

Every person lined up across the kitchen island had suddenly developed a severe case of ignorance. Or amnesia. None of them knew where Britt had gone. None of them knew his brother had visited BKI. None of them had seen the woman Knox Rollins brought with him.

In fact, none of them seemed to know much of anything besides their names, their occupations, and what they’d had for dinner.

Frank Knight, owner of Black Knights Inc., beef stroganoff.

Eliza Meadows, office manager at Black Knights Inc., Cobb salad with honey mustard dressing.

Sam Harwood, mechanic at Black Knights Inc., leftover pizza from Pizano’s and two Goose Island IPAs.

So forth and so on, including Becky Knight, Fisher Wakefield, Ozzie Sykes, and Graham Coleburn.

It was like the civilian version of the name, rank, and service numbers soldiers were taught to repeat when the enemy captured them.

Not that I’m surprised , she thought irritably. Since more than half of these assholes used to be military.

Okay, maybe it was unfair to paint the Black Knights in broad strokes with the asshole brush. Especially since, previously, they’d been nothing but respectful. Helpful even.

Of course, their earlier aid was probably why their sudden uncooperativeness rankled so much. She didn’t like one-eighties from people she thought she could…maybe not trust . She didn’t know the Black Knights well enough to trust them. But she’d credited them with good intentions, presumed their candidness, and thought they’d come to regard her well enough to…

Answer my damn questions when I ask them!

But they’d been a united front of ignorance since she posed her first inquiry. Even when she’d called Britt’s number—which she’d found thanks to the tech guys back in the office—and the cell phone in Eliza’s pocket had jangled to life, all Eliza had done was frown at the phone and say, “How odd. How did Britt’s phone get in there?”

How indeed? Julia had thought angrily.

Seriously, if she’d been a teapot, steam would’ve poured from her ears while a piercing whistle sounded through her nose.

“So you have no idea where Britt Rollins might be.” She sucked on her teeth as she stared daggers at the gathered group across from her. “What about Hewitt Birch? I can’t help noticing he’s missing, too.”

It was Eliza who answered with a shrug. “Everyone who lives and works here is free to come and go as they please. No one is keeping tabs on anyone.”

“And if I were to have my tech guys find Mr. Birch’s cell phone number and I called it, would it also ring in one of your pockets?”

Eliza blinked innocently. “I suppose you won’t know until you try.”

Homicide. Julia suddenly understood the urge to commit it.

“We’ve checked every closet, every corner, and under every bed,” Agent Maddox said as he swept into the room. His mussed hair and crooked tie were visual reminders of the exhaustive search they’d done inside the three-story factory building over the span of the last two hours. They’d also turned the little foreman’s cottage out front upside down and inside out with the same amount of luck, which was none . “No sign of Knox Rollins or his brother. But we’ve confiscated a shit-ton of weapons.”

Maddox came to stand behind Julia’s chair. She could smell his cologne. It wasn’t as exotic and spicy as Britt’s, but it was still quite lovely in an understated way that didn’t excite her ovaries the least little bit.

Stop thinking about Britt Rollins’s cologne, you horny idiots! she silently cursed said ovaries. And then, for good measure, she added some good advice for herself. And you! Start thinking about what you can use against these people to make them talk!

Even if she hadn’t had video evidence proving Knox Rollins and the mystery woman had entered the building, Julia would’ve known the BKI employees were lying to her. Now that she wasn’t distracted by Britt’s disruptive sex appeal, she could smell the deceit in the air. It hung over the group like a caustic cloud, tickling her instincts and grating on her last nerve.

A thump sounded overhead, causing Frank “Boss” Knight’s jaw to harden. The noise from above announced loud and clear that her colleagues weren’t exactly being careful in their search of the premises. Julia had felt bad about that in the beginning.

Now, when Boss pinned her with a jaundiced look that said without words, “Aren’t you going to do something about that?” all she did was shrug.

If he wasn’t going to be helpful, neither was she.

Tit for tat. Turnabout is fair play. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, etcetera.

He uncrossed his massive arms and pushed away from where he’d been leaning against the counter.

Frank “Boss” Knight was what she’d call a serious character —you know, if she was prone to understatement. She didn’t suspect it would be a pleasant experience to be on the receiving end of his ire, and she braced herself accordingly.

But before he could say anything, his wife—who had arrived on the scene thirty minutes after Julia waved her warrant under the noses of the onsite employees—placed a restraining hand on his arm.

He obligingly stepped back to re-lean against the countertop. Becky patted his shoulder, offering him a soft smile, and it was sort of like watching a kitten comfort a silverback gorilla.

“What do a bunch of motorcycle mechanics need with so many weapons?” Maddox asked, glancing between Julia and the line of BKI employees.

“As I’m sure your colleague has told you,” Boss rumbled, sounding like he ate gravel for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, “we’re all former military. Once you get used to wearing a sidearm, you feel naked without one.” The man’s steely gaze landed on the shoulder holster visible beneath Maddox’s jacket. “You understand, right?”

Before Maddox could answer, Becky piped up. “Every weapon in this place was legally purchased and is permitted. You have no right to confiscate them.”

Her cheeks were flushed bright red. But Julia got the impression her heightened color wasn’t a result of fear or nervousness. It was a result of her barely controlled rage.

Becky Knight was the embodiment of Shakespeare’s line: though she be but little she is fierce .

“And last I heard,” Eliza added, looking as cool and unbothered as ever, “this is still the U.S. of A. We still have Second Amendment rights.”

Julia flipped her laptop around so the gathered group could see the closeup of Britt holding BKI’s front door wide to admit his brother and the woman Julia had dubbed Jane Doe Raincoat. The image was grainy. The CCTV camera it’d been taken from wasn’t high quality, but even still, there was no mistaking one of the two individuals with Britt.

Knox Rollins was the spitting image of his younger brother.

Or, at least, he had been at one time.

“You expect me to believe Sergeant Rollins somehow secreted his brother and this woman into the building”—she lifted a dubious eyebrow—“and then somehow secreted them back out again without any of you seeing them or knowing anything about it?”

Heads bobbed in unison, and the frustration simmering inside Julia since hour one of the search suddenly increased to a boil. Little beads of sweat popped out on her upper lip.

“Bullshit,” she hissed and watched one of Eliza’s sleek black eyebrows flick up her forehead. The others’ expressions remained infuriatingly passive. “I’m not Willy Wonka. Sugar-coating things isn’t my style. So, believe me when I say that if one of you doesn’t start giving me answers, I’m hauling all of you in tonight.”

“On what charges?” Boss’s bored tone was belied by the muscle on the side of his wide jaw ticking fast enough to beat the band.

“Aiding and abetting, harboring a fugitive, obstructing justice, you name it.”

“You can’t prove any of that.” This from Becky.

“I don’t have to prove it to pull you in for questioning.”

“You think our answers will change because you’ve cuffed us and stuffed us?” Boss chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Lady, you got no idea who you’re dealing with if you think a little time behind bars will make any of us give you information we don’t have.”

“Oh, I know you guys are tough.” Julia frowned. “Bunch of former flag wavers turned grease monkeys. You’re as tough as they come. But in my line of work, when something looks fishy and smells fishy, it’s a goddamn whale.” She blinked when she realized her mistake but covered it up by jabbing her finger into the soapstone countertop. “And yes, I know a whale isn’t technically a fish, but you get my point. This whole thing stinks to high heavens. Every single one of you knows a lot more than you’re letting on and I?—”

The diamond-hard looks in the eyes staring back at her stopped her in her tracks. Tough talk wasn’t going to work on these people. They lived on tough talk, and hers only made them more obstinate.

She’d let her emotions get the better of her. Let her memories of Britt as he stood over her, emanating danger and sex appeal in a testosterone-laden cloud override her instincts as an agent.

Damnit, Jules! Forget Britt Rollins and pull your shit together. You’re better than this.

Blowing out a deep breath, she sat up straighter and changed tactics.

“Look, I understand why you want to protect Sergeant Rollins. I’ve been around you all enough to know you consider yourselves more than colleagues or coworkers. You’re family. I get that. I have a big, tight-knit family, too. And I’d do anything to keep them safe. But Knox Rollins and whoever this woman is”—she tapped the top of the laptop screen—“ they aren’t your family. So help me find them, and I promise I’ll do everything I can to see that Britt comes out of this unscathed.”

“There are outbuildings out back,” one of the tactical guys said while glancing through the windowpanes in the back door.

“There are?” Julia forgot her line of bargaining and blinked in surprise. When she thought back to the handful of times she’d visited the old menthol cigarette factory, she realized she’d never gotten a look at the back of the property. She’d assumed the factory building abutted the river.

“Yes, ma’am. Three of them.”

She hopped from the stool and headed in the tactical guy’s direction, anticipation making her blood fizz.

She’d managed five steps before Eliza shook her head. “Your warrants don’t cover our outbuildings.” She had the warrants Julia had secured from the judge in one hand and waved them like a fan in front of her face. “They cover the old foreman’s cottage and the factory. That’s it. You step one foot inside any other structures on this property, and you violate the Fourth Amendment’s exclusionary rule.”

Julia felt her nostrils flare. “Did I miss the part where you went to law school?”

“I have a BA in political science, a master’s degree in economics, and a doctorate in public policy. That kind of makes me a lawyer by extension.”

Stomping to the back door, Julia peeked through the panes to find an expansive patio. Flagstones extended from the factory building out thirty yards to the brick fence topped by razor wire. There was a large firepit surrounded by comfortable-looking Adirondack chairs. There was a built-in kitchen area complete with a grill, smoker, and what appeared to be a dorm fridge. But most glaringly, three outbuildings stood in a row like good little soldiers.

Two of the buildings weren’t much bigger than storage sheds. The third was more the size of a small barn.

“All it’ll take is one phone call and I can get the judge who issued that warrant”—she nodded to the pages in Eliza’s hand—“to extend the search to those outbuildings.”

“Fine.” Boss shrugged shoulders as big as bowling balls. “Get on it then. Make the call. Time’s a wastin’.”

“Go outside and watch over the structures,” Julia instructed the guy in the SWAT gear. With his body armor, helmet, and eye protection on, it was impossible to tell him apart from the other tactical team members. She only knew who he was because he wore a Velcro name patch over his right pectoral muscle. “Thank you, Agent De La Cruz,” she added when he opened the door to do as instructed.

She was in the process of pulling her phone from her pocket to make that call to the judge when Agent Keplar ran into the kitchen. His bald patches were especially shiny since he’d been the first in and out of every room. She wouldn’t have thought him the type of agent to have the energy of that pink bunny from those old battery commercials, but he’d surprised her with his vigor.

“Where?” he barked into his phone. His slightly manic-sounding tone had her putting her own phone away. “Okay. Keep eyes on them if you can and keep relaying their location. We’re on our way.” He shoved his cell phone into his coat and turned to his partner. “We’re outta here. Three motorcycles were spotted stopping for gas outside of New Buffalo. The officer who reported them saw our BOLO and is in pursuit with orders not to engage until we catch up.”

“Roger that!” Maddox said, hot on the heels of Keplar when the older man turned and raced for the door.

“We’re coming with you!” Gesturing to Dillan, Julia charged after the two South Carolina agents.

Something about Keplar’s demeanor made her think the rate of gunfire would exceed the rate of discussion at a pace of about a thousand to one if he was allowed to catch up with Britt and his brother on his own. And even though she was furious at Britt for lying to her, even though she wanted to string him up by his balls for using his masculine wiles to distract her from her job, she certainly didn’t want him dead .

“Take your goon squad with you!” Boss’s deep voice boomed at her back before she could make it into the hallway.

She stopped long enough to motion for Agent De La Cruz, who stood in the open doorway, to follow. He no longer needed to guard the outbuildings, and she no longer needed to call in an extension on the warrant.

The Rollins brothers, their mysterious companion, and probably Hewitt Birch had abandoned the premises hours earlier. And by the sound of it, they were headed north.

Canada, maybe?

Adrenaline fired through her blood, allowing her to keep pace with her partner despite his legs being a good eight inches longer than hers. They raced after the visiting agents who’d already thrown open the front door.

The clatter of duty shoes and tactical boots was loud against the blacktop as the team hoofed it toward the tall wrought iron gate. The puddles left behind by the earlier rain reflected a starless sky. And one thought above all else echoed through her head in time with her own footfalls.

I get to see Britt again! I get to see Britt again!

She told herself she wanted to ensure he walked away from this mess in one piece. She told herself she wanted the opportunity to confront him and explain to his face that he’d been a world-class ass for kissing her when his intentions were far from pure. She told herself she wanted to prove to him that she was more than a walking sack of hormones, that she was a good agent who could get her man even when that man was someone she might have once wanted to get to know on a more personal level.

And while all of that was true…the main reason she was itching to see him again was to prove to herself that, now that she knew the truth about him, she could resist his…erm…particular charms.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me !