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It was late—or early depending on the way you looked at it—when Meg reached the address she’d found on Zillow. The house had been on the market for several months, and it was empty. More importantly, the neighbors weren’t terribly close, and the acre and a half lot was thickly treed, providing lots of privacy.

She drove around behind the house and parked, shut off the engine and reached for the door handle.

“You’re really going to break into this house?” He stared at her in the darkness.

He’d watched her kill another human being, twice, and shoot yet another. Not to mention the ass-kicking she’d given the two hooligans who’d showed up at her shop. And he was worried about her breaking into a house?

“I’m borrowing it for the night. If anyone stops by, we’re giving it a test run to see if we like it.”

He exhaled a big breath. “Okay.”

Yeah. Okay.She got out, grabbed her backpack and the bag of stuff she kept in her backup vehicle. Toiletries, a couple changes of clothes. Snacks, bottled water. Preparation was key to most all aspects of survival. Her former boss had drilled that concept into her head. Never get caught without a backup plan. Never get weighed down by extra baggage.

Her gaze settled on Griff. She surely botched that last one.

He took the extra bag from her, made a face at the weight of it. “What’ve you got in here? Ammunition?”

“Stuff we’ll need,” she said as she considered the best way to enter the house.

First, she walked around with a flashlight (a handy tool also stored in the backup vehicle) and checked for a security system. The media cable was shut off. No sign of a landline. No other wires that shouted security system. So unless there was a wireless one, they were good to go on getting in without any trouble.

The back door had a dead bolt, but it wasn’t engaged, so picking the lock was a piece of cake. The door led directly into the kitchen area. Griff shook his head at this new skill of hers as well. She didn’t see how that could lower his opinion of her any farther than it was already.

First thing, she did a walk through and scanned for wireless security products. Nothing.

“We’re good,” she said, coming back to where he waited by the back door. She locked the door and engaged the dead bolt as the last real estate agent who’d visited should have.

Griff placed the bag he’d been holding on the counter. Meg turned on the light above the kitchen sink since it was at the back of the house and less likely to be noticed. Not that she believed anyone could see the house from the street. It was well concealed.

She shifted her attention to her not completely reluctant hostage. “You want to shower first? I have a phone call I need to make.”

He shrugged. “Sure.” He tugged at his shirt. “I don’t have any other clothes, but a shower will definitely help.”

She picked through the bag on the counter and handed him shampoo and body wash, along with a towel. “That’s the only towel, so hang it up when you’re done. I’ll be using it too.”

He hesitated before going in search of the one bathroom the house had according to the real estate listing. “Who are you calling? Ernie?”

“The less Ernie knows, the safer we are. So, no, I’m not calling Ernie. I’m calling my former boss.” She hadn’t spoken to him since the day she disappeared. She wasn’t so sure that talking to him now was the right move, but it was the only one she had left under the circumstances. She hoped something else came to mind soon, but not so far.

That wasn’t entirely true. She shouldn’t lie to herself that way. There were others she could call, but she needed to give this man the benefit of the doubt. He’d taught her everything she knew. Treated her like a daughter after her own father passed away. He’d been her rock before everything fell apart.

But something was off and she couldn’t fit the pieces together. Nothing new really. She’d known there was a glitch somewhere fifteen months ago which was why she’d chosen to take herself out of the scenario rather than allowing someone else to reset her.

Now, more than a year later, it was looking like she had made the right decision.

“Can he—your former boss,” Griff asked, “help you out of this situation?”

The simple answer was yes. He could extract her. Direct her to a safe house until she could be debriefed. But there had to be trust involved to allow someone that sort of power. She’d lost trust fifteen months ago. Had she been premature in her decision back then? Maybe. But at least she was alive. That was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

“I’m not sure.” She met his expectant gaze and decided to tell him the truth. “I always trusted him before, but something happened that shook my confidence in the whole system. It’s possible he wasn’t part of the problem. That possibility is the reason I’m going to call him.”

Griff nodded as if he got it. “You’re giving him an opportunity to prove himself.”

“I am.”

“And if he doesn’t come through?”

“Then I’ll know I made the right decision fifteen months ago, and I’ll understand that I’m on my own now.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, searching, assessing. Maybe looking for something to give him the answer he needed. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry you were let down before. I hope he doesn’t let you down this time.”

With that, he slung the one towel over his shoulder and went in search of the bathroom. It hadn’t crossed her mind that she might need two towels. She hadn’t expected to ever trust anyone again. What was it about this man that made her want to trust him? To lean into him? To be with him?

Didn’t matter. Her needs could get him killed and she couldn’t live with that.

When she heard the water running, she steeled herself and pulled out her cell. She entered the number she knew by heart, waited through three rings.

“Who is this and how did you get this number?”

The voice—the one that had always had the power to steady her—shook her now. She hesitated. Focused on calming the pounding in her chest. She wrestled the emotions aside. “Agent 16578 reporting in”

“Eleanor?”

“No one else has that number,” she pointed out. “And I’m reasonably confident not too many people have your private cell number.”

“Where the hell are you? We thought you were dead.”

“It doesn’t matter where I am right now.” She watched the time. “What matters is that we have a situation. Our comrade Kase Ridley is working for the other side.”

“What? That’s impossible. Eleanor, you need to come in. We’ve ironed out the issues from that day. You have been exonerated completely. There is nothing to fear.”

She refused to be swayed by the words that a year ago she would have given her right arm to hear. “I don’t have a lot of time. You need to call Ridley back in. He’s working for Lorenzo.”

“Just tell me where you are, Eleanor. Let me help you.”

His continued evasion of her statement set her further on edge.

“Don’t ignore my warning,” she reiterated. Then she ended the call. She struggled to slow her pounding heart. Forced her respiration to steady.

Then, for a bit, she replayed the brief conversation. The surprise in his voice had been real enough. He hadn’t expected to hear from her. He really had thought she was dead. And he insisted it was impossible that Ridley had gone to the dark side.

This was not good, she decided. On second thought, she decided the surprise wasn’t real in terms of her being alive; it was about her calling him. She had been trained far too well, had never failed in an assignment. She wouldn’t be taken down so easily. So the surprise was that he hadn’t expected her to call him. Which might mean that he was aware of what Ridley was doing. Was that an indication that Ridley was acting with the sanction of the chain of command?

Her gut said yes.

Deputy Director Arthur Wisting would know if he’d lost an operative to the other side. He was far too astute to be caught off guard so easily.

Which meant she was screwed.

If she couldn’t trust her old boss—certainly couldn’t trust Ridley—then who could she trust? How far up the chain did this go?

Worse—sadly, it did get worse—this meant that she could not be allowed to survive under any circumstances.

She started to pace. This was why Ridley was involved. He knew her better than anyone. He would be the best option for eliminating her.

If Wisting had known she was alive all this time and didn’t actively attempt to find her, then maybe he’d been willing to let her go, but now that had changed. She knew their secret. Ridley, perhaps with Wisting’s blessing, was no longer on the right side.

Okay, all she had to do was disappear before they found her. No problem. She’d done it before, she could do it again. Though it was true that Ridley knew her better than anyone else save perhaps Wisting himself, she also knew Ridley. He was as vulnerable as she was.

Determination filled her. She wasn’t going down easy.

The water in the shower stopped. She glanced in the direction of the bathroom. The one glitch in her plan was Griff. How did she protect him? Ridley would use Griff against her to manipulate her. It was Undercover 101. Learn the enemy’s weaknesses and use them against him.

At this very moment, Ernie, Jodie and Dottie were in danger as well. But Griff would be the one Ridley zeroed in on. Meg knew how he thought. Going after Griff was the step she would take, if the circumstances were reversed. Ridley would quickly determine which of those people around her were the highest-value target. The fact that Griff was on the run with her would elevate his worth many times over.

A good friend would listen to your sob story, your issues, your mistakes, but a best friend—the closest friend—would show up with a shovel to help bury the problem.

She had to find a way to take Griff out of the line of fire.

GRIFFRUBBEDTHEtowel over his skin. He hadn’t heard much of Meg’s conversation, but what little he had didn’t sound good. She was in real trouble. He desperately wished he could make her understand that she had friends here. The past didn’t matter. Ernie would help. Sheriff Norwood would go with whatever Ernie suggested. Loads of other people would be more than glad to throw in their support.

But Meg wouldn’t take the risk.

It wasn’t for her own safety that she ignored this option. She was doing it to protect him and the people she considered friends.

How did he convince her that she was looking at this all wrong?

He swiped his palm over the foggy mirror and then finger-combed his hair. Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he realized he needed a shave far more badly than he’d realized. But grooming had been the furthest thing from his mind for the past twenty-four or so hours. Staying alive and making sure Meg stayed that way too was priority one.

Not that she wasn’t damned good at taking care of herself. Her skill with a weapon—hell, in hand-to-hand combat even—was stellar. Like nothing he’d ever seen in real life. In the movies, yeah, but not in what he’d thought to be an everyday person. The real problem was, in his opinion, if she was so busy keeping everyone else safe, she might fall down on the job of protecting herself. He intended to ensure that didn’t happen.

He hung the towel over the shower curtain rod and pulled on his already worn clothes. By daylight, it would be necessary for them to move, so he had until then to convince her that she should accept help from him and the people who cared about her. As smart as she was, she would see through his attempts if he pushed too hard.

Griff opened the bathroom door and walked out, determined to do whatever was necessary to convince her to trust him, to work with him before going out on her own. She stood in the kitchen near the sink eating a protein bar. He smiled, couldn’t help himself. She looked so young and vulnerable in that dim light.

He almost laughed at the thought. Young, she was. Vulnerable, not so much.

“The shower’s all yours,” he announced. As tired as he was, he felt a little better after his. All things considered, he supposed part of it was simply being thankful that they were both still alive.

She finished off the bar, tossed the wrapper on the counter. “Turn off this light and keep a watch out the windows while I’m in there, will you?”

He nodded. “You worried they’ve found us already?”

“Nope. Just want to make sure none of the neighbors who might be out for a nightly walk notice activity in here and nose around.”

“I can do that.” He reached out and flipped off the light, leaving them in total darkness.

She took a slug of water. “Thanks.”

“What about your phone?” he asked. “You threw mine away—I’m assuming so it couldn’t be traced. What about yours?”

“There are ways to prevent a cell phone from being traced. I’ve made a point of knowing them all.”

With that she walked away. The sound of her bare feet padding across the wood floor had him following the vague outline of her body in the darkness. He loved the shape of her, the smell of her—even after huddling in a pile of rocks for what felt like hours and plowing through the woods for endless minutes. There was a sweetness about her skin. She tasted so good. Not to mention she was seriously hot to look at.

How many times had he covertly analyzed her long toned legs and licked his lips while tracing her hips or her breasts with his gaze. It was a miracle she hadn’t caught him eyeing her like that. Several of his friends had mentioned how gorgeous she was. The best part about it was that she didn’t seem to even notice how good she looked. All she had to do was glance in the mirror, but apparently she didn’t see herself that way. She was just who she was. Good-natured. Kind. Sweet.

He shook his head. Sweet? Actually, what she was, was badass. He grinned. Seriously badass.

When the water started to run, he decided to do something she wouldn’t appreciate if she caught him. He opened her backpack and had a look inside. He found two passports. One under the name Eleanor Holt. In the picture, her hair was darker and she looked younger. The next passport was under the name Elle Longwood. The photo in this one was Meg with her usual dark hair but lighter than in the other photo.

There was a wad of cash. Drivers licenses under the same names as the passports. Keys to what looked like lockboxes and maybe houses. Another smaller handgun. Snacks, bottles of water.

Who was Eleanor Holt? Was Holt actually her last name? What kind of operation had she been working on when things went south and she had to disappear? Who was this guy whose voice she recognized? Had he been a partner? Colleague? Lover? She’d indicated yes to all three, but was she telling Griff what he expected to hear? He had learned that about her. Maybe it was some kind of psychology move. Tell a person what they want to hear and they stop asking questions.

The water shut off, and he remembered she’d asked him to keep watch on the windows.

Feeling like as ass, he moved from window to window and surveyed the dark yard and trees. No movement. No sound. He confirmed that both the front and back doors were locked. Then he went back to the kitchen and grabbed a protein bar. He had no idea what time it was. The digital clocks on the stove and the microwave flashed midnight as if there had been a power outage at some point and no one had bothered to set them. The last time he’d looked at the clock in the SUV, it had been after midnight, so it had to be one or well past that by now.

If any of the events had hit the news, Griff’s mom and sister would be beside themselves. He should call his mom and let her know he was okay. Maybe Meg would let him call since her cell was untraceable.

Considering how tough Meg was, she might not see him wanting to call his mother as very manly or strong.

But he had the perfect excuse. He loved his mother and he didn’t want her to worry. He thought he knew Meg well enough to believe she would feel the same way if her parents were still alive. Had all the talk about her parents been lies? She had said it was all true...

The bathroom door opened, and he turned in that direction, pondering the fact that she was all alone in this world and that circumstance had perhaps nudged her toward such a risky career. Except she had him and the other people in Piney Woods who adored her. She didn’t have to do that anymore. Would driving that detail home help her to see that she didn’t need to run? They could fight this battle together.

She rubbed her hair with the towel to dry it since there was no hair dryer. “All clear?”

“All clear.” His eyes had adjusted to the darkness so that he could just make out her form and a little of her face.

“We should get some sleep,” she said. “There’s a rug in the living room but not much elsewhere except the hardwood floor.”

“Works for me.”

She picked up her backpack and walked in that direction. He followed. She dropped her bag on the rug and sat down next to it, still working on her hair. He settled on the rug on the opposite side. He searched his brain for a way to kick off the conversation they needed to have, but nothing readily bobbed to the surface. Maybe he was just too tired to sort this out.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

Since they weren’t worried about anyone overhearing them, her quiet tone had him coming to fuller attention. “Me too,” he confessed.

She said nothing for a few seconds, then, “You go first.”

Frustration thumped him. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just let her go on. There was no taking it back now. He drew in a big breath. Just say it. “I think you underestimate how many friends you have in Piney Woods. We’ll band together and help you if you’ll only let us.”

She laughed softly. Sighed. The laugh part worried him.

“I’m going to tell you everything,” she said. “I think it will help you see how what you’re suggesting won’t work.”

When he would have argued, she added, “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, and I do know that I have many friends in Piney Woods. I am very grateful for all of you.”

“Then let us help you.” The sound of her voice in the darkness had his body reacting. Come on, Griff, get your head in the right place.

“First,” she said as she tossed the towel and stretched out on her side to face him, “let me tell you what I’m up against.”

He opted not to correct her, but it was what they were up against. He lay down on the rug facing her, a safe distance between them. No pushing, he reminded himself.

“I joined the LAPD right out of USC—the University of Southern California. I went to the academy and rose to detective in record time. Then four years ago, I was approached by a man who was putting together a special team of operatives composed of police detectives, DEA and FBI agents. It was to be the first of its kind. He selected members of law enforcement who had excelled in their fields. He vetted hundreds of people. When he selected his group, the team’s first mission was to go after the biggest drug lord on the West Coast, Salvadori Lorenzo.”

“I don’t know the name.” Griff hated admitting this, but it was true. No point pretending. If she wanted to tell him the story, he wanted the whole story. He needed it.

“I’m not surprised. He isn’t exactly a household name. The average Californian thinks he’s just another billionaire who lives in Beverly Hills and donates to all the right causes and parties. But people in the higher echelons of law enforcement on the West Coast know who he is. He is the primary connection in this country to one of Mexico’s most notorious drug cartels. When he says jump, even the top member of that cartel asks how high on the way up. He is untouchable.”

“Your job was to infiltrate his business,” he surmised. Griff knew it. She wasn’t a killer. She was a cop. An undercover cop. A smile tugged at his mouth, and he wanted to reach over and hug her hard.

“Not in the beginning. I had other operations. It wasn’t until things went sour with the operative we had inside Lorenzo’s clique.”

“Let me guess,” Griff offered, “the man whose voice you heard in the woods back there.”

“The one and only. Kase Ridley.”

“This drew you into Lorenzo’s world.” Griff got it now.

“It did. My boss, Arthur Wisting, set up my profile, Angela Hamilton, assassin for hire. My first step toward breaking into his tight little group was going after one of his men who’d stepped over a certain line. Lorenzo was so impressed by my courage that he hired me on the spot. It all went down exactly as Wisting had hoped.”

She really was fearless. Damn. “You actually went after one of his men?”

“I did. It was do or die. I tap-danced my way into his good graces, and he became quite fond of me during the months that followed.”

Griff wanted to ask if she’d had to kill anyone to prove herself, but he wanted her to keep talking, and that question might just shut this moment down.

“Things were rocking along exactly as planned until Ridley got himself into a no-win situation, and I was ordered to extract him.”

He waited for her to go on, the urge to reach out and give her arm a squeeze of reassurance nearly overwhelming, but again, he didn’t want to stop the momentum.

“During the attempted extraction, Lorenzo’s one and only son was killed. He believes I killed him.”

Damn.“How old was this son?” He felt confident they weren’t talking about a child.

“Twenty-nine-year-old piece of garbage who got off on watching people die. Do I feel guilty that he’s dead?” She laughed. “No way. The world is a better place without him.”

“Wait,” Griff said, replaying what she’d said, “Lorenzo believes you killed his son. Did you?”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s dead and Lorenzo wants me dead.”

Griff had a feeling there was more to it. “The Ridley guy just let you take the fall either way.”

“He was in deeper. It was better that I took the fall. Except then he disappeared, was presumed dead—until now.”

“Wait.” Griff held up his hands. “Didn’t they offer to protect you?”

“Sure.” She made a sound, a scoff. “Do you know how many cops survive in witness protection? I wouldn’t have stood a chance against Lorenzo’s reach. Case in point, Ernie runs my prints and less than twenty-four hours later Lorenzo has people right here in Piney Woods. He has ears everywhere. I knew my only choice was to disappear completely without any help from anyone.”

Griff finally understood. Meg had been right. She would never be safe unless she disappeared, leaving no trace and no one who knew.

“I’m sorry I didn’t understand.” She had the weight of all this on her shoulders, and she’d been carrying it alone all this time.

She sighed. “I guess you kind of had to be there.”

He reached over, took her hand. He held it gently. Wishing there was more he could do. More he could say.

Her mouth was suddenly on his. She kissed him with such urgency, such need. He didn’t resist. He understood. She needed him in the only way he could help right now.

And he intended to give her everything she wanted.