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Sofria Kirk Samantha Kline Sabrina Kittridge STELLA KEEN

Beaufort, South Carolina

S tella refilled her coffee from the glass pot in Ren’s kitchen.

She’d only been inside the apartment a handful of times, but her surveillance was thorough.

Watching Ren on camera had given her an intimate familiarity with the space and the occupant.

A fact that was not lost on Ren if his icy demeanor was anything to go by.

Stella returned to the living area where Ren, Steady, and Tox were parked.

She had hoped Twitch would come so Stella could at least try to clear the air with her friend, but Twitch had a stomach bug, and Finn was taking care of her and watching their sons, Auggie and Trevor.

So, not only could Stella not explain her deception, but they were also without tech support.

It didn’t matter. Stella doubted there was anything else to find on the useless, slightly slurred, one-year-old voicemail Casper Capelli left for Milton Abernathy.

Hello, old friend. It’s been too long. Listen, I just sent you a package in the mail. Keep an eye out for it, eh? Nothing urgent. I was hoping for your thoughts on something I saw. Nothing urgent. Just wondering if you thought it looked—

The sound of a blaring car horn cut Capelli off.

Goddammit! Lunatic kids. Anyway, Nothing urgent. I’d love to touch base when your schedule allows. It’s Casper, by the way. Cheers.

Steady sat back and crossed his feet at his ankles. “So, do you guys think it was urgent?”

Tox hit him in the bicep.

“I was hoping he’d at least mention where he was when he took the video or some detail that could help us piece it together.” Stella cradled the coffee mug in her palms.

Ren picked up Abernathy’s phone from the coffee table. “We can listen to it again when we get to the destination.” He spoke to the guys, and Stella bristled. Ren was making decisions like she wasn’t in the room.

Stella shook her head in frustration. “I agree we need to go dark until we figure this out, but it’s better all around if we separate.”

Ren stood looming over her. “Stella, it’s not up for negotiation.” His face was a mask of cold indifference.

She matched his pose. Stella only came up to Ren’s broad chest, but she’d faced off against bigger opponents her whole life. “You’re right. It’s not.”

Stella watched Ren closely and saw the wheels turning.

He could try every manipulation tactic in the book; it wouldn’t help.

She worked alone. More importantly, Stella knew if she stayed with Ren, she would be the reason he ended up dead.

If someone wanted her out of the way, Ren would be nothing more than collateral damage.

Finally, Ren nodded his agreement. “Fine.”

“I’m so glad I’m leaving before it gets awkward.” Tox stood and headed for the door.

“But the awkward stuff is the best part.” Steady followed Tox and stopped to slap Ren on the back. “Keep in touch.”

“I will.”

Stella had always been amazed by the camaraderie of the Bishop Security team.

In all her years at Hyperion, she had never socialized with anyone.

She had working meals with Theo and meetings with other operatives, but other than that, she was alone.

Her brief friendship with Twitch and the other women—Emily, Calliope, Very, Evan, and even Tox’s sister-in-law Clara—had been the most meaningful of her life.

Stella had never minded being alone until she felt the warm hug of affection from this group.

Even this brief encounter with the guys soothed her.

It also firmed her resolve. She refused to be the reason they lost a brother.

When the door closed behind Tox and Steady, and Stella was alone with Ren, she broke the silence. “So, I guess this is goodbye.”

Ren gestured to the living area they had just vacated. “At least finish your coffee.”

She reluctantly agreed and retook her seat on the couch.

Ren pulled his chair closer. “Can I drop you at the bus station?”

Stella shook her head. “I’ll deal with it. The less you know about my whereabouts, the better.”

“Hey, before you go, can I ask you something?”

“You can ask,” she replied.

“That night in the hotel—”

Every cell in Stella’s body stirred to life. That night was branded in her memory. She still felt the echo of Ren’s body inside of her. Did he want a repeat performance? It would complicate the hell out of things, but Stella knew if he asked, she would agree without hesitation.

Her voice was husky. “Yes?”

“How did you drug me?”

It took everything she had to mask her disappointment at the question. Of course, Ren didn’t want to have sex with her. He hated her.

Eager for a distraction, she held out her hand. “We do have the best gadgets. It’s my favorite perk of the job.” She slid the thick ring off her middle finger. “See this?” Stella twisted the gem in the setting, and a tiny needle ejected from the band.

“Wow.” Ren removed his glasses to get a closer look. “May I?”

Relieved he hadn’t picked up on her misinterpretation of his question, she passed him the ring. “Don’t touch it. There are still two doses in there.”

Ren examined the jewelry as she spoke. “Spin, stab, and depress the gemstone to deliver the tranquilizer.”

“Looks easy enough,” Ren replied.

“It has to be, given the situations where I need to use it. I had to give you a double dose because you’re super-sized.” Stella smirked.

She was still grinning when he pierced her arm with the needle and delivered the shot. Stella met his ice-cold gaze in shock. “You asshooo…”

CALVIN BIGALOW

C alvin parked the Camry on Beaufort’s busy main street and squinted through the windshield at the building numbers.

It wasn’t entirely legal, but working in the CIA mailroom had its advantages.

One of which was a detailed record of all packages sent and received.

Several months ago, Sofria sent Leo Jameson a commemorative catalog from an exhibit at the National Gallery.

Darkness was falling, and charming street lights illuminated the road and sidewalks. Calvin was just summoning the courage to push the buzzer on the unmarked door beside the sporting goods store. With his finger on the button, he peered through the vertical pane of glass above the knob and froze.

The man he had met in the Pentagon food court stepped from the bottom stair, rounded the banister, and walked to the back entrance of the building.

With Sofria’s unconscious body slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Calvin moved away from the small window and pinned his back to the door.

He pulled the inhaler from his pants pocket and took a quick puff.

What was he doing? This was no time to panic; this was the time to shine.

He took a brave step forward, then another, then another.

Soon, he was sprinting to his car. He pulled around to the back, just as the kidnapper—hopefully, not murderer—Ren Jameson was pulling a swanky Audi SUV out of the small lot.

Calvin searched his spy podcast for the episode on tailing a suspect and listened as he followed.

“It’s go-time.”

THE PRIEST

T he Priest: She’s on the move again. Heading north.

TS: I see that. Do you have a visual?

The Priest: Negative. Tracking remotely.

TS: Is Jameson with her?

The Priest: Unknown.

TS: Follow and determine her destination, then await further instructions.

The Priest: Understood.