Ava was going to tear him down, touch by touch, rid him of any further resistance.

Slowly her fingers slid down his taut chest, venturing lower still, and Justin continued to keep his hands fisted at his sides. “You know all about bombs and weapons, but do you know what to do with me?” she asked.

“I know exactly what to do with you, Ava. You just trust me on that.”

Nothing mattered but the way Justin watched her – alert, completely attentive, his brown eyes fixed on hers even as he struggled to remain unaffected.

Hard to do when he was completely naked. She figured it was time to even the playing field.

One small step back and her shirt floated to the floor with a soft woosh. The cool air hit her skin and her nipples tightened as he sucked in a breath and just stared. “You say you know what to do with me, Justin – now prove it.”

STEPHANIE TYLER

writes what she loves to read – romance with military heroes and happy endings. She has long since stopped trying to control her characters, especially the Navy SEAL alpha males that she’s thrilled to be doing for Blaze®. She lives in New York with her husband and daughter. You can find out more about her by visiting her website, www.stephanietyler.com.

Dear Reader,

I’ve always been fascinated by reunion stories. Hearing about people who have been separated from their first loves for years – and sometimes for decades or more – and end up finding their way back to one another is what inspired this story.

Beyond His Control is about Justin and Ava, who are both, for all intents and purposes, still deeply in love when the book begins, despite years of being apart. Ultimately, they learn that they have to get beyond their past to clear the way for their future. So mix that romantic tension with a little suspense and intrigue, and the reunion between the Navy SEAL and the assistant district attorney will be something neither one is prepared for…but is unable to resist.

Enjoy!

Stephanie

PS I love hearing from readers! Please come on over and visit me at www.stephanietyler.com.

BEYOND HIS CONTROL

BY

STEPHANIE TYLER

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For Mom and Dad, for always being there

and for always believing.

1

THIS WAS THE PERFECT mission—unbeatable, the kind Navy SEALs like Justin Brandt dreamed about, prayed for and rarely got.

His target was locked in. No opposition in his periphery. He maneuvered through the water easily, focused on his one, his only intent. The temperature had to be close to eighty degrees and the sun was starting to go down. Darkness gave him the perfect cover, especially with the moonlight reflecting dimly on the water.

There would be no stopping him.

He closed in, swift, silent, his one-hundred-pound advantage on the intended target rendering resistance futile. He met his prey with determined contact. There was a slight struggle, some splashing, and then, success, at last.

“Justin, I have to check on dinner.” Monique giggled as she held the bikini top he’d just unhooked against her breasts in one last attempt to subvert his efforts.

He held her, her back pressed against his chest, with no intention of letting her go. “Not hungry. Check on me instead.”

He nuzzled her neck as he eased the tiny squares of fabric away from her. She gave up protesting and the garment in question floated away. He turned her to face him, and when she smiled up at him, he prepared to sink his body into her eager one. Because this was what he needed. Twenty-four hours in her arms, skin on skin, and he’d be a new man.

Or at least that’s what he told himself now. He’d have his regrets later, but he was in the moment and that’s what mattered.

She moved her mouth closer to his ear, and he waited to hear her tell him she wanted him, that she couldn’t hold on anymore, because he was going to take her so well the entire neighborhood was going to know about it… “Justin, your clothes are ringing.”

“I’m not wearing any clothes, so ignore it.” He took her hand, guided it between his legs.

“Sounds like it might be important,” she said, glancing toward the jeans he’d pulled off hurriedly and left in a pile on a lounge chair where his cell and beeper had started to ring angrily in tandem. Never a good sign.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Don’t move.” He pulled himself out of the pool and rifled through his jeans.

“I’ll be right back,” Monique said. She’d followed him out and headed inside, her bikini top left floating in the water. He stared after her, and then flipped the cell phone open with a groan.

“This had better be world war frigging three,” he said by way of hello. A low chuckle answered him, and immediately his focus shifted. It was Turk, aka Leo Turkowski—his best friend from childhood, and this sure as hell wasn’t a social call.

“Close enough, buddy.” Turk was smoking again. Justin could hear him take a deep drag and exhale. Normally, he would have called his friend on it, since he’d promised everyone for the millionth time he’d quit for good, but it wasn’t the time for a lecture. “You busy?”

Monique chose to come back out of the house at that moment, the lights from the kitchen highlighting the fact that her bikini bottoms were now conspicuously absent. She handed him a beer and trailed a finger along his neck before slipping back into the pool. He fought another groan and put the beer down. “What did you do now?”

“What did I interrupt?”

“Nothing. Really,” Justin lied through clenched teeth. It had been a long, dry deployment for his entire team, who were stationed in Virginia. Every eighteen months they deployed. This time, their six-month stint had found them in the mountains of Afghanistan working recon missions—his specialty. The team had taken some heat, taken down some tangos and returned slightly worse for wear and ready for some downtime.

He’d been home for less than twelve hours before he hit a local bar and met up with Monique, a full-time stewardess, part-time actress whose schedule seemed as busy as his and who’d told him back at the bar that she didn’t want any strings. It was goddamned perfect.

But when a friend called, his one-night stand would be shoved to the side no matter how much it hurt. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that crap.

He heard the scratch of a match and a deep inhale as Turk lit another cigarette. “You on leave?”

“Four days’ worth.”

“I need some help,” Turk said quickly, like it wasn’t easy to ask.

“Name it.”

“It’s about Ava,” his friend said quietly, and Justin’s stomach dropped at the mention of Turk’s younger sister. Ever since Turk started working deep-undercover cases for the DEA, he’d asked Justin to be on call to help Ava. Turk and Ava’s father had died when Ava was still in high school and they had no significant family, save for each other.

Justin had agreed, of course, but in all the years Ava had his phone number she’d never, ever used it. To be fair, he hadn’t used hers either. “Is she all right?”

“She bit off more than she can chew. And this time, it’s going to bite back.”

“Start talking, man. I need more information.” Justin was already pulling on his jeans, not giving a damn about being soaking wet.

“I can’t give you much. Just go to her.”

This was nothing Justin hadn’t done before. He’d always managed to do so without Ava knowing. As if guarding her from afar could make up for the way he’d hurt her. For the way he’d hurt them both.

Secrecy was better for all of them. And he’d always been able to take care of the problems plaguing her without much effort—usually some lowlife threatening her because of her job as an assistant district attorney, and because of her tendency to refuse to stand down when she was up against it.

It was a trait that ran long and hard in that family. And while Justin himself had a healthy appetite for living right out there on the edge, Turk and Ava brought it to an almost artistic level without even trying.

But this time, something in the tone of Turk’s voice didn’t sit right with Justin. “Tell me more.”

“This is just between us, Justin. There’s a possibility that her new case could blow my cover,” he murmured, and Justin knew what his friend said could mean a death sentence for him, no matter the case Turk was on. It also meant that Justin couldn’t bring in the local authorities for backup. “She’s involved in something big and she doesn’t realize it. You need to get to her tonight and get her out of New York.”

“Where do you want me to take her? Maybe she needs more protection than I can give her.”

“You’re the only one I can trust with this right now.” Turk paused for a long second, as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t. “It’s not going to be easy this time, Justin.”

“Dammit, Turk—don’t do this—” But the phone clicked on the other end before he could finish. Frustrated, he slammed it against the table and stared up at the sky for a few minutes.

Turk had joined the DEA around the time Justin made it through BUD/S training and moved into SQT, the final step before he received his Trident. He and Turk were always helping each other out, especially when one of them found himself balls deep in something, but Justin had never heard fear in his friend’s voice when Turk called for a favor. Not like this.

Turk was so deep undercover that he couldn’t get out in order to protect Ava.

But protect her from what?

Justin closed his eyes, thought about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been home now—if he’d still been deployed and God almighty, his instincts were screaming.

If he hauled ass, he could get to Ava before midnight, maybe hitch a ride on a helo from Virginia to a base in New York. Then he could rent a car and drive to Westchester County. And that would’ve made him happy if the thought didn’t cut him right off at the knees.

Nine years had passed since he’d actually had more than peripheral contact with her. Years full of some of the worst memories of his life, some of them softened by time and by a job he excelled at. A job that kept him too busy for more than a passing fling and no more commitment than a few hours could bring.

At one time, Ava had promised she’d be there for him. No matter what. That she trusted him. And then she’d never given him the chance to explain—the day he got married she skipped town and never looked back.

You wouldn’t have been able to tell her anyway.

Yeah, loyal to the end. Loyal and stupid. And young—too young to know any better, although it only made him feel marginally better to be able to blame his stupidity on youth and misguided loyalty.

It’s not going to be easy this time, Justin.

With Ava, it never was.

“YOUR HONOR, Miss Turkowski is making a mockery of this case, and her antics are becoming a hindrance to the prosecution.” The defense attorney clenched his fists and made a face Ava recognized immediately as exasperation. The judge wore it, too, as did pretty much any man Ava had ever known.

“Your Honor, a continuance is not on the people’s shortlist of wants. However, some new evidence has come to my attention that will showcase the defense’s arguments in a whole new light,” Ava said.

Before anyone could protest, she turned to Paul, her new assistant on the case, and in a perfectly choreographed move, he handed her the file folder she needed to present to the judge. She bypassed the defense council, a man she’d often gone up against and with whom she had a fifty-fifty loss/win split and handed the folder off.

She loved this moment—when she commanded the attention of every single person in the courtroom. She loved it because it didn’t happen quite as often as she would’ve liked, and when it did, she savored it more than dark chocolate and good sex, neither of which she’d had time for lately.

But this was certainly not the moment to muse about that. Not when she was about to win this case.

The judge peered at her over the top of his glasses. “A.D.A. Turkowski, how did you come upon this information?”

“My source is protected, Your Honor. But, as you can see, the evidence has been verified by forensics.”

“So it has.” The judge closed the folder and handed it off to the defense. “You might want to take a look at this before you make any more motions on behalf of your client.”

They were talking plea in less than two minutes, in hushed tones up by the judge, and Ava and the defense attorney agreed on a plea and punishment that would be put into place as soon as his client agreed.

“I wish all my cases wrapped this quickly,” Judge Barrett told them.

“I don’t,” defense council mumbled before walking back to his client. Ava headed to her side of the courtroom, the smell of victory mixed in with the usual smell of the courtroom —a combination of stale air, fear and old coffee.

Paul was busy putting his files in order. He looked harried, a perpetual state of affairs for any new lawyer working in the D.A.’s office, and one that never got any better. She’d just learned to hide it well.

“Nice job,” Paul said. “Stanton’s not happy with you at all.”

“Stanton can kiss my you-know-what.”

“From the way he looks at you, I think that’s what he wants.”

“Well, he’s not getting it,” she said. She certainly wasn’t going to whine about her attractiveness. In her opinion, she’d had nothing to do with it. It was all good genes and such, and she knew the difference between using her mind and using her body to get what she wanted. She also knew how to use both simultaneously, but most men didn’t seem to enjoy that.

She sighed, realized her feet were killing her. The price of trying to have fashionable feet to offset the conservative, mostly black attire she wore when she was on the job. She sat, kicked off a shoe and bent to massage a cramp in her arch.

“I’m late for a deposition. Are you going to need me tonight?” Paul asked.

She needed something tonight, but work wasn’t it. “No, no, take the night off. You deserve it,” she said, mainly because Paul looked more stressed than he usually did. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s this case I’ve got.” He looked pained as he went into the details. “It’s a domestic abuse case…”

“And the victim’s decided she doesn’t want to testify.”

“It’s an open-and-shut case, Ava. She could get him out of her life for good and she won’t.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, or on the victim,” Ava said, not wanting to break it to him that he’d have much tougher cases soon enough, ones that would wrench his heart out.

She’d been there, more than once, but especially with the Crafton case. She would never forget that one, or the look on her client’s face when Ava had been forced to admit that the man who’d raped Martha Crafton and killed Martha’s husband wasn’t going to jail at all, was actually going free because the D.A. had bigger deals to turn in exchange for the murderer’s testimony.

Thinking about that horrible day when her boss told her to cut the guy a deal made her stomach clench. In Martha’s eyes, no matter how many other cases Ava tried and won, no matter how many other men and women she sent to jail, she’d always be a failure.

She’d been told many times that her job would eat her alive if she let it, if she didn’t learn to shake it off, let things roll off her back. She had a lifetime of habits to unlearn, and so far, her success rate in that department was not looking good.

“Just keep moving forward. It’s all you can do,” she said. “Now get out of here before you’re late.”

“Thanks, Ava.” Paul pushed his way out of the courtroom to head across town and she shouldered her briefcase and pushed through the mob of people as well. Not bothering with the elevator, she took the stairs down, went out the back entrance and debated going back to the office for only a second before getting into her car and heading for the freeway instead.

She really wanted to be home at a decent hour tonight. She deserved it. Although she knew she’d be working once she arrived home—she’d been handed a new case last week. It was another seemingly cut-and-dried domestic abuse case, but as Paul now seemed to understand, there was nothing cut-and-dried about these cases.

Every case she won was not only a personal and professional victory, it was building her a stellar reputation as a strong women’s rights advocate.

She wasn’t always successful, not nearly as often as her pride would’ve liked, but her track record put her at the top of the A.D.A. list. She was being fast-tracked—to what, she wasn’t sure, but she’d heard the whispered rumors about herself too often to ignore it. Not that any of the rumors mattered. Justice was what mattered, a sense born and bred into her thanks to her father and his career, first with the army and then the DEA. He’d always been fighting the bad guys—and she always did her best to do the same.

The fact that a majority of her cases were garnering her more of the spotlight meant she’d also received her share of threats from the men she prosecuted and their families. That part was only going to get worse, her boss had warned her, but she’d grown up surrounded by men, was able to put up her own version of male bravado when she needed to. She’d learned to shoot and carried a gun wherever she went, learned self-defense moves and knew to watch her back.

She’d also learned that being on guard all the time was exhausting.

Now she guided her car, weaving through the typical New York City traffic heading east on the Henry Hudson. She thought of her little slice of land—and the small Cape Cod–style house she called home. She lived an hour outside of Manhattan in the hamlet of Carmel, and by the time she’d pulled into the driveway, the ride home with the top down and the radio blasting had relaxed her.

Still, she looked over her shoulder before going into the house and wished for the thousandth time she’d thought about buying a house with an attached garage.

Her older brother, Leo, had reminded her of that after the fact. She dropped her stuff, kicked off her shoes and began stripping off her business attire on the way to her bedroom. In fact, she hadn’t heard from Leo in three months. It was driving her crazy, even though he’d warned her ahead of time that it would be this way on most of his assignments.

The only person who might have heard from Leo recently would have been Justin. He was her brother’s best friend and still referred to Leo as Turk—his high-school nickname. At one time, she’d called Justin her best friend, as well.

Call Justin if you have any problems, Leo had repeated the last time she’d seen him, slipped her a piece of paper with a phone number on it the way he always did before he left on assignment. That paper was sitting in the bottom of her fire-safe with her other important documents, but she’d memorized that number. Thought about using it every single day for the past three months even though there had been no trouble in sight. At least nothing out of the ordinary.

Leo knew she wouldn’t call Justin unless there was a major emergency, but she also understood why he kept giving her the number. Justin was the closest thing to family she and Leo had since their father had died when she was seventeen.

Ava had grown up running wild. Her mom left when Ava had been just thirteen, and in need of a mother the most.

She’d had to turn to her father and Leo for dating advice instead of her mom—both their mantra being, you’re not dating until you’re thirty, so no, that hadn’t worked out well after all.

For the next few years, until they moved from North Carolina to Virginia, she’d taken on a lot of the household responsibilities. Her father was away too much to do so and Leo had no interest in things like grocery shopping or cooking.

She’d also found time to maintain a straight-A average —with a slight bit of coercion, first from Leo and later, from Justin, and have a normal social life. She didn’t want anything further to disrupt their family, and she knew enough to know that social workers would have a field day if they knew her father was sometimes away for a month at a time.

Still, something inside always pressed her to go further and further to the edge, test the limits. It was a need she couldn’t really control, something bred into her from her father’s genes, she supposed.

Her father had been in the army—Delta Force, then moved over to the DEA at the request of her mother, who’d somehow thought that a government agency would be a safer bet. She figured she’d have her husband home more and not taking off at a moment’s notice.

But her mother had been wrong because her father could find trouble just as efficiently and effectively as Ava and Leo could.

Which, of course, explained Ava’s want of Justin. At the time, Justin had been trouble—the supposed black sheep of his family and honestly more interested in keeping her out of trouble than finding it himself. Her best friend.

She’d thought for sure they had a future together, was still haunted by that one night when she’d finally gotten through to him—or so she’d thought, the one time she’d been able to have him stop seeing her as his closest friend’s little sister and he’d actually touched her…

The best and worst night of her young life. The night Justin kissed her…almost made love to her.

The day before he’d announced to her that he was marrying someone else, a girl Ava hadn’t even known he was dating. A girl he’d gotten pregnant.

Nine years had passed faster than she could’ve imagined then, when she was just seventeen and crying so hard over Justin’s betrayal she could barely breathe. Still heavily in grief over her father’s death, she’d thrown herself into academics. When Leo announced he’d been accepted into the DEA, it made her turn away from him and refocus on her own career. Something that was all hers, which no one else could ever take away.

She told herself she’d been lucky that nothing had ever worked out with Justin. Where would she have been today? Worrying constantly about his safety? About when he’d return? If he’d return? Even though she’d been taught at an early age that you never, ever used the word if in conjunction with a military deployment. No need to tempt the fates.

Not that she didn’t worry about him and Leo in secret, all the time, anyway.

There had been men during the years since she’d seen Justin. Too many, probably, in some kind of strange attempt to exorcize him from her mind and her dreams. But between her job and her lack of interest in any of these guys, because she’d always been too guarded for her own good, she’d never had much more than casual relationships. Even her most recent romance, which had lasted six months, ended because it had gotten too serious for her. Instead, she put in late nights at the office and fielded hate mail and death threats and worked hard to put the bad guys in jail and tried her best not to let the past overwhelm her.

You never even called Justin about his baby or the divorce.

She’d been too hurt to even think about Justin’s loss. It had been wrong, selfish and, in her eyes, unforgivable enough that she’d never been able to contact him before this. And the worst part was that she knew that Justin, probably more than anyone else, understood why, and not just for the obvious reasons.

She’d heard, through the good old grapevine, that Justin’s ex-wife had remarried, had more babies, and that Justin hadn’t gotten involved with anyone significant.

She wondered if he’d been keeping tabs on her, too.

She reached for the phone, wondering if this time she’d actually go through with it. But the phone rang as her hand touched the receiver, and jolted her firmly back to reality.

She didn’t know the number on her caller ID, and answered with a wary hello.

“I’ve got a lead for you on the Mercer case.” She recognized the deep garbled voice of an informant she’d gotten solid evidence from several times in the past, thanks to some of her connections with the New York City Police Department.

Most informants couldn’t be trusted any farther than she could throw them, but she didn’t have much choice. “I’m waiting,” she said.

“Not over the phone. In person. At Grandpa’s Bar. Midnight.” He hung up before she had a chance to respond. Didn’t matter—she’d be there.

She had to find out what everyone else knew about Susie’s disappearance.

2

AT A TABLE in the back of the dim bar, the man Ava knew only as Sammy downed the third beer she’d bought for him. Ava, in turn, played with the label on her first and only bottle and tried to appear patient.

Sammy was a good-looking, fast-talking con man whose penchant for gambling had gotten him into some bad situations. But his time spent around other recently paroled convicts afforded Ava, and the officers she often worked with, insight into cases they might never have broken otherwise.

Finally, Sammy spoke. “They got me again. I’m going to need your help.”

She sighed, knowing the “they” referred to his parole officer, and the help, no doubt, involved a gambling scheme gone bad. “I thought you were getting out of the game.”

“It was a setup,” he protested.

“I’ll talk to your parole officer but I can’t promise anything, Sammy. You might be looking at some jail time.”

Sammy nodded, because he knew. Still, he’d give her information in an attempt to reduce his sentence. “I hear you’re looking for that Susie Mercer woman.”

Keep it cool, Ava. He really doesn’t know anything. “Have you heard where she is?” she asked, and Sammy shook his head roughly.

“No. I don’t know where she is, but I know who she is.” His voice was so low she could barely hear him over the music and the bar’s rowdy clientele. “You’ve heard of the O’Rourkes?”

Everyone had heard of the O’Rourkes. The infamous family ran an import/export business as its legitimate front, which was a cover for a highly successful and illegal drug-smuggling business that seemed to grow bigger every year. The business was based out of Chicago, and even though O’Rourke also had an office in New York, the D.A. had never been able to touch him.

“Of course I’ve heard of the O’Rourkes,” she said, pushing her beer to the side as her head began to pound.

“Well, she’s married to one of them. Robert Mercer, Susie’s husband, is the guy’s son,” Sammy said triumphantly. He clinked the neck of his beer bottle with hers.

“Sammy, how did you find that out?” she whispered urgently. Sammy shrugged, unconcerned. Since Susie had come forward, Robert Mercer was under investigation for more than just domestic abuse—the D.A.’s office was trying to keep his connection to the O’Rourkes under wraps until the Grand Jury convened in two weeks. If Sammy confirmed to anyone that Ava now knew the information…

She wanted to shake him by the shoulders until his teeth rattled.

“Now, that’s something I can’t tell you,” he said, before bringing the bottle back to his mouth and draining it.

“You can’t tell anybody else about this. Do you understand?”

“Don’t worry about me…well, only make sure I get out of trouble. Detective Rumson always says you’re the only one in the D.A.’s office who can be trusted.”

She stared into the man’s eyes and wondered why she always felt as if there was no one in the world she could trust. “Are you sure there’s no word on where Susie is?”

Sammy shook his head. “But if I had to guess, the family got her. There’s no way to escape them.”

But Susie had escaped. For now she was well hidden, safe and sound. The day after she’d pressed domestic abuse charges against her husband, Ava had helped her get away from her husband, since Susie refused to put her faith in the more conventional witness protection program. Ava had told this to no one, and wouldn’t be telling Sammy, either.

It had been reported that Susie’s husband, a successful New York entrepreneur, was now the main suspect in her “disappearance.” Although Robert Mercer had been under investigation at the D.A.’s office long before Susie had come forward to speak with Ava.

Something bigger was going on here. Robert Mercer’s hands were always somehow clean, his business dealings perfect. Still, Ava would make sure Susie’s case was solid, one way or the other.

With the help of Callie, she’d also make sure Robert never got anywhere near Susie again.

Callie was a social worker with close ties to the D.A.’s office, especially concerning domestic abuse cases, and an ally who’d helped Ava assist more women in peril than she could ever have imagined.

Callie was part of the backbone of an underground railroad that helped women get away from their abusive mates and into a new life. A program run entirely by volunteers, including some of the most unlikely people Ava would have ever expected. And, as each woman had been helped, she’d become the next important link in the chain.

It was the most important work Ava had ever done.

You’ll be straddling the legal line, Callie warned her when she’d first approached Ava about helping those women the system had failed, the ones whose husbands weren’t prosecuted. The ones who’d rather escape than face their tormentor in open court.

With this case, Ava had crossed it. There was no turning back now.

FIFTEEN MINUTES FROM Ava’s house, Justin pulled his cell phone from his pocket and made the call he’d been dreading.

“Where are you?” Rev, his SEAL teammate, yelled into the phone, over the sounds of loud music. Which meant he was still in the bar, where Justin had left him and the rest of the team, including Cash, earlier in the evening.

“I’m, ah, in a situation,” he said.

“Yeah, we saw you leave the bar with that situation well in hand.” Rev chuckled at his own wit and Justin thought about hanging up now and saving himself.

“I had to go to New York,” he said instead, ignoring his better judgment not to give him details because it was all shot to hell anyway. He’d need his team—no, his friends—to know where he was, just in case. If he couldn’t trust them, he had nothing.

“New York? He’s in New York!” Rev yelled, and Justin could only pray that he wasn’t telling Cash. Anyone but Cash, because if Cash heard New York…

“Is this about Ava?” Cash demanded. Justin heard Rev grumbling in the background, no doubt because Cash mowed him down to get to the phone and dammit, Cash was supposed to be spending time with his girlfriend.

Cash was Justin’s best friend on the team—the one Justin confided in the most. The one who Justin had watched fall in love hard last year with a documentary filmmaker named Rina. And although Hunt and Rev both knew about his past with Ava, Cash was the only one who knew exactly how many regrets Justin still had.

“I thought Rina was in town,” he said, mentioning Cash’s girlfriend as if this was a normal, everyday conversation and he was not having to admit to being minutes away from facing his past.

“Her flight from Botswana got canceled. Engine trouble. She’s coming in tomorrow night. And don’t try and change the subject.”

“Turk called me. Ava’s in trouble. Big trouble,” he said finally.

“Yeah. Always is. And now, I’m sure you are, too.”

“Just put Rev back on the phone,” Justin said, without telling his friend that this particular brand of Ava trouble had the potential to be bigger and badder than ever. Cash did so, but Justin could still hear him cursing a blue streak. In Swahili.

“What’s going on?” Rev asked.

“Can you go to my house and make sure it’s tight?” he asked, because Rev was the security master of the group.

Rev was silent for a minute. “CG?” he asked, and yes, that was the code—code green—they’d developed for when something really bad was going down and they couldn’t say much about it.

“Yeah. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Probably by tomorrow night—late.”

“Consider it done,” Rev said. “Once I figure out why my car won’t start.”

Justin groaned and hung up, because, even though he knew Rev would take care of what he needed to, it wouldn’t come without a certain amount of high drama and last-minute tension Rev seemed to have a penchant for.

Justin turned the corner slowly, parked a few houses down from Ava’s. It was nearly one in the morning. He’d been able to catch a military flight that got him here inside of an hour. But first he’d do a quick sweep to make sure everything was all right before ringing her doorbell and making contact… when Ava, still driving that same Mustang convertible Turk and her father had rebuilt for her ages ago, pulled into the driveway.

Within seconds she was striding toward the front door of her house, dressed in a pair of well-worn but still formfitting jeans, a white, V-neck T-shirt and a pair of high-heeled black boots that were part sex kitten, part Harley mama and every man’s fantasy. Including his.

She’d been hot enough at seventeen to make him crazy. Apparently nothing had changed if the way his pulse was racing was any indication.

Spending any decent amount of time with her had always made him feel as if he should be hoisting the white flag of surrender, although he was never quite sure what he was surrendering to.

He could run fifteen miles in one shot without a problem. Uphill, in the rain and carrying a pack that weighed eighty pounds or with one of his teammates slung over his shoulder. Swim in oceans so rough that drowning sometimes seemed the easier option. Been shot at more often than he cared to remember and still, seeing her could take him down at the knees every single time.

He’d spent the better part of his eighteenth year bailing her out of various scrapes—and honky-tonks, telling himself he was doing it for Turk and Ava’s father the entire time. Gotten into more than a few old-fashioned, chair-throwing, window-breaking bar fights with guys who’d wanted to take her home. And done more than his share of locking her in her room so she could study and wouldn’t fail her classes.

He’d only made the mistake of locking her in and standing outside her door once. He’d been so proud of her two hours of straight study, without complaint, until he’d gotten a call from the police about a woman caught speeding. On his hog.

When he’d gone to collect her from the precinct, she’d been unapologetic. Just smiled and batted those eyelashes and he’d wanted to kill her. And kiss her, too. And she’d known it. Always had.

He was never sure if that made things better or worse.

Ava, with her fierce loyalty and strong sense of justice, even then, she probably could’ve helped him, but at the time…

At the time, he couldn’t face her. He’d called her from a pay phone outside the motel where he was staying and explained why he wasn’t at her graduation when, the night before, they’d rolled together on the floor of her room. When he’d nearly taken her for the first time—her first time. A night when he’d had to tell her he was marrying someone else.

He’d told himself that he called because he hadn’t wanted her to see the bruises on his face, to ask too many questions.

He called because he couldn’t stand seeing the look on her face, the one of disappointment that he’d never wanted to put there. The one he’d seen when she recalled her mother leaving, and then firsthand when her father died and again when Turk announced he was transferring to an out-of-state college on a scholarship.

He’d called because he’d been leaving her, too.

Now, from the safety of the car, he watched the sway of her hips, wondered if her hair still smelled like that flowery shampoo she used to use. Wondered if she still hated him as much as she had that night.

He’d find out soon enough.

AVA WAS DEEP in thought as she approached her front door. It took three tries to get the key into the lock because her mind was racing due to Sammy’s news. And, if she was honest with herself, because her hands were shaking slightly. The O’Rourkes were getting too close—to Susie…to everything.

She’d have to let the detectives know about this development, could, in fact, since it wasn’t attorney-client privilege. And lie, the way she’d been doing for the past months when women like Susie Mercer disappeared off the face of the earth…

Susie planned to come back into town to give her grand jury statement and what evidence she could against her husband—and now presumably the O’Rourkes, too—in less than two weeks. She had evidence of the domestic abuse she’d suffered as well as the corrupt business dealings of her husband, and she was ready and willing to testify about both matters. She’d told both Ava and Callie not to worry about getting her back into New York, that she just needed their help in getting out. Susie refused to trust the police, the FBI and the federal marshals. She told Ava and Callie that if she was putting her life on the line, she was going to do it her way.

When Ava finally got the door open, she pushed in and noticed something by her feet.

A plain white envelope had been slipped through the mail slot in her door. She stared at it for a moment because there was no name or address on the front. And then she slid a finger under the sealed edge and ripped it open impatiently.

Photographs slid out. Polaroids of her in various places over the course of the last couple of days. Entering her office. Sitting with Susie. Going to dinner.

Meeting with Sammy tonight at the bar.

She fought the revulsion curling in her stomach and stuffed the pictures back into the envelope. No fear. Don’t let the bastards get to you.

God, she’d been outside—right in the open…

She moved fully into the foyer and slammed and locked the door behind her. Instinctively, she pulled the .38 special she’d started carrying, at Leo’s insistence, from her bag and held it at the ready while she turned on all the lights on the first floor. And then wondered if that was such a good idea.

She forced herself to stand still, to calm down and think. She could handle this.

She’d pack a bag, head straight for the anonymity of the city, hand the pictures over to the police and stay in a hotel. She’d be safe then.

Callie’s words of wisdom echoed in her head.

If anything happens, leave your place for a while. Go anywhere. And don’t tell anyone where you’re going…

Panic washed over her. That didn’t happen often, but the feeling in the pit of her stomach grew worse with each passing minute.

She wouldn’t worry about packing—she could come back here with the police tomorrow for her things. She shoved the pictures into her bag and opened the front door. And screamed.

“Jesus, Ava—what’s with the gun, are you trying to kill me?”

Justin. Justin filled the doorway, his hand poised as if readying to knock. Her breath caught and she was frozen in place at the sight of him.

He didn’t appear to be having the same problem. Barging past her, he insisted, “Ava, talk to me. Are you all right?”

Was she all right? No, not by a long shot.

“Justin, I’m in trouble,” she sputtered, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say, because she was scared and half in shock. The last person in the world she’d expected to find on her doorstep was Justin Brandt, but he might be the only one who could give her what she needed right now.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, but you have to put the gun down.” His drawl was thick and familiar, comforting, even as she realized the gun was still pointed at his chest.

“Sorry.”

Justin glanced behind Ava and then gave her a firm but gentle push aside with one hand. The other held her hand with the gun pointed downward. He kept his hand on that arm, even after he closed the door.

He was standing so close, and for a second, just a second, she forgot the danger and everything else but the heat of his body. Justin looked even better with some years on him. Bigger, stronger, faster. Her hero. Big and blond, with dark eyes so intense they could melt her. So handsome, he made her ache, and the nine years they hadn’t seen each other disappeared.

“Did your brother call you?” he asked, his eyes lingering on hers for a brief moment before he was scanning the parts of the house that he could see from the foyer.

“No. Not for three months. Have you spoken with Leo? Is he all right?” The words rushed out of her and she didn’t bother worrying about putting up a brave front. She never had to do it with Justin. He’d seemed to always understand that she was brave even when she wasn’t in control.

“He was breathing,” Justin said wryly. It was an old joke the three of them used to share with Ava’s father. Obviously it was meant to calm her. “And he’s just as worried about you. What’s going on here?”

She’d tell him what she could, as little as possible without having his human lie detector Navy SEAL instincts kick into high gear. “I’m trying to figure that out myself.”

She shoved the pictures at him and began to pace in the small hallway, which was made much smaller by Justin’s presence. He flipped through them quickly, shaking his head and muttering, nothing she could make out, but she knew when Justin muttered they were usually words that could make a sailor blush.

“Who is this guy?” he demanded.

“My informant. He was helping me out on my current case.”

“Your informant sold you out.”

“No. He wouldn’t do that.”

“He’s not a criminal, then?”

“He gave me crucial information. Why would he do that and then betray me?”

“Where is he now?”

“I left him at the bar a while ago. I told him not to tell anyone. To be careful.”

Justin stared at her. “This picture was just taken?”

“Yes. That’s why I was leaving. To go straight to the police,” she lied, but Justin was shaking his head.

“No, not tonight. What happened with your informant tonight sounds like a setup.”

Until Justin said it, she hadn’t wanted to believe it. Now she was completely unsure whether or not Sammy would have gotten the scoop on the Mercers if there hadn’t been a direct purpose. “If that’s true, then they’ve been watching me.”

“Any idea why?”

Several. Nothing, however, that she could share freely.

“It’s because of my current case. It has to be. Does Leo know about it?”

“I don’t know what he knows. He called, said I needed to get you out of town, and he didn’t elaborate.”

Out of town sounded really good, but Justin would expect her to put up more of a fight. “I don’t know if I can leave like this—I have a job. Responsibilities. People who are counting on me.”

Justin had already opted for the most effective argument. “Leo wouldn’t ask you to do anything if he didn’t have specific reason to. And I know you trust your brother.”

“Yes. Of course I trust him.”

Justin stared at her with those dark eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t put her finger on. “More importantly, right now, you’ve got to trust me.”

“Trust was never my issue.” She said it before she could stop herself and he blanched visibly, as though she’d physically struck him.

“I guess you think I deserve that.” His voice was tight as he continued. “Maybe I do, but you shouldn’t ever question my commitment to keeping you safe.”

She didn’t question that. Justin was the best at what he did, according to Leo.

Her father had been a dangerous man. Leo was one too, and even though she’d always known, on some level, that Justin was an equal to both men in her family, she hadn’t had the opportunity to see it until then. She could sense the predator in him as he stood before her, fully on her side. But there was nothing to say her heart was safe.

With Justin, it never had been.

“So, are you with me?” he asked again. “I’m going to need your full cooperation, Ava. Because Turk didn’t give me much to go on, and I don’t really know what we’re in for.”

“And still, you came all the way here to save me?” she asked quietly, not sure why it mattered so much. But somehow, it did.

“I came here to honor a request from one of my best friends,” he said, as if it was no big deal, but his jaw tensed, nearly imperceptibly, letting her know otherwise.

“Leo told me to call you if I got into trouble,” she said.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“The last time…” She trailed off.

“Yeah, I know.” He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to ward off the pain of the memory of their history. “We can’t do this now. Let’s do what your brother wants, and then…”

And then…

She couldn’t think past the next five minutes, let alone that far ahead. “I can do that,” she told him and suddenly she was seventeen and he was eighteen and their future was stretched out in front of them, inextricably linked.

“Come on, we’ll figure this out from someplace safer.”

“You don’t think…I mean, you think I’m really not safe here at all?”

“I think I don’t want to wait to find out.” He put a hand on the small of her back and guided her to the front door. “Stay behind me, all right? And keep your gun low and not pointed at me.”

3

WITH AVA A FEW steps behind Justin, hanging on to his belt as he’d told her, they got to his rental car without incident. Still, he did not have any good feelings about this one. When a slow-moving car, headlights off, pulled onto the end of the street, he knew he was more than right.

Someone had been waiting for Ava to get home, to make their move on her. Her leaving was not what they had in mind and Justin didn’t wait to get the make and model, hear the inevitable, unmistakable sound of gunfire that followed before he peeled away from the curb.

“Stay low, Ava.” He automatically pushed her so her body was almost to the floor as one shot then another cracked the back windshield but didn’t shatter it. Shit.

He careened around the corner, looking to put just enough distance between them to pull into a hiding spot. There wasn’t enough traffic this time of night around here to lose the sporty number following them.

Three blocks later, he found what he was looking for, pulled the car between two low sheds and cut the lights and the engine. He prayed, but held his weapon at the ready at the same time because he always found the combination of the two to be the most effective.

Ava, it appeared, was holding her breath. And looking slightly blue. Not really a great color on her.

She was staring at him and he realized that he was motioning for her to breathe in SEAL speak, not Avaspeak. She was looking at him as if he was crazy.

He pulled her close, whispered against her ear, breathe, and felt her inhale a huge gulp of air. And then another, in a slightly hitched manner.

She stopped when the sound of another car rounded the corner, headlights momentarily throwing light on their car and hopefully, it was mingling in with the shadows. Ava had moved closer to him unconsciously, and any other time he would’ve been thrilled with that contact. As it was, she was burrowing against the arm that held the gun, making it impossible to move without flinging her unceremoniously to the floor. Which he’d do if he had to, but she’d definitely be unhappy with him.

She also had a lot more explaining to do than just, this all has to do with my current case. But he was skilled enough in interrogation to know that she’d tell him everything he needed to know one way or another. Having a history with her helped in that regard.

Of course, she also knew him well, too.

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, the car pulled away.

She looked slightly shaken, but she was breathing and there was no blood. And she wasn’t staring up at him with that goddamned “you’re my hero” look he was pretty familiar with after he rescued someone on the job, which was good. He didn’t want hero worship from her.

What do you want from her?

The truth, he told himself firmly. And for a minute, he almost believed it.

AVA CLUTCHED Justin’s arm as she strained to listen for any signs of the other car’s return.

Her palm ached from where she’d held the gun so tightly, her heart beat faster as the earlier scene began to replay itself in her head. She couldn’t get past the sound of shots being fired, wouldn’t make the mistake of staring out the rear window that had been struck by a pair of bullets. It was one thing to practice shooting at a range and entirely another to be in the line of fire.

She much preferred the former and realized that the breathing thing was getting harder.

“Put your head between your legs and try to take deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth,” Justin was explaining, but his voice sounded far away, his drawl more pronounced…his large palm against her cheek.

What seemed like seconds later, mainly because that palm was less than gently slapping her cheek, she opened her eyes with a start. Her seat had been pushed all the way back and her gun was gone.

His hand shifted from her cheek to her neck, then reached down for her hand. For a second, she thought he was going to hold it.

“Your pulse is still racing,” he said, finger firmly on the point at her wrist. “You should stay down for a while.”

And then, for just a second, he did put his hand in hers, giving it a light squeeze. His hand was big, reassuring, and if she pretended hard enough she could actually believe that there was something more in his touch than mere comfort.

When he took his hand away, she shifted to face him. “Did we lose them?” she asked, her voice hoarse as if she’d been screaming out loud for hours. In reality, she hadn’t, but inside her head she was still yelling.

“For now.” His voice was intense, his drawl nearly nonexistent.

“So why aren’t we moving?”

“We’ll have to sit for a while. They’ll circle around until they’re sure we’ve disappeared.” He glanced at the empty neighborhood. “I’ve also got to lose this car and these plates.”

“Around here? You’re going to steal a car?”

“I prefer to think of it as borrowing,” he said. “And no, not here, we’ll have to make do with this one for a while longer. At least until we get out of state.”

“Where are we going?”

“I was going to take you down to my place, in Norfolk, but I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” His hand, which had been playing along the steering wheel gripped it tighter, the muscle in his forearm flexed and she noted again how much bigger he’d gotten. All filled out—no more signs of the young man she’d known in high school. His hair was shorter now, but still as blond and he was still tanned, too.

He took a deep breath, as if he’d made a decision. “We’ll drive for a few hours, then stop before dawn. Rest, regroup. Decide what our next move should be. Until we know more about who’s threatening you, I don’t want you to have any contact with your office.”

“No one in the D.A.’s office has anything to do with this,” she insisted, but her voice sounded worried, even to her own ears.

“Unless you’re one hundred percent sure, I’m not taking any chances. Not when I promised your brother I’d take care of you until he could.” He paused. “What’s this new case all about?”

“It’s a domestic abuse case. I’ve prosecuted cases like this before and yes, I’ve been threatened before.” She gave him the pat answer, the easy answer.

“Like this?”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Abusive husbands often try to control me the way they control their wives. I can’t let them win. I made a commitment to these women, to help them. Do you know how long it’s taken some of them to come forward, to finally trust someone?”

“I can only imagine.” His voice was tight again, and maybe, just maybe, he’d understand. At least she thought so until he spoke. “But you can’t put your life on the line for every case.”

“Does your SEAL team have that same motto?” she asked, and his lips pressed together in a grim line. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do, Justin.”

“In this case, I do. You’re going to need to listen to me, Ava.” And with that he straightened up and turned the key in the ignition.

She guessed his internal timeframe had told him it was safe to leave. Still, she noted that he didn’t switch on the car’s headlights until they were on the highway, headed southbound. “I’m doing all this for your own good.”

How many times had she heard that in her lifetime, from Justin, Leo, her father…even her mother?

She’d had no idea an hour ago that when she opened her door she’d be opening up the door to her past.

AVA HAD HER CELL PHONE out and she was dialing. And ignoring him and his advice. Just like old times. Which, in a way, was good. It meant she was bucking up under the pressure, that she wouldn’t completely fall apart. Yet.

He grabbed the phone from her. “What are you doing? You just agreed we weren’t going to tell anyone anything,” he said.

“I want to talk to Leo,” she said. “I want to talk with someone in the DEA office. If they know anything—anything at all that’s related to why my life’s at risk—I deserve to know.” She kicked the dashboard in frustration. Twice. Which made the front end of the POS rental car rattle.

“I know you do,” he said, trying to talk her down from the emotional ledge she’d worked herself onto.

“Maybe in your world having men shoot at you isn’t a big deal—”

“It’s always a big deal,” he said through gritted teeth. He shifted his hands on the steering wheel and then took a breath. She was shaken, badly, and when Ava was thrown off her game she reacted by lashing out at the nearest available person. Which, in high school, always seemed to be him.

But this wasn’t high school. They were all grown up and this was all too damn real. “I need you to tell me everything that happened to you today. You can start with the informant, or think back, if there was anything else out of the ordinary that happened. Maybe something you’ll only notice in hindsight …did you feel like you were being followed? Have you been seeing the same man for the past few days and thought it was just one of those weird coincidences?”

“No, I hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. I’ve just been working—ninety-hour weeks. I barely have time to lift my head and notice the world around me.”

That was Ava. She’d always thrown herself headfirst into whatever her cause or interest had been. Like a whirlwind, she gave all her time, devotion and energy until she’d completed the latest project to her satisfaction.

“You’ve got to tell me everything you know about this case you’re working on,” Justin insisted.

“I shouldn’t be telling you any of it.”

“Under typical circumstances, I’d respect the need for confidentiality. But this has gone way beyond that—I need to know what we’re up against.”

Ava stared out the windshield as she told him about Susie and Robert Mercer in halting words, as though she was trying not to give away more than necessary.

“So you met with the informant, he tells you that your newest client, who’s disappeared off the face of the earth, is the wife of a man who’s the son of one of the biggest drug traffickers—which is information you already knew. And then you come home to find pictures of yourself.”

“That about sums it up,” she said. “It’s not good that Sammy has that information—it’s not good that he knows that I know who Robert Mercer really is. Before this, the D.A.’s office was only supposed to know about the domestic abuse charge. My boss didn’t want us to give away our hand, not until the police and the federal marshals got involved.”

She was looking down at her hands, her nails short, manicured with a light, no-nonsense polish, but he’d bet anything that her toes were painted a fire-engine red, or maybe purple. Something unexpected under all the logic.

He had the nagging sense that she was holding something back, but he let it go for the moment. “Did you tell him that?”

“I did. He refused to tell me where he’d gotten the information.” She shook her head. “He’s low level…I don’t know why someone would just offer up that tidbit to him.”

“He could’ve been in the right place at the right time.”

“Or it was a giant setup, like you said before. A way to get me out of the house.” She paused. “A way to scare the hell out of me.”

Ava might be scared now, but what these men didn’t realize was that the fear wouldn’t last long, it’d be replaced quickly by her natural fighting instincts.

“We’ll stop just before dawn,” he said. “I’m going to have to figure out what to do with this car. I can’t be sure someone didn’t see us leave. I don’t know if the guys who came after you were watching your house.”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Ava whispered before she turned away from him to stare out the window into the darkness.

WHEN LEO HAD FIRST gotten wind that Susie Mercer had gone to the D.A.’s office to file a charge of domestic abuse, then also confessed to knowing her husband’s dealings with the O’Rourke family and refused federal protection, he’d wanted to bang his head against the wall.

When he found out Ava was lead counsel for the prosecution for both the domestic abuse charge and the possible indictment of Robert Mercer for being involved with the O’Rourkes, he did just that. Twice. And the headache that followed was nothing compared to the way his head pounded now.

The D.A.’s office didn’t realize that their secret information regarding Mercer’s hidden criminal connection wasn’t nearly as secret as they thought.

As he slid his leather jacket on, he wondered if he’d ever be able to recognize himself in the mirror again. Too much scruff on his face, hair too long, a far cry from his usual suit and tie, official DEA office wear.

You wanted undercover. Be careful what you wish for.

He’d gotten bored with the usual action, the paperwork. The bullshit bureaucracy that seemed to haunt every one of his work assignments while he slammed through the ranks.

Hearing about Justin’s travels all over God’s green earth hadn’t quelled his instincts to play hard and work even harder. Turk had known military life wasn’t for him, but he’d been surprised at just how badly he’d wanted to take a walk on the darker side of life.

He hadn’t wanted to take his sister down that path with him, had been glad when she’d refused to work for the DEA as one of their team of lawyers, no matter how hard they’d tried to recruit her.

When he made contact with his office yesterday he’d received the news that Ava was on the Mercer case, looking to put the people he’d been investigating for months behind bars, but on charges that wouldn’t stick without the information the DEA had been carefully gathering.

The link between Robert Mercer and the O’Rourke clan was little known outside the tight-knit world Leo had infiltrated. Until Susie had come forward with a domestic abuse claim—and Robert Mercer had panicked.

The O’Rourkes hadn’t panicked. They planned on doing what they did best—protecting their own interests by trying to grab Susie first.

Except that Susie Mercer suddenly went missing and couldn’t be located through FBI, or any of the other law enforcement agency channels.

On the O’Rourke estate, Leo heard rumors that O’Rourke’s men had orders to kill whoever was assisting Susie or would be closely involved with a possible trial.

He wasn’t sure what else to do but call in Justin.

He trusted Justin with his life, with Ava’s, but this was bigger than all of them and more dangerous than the DEA had originally conceived.

Anyone going after Ava would have had to have researched her family. Leo’d taken precautions but hadn’t exactly erased himself…if they’d gone through Ava’s house, seen pictures…

It was a leap, but not a huge one. Once he knew Ava was in his buddy’s care, he could relax momentarily, move to the next phase of his job and figure out the rest later.

4

JUST BEFORE THREE in the morning, they crossed the border from Pennsylvania into Maryland. Justin steered the car onto an exit ramp. Nearby a sign boasted lodging.

Ava had waited in the car while he went into the front office and got them a room, and then he’d driven them around the back of the motel, to a room on the first floor.

The room, the entire motel, left a lot to be desired, but they were in no position to be picky. At least it was clean, tacky orange and brown furnishings aside.

Justin was doing something to the front door of the room with wires, and she didn’t bother to ask what.

“You’ll probably want something more comfortable to sleep in. You can grab a shirt and shorts from my bag,” he told her without turning around from what he was doing.

They hadn’t spoken much during the past hour of their trip. She’d been so wrapped up in the mounting enormity of her situation and he was, no doubt, angry with her. Now, as she rifled through his bag and pulled out some clothes, the reality of what had happened began to hit home.

In the privacy of the bathroom she contemplated the sudden and complete train wreck her life had become in less than four hours, thought about the work she’d left behind—all her cases, all her clients…Callie…

It had been a long time since Ava had had any close female friends, if she ever really had them at all. In high school, the girls all wanted to be friends with her because of Leo and Justin, so she hadn’t trusted them. During college, she’d put her nose to the grindstone so she could graduate a year early, and although she’d had her share of dates, getting close to anyone hadn’t been her priority.

But when she’d met Callie last year, the women had clicked immediately. Callie loved her job and had, in a roundabout way, begun to help Ava love what she was doing again as well.

She’d confided in Callie about her love life. About Justin and a fiancé who’d given her an ultimatum. And so, for the first time in forever when she actually had a girlfriend she could confide in, Ava wasn’t even able to reach out to her for help.

She could only reach out to Justin.

As she’d stripped off her T-shirt and jeans, she realized she was shivering again.

She wasn’t going to fall apart, not when there was so much on the line.

She put the shorts on first, then pulled Justin’s T-shirt over her head, pausing for a minute to smell the combination of freshly laundered shirt that still contained a hint of the Justin she remembered, like fresh air and raw, uninhibited energy.

Justin was sitting in the chair across from the bed, waiting for her. “Don’t touch the windows or the door,” he warned. “They’re alarmed.”

“Okay,” she said, grateful at the moment that Justin was some kind of one-man army. Navy. Whatever.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? I could run out and get you something…”

“No.” She shook her head, almost wishing Justin wasn’t treating her with such kid gloves.

“You should get some sleep, then.” He’d drawn the curtains tightly. She’d never have known the sun was just dawning.

“I’m a little too keyed up to sleep,” she admitted. “There’s so much I left behind, so much unfinished.”

“I heard you were engaged,” he said suddenly. “Will your fiancé be worried about you? Will he alert the police?”

“We’re taking a break,” she said, and Justin was silent for a second. “He’s not even in the country,” she added, because Justin still wasn’t saying anything.

“Oh. Okay.” He paused, then asked, “He’s a desk jockey, isn’t he?”

“Not everyone has the desire to be a big, bad Navy SEAL. But if you must know, he’s a commodities trader. He moved to Japan for a year and he wanted me to go with him.” He’d given her a ring after two months of dating, even though she’d protested. After five months of her duck-and-run routine, he’d gotten tired and taken the job. And she’d returned the ring.

“Okay.”

“Could you stop saying okay?”

“Why didn’t you go with him?” he asked instead, and suddenly she realized that okay was much, much better.

“Because I’m not following someone around the globe. I have my own life. Subject closed.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“I’d go back to okay, but that seems to annoy you,” he said. And he was smiling a bit, with that still-familiar look he always gave her—the look she hadn’t been able to forget, a cross between amusement and indulgence. It was the indulgence part she’d always counted on. The part he probably didn’t even know he was giving away.

It was nice to have at least something on him because truthfully he drove her crazy. This was treacherous territory. Heartbreaking.

Nine years should be long enough for anything to fade, but it had never been easy between them. And with both she and her brother in trouble, difficult was par for the course.

JUSTIN SWORE he could hear the wheels in Ava’s head spinning at full speed. She nibbled her bottom lip, and suddenly there it was—the serious look on her face tempered by the freckles on her nose and cheeks, and a gleam in her eye that meant she could never, ever be tamed.

He knew people would spend a lifetime trying anyway.

He never got why someone would want to restrain something so free and wild. Run it a bit, harness it, yes, he got that. He’d tried to help where Ava was concerned, do his part, until she’d started to resent him and he got tired of being the daddy and everything blew up in their teenage faces.

That would happen again if he didn’t start pulling it together and figuring out what to do next.

He refused to let it happen. Not this time. He didn’t want to head back to base with his tail between his legs and admit to his friends and SEAL teammates, like Hunt and Rev, the extent of his longing. Well, Cash knew already.

“How do you do this?” She’d begun to pace like a caged animal. “How do you just sit around and wait?”

“Normally, I’m on the offensive. In the field. I don’t babysit for a living,” he said quietly. “I know it’s frustrating. But right now, the best thing we can do is get you out of harm’s way and let Turk do his job.” He saw her eyes soften a bit at the mention of her brother.

“Do you think we’ll hear from Leo?” she asked.

“Probably not. It’s better that way.”

“But he’s got the DEA backing him, right?”

“Yes,” Justin said patiently, but he knew she wouldn’t trust what he said fully. She knew better. The world of undercover operations wasn’t always a play-by-the-rules type of situation, and the very fact that Turk had sent Justin in meant her brother could possibly be in way over his head.

She stared him down hard. “Do you ever go on missions where no one’s backing you? No ID, nothing?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”

“Yes, I know. Classified. You and Leo are all sorts of classified,” she muttered.

“Just like you and your current case,” he tried to refute, tried to bring it around to something she could understand.

“That’s different, and you know it,” she countered. “You can’t protect me forever.”

“Do you think I want to do this? Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life cleaning up after you?” He struggled to keep his voice tight, controlled. Stay rational.

“I stopped knowing what you wanted years ago. And I never asked you to clean up after me. That was always my father and Leo’s doing.”

“I never knew what you wanted,” he said, aware that he couldn’t hide the anger. “You never did either—that was a big part of the problem between us.”

“Us?” She laughed, a slightly hysterical sound. “There was never any us, Justin. That was the real problem.”

Her words hit him harder than he thought they would, harder than they should have. Maybe they’d never gotten together, but that hadn’t been from lack of want on his part. No, he’d had to tread lightly around Ava for many reasons—she was the sister of his best friend, she’d become one of his best friends…she hadn’t wanted to get serious with anyone who was considering a career more dangerous than sitting at a desk. She’d told him that, time and time again.

There was never any us, Justin.

No, there was no way he’d ever believe that. He might never have done anything about it, but that had been for her benefit, not his. He’d promised himself he’d never come back into her life when he couldn’t give her what she wanted—someone safe.

“I know you’re hurt—upset. Scared, even. But don’t you dare sit there and try and tell me there was never anything between us, Ava.” His words came out fierce, without reservation. Her green eyes were wide as she watched him. But he strode over and turned the light out because he couldn’t look at her anymore, couldn’t stand to see the pain there. “Get some sleep. We’ve got a long stretch ahead of us.”

For once, she didn’t argue with him. He heard the shift of the blankets as she lay down, but he knew sleep wouldn’t come easily for either of them anytime soon.

CALLIE STANTON unconsciously twirled a strand of long, dark hair around her finger while she pored over the case files she’d brought home with her. Great companionship on a Friday night.

Not that she had many other choices.

Another long night faced her, and she’d already gone through her share of Diet Coke in an attempt to keep her eyes from drifting shut again. Sighing, she repositioned herself on the couch since her feet were starting to fall asleep.

She should be happy for the downtime, when she wasn’t racing to help anyone, when she wasn’t headed to the hospital to counsel a victim. Or worse. But she knew exactly why she wasn’t content.

This was the time the loneliness hit her the hardest, like a sudden, sharp ache, so fierce she actually had to force a breath in and out.

One day, my prince will come…

Her mom used to sing that song as she would twirl around the small kitchen of the brand-new apartment, the one she’d rented for them after they’d left Callie’s abusive father. At the time, it had been forever since she’d heard her mother sing, let alone smile. In that tiny room, it was as if she’d been reborn.

Callie’s mom never remarried, but she did date and finally ended up with a man who loved her to pieces.

Callie never allowed herself to open up as easily. Between her past and the jobs she held, the day job and the secret one, she probably never would.

The sudden, loud knocking at the door did what the caffeine was supposed to as the thumping in her chest could attest to. Hesitantly, she went and looked out the peephole.

Men in suits.

“What do you want?” she called through the heavy apartment door.

“FBI, ma’am. You’re going to need to come with us.”

Her skin chilled and she prayed this had nothing to do with Susie’s case. “For what reason?”

“Ava Turkowski,” was all they said, all they needed to say, before she unlocked the door and swung it wide open.

“Is she all right?”

“She’s missing. You need to come with us, ma’am,” one of the men repeated.

Ava. Missing. Not good.

She grabbed her keys, shoved her feet into her old sneakers, glad she was still dressed in the jeans and button-down shirt she’d worn that day.

“I’m ready,” she said. And really, she thought she was always ready for anything.

The night air was humid for this time of year, and she wished she’d brought something to tie her hair up.

From her youngest days, the middle of the night had always been her favorite time. The insanity of the day dissipated, but the new day had not yet formed and there were endless possibilities. Things that could go right.

Yeah, and one day, your prince will come.

After she was roughly pushed inside the town car, she realized that it was most definitely not her horse-drawn carriage.

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