Chapter 1

Gunner

The door to the small surveillance room opened, revealing my right-hand man, Carter.

“You remember you’re the boss, right? Because watching surveillance tapes is way below your pay grade.” He slapped me on the back. “Sheesh, man, lay off the steroids. Your shirt is getting tight.”

I ignored his comment and turned back to the screens. We had two rooms set up in our office that housed surveillance equipment and the best tech money could buy. I’d made this one my unofficial second office since I spent so much time in it.

I didn’t usually get this closely involved in any of the jobs we did, unless it was a high-profile client. And Freya Olysses was as high profile as they came. She was the daughter of a mob boss and was currently hiding out in Ferguson, a small town in Washington.

It had been nearly two years since the assignment started. No protection job had ever lasted as long. And usually our clients knew we were protecting them. But since Freya and I didn’t exactly part on good terms, she would go nuclear if she knew I’d been watching her all this time.

“She still working on that website?” Carter asked, pulling my gaze from the now-empty screen.

I nodded and pointed to a screen that mirrored Freya’s. “This one’s for the Wildlife Society. Looks pretty good.”

Carter had installed a program on her computer that let me see everything she was doing. We planted the virus when she opened an email that was supposedly a client inquiry and clicked on a link.

You’d think as a web designer she’d be more cautious. But lucky for us, she wasn’t, and I could see everything she did on her computer. And if there was an emergency, we could hack her camera to figure out what was going on.

Her whole life was online. She hardly ever went out, except to meet her friend, Quinn. She barely dated and spent a lot of her free time ordering minuscule jumpers.

She was the opposite of everything I believed in. But for some reason, that didn’t stop me from watching her whenever I could. Now here we were, two years later, and my interest had grown into an unhealthy obsession. I didn’t like the other guys watching her, so I often did the surveillance myself, even if I had a million more pressing things to do.

I didn’t need the distraction. And frankly, I was angry at myself for letting things spiral so out of control. I usually had a tight hold over my emotions, and my days were planned down to the minute. I never did anything spontaneous and never deviated.

Until Freya crashed into my life.

“I’m out of here,” Carter said, stepping back. “You want Devon to take over?”

“Tell him to be here in an hour,” I replied, my eyes back on the screens. There were no cameras inside her apartment, so the occasional glimpse of her when she ventured outside was all I got. Today was laundry day, and it meant I’d get to see her more than usual. And despite my famed self-control, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the screens. My feelings confused me, since I thought I never wanted to see her again.

But when Constantine Olysses calls and asks for a favor, you don’t turn him away. Which was how I found myself doing the one thing I swore I would never do again—working for him.

I settled back into my chair and did the same thing I did every day: I told myself that today was the last day I’d sit in this room. I was the boss. I had better things to do.

Freya came back out of her apartment, and I involuntarily leaned forward. The camera we’d installed in the hallway captured her small frame as she skipped down the stairs. She never just walked. There was always skipping, hopping, or dancing involved, her thick, dark-blonde hair with pink tips swishing back and forth with the movement.

I was busy watching her bend down to get her laundry out of the dryer when my phone rang.

“Gunner,” the steely voice of Constantine Olysses greeted me when I picked up. “There’s been a development. I need you to retrieve her.”

I gripped my phone, wondering why the sudden directive. “Is there a problem?”

“We’ve run into a few issues. Nothing we can’t handle. But you need to keep her safe in the meantime.”

I didn’t like being in the dark, but he paid more for our services than anyone else ever had. Despite my vow to never work for him again—and then finding myself doing the biggest job I’d ever done not long after—I’d gotten to know him well. And I knew without a doubt he loved his family above all else and would do anything to protect them. If he said there was a threat, then there was most definitely a threat.

“I’ll send one of my guys,” I said, already going through a list of names while fighting the urge to pack my bags and book a flight to Seattle.

“I want you to do it. I don’t trust anyone else.”

I halted. This was unusual. And made me think the threat was more serious than he let on. “Sir, every single member of my team has been handpicked by me.” I also didn’t think it would be a good idea to get near Freya again, no matter how much I liked watching her on our screens.

“I’m well aware. That’s why I hired you. But this is my daughter we’re talking about. I want the best, and that’s you,” he said, his voice a command. “You’ve kept her safe for the past couple years, and you’ll keep her safe now. I trust you.”

My eyes were drawn to the monitor, and I watched Freya carry her washing basket upstairs, her usually quick steps slowed down by her load. And I knew that not only would Constantine insist, but the urge to see her again was hovering beneath the surface, waiting for an excuse to break free. And this was its chance. “I understand. I’ll leave tonight.”

He hung up, and I dropped the phone on the desk, catching one last glimpse of Freya before she disappeared into her apartment.

I just hoped we’d both survive what was to come.

Chapter 2

Freya

The eency-weency spider crawled up my kitchen wall.

Down came the broom and squashed it, hairy body and all.

Out came the vacuum and sucked up all the mess.

So the eency-weency spider was gone in three seconds or less.

No judgment, please. I was terrified of spiders and living by myself. I had nightmares of a spider making its way into my mouth while I was enjoying the sleep of the misguided and reckless.

And I wouldn’t be able to stay in my apartment if I knew there was an eight-legged creature in the room. My spider-killing song helped to overcome my irrational fear of the tiny, hairy creatures. While I still had to close my eyes before I swung the broom, I was at least able to take care of the problem myself.

Once I’d done the deed, I put the broom back in its easily accessible spot next to the fridge and picked my grocery bags back up. I’d been on one of my rare outings to the supermarket. I hated shopping, and unless I ran out of coffee or milk, I wouldn’t voluntarily make a trip.

Normally, I just ordered groceries online, but as usual, I’d been too caught up in work to remember. Hence my trip to hell, aka the supermarket.

When my phone rang, I debated not answering. I’d been getting weird hang-up calls lately, and considering who my family was, I had reasons to be worried.

I left my old life behind two years ago, but you never knew who would come crawling out of the bowels of Chicago’s underground. It would take them a while to find me in the small town of Ferguson, but it wasn’t an impossible feat.

And since my family’s style was more like “blow it up and see what pieces come flying out,” I knew it wasn’t them. They wouldn’t do creepy hang-up calls.

I should really stop acting like I was scared of my own shadow. I was the one who decided to strike out on her own. And that included not being scared of a phone call. Which meant I picked up my phone like the brave and independent woman I thought myself to be, sighing in relief when I saw it was my friend, Quinn.

“Hey, Freya,” she greeted, her bubbly personality shining through her voice.

“Hey, what’s up?”

I set my bags on the kitchen table and started putting everything in my cupboards and fridge.

“Can we meet an hour later tonight?” she asked, the question not a surprise at all. She was either always late or made last-minute changes. But I didn’t mind, since she was the most loyal and honest friend I’d ever had.

She was also the only friend I’d ever had.

“Want me to come to Deliziosa?”

We’d had a standing dinner date ever since we first met at a knitting group two years ago. I thought knitting would make a great hobby, but the one and only class I took still gave me nightmares. There was so much wool and so many ways to get wrapped up and never find your way out.

Quinn was in the same group and about as interested in knitting as I was. We’d skipped every class after that but still met every Thursday to hang out. I’d never gotten along with anyone as instantly as I did with her. Our friendship was effortless, and I couldn’t imagine not having her in my life.

“That would be great. I’m still knee-deep in tomato sauce and cheese,” Quinn said, sounding distracted as usual.

Quinn’s family owned an Italian restaurant called Deliziosa that was famous for its pizza. She had worked there since she was old enough to carry a plate and would one day take over from her parents.

The restaurant wasn’t only popular in our little town. People came from as far as San Francisco to eat there. They were usually booked out months in advance. Lucky for me, I knew the owner and could just walk in whenever I felt like having pizza. Which happened quite often.

“I’ll hang out with Paola until you’re done.”

I adored her mom, who had taken me under her wing ever since Quinn first introduced us. She filled a void I didn’t realize was there until I met her. I had a great mom, but she didn’t understand my need for independence. If she knew where I was, she’d come here and drag me back home. And I wasn’t ready to give up my freedom yet.

“She’ll love that.”

It would also mean pizza for dinner, something I wasn’t opposed to in the least.

“See you soon,” I said, and we hung up.

I had about two hours before I had to leave and used the time to put the rest of my groceries away and clean the house.

After a quick check in the mirror to make sure my long hair that now had bright-pink tips—thanks to a drunken hair-dyeing incident—was somewhat tamed, I stepped out of my apartment.

Washington was freezing in winter, and Ferguson was next to the water, dialing the temperature down to one level above trying to kill you. Though it was only the end of fall, it was already pretty chilly outside, but it was only a short walk to the restaurant, and I was wrapped in enough layers to not let the cold wind get to me.

“I’m almost done,” Quinn greeted me when I stuck my head through the door that led to the kitchen and waved at her. “Make yourself comfortable. Your pizza is almost done.”

“You’re the best,” I answered, unwinding my scarf from around my neck.

She grinned at me from behind the counter, where she had at least ten pizzas in various stages of completion. “I know.”

I dragged a barstool from the hallway out into the restaurant and in front of the long wooden bar before planting my ass on it.

The place was as packed as ever. I realized early on that if I didn’t want to eat standing up, I had to get creative, so I found the ugliest barstool known to mankind at one of the garage sales Quinn dragged me to every weekend. Since nobody would touch it in fear of catching an unpronounceable disease, I now always had a chair. The only rule was that I wasn’t allowed to leave it in the restaurant when I wasn’t there.

It really was that ugly, its neon-green seat peppered with bright-pink pigs smoking cigarettes. But it was surprisingly comfortable, and I had no shame when it came to getting a seat.

I was busy worshipping my fourth slice of pizza when Quinn appeared next to me. “Where’s Mom?”

“Mateo said she had to run out to get red wine because there was an issue with the order.”

Quinn groaned. “Not again. I swear the new guy is useless. Not once has he gotten any of our wine orders right.”

“I didn’t know you had someone new start.”

“He’s a third cousin twice removed. And Dad is a sucker for family, so he just hired him without asking for references or experience.”

I chuckled. That sounded exactly like Alonso. He had the biggest heart of anyone I knew, and if he thought someone needed help, he was the first one to reach out a hand.

“He’ll learn.”

“He better,” Quinn growled and slumped against the bar next to me.

I nudged her. “Busy night?”

She had dark circles under her eyes, and her usually sleek black bob was sticking up every which way.

“Busy month. Some blogger came in and gave us five out of five stars. Apparently, there’d only ever been two other restaurants to get that many stars. And she has a huge following, which turned an already busy restaurant into a madhouse.”

“You ever think about opening a second location?”

Quinn raised a brow at me. “Dad would never agree. But I’d love to.”

I put my arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “I’m almost done. By the time you get changed, I’ll be ready to go.”

“Sounds perfect.” She sighed and left me to my food.

Quinn was back as I was finishing my last slice of pizza.

“Let’s go before Mom gets back and remembers I was supposed to take out the trash.”

I slid off my barstool and stashed it back in its hiding place. “You working tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately, yes. So I’m on a two-drink limit,” Quinn pouted.

“I have a deadline, so no fun for me either until I finish.”

We walked the short distance to the bar, linking arms and staying as close as we could to ward off the icy wind. The small town of Ferguson doubled in size during summer and fall, making driving anywhere a nightmare. But we were at the end of tourist season, and since it was getting colder every day now, things had started to quiet down.

I’d come here after pointing at the map and landing on the picturesque fishing town in Washington. It was as far as I could get without moving to Canada, though it seemed just as cold at times.

“Are you still pretending your birthday isn’t happening next month? Or have you moved on to acceptance yet?” Quinn asked as soon as we were seated at a quiet table at the back of the busy bar. It was crowded for a weeknight, but it was great to see so many people out and about despite the plunging temperatures.

The exposed brick walls, dark polished-wood accents, and a huge selection of drinks made it one of our favorite bars in the area.

We gave our drink orders to the waitress who had appeared as soon as we sat down, and I turned to my friend. “What birthday?”

She threw her napkin at me and rolled her eyes. “Turning thirty isn’t the end of the world.”

It was if you had accomplished exactly zero of the things you wanted to before turning thirty, so I shot her a look that told her exactly what I thought of that statement.

She threw up her hands. “Don’t start.”

I ignored her narrowed eyes and forged on. “I’ve accomplished nothing. Nothing. I’m a loser whose idea of fun is to walk to the nearest coffee shop. I’d still live at home if my family wasn’t so dysfunctional.”

I had only told Quinn the basics about my family. Murder and mayhem just didn’t make for a great conversation topic.

“They can’t be that bad,” she grumbled, which meant she had no idea who my family really was. And I hoped it would stay that way.

“Whatever you’re thinking, multiply it by one hundred and you’re getting closer.”

The waitress dropped our drinks off, and I took a huge sip of my piña colada.

“You want to go to the farmers market this weekend?” Quinn asked, twirling the straw in her mojito.

“Count me in. Once I’m done with my current project, I’m taking a few days off before starting the next one.”

Quinn paused her drink halfway to her mouth. “Really?”

I leaned back in my seat. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“Are you feeling okay?” She reached over the table to feel my forehead. “When was the last time you had fun without thinking of the next deadline?” she asked and took a hefty gulp of her drink.

She was right. I’d barely taken a day off since starting my own web-design business. I was a one-woman show, and, after a slow start, I could now pick and choose which projects I wanted to take on.

I batted her hand away. “I’m feeling fine. And I know how to relax and have fun.”

“Ha, all lies. Last time we went out, we had dinner, two drinks, and were home by nine. I bet you were in bed by ten past and worked until midnight.”

I didn’t answer since we both knew she was right. But I knew how to have fun. I just chose not to. I’d been wild when I was younger, following my brothers into one mess after another. But at least I’d learned something from it. And I liked to think I was now older and wiser.

I was a new and upgraded version of the girl who liked to dive headfirst into a situation without thinking about what she was doing beforehand.

“How are things with Tom?” I asked, taking a deep breath. The past needed to stay where it belonged. In the past. And I needed to change the topic.

“I’m seeing him tomorrow,” Quinn said with a grin.

Tom was a guy she’d met on one of her hiking tours. She liked to become one with the wild on a regular basis, much to my disgust. And when she wasn’t busy making magical pizzas, she was leading groups through Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest.

She would be doing tours full-time or be a park ranger if she didn’t have to take over the family business. She never complained about working at the restaurant, but I knew her heart wasn’t really in it. But she didn’t want to disappoint her parents, so she soldiered on.

Guess I wasn’t the only one with complicated family dynamics.

“That’s great. Where’s he taking you?” I asked.

She crinkled her nose. “Al’s Pizza.”

I cackled and was soon holding my belly, the laughter bursting out of me. “That’s brilliant. You can compare pizzas.”

“Not funny. He doesn’t know my family owns an Italian restaurant.”

I stared at her, wondering if we were both destined to become crazy bunny ladies. “But you’ve known him for six weeks. How can he not know?”

“We don’t talk much.”

I snorted. “Obviously.”

“Shut up. At least I put myself out there. When was the last time you even went on a date?”

I didn’t have an answer, since I couldn’t remember. Maybe the banker I dated for a few weeks last year. Chad.

That was a mistake I’d never repeat.

“Let’s not talk about the wasteland that is my dating life,” I said, holding up my drink. “Instead, we should toast to good friends and better food.”

We clinked glasses and spent the rest of the night talking about everything and nothing. My heart was full and my step light when I got home.

My apartment was small, two bedrooms, one bathroom, with a combined kitchen and living area. But it was all mine, and I’d worked hard to get the money to buy it.

Killer, my Lionhead rabbit, hopped around his cage in excitement when I opened my door. I bet he’d gotten bored while I was out. But he couldn’t be trusted by himself in the apartment, a lesson I learned when he shorted out the power for the whole building after chewing through some cables.

I was lucky he didn’t electrocute himself in the process. I had since been put on a blacklist by the building manager, and despite my many attempts to right my wrongs, he refused to take any of my calls.

I even tried to bribe him with pizza from Deliziosa. But he was holding a mean grudge, and I now had to change my own light bulbs and call my own plumber when I had a problem.

“Come on, little bun. You can come out for a bit while I make myself a snack that I’ll definitely regret in the morning.”

After devouring the Lucky Charms I’d eaten straight out of the box, I put him back inside his cage, making sure he had food and water.

Then I turned off the lights and dropped onto my bed with a groan.