“Go back to New York.” His eyes meet mine, as hard and flat as a shark’s.

  “I have an interview sched—”

  “No. Just go, Ellie. There’s nothing for you here at all.”

  My heart twists. The truth is, there’s not much for me in New York, either. Nothing but my work. But I push the thought aside and barrel on. “Al—Devlin,” I correct. “No. We need—”

  But I can’t finish the thought. Not when he’s looking at me with those cold, empty eyes that are emerald green again, no longer that familiar, sandy brown.

  He really isn’t Alex at all.

  He steps closer, and I go tense, certain he’s going to touch me, and in that moment, I’m not sure if I desperately want him to, or if I’ll knee his balls if he dares to even try.

  But that’s not what he’s doing. Instead, he reaches for the door handle and starts to pull it open. I step away, turning as I do so that for the first time I see the sporty black Tesla that he’d pushed me up against.

  “Get in,” he says, holding the door open for me.

  “What? Why?”

  “I’m driving you home.”

  Seriously? “I’m fine. I’ll walk.”

  His hand closes around my wrist and he tugs me closer. “Just get in the car, Ellie.”

  “Screw you. I said I can walk.” And the truth is I want to. Walk and think and clear my head. Most of all, I want distance from this man I once thought I knew.

  For a moment, I’m certain he’s going to argue. But then he nods curtly, reaches into the passenger seat, and pulls out a small, canvas tote bag, the kind grocery store customers use instead of paper or plastic. He thrusts it at me, and I take it without thinking. “Have it your way. About the ride, I mean. But as for the rest of it…”

  He trails off, his expression deadly serious. “I mean it, Ellie. Leave Laguna Cortez. Don’t play with fire. Put it all behind you for good. Me. This town. Everything. Leave,” he says, his eyes as hot and predatory as a wolf’s. “And don’t come back.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  I watch his taillights disappear, feeling a mixture of both relief and loss.

  Relief at being alone so that I have the space to deal with my crazy emotions.

  Loss that he hadn’t insisted on driving me. Alex would have. But Devlin?

  I don’t know. How could I? Before tonight, I’d never met Devlin Saint. Not really.

  To be honest, I’m not sure if I’ve met him now. Was that Saint who touched me? Saint who matched me breath for breath? Who took what he wanted as I’d intended to take from Mr. GT?

  It must have been. The Alex I remember had always been tender, even when we’d clawed at each other, desperate to get undressed. We’d been wild and unbridled, but we hadn’t burned.

  But oh, God, I’d burned tonight. And from little more than the touch of a finger and the heat of his mouth.

  A shiver cuts through me as I remember, and I order myself to push it aside. I’d come out tonight looking for a fast fuck and a violent orgasm, but the point was that I’d be in charge. And, most important, that I’d walk away.

  Saint had ripped my plan to shreds.

  He’d stolen my control, shattered my will, made me long for a man I’d lost long ago, and then he’d coldly and firmly ordered me to go.

  Why?

  Why seek me out if he wasn’t going to stay? Why tease me with the knowledge that the man I’d once loved has been hiding in plain sight all these years? Why lift the mask when the revelation only raises more questions?

  For that matter, why wear the mask in the first place?

  And the biggest question of all, why reveal himself to me if he’s only going to order me to leave?

  I start to lift my hands in frustration, then remember the bag hanging from my arm. For the first time, it occurs to me that maybe he’s given me something that actually answers those questions. I open it eagerly, only to find the Sperry Topsiders I’d abandoned by the beach.

  I laugh as I slip them on, overwhelmed by the absurd irony. I’m not Cinderella. Alex hasn’t been my Prince Charming for a very long time. And from what I’ve both read and now experienced, Devlin Saint isn’t in line for that throne, either.

  Don’t play with fire, he’d said, and in the moment, I’d thought he meant the heat between us. Now, I think he has something to hide. More than that, I think that Devlin Saint just gave me the story of a lifetime. A billionaire philanthropist with a new identity and a buried past? Yeah, I think The Spall will be all over that.

  As I start walking toward the hill, I pull out my phone and dial Roger, certain he’ll green-light the story. Of course, I’ve completely forgotten the time difference, and the phone rolls to voice mail.

  “Roger, it’s me. Listen, you’re not going to believe—”

  I cut myself off, the reality of what I’m saying suddenly hitting me as that shining question once more lights up my mind: Why?

  “—I, um, sorry,” I continue into the phone. “Got distracted for a sec. I just wanted to say that you’re not going to believe the bullshit they pulled on me today, rescheduling the interview with Saint. But I’m on it. All’s good. I’ll check in when I have more. Right. Well, bye.”

  I click off, feeling like an idiot, not sure if I’ve done the right thing, either as a person or as a reporter. But I can’t throw Alex to the wolves. Not now. Not yet. Because story of a lifetime or not, I’m not ready to screw him over. I wish I were. I should be. I shouldn’t give a flying fuck if whatever spotlight I might have the power to create shines so long and hard on him that he withers under the glare.

  But the truth is that I still feel something for that prick. For Alex, anyway. For the man I used to know.

  And until I know why he’s now Devlin, I can’t risk mucking something up for him. I’m not sure if that makes me kind or foolish, but I don’t suppose it matters. The bottom line is that I’ve got another story to chase, even if Roger doesn’t know about it yet.

  And there’s one other thing that I’m not going to do—I’m not leaving Laguna Cortez.

  Did he really think I would? Why? Because Devlin Saint— the Devlin Saint—asked me to? Not hardly. I’m a reporter, and that means it’s my job to get to the truth. Besides, I’ve never been one to bow to authority. I’ve been around cops long enough to know just how wobbly those with authority often are.

  Or maybe he thought I’d leave for the Alex I used to know. In that case, he sorely misjudged. Alex ripped my heart out and fed it to the wolves. He might have been my first, but that didn’t give him a magical power over me. Then again, perhaps it did. He broke me, after all. But that didn’t exactly put him in my good graces.

  So that was that. No reason to leave, and lots of reasons to stay. Brandy. Lamar. The profile. And, most of all, Uncle Peter.

  All I have to do is let go of the past and treat Alex—no, Devlin—like any other source.

  I can do that.

  Absolutely, I can.

  I’m breathing hard but I’m feeling more settled when I reach the crest of the hill. I turn the corner and walk the half-block to Brandy’s house. It’s a dark neighborhood. Quiet, with only a few streetlights and houses that sit back from the road.

  As I reach her driveway, a light flickers on across the street, catching my attention. It’s the glow from someone looking at their phone inside a parked black Tesla.

  Instantly, my resolve shatters. Alex isn’t just a source or a story, and no matter how much I try to spin that, he never will be. Hell, my heart is skittering, and I don’t even know if it’s him in that car. And though I try to make out the occupant, it’s no use, the light’s gone, and the street’s too dark.

  Still, I’m certain it’s him, and a tiny spark of something suspiciously like hope sputters in my belly. I tamp it down. For one thing, I’m not sure what I’m hoping for. That he cares enough to see I get home safe? That he doesn’t really want me to go back to New York? Something else entirely?

  All I know is that I spent ten years walking a tightrope of anger and hurt mixed with fear that he was dead—because who in my life wasn’t?—topped by fantasies that he’d return to me with a perfect explanation. Alien abduction or amnesia both ranked high on my fantasy list.

  Mostly, I tried not to hate myself. Tried not to spend every single day remembering that I was the only living member of the Holmes family. That I’d survived and they hadn’t.

  Tried not to believe that the cosmos was punishing me, and that’s why Alex had gone.

  I know that’s not true. I know it’s survivor’s guilt doing the talking. But knowing’s nothing special. I know that E=mc2, but I still don’t have a clue what that means. And, honestly, I don’t know what it means that I’m the only one left, either.

  So, no. That’s probably not Alex. God knows this town is dirty with black Teslas. But I’m not going to walk over there to look.

  Because so long as I don’t know, the lonely, teenage girl inside of me can still believe.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Chief Timothy Randall releases me from an exuberant bear hug, then holds me at arms’ length, his ruddy face alight with pleasure. He’s a big man, but as gentle as they come. Unless he’s dealing with bad guys or defense counsel. Then he’s a bulldozer. “It’s so good to see you, Ellie. Amy and I both read your magazine. Charlie would be proud.”

  “Would he?” My voice sounds needy to my ears. “I always thought Daddy would be disappointed that I left the force.”

  “Disappointed in you? Never.” Chief Randall punctuates his gentle smile with a firm shake of his head. “He may have been your dad, but he was my best friend. Trust me on this.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, and he chuckles.

  “I want you over for dinner before you go back to New York. Amy will have a fit if she doesn’t see you.”

  “I’d love it,” I say honestly. Amy Randall had been the lifeline that pulled me back when grief threatened to drag me under. She didn’t know the whole of it, of course. Alex was my secret. But she knew that I’d been broken, and she tried to fix me as best she could. “I miss her,” I add to the chief. And though he says nothing, he nods, and I know he understands.

  I square my shoulders, then meet his eyes. “I want to know all of it,” I say as I take a seat in one of the guest chairs in front of his desk. “Everything you’ve learned since you called me. And everything you didn’t tell me on the phone.”

  He looks over my shoulder at Lamar, who’s leaning against the closed door of Randall’s office, tall and broad-shouldered, like he owns the place.

  Randall gestures to the chair beside me. As Lamar sits, the chief does the same, facing the two of us across the desk.

  “Start with Mercado,” I say, reaching across the void for Lamar’s hand. We went through the Academy and joined the Irvine PD together. Since I was the only female and he was the only black recruit, we’d stuck together in the early days out of solidarity. After that, we stayed together out of friendship.

  “What have you learned?” I continue. “Do you know why he confessed to a crime he couldn’t have committed?”

  “We think we do,” he tells me, and the vise around my chest loosens a little simply from the knowledge that, maybe, I’m about to get some answers. “Are you familiar with The Wolf?”

  I frown, then nod slowly. “Some. I remember my dad mentioning him. And you, too. Plus, we did some reading on him in my criminology classes. A major crime lord who was finally taken out not long after Uncle Peter died. A year later? Maybe two?”

  “Right. Daniel Lopez,” he says with a nod. “Crime was the family business, but he took it to a whole new level. And he had his fingers everywhere.”

  “He was never convicted though,” I point out. “Never even proven to be the criminal mastermind known as The Wolf.”

  “Never proven,” Lamar agrees. “But everyone knows.”

  “Fair enough.” I look between the two of them. “What does this have to do with Ricky Mercado?”

  “The Wolf had put out a hit on him. Mercado wasn’t one of The Wolf’s men, but he owed him a debt.”

  I squeeze Lamar’s hand, feeling the reassuring pressure in response. “Rather than die, Mercado confessed to something he hadn’t done. Namely, killing my uncle.”

  “Exactly.”

  I sit back, not liking where this trail of breadcrumbs is leading. “The only reason that would make The Wolf happy is if Mercado’s confession took the spotlight off of the real killer. And that means that The Wolf had his fingers in Laguna Cortez. In Uncle Peter’s business.”

  “It gets worse,” Randall says.

  “My uncle was involved.” My voice is flat. Emotionless. I’m certain that I’m right. Cop instincts, Brandy had called them? Yeah. I’ve got them in spades. “He wasn’t an innocent bystander, was he? He was dealing, too.”

  “I’m sorry, Ellie. We’ve talked to Mercado’s cellmate. That’s what it looks like.”

  I shake my head. “He and my dad were so close. Uncle Peter knew what Daddy stood for. He wouldn’t get in bed with The Wolf.”

  “Maybe he didn’t,” Lamar says. “Or, at least, maybe it wasn’t willingly. But you know how that world works. The Wolf has somebody threaten Peter or you or one of Peter’s employees, and you can’t tell me that Peter wouldn’t cave.”

  “There’s another possibility,” Chief Randall says. “It’s not one you’re going to like.”

  I swallow. “You think Peter may have been working with The Wolf for a while. Like actually in deep.”

  “It’s a possibility,” he says. “If he was part of The Wolf’s organization even before he came to Laguna Cortez—”

  I lift up a hand to stop his words, because that’s something I just don’t want to hear.

  “I’m sorry. But you can’t ignore the possibility.”

  I nod, determined not to cry. I was a cop, dammit. I can deal with this. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. The one thing I know for sure is that he would have done anything to protect me,” I say. “He may have been gone a lot, but he loved me. And we were the only family either of us had left.”

  What I don’t say is that he would have protected Alex, too. And if he warned Alex of a threat…

  Well, that’s even more proof that Alex ran because he feared for his life. And it raises the question of how much Alex knew—and if he was dealing, too. Because that is the only reason I can think of for him to have remained both gone and silent.

  I drag my fingers through my hair, craving answers I have no easy way to find. “I want to know which one of The Wolf’s flunkies really shot my uncle,” I say, as I stand and start pacing.

  “And I want to know if Peter was dealing on the side because he was forced to or because the money lured him in or because he’d been in deep all along.”

  I draw a breath, my mind whirring. If Peter was truly part of The Wolf’s organization, maybe he’d been in deep for a long time. I think about my mom’s things. The box of diaries and papers and personal effects that are tucked into a box I keep high in my hall closet in New York. Would there be answers there? Had she seen anything dicey about her brother?

  I shake the thought off, but I’m already making a plan to call Roger and ask him to get into my apartment and ship me that box.

  I frown as I continue to pace. “I want to know what the tipping point was,” I say. “Why they decided to take him out. Because something must have happened. The Wolf was too smart to take out a hit without a damn good reason.”

  “You know what we know,” Randall says. “Any files you want to see, you shout. Just tell me where you want to start.”

  “Thank you, and I will,” I say, but the truth is I already know. I’m going to start tonight. And I’m going to start with Alex.

  “Coffee?” Lamar asks, as we leave the Chief’s office. “I’m meeting an informant in Dana Point in an hour, but we could grab a quick one across the street.”

  “That works. I still have shopping to do before I go home and make myself gorgeous.”

  His brows rise. “Hot date?”

  “Stag,” I say. “But I scored tickets to the gala, and I plan to corner Saint.”

  “What an enterprising little reporter you’ve become.”

  “Asshole,” I say, hip bumping him as we push through the double glass doors. The police station is a few miles south of the Arts District near the courthouse. The bakery across the street has fulfilled the very clichéd job of serving donuts to cops for longer than I’ve been alive, and I’m surprised to see that the signage has been upgraded, now informing the world that they also serve lattes, pastries, and even gluten free fare.

  I nod that direction as I side-eye Lamar.

  “Don’t worry. Their box of glazed is still damn near close to heaven.”

  “Phew. I was starting to worry.”

  We settle at one of the sticky outdoor tables, and he goes inside to order as I scroll through my phone, checking for messages from Roger. Nothing, which I appreciate. He knows I’ll send notes when I have them.

  What I do have is a text from Brandy telling me to meet someone named Inez at a boutique called Escape. I haven’t seen her since last night before coffee and parking lot shenanigans. This morning, she’d already left for the LA garment district by the time I’d rolled out of bed. But I’d texted her an SOS for fashion help, and she’d promised to come through for me.

  If Inez can’t find a gala dress for you

  that’ll burn Devlin Saint’s eyes,

  the outfit doesn’t exist.

  At cost, too. She owes me a favor.

  XXOO You are the best.

  Believe me. I know.

  I start to tell her about Devlin and Alex, Mr. GT, my twisting stomach, and my high levels of confused adrenaline. But I stop myself. That’s a conversation to be had in person.

  The only reason we haven’t had it yet is that she was asleep when I got home last night and gone when I woke up. Well, that and I haven’t decided exactly what I’m going to say yet. Or, more accurately, how I’m going to say it.