“Who is that?” Marlis hugged Larkin but kept an eye on the hot detective leaving her office. Her friend’s blonde hair tickled her nose and nearly filled her mouth.

“A detective,” Libby interjected from the back of the pack. “What happened?” Her friend’s knowing gaze narrowed, and she felt a flash of what perps—or whatever FBI called them—must feel when the pint-size woman turned her steely gaze upon them. Heat clung to Larkin’s neck, and she hadn’t done anything wrong. With the exception of falling in fucking love.

“Not a chance. He’s too fine to be on the right side of the law.” Genevieve leaned so far around the corner to look at the man who’d just left her office that Larkin expected her to break a stiletto.

“Into the office. I’ll tell you about that before Darren gets back with our lunch.” She hugged Libby, exchanged air kisses with Gen, and ushered them inside.

They sprawled out in her sitting area. Libby took her usual seat, legs hanging over the edge of an oversized chair. Genevieve plopped her briefcase on the glass coffee table and then perched on the edge of the couch. Marlis reclined on the opposite side of the couch with her phone in hand, fingers flying over the screen. “So who was it?” The woman could multitask like no other.

“That was Detective Owen Graham.” Larkin closed her office door and headed to her seat opposite Libby in the other single chair, but she didn’t sit. She couldn’t. There was too much everything zooming through her veins and corrupting her brain.

“Told ya!” Libby fist pumped the air.

“Maybe I need to commit a crime.” Genevieve’s brows waggled.

“Reagan has been missing since Tuesday.” Larkin’s statement hit the room like a kamikaze tray of martinis in a crowded bar. Their gazes met hers. Their mouths gaped. “At first, we just thought she’d come down with something and had to leave quickly. When she didn’t show up Wednesday or call, I had Lucas go to her house. She wasn’t there. I should have called her mom then, but …” She chewed her lower lip.

“But what?” Libby prodded.

“Lucas convinced me I was overreacting, and then the leak happened. Then …” Beckett happened. They’d get to that after. “Anyway, I called her last night after I tried Reagan’s phone for the tenth time, went by her apartment, and spoke with her neighbor. She hadn’t seen Reagan since Monday night.”

“She was at work Tuesday, right?” Libby sank deeper into the chair and propped an elbow on the arm.

“Yes.” Larkin nodded. “I haven’t seen her since she left to grab coffee after the close of the business day. We were staying late for the board meeting, and she needed a pick-me-up.”

“What’d her mom say?” Marlis’s voice cut straight to Larkin’s tender heart.

“They had a fight Monday evening over a guy she’d been seeing. She hadn’t spoken to her since. She just thought Reagan was mad at her.” Tears threatened to clog her throat.

“Shit.” Genevieve sighed.

“What did the detective say?” Libby’s calm, focused tone centered Larkin.

“Besides asking a thousand questions two times over, not much.” Her eyes rolled to the ceiling.

“Good,” Libby said.

“How is that good?” Larkin’s arms flailed for a second before hitting her sides in utter defeat. She’d been shoving off the feeling for about twenty hours now. It was beginning to push back.

“It means he’s taking it seriously. He’ll question the boyfriend, for sure, friends, family. Who was she dating?” Libby nestled her head on her hand, getting comfortable in the role of expert.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “We talked about meetings and files and tech. Reagan’s a professional.”

“Good.” Libby reclined back, finished with the conversation.

“Again, I ask, how is that good?” Larkin gave up and sat on her chair.

“The less your personal lives are intermingled, the less you’ll be looked at as a suspect.” Libby’s hand seesawed. “And you speak of her in the present tense, meaning you have no knowledge of any ill fate that might have befallen her.”

“Christ, Libby.” Marlis dropped the phone on which she’d been texting. “The girl is missing. You can try to show a little empathy.”

Larkin’s stomach twisted.

“Maybe she ran off to Vegas with the boyfriend to show her mom a lesson. Heaven knows I would.” Gen chuckled.

“No, you would not,” Libby countered.

“You’re right. Prenups first.” Genevieve eased her forearm onto the couch’s back and tucked her crossed legs under her full bottom.

“Hey—” Libby stalled when the intercom beeped.

They held their breath as though Reagan’s voice would fill the speaker and eliminate one of the problems they’d been called here to help her tackle.

“Miss Ashford?” Darren’s friendly male voice chimed.

“Yes, Darren?” Larkin hid her disappointment. She tried, at least.

“Your lunch is ready. Would you like me to send it in?” he asked.

The room perked.

“Yes, please.” She needed something to take the edge off.

“Right away,” he chirped.

“You were saying, Lib?” Larkin asked.

“Trouble will find you or it won’t. Don’t go looking for it.” Libby’s brows lifted. “That’s our motto, isn’t it?”

The collective nodded. All except Larkin. Trouble had found her. It was six-foot-six and weighed in the neighborhood of two hundred and twenty pounds.

“Hi, ladies.” Darren shoved through the door with a massive smile and a bag from Sushi Nakazawa. His hips sashayed more than Genevieve’s did on a Saturday evening hunt.

“Oh, my goodness,” Marlis squealed. “Nakazawa.”

“I know, right?” Darren set the bag on the table with a flourish. “Wish I could stay for girl talk and eat sushi, but I have heaps of chocolates to eat, flowers to redirect, and a pile of emails that won’t answer themselves.”

“Your boss sounds like a real drag,” Gen said loudly behind her hand.

“Yeah, but she wears nice shoes and pays well.” Darren blew the girls kisses and turned to her. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate.” He bowed and then left as quickly as he’d entered.

“All right.” Gen planted her feet on the floor and straightened. “Libby knows detectives. I know food. You don’t order Nakazawa unless someone is getting married—and we know that’s not the case here—or you need a major upper. The leak to the paper is shitty, but you’ve dealt with front page gossip before and at a much younger age. What’s going on, Larkin?”

As if sensing a shift in the room, Libby righted herself in the chair. Mar shoved her phone in her purse.

Larkin buried her head in her hands and sobbed. Hot tears seeped between her fingers. Her breaths created moisture that clung to her palms. With each heave, her stomach clenched. Everything she’d banked for the last ten years flowed out her eyes. Small slights and large affronts spread their arms wide, ripping into her flesh in their appeal for release.

“Oh, Larkin.” Marlis draped an arm over her back and hugged her to the side.

She continued to fall apart, piece by crumpling piece.

Another hand rubbed her back. More sobs passed. Otherwise, silence filled the room.

Two hands braced atop hers and lifted her head. She blinked Libby’s stunning and large green eyes into view. “Tell us, Lar. We can’t help until we know the problem.”

Her chest heaved, but she reeled in the tears, if for no other reason than she didn’t want to ruin Libby’s gorgeous emerald blouse.

“That’s it,” Marlis urged.

“You remember the guy from the roof?” Larkin asked.

Libby’s gaze flashed wide and then filled with white-hot rage. “Did he hurt you?”

Her head shook, but her flooding eyes gave her away.

“Oh, Larkin,” Marlis cooed. “It’s not your fault.”

“One in six women and one in six men experience sexual assault in their lifetime,” Genevieve announced. As if that statistic was somehow helpful. Then their assumption slapped her in the face.

“No!” Larkin sat straight and looked at each of her friends in turn, hoping she conveyed the honesty of her denial. “He didn’t rape me. I fell …” She growled and slapped the tears from her face. “I feel something for him. Something bigger than I’ve ever felt for anyone. Ever.”

Libby looked at Marlis, who looked at Gen, who braced herself on the arm of the chair as though the ground were shaking. Nine point nine on the Richter scale. Duck. Cover. Hold on. They weren’t from California. They weren’t married women. None of them had ever been in love as far as she knew.

“Mar?” Libby begged.

“Me?” Marlis reared back. “What do I know about—”

“Does he know?” Genevieve interjected, sending them all for a loop. “Don’t look at me like I have answers. I just know how to ask questions.” They must have been staring at her like she was an oracle. She wasn’t.

Their gazes eventually settled on Larkin.

“No, not exactly.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. So sexy. So sophisticated.

“Details,” Libby demanded.

“We’ve spent a few nights together after the incident. And then there was a date in Central Park.” She wiped her hand on her skirt. Who gave a shit anymore? She didn’t. Her assistant was officially a missing person, the entire world thought she was ready to find “Mr. Right,” and her heart felt like it’d been ripped from her chest and put on display for everyone to watch beat and bleed.

“Cheesy.” Gen dismissed it with a wave of her hand.

“That’s what I thought too, but it wasn’t like that.” Larkin shook her head and wiped under her eyes. “It was … fucking perfect.”

“Who is this guy?” Marlis asked. “What does he do?”

“Where does he live, and why was he on your roof that night?” Genevieve pitched in her two questions.

“I don’t know.” Larkin bobbed one shoulder.

The girls quieted.

“This sounds crazy, but I know in my heart he’s a good person,” Larkin explained poorly.

“That’s what murder victims’ friends say they said right before their bodies wash up on the bank of the Hudson.” Libby crossed her arms over her big boobs.

“Look, he’s had ample opportunity to hurt me, and he hasn’t,” Larkin retorted.

“You’re crying.” Marlis raised a finger.

“It’s not his fault. This is something neither of us wanted, intended, or need. We made love yesterday and then said our goodbyes.” Larkin clamped her teeth on a sob.

“That makes zero sense.” Marlis tossed her hands in the air. “If you both like each other, what’s the big deal? Why not be together and see where it goes?”

“Everything with him is secretive.” For some stupid reason, she suddenly spoke with her hands. The need for them to understand outweighed her self-control. “I think it’s for his job. Maybe something military. He’s stupid fit, can get places most people can’t, and knew Douglas was ex-CIA on sight.”

“Douglas is ex-CIA?” Libby blurted.

“That’s so hot,” Gen purred.

“Yes. But my point is, I don’t need anyone in my life right now. Things are crazy enough as it is, and he is just as vehement as I am about remaining unattached.” She blew a breath through her lips and let it fill her cheeks.

They all sat in the fumes of uneaten sushi, a bit dazed. Minutes passed. Their minds wandered, but no one spoke.

Libby was the first to move. She unboxed the food and passed it around their small circle. They each took a side of the coffee table, sat on the floor, and shoved Nakazawa into their mouths.

“At least you felt something.” Everyone stopped eating and stared at Genevieve. “I hear love is pure shit on a life and the heart, but I’d like to be given the opportunity to find out for myself.”

“Really?” Larkin stared at her in shock at the discovery.

“One day, hell yeah.” Gen’s red hair swayed. “You can’t tell me you guys haven’t thought about it.”

Gazes jumped from one to the other. Larkin had banished the hint of the thought, but the other girls nodded in turn.

“Not often,” Libby qualified.

Marlis’s shoulders shook, and a laugh sweetened the stale air. “I think about it every time I have a really awesome conversation with a man. The thoughts usually stop anywhere from five to ten minutes in.”

“When he figures out who you are?” Gen asked.

“That or when he suggests we hit the restaurant or bar bathrooms for a quickie.” Marlis broke the tension, and Larkin was finally able to swallow a bite.

“I’m not heartless, you know.” Gen shoved a hunk of sushi into her mouth and covered it with her hand while she chewed.

“Genevieve Holst.” Larkin reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “You are all heart. All heart. That’s why you hide it so well. Survival.”

Gen’s cold hand patted the top of Larkin’s. “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

“Never.” Larkin crossed her heart.

“So this board leak is bullshit, but I don’t see why you can’t turn it in your favor.” Libby pointed toward the doors. “Out there, you have a hundred of New York’s most eligible bachelors vying for your time. Ease the pain you’re feeling with one of them.”

“One?” Gen cackled. “Why not three or four?”

Marlis hopped up, ran across the office, and then out the door.

“Of all the comments you’ve made, that’s the one to push her over the edge?” Larkin stared at the girls.

Genevieve shrugged.

Libby slapped the table. “Remember the time you hit on the waiter, and Mar freaked?”

“You’ll have to be more specific?” The hurt throbbed but being with the girls and pretending normalcy helped.

“He was super hot and barely in college.” Libby tapped her lips. “Was it in the meatpacking district?”

“Here.” Marlis ran through the open doorway with two thick stacks of envelopes; one full-size and one miniature. She sat back in her spot and doled out several stacks to the girls. “If nothing else, these have got to be good for a laugh. Let us know when you find a good one.”

Larkin stuffed another bite into her mouth while the girls tore into the envelopes as though it was Christmas without the mandatory family gatherings.

“Ooooh.” Gen leaned an elbow on the coffee table and waved to get their attention as if her near-orgasmic noise hadn’t done the job. “Enrique is a Latin lover ready to show you la vida loca.”

“No.” Larkin giggled despite herself.

“He didn’t really.” Libby squawked her signature laugh that was too loud and too genuine not to smile at.

“Sure did.” Gen turned the card, and there it was in sloppy script. La vida loca.

“I’m living the crazy life. The last thing I need is more crazy.”

“I hear you,” Libby agreed.

“Oh, my God.” Marlis’s gasp hooked their attention. Her head shook.

“Read it already. We’re dying over here,” Gen urged.

“No.” Mar covered her mouth.

“Oh, you have to now.” Libby wiped her hands and tossed down her napkin as though she was going to pry the words from Marlis if she had to.

“Uh. I hate you girls sometimes.” Marlis straightened. “Annalise thinks you’re trying the wrong … things.”

“Mar.” Genevieve dragged out her name as though it were an admonishment.

“Don’t make me say it,” Mar begged.

“There’s no way you two banged a limo driver together.” Larkin threw down her napkin. “She can’t even read a dirty card in front of us. There’s no way she could do the dirty in front of you.” She pointed at Gen.

“Uh.” Marlis turned as pink as the card in her hand.

“Sure there is.” Gen winked. “It’s called tequila, libido, and a bad influence. That’d be me.”

“No joke?” Larkin jabbed. “Someone get this girl a tequila sunrise.” She motioned for the waiter that wasn’t there.

“Read,” Libby demanded while ripping into the first card in her own stack.

“Larkin, love, you are a strong, capable businesswoman who needs a vibrant and capable woman in the bedroom. Men serve a purpose, but I can open the world for you. Let me dine of your sweet pussy for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert.”

Genevieve and Libby whooped and hollered.

“That’s not a terrible offer.” Larkin blushed straight to her toes even as she considered the notion for a fraction of a second.

“And dessert.” Gen drummed on the table and hit a crescendo. “Hot damn. What’s her name?”

“Annalise Giavarrio.” Marlis stuck her tongue out at Gen.

“You should really have someone vetting these.” Libby’s dry tone didn’t fit the mood they’d created.

“Yeah, to make her a little black book,” Gen agreed.

“I’m being serious.” Libby turned a card toward them. In clear, dark letters, the word CUNT punched her in the gut.

“Well, don’t show her that.” Marlis snatched the offending paper and buried it under her stack. “You’re upsetting her.”

“I’m trying to keep her safe and aware. The world is full of crazy.” Libby’s arms spread wide. “Full.”

Larkin knew about the crazy. It’d been visiting her for weeks now, but they didn’t know about that. She should mention it.

“Well, she has a sexy CIA agent keeping her safe.” Gen interjected.

“Old. An ex-CIA,” Libby countered.

“Do you really think he’s sexy?” Marlis rested her chin on her palm and leaned close, awaiting the answer.

“Hell yes.” Gen grinned.

“He’s old enough to be your dad. An old dad, at that.” Libby’s lips crinkled.

“I’d call him daddy.” Genevieve popped a piece of sushi into her mouth.

“Gross.” Libby rolled her eyes. “That’s just—”

A knock sounded on the door. It cracked opened, and Darren poked his head through the tight opening. “I’m so sorry to interrupt.” Darren, just as Reagan, always used the intercom. With all that was going on, maybe he didn’t want to say it over the phone. Buoyancy fled Larkin’s shoulders. She waved him inside and shoved off the floor with her deflated arms. Somehow, they worked. He closed the door behind him and waited near it.

“I’m so sorry.” Sweat clung to his forehead.

“It’s okay.” She hoped her words were true, but from the looks of things, she wasn’t so sure. “Just tell me.”

His eyes rolled. That simple gesture settled Larkin’s fluttering stomach. Reagan’s death wouldn’t annoy him. She was fine. Everything would be just fine.

“I’ve tried everything to get her to leave. She says she’s not going until she speaks with you. I offered for her to make an appointment or leave a message. Nothing suits her.” Darren’s shaky hand smoothed down his sleek tie.

“Who?” she inquired.

“Oh.” He smacked his forehead. “Tarin Blakely. She says she’s your treasurer and friend. But I know your friends are in here.” He winked at the ladies, and they waved back.

Larkin tilted her head to the only women in the world whom she considered friends. “I’ll be right back.”

“If it’s Annalise, bring her back with you.” Gen held her hand in the air. “I question the validity of her claims. Four times a day is a lot.”

Marlis shushed her.

“Let’s go.” Larkin motioned Darren out the door.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “She was on the verge of causing a scene. I guess she’s used to getting her way.”

Her husband must be a pushover.

The moment Larkin stepped through the threshold, Tarin shoved off Reagan’s desk, opposite the seating area for her waiting appointments, and strode her way. Larkin closed her office door and met her in the middle under a large crystal chandelier her decorator thought was perfect for the spot. It was too much, if she had asked Larkin, but she did not.

“Larkin.” Tarin opened her arms wide as though she expected a hug.

Larkin waved a sedate hello in front of her body and stopped several feet away, making it impossible for the woman to wrap her arms around her. After the incident at the party, she was more wary of the woman, though she really had no right to be. She hadn’t harmed Larkin. She’d scared the shit out of her, sure, but she was no worse for wear. And maybe she couldn’t help the effects of her medicine. Maybe that was the first time her body had reacted that way, and maybe she sought help from her doctor. It wasn’t any of her business. She still needed to look up the actual medication. APO. Though, how different could one vowel make it?

“There are so many arrangements.” Tarin used her wide arms to gesture toward the number of flowers a florist might have in their showroom.

“Yes, there are. How may I help you?” Larkin asked.

Darren weaved around them and practically ran to his desk. Christ, what had Tarin done to him?

“Might we step inside your office?” Tarin pointed at the giant double doors and moved to step around her.

Larkin held her ground. “I’m in the middle of a meeting, which I’m sure Darren explained.”

“Oh.” The slight woman clutched her chest. “I was certain he was just saying that because you didn’t want to be disturbed.”

And Tarin thought she overrode that do not disturb status? Or did she not see herself as a disruption?

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You are all over the papers.” Splayed fingers accentuated her words. “And I know you didn’t want this to go public.”

“I’m pissed.”

Tarin’s brown eyes widened. She hooked her muted-blonde hair behind her ears and shoved her hands into her pockets. Her jaw hinged for several beats with no words to make it worth the effort.

Larkin kept perfectly still; a trick she’d learned from her mother. Let the other person give themselves away. Shield your hand.

Slowly, she nodded her head. “Well, if there is anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

“I will.” Larkin would like to know who she thought broke her confidence, but she didn’t want to ask.

Tarin smiled as though she was waiting on something. As though she wanted Larkin to ask her opinion or to confide in her. It was that desire that kept her at bay.

“I have associates waiting for me.” Larkin bowed her head, turned, and left Tarin blinking after her.

Larkin was never rude, but it seemed Tarin needed boundaries.

“I hope your day gets better.”

She let the door close on the sentiment.

“We’ve concocted the perfect plan,” Libby cheered before she’d taken one step in their direction.

“Tell me,” Larkin begged. She needed some perfection to measure against that of Beckett. It would surely be wanting, but at least it would stand a better chance than her every day.

“Girls’ trip. Your Hamptons house for a long weekend,” Libby announced.

“Wine. A fire on the deck. Good food. Laughs. The beach. Did I mention wine?” Gen pitched.

“Say yes,” Marlis begged. “Say yes and I’ll even bring tequila.”

“Hell yes!” Larkin was ready to get away. “Can we leave now?”