A farm blackened with mold stands in the middle of a grassy field surrounded by trees. A wave rolls through the long grass, like dancing gold. Crushing blue skies fly overhead. Two male figures stand near the condemned barn.

When they gave me the address, I knew something was up. Given the lack of caution they displayed when choosing our last rendezvous, it struck me as odd they’d choose a farm in the middle of nowhere. And it really is deserted. There’s not a sound except the soft whisper of leaves and the occasional birdcall. I’ve been in the city too long. The quiet unnerves me.

The shorter man, probably Captain Ritter, waves at me. Guess I’m supposed to walk there.

Strolling through an open field is a monumentally bad idea, but I don’t have arms dealers in my phone book or access to a sniper rifle. My service revolver has a limited range.

I need to be closer.

That’s assuming they don’t already know I’m here to kill them. Is this any different than walking to a noose and hanging myself on it?

“Come on!” Carter bellows. “Hurry the fuck up.”

No choice.

My feet kick through the grass, the sun beating down on my head. I know this is a trap. Johnny insisted I do this in front of the family. He wanted the rat to hear. They know I’m coming, and I’m not sure if Johnny has something planned or if he’s making an example out of me, and I’ll be gunned down in this field.

Either way, I’m a pawn in this game.

I stop a distance in front of them, my mind screams to draw and shoot, but the trees are crowding me and just beyond the bush a reflective gleam hits my eyeballs. I raise my hand, blocking the glare as I clear the last fifty feet.

A fresh bruise swells on Captain Ritter’s forehead. Looks pretty bad. “Stop,” he says.

I should shoot them right now, but an unsettling feeling stops me. Needles pick the back of my neck as my gaze sweeps over the forest. “Captain, I missed you at our last meeting.”

Ritter glances at the ground. “Got held up.”

“Yeah, looks like it. What happened to your face?”

Carter scowls. “He had an accident. You?”

I bury my smile. They’re really going with, He fell down some stairs. Ritter looks beaten into submission. “I said something inappropriate to one of the wives at the baby shower.”

A pink bubble blows from Carter’s lips and pops. “We heard about that. Anyone hurt?”

Not a word from Ritter, who keeps avoiding my eyes like I’m fucking Medusa. “Just a civilian. She got grazed.”

Carter makes a sympathetic sound.

I’ll kill him. Shoot him in the fucking mouth where he keeps popping his gum. “My wife could’ve been killed.”

He grins. “We’ve been over this before. You’re not really married.”

“She’s having my kid, you jackass. That means something to me.”

“I can’t believe you actually knocked her up,” he laughs. “If it weren’t for the murder, I’d recommend a distinguished service medal.”

They know. “What?”

“There was a fatality a couple miles from the Trillo household. Any idea who was behind that?”

He’s fishing. I shrug my shoulders. “Nope, no idea.”

“Really? Because our CI told us you were involved in the murder.”

Henri. He’s the snitch. If they know, why the fuck are they asking? “What do you care about some biker?”

Movement on the tree line catches my gaze. Long shadows warp forward around me.

Run. Get the fuck out of here.

“I personally couldn’t give a shit,” Carter says. “Our friends, however, aren’t so happy.”

Men wearing leather vests step onto the prairie.

They’re here. I waited too long.

I yank the gun from my side, but a crack splits the air before I can sink a bullet in Carter’s stomach. A force slams into my side, tearing through my shoulder muscle with searing-red pain. Bright red splatters the green blades. The gun disappears between the thick grass. I dive for it, scrambling to shoot. Ritter moves swiftly, and behind him leather-clad men pour from the forest toward us.

I grab the handle, aim, and Ritter swings down. A force explodes against the back of my head, knocking out all light. My hands curl into dirt. I smell the field.

Then another blow hits me, and I black out.

* * *

My eyes snap open to dim light. Rafters filled with cobwebs stretch across the ceiling. Yellowed windows caked with ancient dust allow light through. It bathes the figure sitting in a plastic lawn chair in muddled light. A burning red light simmers through the darkness.

“Are you awake?”

Carter’s arrogant tone echoes through the barn, which reeks of stale urine. The roof looks like it’s on the verge of collapse.

A pounding ache radiates from the back and pulses through my temples. Worse is the pain at my shoulder, like hot knives slicing into flesh. Warmth slides down my arm. I look like I’m wearing a red sleeve.

Jesus.

I lift my hand. It stops halfway with a clang against the chair I’m strapped to. Handcuffs. Police issued. I test the floor. Dirt under my feet. This chair isn’t bolted, but they’ve cuffed my ankles to it as well. The chair’s made of cheap, rotting wood, but I’m more worried about the cuffs. I won’t be able to slip out of them, but I could twist and break the legs. Every passing second pours more blood from my body.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Carter says, extinguishing his cigarette. “You’re not going to live much longer. Damn shame, right, Captain?”

A shorter figure stooped near one of the windows turns toward Carter’s voice. “I’m sorry about this, Ethan.”

Fuck you. “Which part?”

He smiles sadly. “You shouldn’t have killed that biker.”

“I think his name was Crash,” Carter interjects with a snort. “Stupid fucking name. These bikers all have the dumbest handles. I swear to God, one of them said his name was Toe Crusher.”

I strain my ears, listening for the men outside. “Where are they?”

“They’re waiting until you wake up.” Carter glances at the workbench a few feet away. An assortment of grisly tools lies on the wood. “I sure as fuck am glad I’m not you. But look at you. How the mighty have fallen.”

“Says the maniac with a hard-on for torture.”

Not liking that, Carter thumbs through the tools and lifts a hacksaw to the light. “Keep talking, asshole. I’ve got the power.”

“Yeah, you’ve got the power. ’Course, you had to have someone else shoot me, knock me unconscious, and tie me to a chair just to get it. Congratulations, you’re a fucking coward.”

The smirk fades. “I wonder if you’ll be laughing when this saw cuts through you like butter.”

“Jesus, are you like this because you’re still a detective?” I find Ritter in the darkness. “Captain, give the crybaby a promotion.”

The hacksaw rotates in his hand as Carter studies its stained teeth. God knows how many limbs it’s sawed through. “Like you, I don’t give a shit about being a cop anymore. This is more than I dreamed.”

The MC would be a seductive force for someone with a hunger for authority and brutality. A sadist like him would be drawn toward organized crime.

I’m not surprised, but Ritter is. He shoots looks of deep disgust behind Carter’s back.

“Why the fuck am I here? Revenge?”

“Partly.” Carter sets down the hacksaw and selects a bolt cutter, squeezing it. “Our CI told us you’d try to kill us.”

“Henri.”

“Bingo,” Carter says.

Ritter watches him approach with the bolt cutter. It’s one of those heavy-duty steel cutters. Good for slicing through locks, chains, human fingers.

“What are you doing?” Ritter says uneasily.

“We should have done this weeks ago, Captain. He told his whole crew he’s a cop. Our names. His name. Everything. They know everything. The fucking bastard sold us out.”

Ritter rakes a hand through his short hair. “We should’ve never gotten involved with these people. What a goddamn mess.”

“We owe them, Captain.” Carter shrugs. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“At first it was information from our undercover.” Ritter paces through the beam of light. “Now it’s extortion, torture, and murder. I can’t do this.”

He’s chosen a fine time to take a stand. “You’re both a bunch of fucking morons. When the mob finds out I’m dead, they’ll kill you both on principle.”

Carter shoves the bolt cutter under my jaw. “Nice try, asshole. We know they loathe you.”

“I’m son-in-law to the boss. He’ll be obligated to respond to save face.” The longer I keep them distracted, the more time I have to think about a way out. The chair might break with blunt force. Might as well save the effort until—until what? Help isn’t coming. I’m on my own.

The metal digs into my windpipe, cutting off my air. “Can’t believe this son of a bitch tried to kill us.”

“Carter,” Ritter calls out, testy.

He leans into it. “You tried to shoot me.”

My lungs scream for air. I flex, the handcuffs digging into my flesh. The wood splinters. If I could just—slip out of these.

The pressure releases from my throat as black spots crawl over my vision. I gasp lungfuls of stale air as Carter’s cackle fills the barn.

“I dare you to let me go,” I rasp. “Let’s settle this among men.”

“I’d love to, but I’ve got my orders. Crash’s brother is going to take a blowtorch to your face. See that syringe there? It’s filled with industrial-strength silicone. Apparently, it’s extremely painful.” He talks in excited tones. “Can’t fucking wait.”

Disgust shines on Captain Ritter’s face.

Carter notices. “What?”

“You sound like one of them.”

Carter points the bolt cutter at Ritter’s heart. “Maybe you should shut your fucking mouth. That’s what got you that bruise on your head. These guys don’t give a damn that you’re Captain. Neither do I.”

“Watch it, son,” Ritter glowers. “I can end your career as quick as you can swing that.”

Full of bravado, Carter nudges Ritter’s chest with the sharp point. “So maybe I ask our friends to pay a visit to your wife after we’ve taken care of Ethan’s.”

I stop my struggle to escape, blood running cold with dread. What?

They’re after Eva?

She’s a loose end.

Horror fills my chest. They’ll kill her because she’s met Detective Carter and knows my whole story. They’re cleaning up. I need to get out of this. Now.

Furious, Ritter bats the bolt cutter out of his face. “That’s enough! Put it down. You’re not one of those goddamn thugs.”

Carter seems beyond reason. “Maybe I should call them back inside and repeat what you said about them.”

Captain Ritter marches toward the door, fury blazing behind his glasses. “I’m done with this. You’re a fucking disgrace.”

Carter swings, his arm coming down in a wide arc. A meaty, blunt sound sends a chill through my spine. Captain Ritter stumbles forward, blood shining on his head.

The chair flips over as I seize the arm with one hand and yank. It cracks, and the stump breaks in my hand. Carter advances on Ritter, who shouts, and then there’s another violent swing. It’s like a watermelon cracking open.

I wrestle with the other leg. The blood keeps slipping my grip.

Carter stands above Ritter as the life pools from his body. The old man’s head gashes open in a giant crater. No way he’s coming back from that. The fucking psycho killed Ritter for me.

He’s dead.

Another loud crack from the chair seizes Carter’s attention. He turns, sees me escaping, and surges forward.

Gunfire splits the air, making him halt. Three loud cracks pop in succession outside, followed by the shouts. Heavy footfalls of bikers race through the field. Crack. Crack.

What the hell is going on?

Carter and I share a moment of surprise, and then he swings. I catch his weapon on the links of my handcuff. We crash to the floor, my hand still tightened around his. The chair flips as Carter charges into me. He rips out of my grip and screams, whirling the bolt cutter through the air. He misses, hand bashing against the wood. I swing the handcuff in my palm and smash it into his mouth. His gums flash with red as I pummel him.

Fury blinds me in white-hot flashes. He went after Eva once—never fucking again. I beat him so hard my hands feel like stumps of raw meat, and then I roll him onto my chest. I stretch the metal links over his throat and pull. Carter strangles, fingers trying to pry the metal off him. His fist launches at my head. I let the dull blows land on me as the barn fills with the sound of Carter’s gagging. His nails rake the backs of my hands, leaving long, bloody marks. Then his tongue lolls out of his mouth, and he goes limp. My knuckles whiten on the chain. He’s not dead until I’ve squeezed every last drop of air from his lungs. I count a few minutes, and then I shove his body off me. Carter’s lifeless eyes stain with red, broken capillaries surrounding his brow.

The shouts outside grow louder. Only a matter of time before they’ll burst inside and find me. I shove my heel through the chair, ripping apart the wood to free my ankles. Then I grab the hacksaw on the table as a body slams against the wall. A shot fires through and I dive out of the way. The doors wrench open, sunlight stinging my eyes as a burly man wearing a leather vest steps over Ritter’s body. His razor-sharp gaze finds me. “You!”

He sprints forward, and then a hole blows through his heart. Mid stride, he stops to look at his chest soaking with blood, and collapses to the floor. Behind him stands a man in a pinstripe suit, his gun smoking.

Johnny.

I can’t believe he’s here.

The Montreal boss gazes at his surroundings in disgust, and then finds Ritter’s body. “Wow.”

For a moment I’m too shocked to speak, and then the pain in my shoulder throbs. The floor is dotted with my blood. I sink to my knees, lightheaded.

Johnny approaches me. “Went all out, didn’t you?”

Actually, Carter did that. “Why are you here?” I force out. “I don’t understand. You said I had to do this myself.”

Johnny lied to me. Probably followed me to the meet and had his men ambush the MC.

Why?

“I have my reasons,” he says, tucking his gun into his waist. “Needed to know if you were telling the truth. I knew if I ordered you to kill the cops, the rat would pass it along. I was right.”

Shouts ring behind him as his men chase the bikers into the forest. Johnny pays them no mind as he searches the pockets of the biker bleeding out on the floor. He finds a set of keys and tosses them to me.

I fail to catch them. Too tired. “It was Henri.”

“I know,” he says, wandering to the workbench with the tools. “He’ll be taken care of, but I still need one more favor from you.”

Fuck. “I’m going to bleed out.”

Johnny walks closer, finally noticing my arm drenched in crimson. “Shit.” Frantic, he searches the barn for something to absorb my blood, but all he finds is a tattered rag. “Fuck!”

It’s hard to keep my eyes open. “Use my fucking shirt.”

He rips the jacket from his back and kneels, grabbing the edge of my soaked shirt and wrenching hard. It tears, and he wraps it around my shoulder, tying a knot and squeezing into the wound.

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.

Then he picks the key from the floor, and the locks slide from my wrists and ankles as he unlocks them.

“You need to stay awake, Sébastien. I need one more thing from you.”

I straighten myself, head pounding. “You promised me all I had to do was kill two cops.”

He glares at me. “This is far from over and I think you know that.”

Sometimes it feels like it’ll never be over. “One more favor, and you’ll leave us alone.”

A grin tiptoes across his face. “You have my word.”

Johnny’s men filter through the barn, carrying red plastic jugs filled with gasoline. “We’ll wipe down for prints and torch the place, but we can’t erase two cops from the world. Street cameras spotted them driving here.”

I know he’s right. The department will leave no stone unturned to find a missing officer.

His voice hardens. “You’re going to stay here when the police come. You’ll tell them everything.”

What? “Why the hell would you want me to do that?”

“To take the suspicion off me. They’ll think the MC did this.”

“But they won’t believe me.”

“You need to make them,” he snarls. “And you need to do it without spilling a word about the family. We weren’t here.”

“I don’t know how the hell I’ll do that.”

“You’re a credible source. They’ll believe you once you prove you’re an undercover. I need you to do this, Bastien.”

Weariness settles in my bones. “What the fuck am I supposed to say about the gunshot wound?”

He shrugs. “Tell them you were cleaning your gun and—boom.”

“What kind of moron discharges their revolver into their shoulder? They’re going to see through that.”

“I don’t give a fuck what the story is as long as you tell them nothing about us.”

I chew my lips. “You need to promise me Vito won’t be a problem. We just want to leave.”

Gasoline splashes the walls, filling the room with its noxious fumes.

Johnny’s eyes glitter with savage triumph. “He won’t be.”

* * *

My back twinges with the hardness of the hospital bed and bright lights sear my eyeballs. It’s been several days and the only distraction from the throbbing shoulder pain is Eva, who squeezes my hand tight enough for me to lose feeling.

“Babe, it’s over. You can stop squeezing the death out of my hand.”

Eva lifts from the mattress and shakes her head. “I can’t help but think one of them will burst in here and finish the job. I don’t feel safe.”

Neither will I until I put several hundred kilometers between us and Montreal. “I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s over. My surgery was a success and Johnny got what he wanted. The heat’s off us.”

She nods, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I went to my dad’s.”

Shit. “You did?”

“I tried to get him to stop this. I told him you were the love of my life, and he didn’t give a damn about saving you.”

Wish I could say I was surprised. “We can’t leave right away, but it’ll be soon. My parents know we’re coming. You’ll love it out there.”

To think I was in such a hurry to abandon that place and sink my teeth into the real shit. Fuck that. Never again.

I laugh when I think of what my parents will say when I bring back a pregnant girl.

“I can’t wait,” she says, beaming at me. “I’ll go with you anywhere.”

My heart clenches as she kisses my cheek, the one spot on my face that isn’t bruised. I don’t know what the hell did I do to deserve this woman, but I’m never letting her go. No more secrets and violence. I’m hers forever

Someone knocks at the door and a nurse peeks through. “Sir? The police are here to see you.”

The homicide detective who responded to the scene is a woman in her mid-thirties. Detective Fuller enters the hospital room followed by two other detectives. She smoothes her pencil skirt as she sits down in front of me. The other cops remain standing.

“Ethan, this is Sergeant McGrath and Detective Langley.”

I shake their hands, forgetting their names instantly.

“Detective Fiore, we want to—”

“Just call me Ethan.” I’m not a cop anymore, and I’ll never be one again.

She nods. “Ethan, we want to apologize for what’s happened. Captain Ritter’s department operated with little oversight for way too long.”

Profound relief crashes over me. “How did you find me in the system?”

She folds her hands. “We were able to dig the files out with a data recovery software. Captain Ritter wasn’t the most technical guy on the force.”

Lucky me. “I just want to go home to my wife. I told you everything I know.”

She nods, glancing over my injuries. “I know this has been tough, but we need to go over what happened. You need to tell us who shot you.”

“No, I don’t.”

Bewildered, she grasps the edge of the hospital bed. “Ethan, you’re a police officer. Do you realize what’ll happen if you don’t cooperate?”

I shrug with my good arm. “I’ll probably lose my job.”

Speechless, she glances at the other cops. “Look, our sources tell us the Cravotta family might have been behind the arson and the double homicide.”

“I can’t speak to that. When I arrived to meet Carter and Ritter, the barn was already ablaze. I have no idea who was behind it.”

She glares at me with a little more suspicion. “Ethan, I don’t think you’re being very forthcoming.”

No shit. “I’m sorry you think that way, but I’m telling you the truth.”

Her voice rises into a high-pitched yell. “Your career is at stake.”

“Then I quit. If I had my badge and gun, I’d give them to you right now. All I want is my identity back, but as far as this investigation goes, I’m done. If you have any more questions, you can contact my lawyer.”

Detective Fuller stares at me, aghast. I almost feel sorry for her.

“I’ve given you my statement, Detective. It’s over.”

Looking shocked, she stands from the chair and heads for the door. She grasps the handle. “Did they lean on you or pay you off?”

I smile at her.