“The last one was found in a parking garage in Chicago. Two shots, head and chest.”

Grey Justice studied the photographs before him. Five men, all skilled assassins, had been shot at point-blank range. The murder business was a dangerous profession, so the likelihood of an assassin getting killed wasn’t uncommon. However, these five men had been killed within the last six months, and their deaths were not only mysterious, the hits were professional. It took a very skilled killer to take down another one. And he had intimate knowledge of one of the most skilled.

“You think she’s responsible for all of them?” Nick Gallagher asked.

Over the past two years, Gallagher had become a close confidant. As a team leader, he had personal knowledge of every aspect of the Grey Justice Group. Grey had not only come to rely on Gallagher’s good judgment and intellect, but he depended on his trustworthiness, too. When he’d asked him to investigate the murder of an assassin late last year, he had known he might find out things he didn’t want to know. And now there were four more murders similar to that first one.

Aware that Gallagher’s keen eyes were reading his every expression, Grey said quietly, “I don’t know.”

Irelyn was certainly capable of committing all of them. She had skills that would put the highest-paid contract killer to shame. But there was one thing she lacked…the one thing that made him doubt the evidence. Irelyn didn’t have the heart of a killer. Beneath that beautiful, icy veneer was a warm, compassionate woman. Others might not see it, but Grey had firsthand experience. He knew Irelyn’s heart.

A couple of years ago, another woman, looking almost identical to Irelyn, had been responsible for several kills. Ivy Roane had done her best to make others believe she was Irelyn and had almost succeeded. But he knew for a fact that Ivy Roane was dead. So was there another? Had infamous contract killer Hill Reed, with his bizarre obsession for Irelyn, created more than one knock-off?

His gut said no. This was something different. Something else was going on here, and Irelyn Raine was right in the middle of it all. If she had taken out these men, there was a reason. A damn good one. Question was, what?

“She’s much better with a knife than a gun,” Grey said.

“That’s not exactly a reassuring vote of confidence.”

Grey’s smile was grim. “No, I guess not.” He sighed. “Truth is, I don’t know. She’s got the skills, but…” He shook his head.

“The cameras haven’t picked up anyone who looks like Irelyn,” Gallagher said, “but you said yourself she’s good with disguises. What we do have is proof that she was in the city when at least three of the killings took place.” He held up a hand. “I know, I know. Not damning evidence but too damn coincidental.”

“Different weapons were used for all five?”

“Yes.”

“So…” Grey glanced down at the files. “These three here, James Martin aka Marty J, Marco Valenz, and Frank Seymour… They’re the ones that we can place her in the same city when they were killed?”

“Yes. We can put her in Chicago around the time of Marty J’s murder. She was in Toronto the week that Frank Seymour was found. And she flew into London two days before Valenz bought it.”

Valenz, a low-level assassin, had been a particularly disgusting piece of work. For the past few years, he’d been trying to beef up his résumé by taking on jobs others might shy away from. Last year, he had been responsible for the deaths of two teenagers. A classmate of one of the teens, with more money than brains, had paid him to kill off his rivals for a particular girl. The kid had been found guilty of murder for hire, but Valenz had continued to evade capture.

By any decent person’s standards, assassins weren’t good people. However, many of them did have certain principles. Grey had always likened that mentality to how fellow criminals treated pedophiles and rapists in prison. Child molesters were considered the lowest of the low. Likewise, most assassins would not agree to kill a child. These three men—Marty J, Seymour, and Valenz—had all been exceptions. And that was why, even as much as he hated the thought, Grey knew Irelyn could very well be responsible for their deaths. Nothing could get Irelyn’s ire up faster than the mistreatment of a child.

But if she did commit the killings, why? What was going on? She had to know she was setting herself up as a target. The community was cutthroat and ruthless, but they did take exception to someone systematically mowing down their own kind.

What the hell was she thinking? And how the hell was he going to be able to keep her alive when he couldn’t even find her?

* * *

“She’s doing so much better than when she first came to us,” Sister Nadeen assured her.

Standing beside the bed, Irelyn brushed back silky blond wisps of hair from the sleeping child’s forehead. The unscarred portion of the little girl’s face held a rosy pinkish color, consistent with a healthy child. The other side was a mass of scars that would never look normal. No matter how many surgeries were performed, Somer Dumas would never have soft, unlined skin. A boyfriend of the child’s mother had seen to that.

“Is she eating better?”

“Much. She’s found a few friends here.” The nun smiled. “I even heard her giggle the other day.”

Her chest tightened as her heart lurched. A giggle from this special angel would sound like music. Irelyn didn’t know that much about Somer’s earlier life, before the drugs had taken over her mother’s mind and the abusive boyfriend had arrived, but she doubted the child had experienced many reasons to giggle.

She touched Somer’s hand, noting how it grasped the teddy bear that Irelyn had sent her. “What can I do? What does she need?”

“She has everything she needs. Compared to how she looked when you brought her in, she’s a miracle.”

Irelyn agreed with that assessment. She had stumbled upon the little girl by accident. She’d been stalking a killer in Nice when she’d heard the soft whimpering. The child had been thrown into a dumpster. Irelyn had no idea who’d put her there or why. Her only focus had been on getting the little girl help.

Once the child had been treated, Irelyn had moved heaven and earth to get her away from that environment. It didn’t take a psychiatrist to tell her she was projecting her own childhood onto the little girl. There were too many similarities to pretend otherwise. That didn’t matter. This child would not fall into the hands of another monster. Not the way she had.

A few days after Irelyn found Somer, the little girl’s mother had been found dead of an apparent overdose. No other relatives could be located. The child needed a family and Sister Nadeen had found the perfect one for her. A young couple had been on a waiting list to adopt for a long while. Though they had two other children, they wanted to add to their family by adopting another one. The adoption process would take a while, but once completed, Somer would have a new, ready-made family who would love and care for her.

Irelyn had researched the couple thoroughly. From all accounts, they were good people, but Irelyn would keep a careful eye on them just in case.

She took a step away from the bed and focused on Sister Nadeen. She had met the nun almost eight years ago. She was one of the few people Irelyn knew would never betray her. “I’m going away for a while.”

“For how long?”

“I’m not certain. I just—” Irelyn swallowed, cleared her throat. “You’ll see she gets everything she needs? I’ve made provisions for her as well as the rest of the children. If you need something, email me at the regular address. I’ll check it each day.”

“I’ll do that, but you’ve already been very generous.” She took Irelyn’s cold hand in her warm one. “Are you all right, my dear? You seem a bit pale.”

“I’m fine. It’s just a busy time for me, so…” She gave herself a hard mental shake. Sentimentality had no place where she was going. “You’ll be sure to let me know if you or any of the children have need of anything?”

“Of course I will.”

There was no use prolonging the event. Irelyn leaned over the child and pressed a kiss to her forehead. If she did nothing else worthwhile in this life, she was good with that. She had saved this last one, and that was all that mattered.

Giving Sister Nadeen one last nod of thanks, she turned and walked out the door. Spine straight, shoulders erect, chin held high, she focused on what lay ahead. The invitation she’d been working toward had finally arrived. And now she had one last thing to do before she accepted the offer. As hard as it had been to say goodbye to Somer and the other children at the hospital, this last goodbye would be a million times worse. But there was no choice. To do the thing she must, she had to sever every tie.

She had never been a fan of Friedrich Nietzsche and found it ironic that so many of his quotes fit her life. The clichéd if dire encouragement of his most famous one gave her an odd sort of comfort. What doesn’t destroy you makes you stronger.

Irelyn was about to put those words to the test.