Irelyn let herself into her hotel room. Four cities in eight days. She had known the test would be grueling, but she had to give Dark credit for being both creative and relentless.

Obscure clues to solve intricate puzzles. Hiding in plain sight while dressed in various disguises—so far, the mime had been her favorite. She had tailed various targets. And she had been tailed herself. She hadn’t heard specific praise from Dark as of yet, but she felt quite pleased with her progress. Assassins had to be detail-oriented, masters of disguise, and skilled investigators. The slightest clue could ferret out the most elusive mark. She’d had no problem completing any of her assignments.

Placing her handbag on the dresser, she took careful note of the room. It was a typical hotel room, like so many she’d been in over the years. She was tired of them. Her soul longed to go home. She couldn’t. Leading them there would be a disaster.

She had bought the property and house in Ireland on a whim. Since she was the least-whimsical person she knew, purchasing it had been a surprise and one she had never regretted. It was a land of gently rolling hills covered in purple heather. A small stone walking bridge separated the house from the road. The locals even had a name for it. They called it the Place Beyond the Mist. She soon learned why. Mist from the river a half mile away often settled over the land, sometimes for days. The first time that happened, she had felt like a fairy sprite, hidden away from the world and all its woes.

The little house was nothing special. A two-bedroom, one-bath cottage made of stone, brick, and mortar, but it did have history. Over a hundred years ago, a young man and his bride had lived there, raised a family there, farming, living, and loving. Several families had lived in it since then. Sometimes, when she sat on the porch and the mist settled around her, she imagined she could hear their laughter.

There had been love in that house, and the moment she’d walked through that door, she had known she was home.

In that way, the place reminded her of Grey and their first meeting. She had been fascinated from afar, but when she’d finally gotten up the courage to arrange a meeting, there had been an instant connection. She had felt at home, at peace. She had never told him that. Their meeting hadn’t exactly been a storybook beginning. Besides, revealing something so deeply personal to a man who knew every weakness and vulnerability she possessed was not a good idea.

Grey had never been there, and she had never told him about it. The cottage was her one place of refuge and peace. When she’d purchased it, she had thought to bring him there someday. That was no longer a possibility, but her heart often dreamed of it anyway.

With a huff of disgust, Irelyn pushed aside the memories. She had long ago learned that living in the past solved nothing. The here and now was all that she had. And if she was to do all that she had set out for herself, focusing on her regrets would get her dead much sooner than she planned.

She’d had a long day, and tomorrow would not be any shorter. With that thought, she went about setting the safety measures that had kept her alive for this long. First, she thoroughly searched the hotel room. The number of people who wanted to be the one to take her down had increased dramatically in the last few months. As if she were some kind of trophy animal. That would likely happen one day, but not until she finished what she had started.

After checking for cameras, bugs, and explosives, she set up her safeguards. Grey had been the one to teach her these things. Before Grey, she had learned only how to pursue and capture her prey. Grey had trained her how to stay alive.

Traps and countermeasures in place, she allowed her muscles to ease a little. The last few days might have been tiresome, but soon that would be over. Once she was fully accepted by Dark, she would begin the real work.

She clicked on the television with the remote and scrolled through the channel guide without interest. Noise to fill the silence. Settling on a twenty-four-hour news station, she slipped her shoes off and did a series of yoga stretches to loosen her muscles even more. Her stomach growled, reminding her that her breakfast of banana, grapes, and energy bar was long gone. She had stopped at the market before checking in and had exactly what she needed to make a healthy and delicious meal. Problem was, she had no desire to do so.

Sighing, she plopped down onto the edge of the bed and faced the naked truth. She missed Grey. Oh, how she missed him. From the little quirk his mouth would give when he found something mildly amusing, to the slight growling sound he’d sometimes make right before he kissed her. She even missed his bad habit of leaving his damp towel in the middle of the floor after he showered.

Ending their relationship had been one of the hardest things she had ever done. It hadn’t been a mistake, though. She had made enough of them to know the difference. Mistakes were the things that filled you with massive guilt, darkening your mind until no light existed. She lived with those mistakes daily, and that darkness always hovered above her.

No, saying goodbye to Grey hadn’t been a mistake. Loving him wasn’t a mistake either. She just wished both of them didn’t hurt so very much.

Shaking off the sadness, Irelyn removed her clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot, steamy water should loosen her tired muscles and enable her to sleep. She never slept deeply while on a job, but she needed as much rest as she could allow herself.

She turned off her thoughts and enjoyed the luxury of the cleansing liquid. There were many things she would never take for granted and a hot shower was one of them. In their early years, when it seemed like the whole world was against both of them, cleanliness, like a good meal, had been a luxury.

She was stepping out of the shower stall when a breaking-news alert on the television caught her attention. Did she hear Grey’s name mentioned, or was she missing him so much her mind had conjured his name?

Irelyn dashed into the bedroom. Standing in front of the television, still dripping from her shower, she stared at the screen. The over-polished, toothy reporter was giving information on an upcoming news story, but there was nothing about Grey. Had she just imagined it after all?

She clicked on another news channel and then another. Nothing. She was being silly. So what if they had mentioned Grey’s name? He was in the news all the time. Multibillion-dollar mergers and acquisitions were often big news items, and Grey was involved in many. It was probably nothing more than that. Still, she searched, returning to the same channel where she’d first thought she’d heard his name. Her breath caught when a photograph of Grey appeared on the screen.

“Repeating our earlier story: Billionaire philanthropist Grey Justice and an unknown companion were involved in a one-car accident this evening in Dallas, Texas. As yet, there is no news on their condition. The cause of the accident is under investigation. This is a developing story, and we’ll keep you informed as we learn more.”

She told herself it was a minor fender bender and nothing more. Just because the story had made international news wasn’t that unusual. Everything was reported on these days, even the small things. She told herself she would know if something major had happened to him. She would know. Her gut, her heart, her soul would know.

Grabbing a burner phone from her stash, she punched in Grey’s number.

“Justice,” a voice growled.

Her breath caught in her throat, and it was several seconds before she could speak.

“Irelyn?”

She had called from a burner phone with an unknown number, but still he would know. That was just Grey.

She finally managed to speak. “You’re okay?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“Rifle shot. Caused complete failure of steering and brakes. We hit a concrete wall.”

“We?”

“Lacey Slater was with me.”

“Is she okay?”

“No.”

With that one word, she heard the fury.

“She’s not—”

“She’s alive. She’s in surgery.”

“I’m sorry, Grey. I know her family must be devastated.”

“The prognosis is good, but recovery will take a while.”

“And you weren’t injured?”

“A bump on the head, a wrenched shoulder. Getting the bastard behind this will help.”

This wasn’t the first time someone had tried to kill him, but it was the first time she wasn’t there with him to investigate. And to reassure herself that he was truly fine.

“Any idea who and why?”

“Not yet. You have any?”

“No.” She frowned. Was he inferring she might have had something to do with the hit? “Grey, I didn’t—”

“Hell, I know that, Irelyn. But you are associating yourself with that kind again.”

She couldn’t argue with the truth. “I can make some inquiries.”

“No. Stay out of it. I have my people on it.”

Yes, he would, and Grey Justice had a multitude of people who could and would uncover the culprit. He didn’t need her.

“Very well. I’m glad you’re okay. Please give Lacey my best. Goodbye.”

“Wait! Irelyn!”

She disconnected the call on his curse and immediately dismantled the phone. She’d drop the parts in different dumpsters across the city tomorrow. But now she had a new worry. Someone was out to get Grey. Someone new? Or was this an old enemy? She should have heard the news. For obvious reasons, the assassin community was secretive to outsiders, but inside, there were rumors, speculation, and leaks. Her ears were always tuned to anything involving Grey. Why hadn’t she known about this latest contract? More important, who was paying for it?

* * *

Cursing himself for his bluntness and shortsightedness, Grey hit redial. There was no answer and no voice-mail option. Irelyn had called him from a burner phone and had likely disabled it the moment she ended the call.

He was an ass and not proud of it. Irelyn rarely reached out to him anymore. Instead of declining her offer, he should have asked for her help. Not only was she a skilled investigator, he might have persuaded her to return to Dallas. But instead, he went into overprotective mode and rebuffed her offer.

No, he didn’t want her involved, but he damn well wanted to know where she was and what she was doing. When had it gotten so messed up that he couldn’t even talk with her without walking on eggshells? They had been together for so long, their communication had once been seamless. A subtle glance, a light touch, a lift of a brow was all that they had needed to convey their thoughts to one another. And when he’d been blunt, which was all too often, she’d given it right back to him. When had it gotten so complicated?

Hell, what was he thinking? Irelyn and complicated were synonymous.

He shook his head and regretted the movement. He was a little more banged up than he’d revealed to Irelyn. Slight concussion, badly bruised nose, and a cut on his forearm that had led to the need for a couple of pints of blood. That was nothing compared to Lacey’s injuries.

He hadn’t been unconscious long. Maybe a minute or two. People had been shouting at him when he woke—drivers who’d stopped to help. His brain had been addled a bit, but he’d had enough wits about him to turn to check on Lacey. Seeing the vibrant young woman unconscious and ghost pale had scared the hell out of him. When he’d touched her face, her skin had felt ice cold, and he’d been convinced she was dead. Thankfully, he’d been wrong, but she was gravely injured.

Things had gotten blurry after that. Paramedics had arrived. He and Lacey had been brought to the hospital, and while he could proclaim that he was the wealthy and powerful Grey Justice, medical professionals trying to save lives could care squat about his identity. As long as they saved Lacey’s life, that was fine by him.

Grey’s first call had been to Eli and hadn’t been an easy one to make. No matter what anyone told him, he knew Lacey was fighting for her life for one reason only. She had accepted a ride home from a man whom too many people wanted to kill.

The entire Slater clan had descended on the hospital. While Eli and Jonah had cornered the doctor, their wives, Kathleen and Gabriella, had consoled Eleanor Slater. And Grey had been on the phone with his investigators. Whoever was behind this would pay.

* * *

The local news was filled with the news of Justice’s accident. The target was still alive.

A stinging punch of anger in his gut was his only emotion. Since anger would get him nowhere, he acknowledged his failure and moved on. Emotions were pointless. Cold, hard logic was his key to a successful termination. Emotions created chaos.

He entered a number into his burner phone. “I missed.”

“That’s unfortunate,” a crisp British voice said.

“I’ll get it done.”

“I have no doubt.”

“What’s my time frame?”

“Three failed attempts will cancel the contract.”

“I won’t fail again.” He ended the call on that bold statement. There was nothing else to discuss. He would get the job done the second time around.

Justice had proved to be an elusive target. More than one assassin had tried and failed to bring him down. Contracts had been dissolved, and lives had been destroyed. He didn’t plan on being one of the casualties.

Having studied his subject, he felt he knew the billionaire as well as anyone did. But he’d had more than one reason to research the enigmatic philanthropist. Justice’s longtime companion, Irelyn Raine, was even more intriguing. She wasn’t the target, and by all accounts, the relationship between her and Justice had ended. Still, she fascinated him. He knew her, yet he didn’t. He found himself wanting to know more. That was an oddity he refused to examine. He had little use for people and placed them in two categories: those who paid him to kill and those he killed.

He packed his small duffel bag and walked out of the hotel room. Even though he wasn’t leaving Dallas as planned, he wouldn’t stay here another night. Staying in one place too long invited curiosity and familiarity. Being forgotten or ignored was a plus in this business. His size and looks prevented him from blending into the background as well as some others. To compensate, he was extra wary, slipping in and out of his room at late hours. He always wore black or brown clothing and often changed his facial features with putty or enhancements. If more than one person was asked to describe him, no one would ever agree. He was that good.

As he made his way down the sidewalk, he glanced around at the people he passed. Did they realize death lived among them? Or did they go about their lives, unaware that the man next to them could, without remorse, end their lives? He wondered what that kind of naïveté felt like. From the moment of his birth, he had known only want and hunger and had been willing to do anything to get what he wanted. The day he’d been rescued was the day his life changed for the better, but he still felt the hunger and the want, just in a different way. He had wanted to devour. He had learned control and discipline, two things he hadn’t had before. And he had been taught to destroy. The lessons had been harsh, but they had toughened him and made him into the ultimate killing machine.

He owed everything to the man who’d saved him, the man he had called Father. If he ever found the person responsible for killing Hill Reed, he’d take him apart, bit by bit, until not even the rats would want him.