The first person she saw was Brinks. He no longer wore the correction officer uniform; now he was casually clad in dark slacks and a gray pullover sweater. He stood to the right of her, looking at her as if he couldn’t decide whether she disgusted him or he should feel sorry for her. When she cast her gaze around the room, her nerves tightened, and she drew herself up. The others, all men, all devoid of emotion, all big, all looking like the definition of badass, nine in total, sat behind a huge round table watching her. And just like Brinks, they were the silent, hard-ass type with an air of arrogance that she wanted to slap off their handsome faces.

She felt like an organism under a microscope the way she was surrounded by all of them. Her, alone on a chair, inside a huge round table, them on the other side facing her. Only Brinks, who stood to the right side of her, was remotely aligned with her. Her heart thudded like a steam engine in her chest. But although they were all tough-as-steel looking, and could squeeze the life out of her with one hand, she didn’t feel threatened. She looked past them to several black flat-screen monitors that covered three of the four walls. In her peripheral vision, she could see more. Along the right-hand wall, shiny black floor-to-ceiling cabinets. Above the oversized windowless metal door, painted in stark black, the symbol of the mythical phoenix. Who were these guys?

“What is this, the modern-day version of the Knights of the Round Table?” She laughed at the absurdity of it. But she was the only person in the room who found humor in her jibe. The men sat stone-faced, intently watching her.

“Officer Giacomelli.” The deep voice got louder as its source came from behind her, walking the periphery of the table until he stood across from her, the table between them. He stood with his hands behind his back, rigid and ominous, dressed in black from head to toe. The button-down shirt and black slacks did nothing to hide the muscles beneath. Her gaze dipped to the floor and she could just see his size 14s peeking at her from beneath the table. When her gaze traveled back up to his face, she found it hard and unyielding. Angela’s eyes widened. Brinks was big and he was bad, but this guy, he was . . . her skin shivered. His frosty blue eyes gave no hint of emotion. He was, she decided at that moment, as dead inside as she was.

He echoed her thoughts. “You are, for all intents and purposes, dead.” His last word was a death knell that smashed the inside of her brain, splattering everything she knew and understood to a pulp. She was in way over her head, but there was no way in hell she was going to show any of these guys a hint of weakness. She’d go down with a fight they’d all remember.

She stiffened her spine and narrowed her eyes threateningly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Forget where you grew up, forget your roots, forget you ever knew a woman named Angela Celeste Giacomelli.”

“You expect me to just take all of this at face value? Like you’re doing me some kind of favor? Who are you? What are you asking me to be a part of?”

“As you were informed, we are friendlies. A covert organization that can and does cross the line to go as deep into the dark side as necessary to achieve mission success. A covert op that handpicks its operatives, erases them, then, with a new identity, turns them loose.”

The hair on the back of Angela’s neck spiked. “A covert op that breaks the law in the name of upholding the law?”

Frosty eyes smiled and nodded. “More or less.”

“And I’m just supposed to go along with the program?”

“That or Brinks will escort you to Jessup.”

Angela pushed back into the hard metal of the chair and contemplated the offer as it stood. A chance for freedom, to a degree, but on their terms. And what if she didn’t like their terms?

“From the moment of your extraction, all your previous identifying data have been reissued. Blood type, fingerprints, DNA,” the man in black said.

“How?”

“We have long arms and deep-rooted connections all over the world. We can, with one fell stroke on a keyboard, erase anything and anyone.”

“But I existed!”

“And so you still do, but with altered information.”

“Are you implying that the fingerprints on file in every system that houses them including DMV are not mine?”

He nodded.

Angela swallowed hard. Who were these guys? And why her?

“When you are fully indoctrinated, you’ll be apprised of the full scope of our capabilities. Get familiar with Jax Cassidy, which is your new name—”

“Are you kidding me!” She struggled against the rope. While Brinks fought a smile, so did a few of the other jerks circling her. The man before her, however, did not so much as blink.

“Call her Cuddles,” one of the guys taunted.

Brinks’s green eyes glittered. “How about something sweet, like her vocabulary.”

She moved to kick him away, but her legs were bound to the damn chair. “If I’m going to play, I want a name I like.”

“This isn’t a game. It’s my rules or you go back to your old life,” the dark-haired iceman softly said.

Angela—she refused to think of herself as Jax—narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “Listen, before we go any further here, why don’t you put it all out on the table. I reserve the right to change my mind.”

“Too late. You have seen and heard too much. I’d have to kill you, or worse . . .” The man in black moved to stand behind the empty chair in front of her.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

The one in charge smiled slightly, and it wasn’t really a smile, more like a token I-guess-I-should-throw-you-a-bone-if-I-want-compliance sneer. “To the outside world I’m known as Mr. Black.” He looked around the room to the men surrounding her. “Here, on the inside, I’m known as Godfather.”

Angela sucked in a sharp breath. She’d be damned if she’d call him Godfather. That title was one of fondness and respect. She felt neither for the man who held her life in his hands. Mr. Black nodded to Brinks. “Unlock her.”

Brinks stepped forward and eyed her cryptically. “Promise not to bite me?”

“Oh, trust me, a bite from me is the least of your worries.”

He pulled a key from his pants pocket and dangled it from his fingers. “Promise?”

Angela shook her head, exhaled, then relaxed back against the stiff metal. “Just do it.”

As he deftly unlocked each lock, Angela watched his every move. She stiffened when he got too close. He looked at her and said, “I won’t touch you, and if I do it’s by mistake, so don’t freak out.”

Once freed of the chains and manacles, she stretched out her arms and groaned. When she straightened her legs, she hissed in a sharp breath. Bunched muscles tightened harder at their sudden freedom. She arched her back and stood, rubbing her chafed wrists.

“Sit down. Before we proceed, there are a few matters to clarify,” Mr. Black said.

Angela nodded, no longer up to verbal sparring. What she wanted was food, a shower and a comfortable bed. She sat.

“You are a victim and survivor of rape, battery and betrayal by your department. As such, before you are released for active duty here, you will have to be cleared by one of our medical personnel. That means therapy—”

Angela bristled. No way! Shaking her head, she moved to stand.

“Sit down!” the boss boomed. Hands fisted, he leaned down on the table in front of her. “You are unstable, and as such you are no good to me or any member of this team. Lives are at stake, Jax, including yours. Now knock that chip off your shoulder and get with the program!” He stood to his full towering height. “When you are medically cleared and fit for duty, we’ll meet again.”

“I changed my mind, Attila. Jessup has a cell with my name on it.”

He cracked a snide smile, and Angela felt a shiver of apprehension shimmy up her spine. Slowly he nodded. She looked to Brinks for help, but he, like the others, stared unwaveringly at her. “That can be arranged. But before you return, this is how it would play out for you: We dress you up and shoot you up, then leave you doped out in District Attorney Judd Pulaski’s place.” Angela stiffened at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. Mr. Black nodded knowingly and continued, “When your ex finds you, he’ll have you arrested for B&E, you’ll go back to prison for your original crime, plus the added charges of absconding, drug possession and B&E. I’m sure we can come up with a few others as well. You can kiss any chance of parole good-bye.” He leaned closer. “And while you’re in Jessup? We’ll make sure you get good-night kisses from all of the inmates.”

Potent fury erupted deep inside of her and she spewed. “How do you think life will be for you wannabe Lancelots when I tell the authorities exactly what happened to me?” she threatened.

Deep chuckles reverberated off the walls. Angela stiffened to steel. They were laughing at her! Mr. Black broke a genuine smile that showed a rack of brilliant white teeth. Somebody had had a great orthodontist. He shrugged. “Be my guest. You won’t be the first to try and fail, and you won’t be the last.”

Angela sat back in the chair. She was headstrong, she was impetuous, she was emotional and she was scared out of her brains, but she was not stupid. “There is nothing emotionally wrong with me.”

Brinks snorted.

She wheeled on him. “Fuck you!”

When several other men cracked smiles, she had the overwhelming urge to beat the crap out of every one of them. “I don’t need to speak to anyone about what happened to me. I’m over it.”

“Prove it,” Brinks challenged.

Angela smirked at him, then turned and stared down the big bad boss man. “Do you know how I got to Montes?”

“Why don’t you tell us,” he invited.

Angela smiled, her lips tight. “When I found out that slime bag was a fed untouchable, I tracked down an old buddy of mine in D.C. Special Agent Wayne Rios. Ol’ Wayne knew exactly where the safe house was. You know the rest of the story.”

“Why don’t you elaborate and tell us how you extracted that sensitive information from Special Agent Rios?”

Angela’s smile loosened. She shook her head and tossed her hair back. Her gaze locked onto the boss man’s. She saw fire there, behind the ice. Angela knew exactly how to work her assets. “I fucked it out of him.”

Her remark was met with stone silence.

Angela stood and sauntered toward Mr. Black. “So you see, boss man,” she softly said, “I’ve processed the assault, dealt with it, and filed it away. Done. Finito. Gone.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”

His gaze bore into her as if he could see past her soul. His intensity tipped her off balance. “Since you have dealt so succinctly with your trauma, tell us what Montes did to you,” Mr. Black pushed.

Angela balked. That she would not do. Telling them about Rios was one thing. Seducing him had been her decision, her rules, and she’d controlled every second of the interlude. But she would not relive the shame and pain of Montes in public. She stared harshly at the boss and stepped back, shaking her head.

“You can’t even talk about it,” Mr. Black said. The bully leaned forward, his pale blue eyes narrowing to slits. “Well, you’re going to. We’re your team now. You need to trust us. Talk to us. Tell us everything.”

“I have nothing to say to any of you!” she screamed.

Brinks stood and came around the table, intent, she was sure, on touching her. Angela took a defensive stance. “Stay the hell way from me.”

He stopped before he crossed into her space and looked hard at her. His eyes softened just enough so that she could see his own pain hiding deep behind his cool exterior. “Officer,” he softly said, “we all have our demons. Barbara Martin, the therapist here, is the best in the business. Talk to her, and you might find you have something in common.”

The sudden sting of tears bit at Angela’s eyes. She had not cried once since her attack. Not even when she’d received word that her mother had died. Why now? Why here in front of these strangers? She despised her weakness.

“I doubt I have anything in common with your shrink.”

“You’re not leaving this room until you tell us what happened,” Mr. Black said.

Angela moved into his space, daring him to touch her, daring him to push her, daring him to cross her clearly drawn line. “Then I guess we’re going to have a long night.” She turned and plunked down on the chair she had been tied to. Crossed her legs and her arms and tipped her head back and closed her eyes.

She wondered how long it would take him. She wondered if he’d lose control and force the truth from her. Every muscle in her body tensed hard, anticipating an attack. Long minutes passed. Silence, save for the soft breaths of the men that echoed around her. She could feel Mr. Black’s presence. He had not moved. She guessed he was staring down at her with that sharp scowl. Let him.

More minutes passed. Now she was bored. Slowly Angela opened her eyes and stared directly into Mr. Black’s icy gaze.

“You will discover, Giacomelli, that as part of this team, you will have no secrets.” He stepped closer. “You will also discover that cowards are not allowed.”

His baiting worked. She stiffened but still kept her appendages crossed, closing all of them out.

“Cowards get other people killed. I value each and every life in this room above all others. I will not allow you to jeopardize any of them.”

Angela looked up and said, “I guess maybe you should have done a little more homework before you recruited me. I have nothing to say to you.”

Mr. Black moved in closer. Angela unwrapped and stood up. When he chest-butted her, she caught her breath. He lowered his head and spoke so softly that she barely heard his words: “Tell us what happened, now, or I send you back to Jessup.”

Angela swallowed hard. For spite alone, she wanted to tell him to fuck off. Tell him she didn’t need him, his little group of elite operatives, or his pity. But she didn’t.

“We are not the enemy,” he said with just enough sincerity that she felt herself crumble a little inside.

It wasn’t his words, she realized, that struck something deep inside of her; it was the compassion in his tone. Angela fisted her hands at her sides, wrestling with the nightmare of what had happened to her and speaking about it to these strangers. They had no idea that for her to talk about it aloud was to relive it. And she was not strong enough to go there. Not yet. Not here.

Tilting her head back, Angela glared at each man in the room, and instead of arrogance, she saw in each one of them pain, buried and endured. Had they purged as she was being asked—no, forced—to do? She turned her attention back to Brinks, who had not moved and stood quietly waiting for her to speak. Swallowing hard, she opened her mouth to speak, but only a hoarse grunt emerged. She swallowed again.

“You say me and your shrink might have something in common?”

Brinks nodded.

Angela laughed, the sound harsh. “Was your Doctor Martin raped by a piece of shit pimp while her team, the team that was supposed to make sure that didn’t happen, sat on their asses?” Angela demanded. “Was she tied up and beaten while the little girls he smuggled in from Mexico sat and watched, knowing if they didn’t do exactly what he told them to do, they’d be next?” She trembled violently, unable to control the outburst. The faces in the room blurred as she was sucked back in time to Montes’s filthy hovel. She could smell him. Sweat, cigarettes and tequila. His skin soft and clammy, his arms furry, his breath putrid, his dick small. When she’d laughed at his midget hard-on, he’d lost it. She flinched, feeling the smash of his ham-sized fist on her face, the sound of crunching cartilage so close. The warm spray of blood on her face. Her broken nose, her blood, her body being violated. The screams of the children, their desperation as they were forced to witness her attack.

Angela jerked her head back and glared up at Brinks. “Did Doctor Martin’s rapist break her nose and shatter her jaw?” Hot tears stung her eyes. She ripped open her prison jumpsuit, exposing her belly and the long pink scar there. “Did a lunatic butcher her belly, making sure she could never have a child?” The tears erupted as her rage and shame spewed like a geyser. She looked past Brinks to Mr. Black. “Tell me, big, bad-ass-mother-fucking King Arthur, did her partner sidestep her with a half-assed apology, blaming the screwup of the sting on her that night? And did her team turn their backs on her when that prick who raped, beat, and mutilated her was whisked away by the feds, who said he was an untouchable witness? Did the love of her life, the guy who promised to stand by her no matter what, dump her like she was a used-up piece of furniture because he couldn’t bear to touch her?”

Angela stopped. The room was tomb silent and just as cold. Evenly she looked around at each one of them, and for the first time their arrogance was gone. She looked up at the man in charge. “Satisfied?”

He nodded and said, “Yes. I think we can be of help to each other.”

She didn’t want to help anyone, not even herself.

“Now,” Mr. Black softly said, “tell me. What can we do for you right now?”