She could hear them through the window, another round of laughter from the patio below. Although she strained to listen, ear aimed at the screen, the words rose up to the window in a jumble. The only thing that was clear was that they were having a good time—and probably at someone’s expense.

She hoped they were going easy on Ethan. He’d been acting a little too eager to work tonight. It was cute that he was on his first big story, and that he’d wanted to really dig in and get started. That was why she brought him, after all. But part of being a journalist, working around your subject, and sometimes intimately, is to know when to let loose and let go of the story for a while.

She had perhaps been a little guilty of going to the extreme with that. Letting loose. She had let go of the story completely, only to grab on to Cole—two handfuls of him. A mouthful, too.

She was still hungry.

Another round of laughter, this time from the kitchen. She spun around to her girls.

Annica was just happy they were talking about someone else’s love life for a change. Macy and her new man, Tucker. Well, old man. Old young man. Something that had begun years ago while they were both in the police academy.

Their laughter faded quickly and she could see why: ever-inquisitive Ethan had entered the room.

No notebook, thank God.

“What?” he said, his face going from loose and blank to crumpled annoyance. “What did I do now?”

The ladies laughed.

“You entered the room, apparently,” Annica said.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the guys,” he said. “I’m off duty. You’re safe.”

“You finally stopped working?”

“Yeah, you can all relax now. Actually, we were all outside talking, getting way off topic about dirt biking the Rubicon trail in California and my mind just sort of drifted off.”

“Oh,” Annica said, watching how the two other ladies stared at Ethan with oddly focused attention. “I never you knew you were into dirt bikes.” That bit of knowledge made her feel a little differently about her intern. He even looked different somehow. Maybe he wasn’t entirely about sitting behind a desk all day. Sure, he’d seen action at some point, she knew that. But things change. Maybe they hadn’t changed as much as she’d assumed.

“She thought you were more of the artsy type,” Mira said.

“Artsy?” he said, his face soured up at the idea of it. “Artsy . . .”

Ethan wasn’t bulky. In good shape, but lean. Tall. He had long, “artistic” fingers. Good for typing with, she’d thought.

“Why artsy?” He said. “Is it the lack of huge biceps? Tattoos? I was in the army, too, you know. Did you talk about that?”

“I keep forgetting about that,” Annica said. Huh. Normally she’d remember most everything about a person. Must be Mira’s cocktails.

“I’m really throwing you girls for a loop, huh?”

“Not me,” Macy said, turning to the girls. “I was out there with him. He actually showed the guys a thing or two about the bike.”

“Oh,” Mira said. “So what’s that supposed to mean?”

Ethan smiled. “It means I’m a badass.”

No one laughed. Instead, it was followed by the most pained awkward silence imaginable.

Annica had to say something to fill the gap. “Well, you’re definitely a badass journalist.”

“Intern,” Mira said, before her face cringed up. She looked like she felt about it. She said, “Sorry?”

“That’s fine,” Ethan said. “I’m a badass intern, then.”

“He really is,” Annica said. “I’d actually be nowhere without him.”

“Nowhere without coffees,” Ethan said through a playful smile. “I get it.”

“No, come on,” Annica said, laughing, then looking at Macy and Mira. “Guys, please, ease up on my rock-star intern.”

She knew it was probably hard for Ethan, being in this house with three alpha males and getting teased like this. They hazed everyone. Though he was an alpha in his own, mild-mannered, intelligent way. And through his pen, especially. He was a good writer.

“He’s really just trying to behave himself because the two of you have partners already. Right, Ethan?” she said.

“Huh?”

“Oh,” Macy said. “He’s a big flirt, is he?”

Annica’s cheeks reddened for what felt like the millionth time that night. “Well, not with me, I mean, but, uh . . .”

“What?” Ethan had gone back to that blank, almost sullen face of his. “Why are we talking about this?”

“Because it’s fascinating,” Mira said with a grin.

“Because we’ve all been drinking,” Annica said. “Ignore it.”

Mira said, “No, I want to hear about his exploits.”

“Do you guys travel around often?” Macy said, before her mouth pursed tightly.

Annica shot her a look.

Macy said, “You know, traveling around, just the two of you, hunting down stories, and, you know . . .”

“No, I don’t know.”

Mira chimed in. “What are accommodations like?”

“What?” Ethan said.

“Hotels,” Mira said, “Do you guys share rooms?”

Ethan had a certain affliction—no, a clue: a reddened neck—whenever he’d get embarrassed enough. It hadn’t happened very often. But then again, Ethan had never met the DARC ladies. Tonight, he was definitely getting a good dose of them. And here in the kitchen, his neck lit up like a stoplight.

“Ladies,” Annica said. “You’re killing us.”

“I think we’re killing Ethan especially,” Macy said.

“Sorry,” Mira added.

“No one’s killing me,” Ethan said in a flat and plain voice. He walked toward the fridge. “I’m fine. I just came in to get a beer, that’s all. Nothing more to it than that.” But he’d actually arrived looking like he was searching for Annica, wanting to try another of his jokes, perhaps, or another question about work. In that way, she was almost happy he’d been warded off.

But did the ladies have to tease him quite that much?

“Where are you guys staying tonight?” Macy said.

“Their hotel,” Mira said. “Right, Annica? She told me all about it.”

Ethan said, “If you’re really that interested, we’re staying at the Hilo Peachtree Hotel.”

“In separate rooms,” Annica said quickly after. The girls laughed, and so did Ethan. But she could see a hint of pain in his face. He was probably better off grabbing his beer and leaving now, tail between his legs. Poor guy.

“I’d never want to share a room with her,” he said. “For one, we’re just not that close. Right?”

“Right?” Annica said, a little afraid of where it was going . . . his joke, and their relationship.

He said, “For two, I’ve seen how messy her desk can get.”

The kitchen was quiet. Annica said, “Hard work is messy. That’s the sign of a good investigative reporter.”

“It’s also the sign of a slob,” Ethan said, a smile finally flashing across his face. Some semblance of confidence returning to the lean and not-too-bad-looking artist.

They laughed again, this time squarely at Annica. It was fine. She welcomed the attention shift away from Ethan and who he might or might not be infatuated with. But the laughter ended a little too abruptly. She followed the gaze of the two women, straight to Cole.

How long had he been there at the doorway?

He was smiling, but there was something troubling him. Something empty behind his little chuckle as she looked at Ethan.

Could he tell what was going on?

Mira said a polite yet slightly vapid “Hello.”

And Cole just turned to look at Annica. She felt hollow inside. “Can we talk for a minute?” he asked.

An even greater silence fell over the hushed crowd.

Could they talk for a minute?

It felt as if the school principal had just stopped by.

“Yeah,” Annica said. “Sure.”

She gave Ethan a quick glance. He was looking at Cole, and then back to her, neck as red as ever. Annica told them all she’d be right back, and then slinked out of the room. She made it seem like work. A chore. Though once she left the kitchen and was alone with him, she was so grateful for the interruption. She didn’t even care what he’d had to say or how bad the news was . . .

She could see the worry on his face.

What was there to worry about?

A lot of things, most likely. His boss trying to track him down to kill him, and her, and whoever else they’d had associated to this mess: mainly, the occupants of the house party tonight. She and Cole had sure brought on a lot of danger to everyone. And all they could do now was laugh about it.

She assumed he was in no laughing mood, until they were outside, out front, alone in the light. He smiled at her.

“What the hell are you doing?” she said.

“Rescuing you.”

“From?”

“Certain embarrassment,” he said.

“How so?”

“Ah, you know . . .”

“No,” Annica said. “I don’t.”

“The guys were all kidding around, and . . .”

“With Ethan?”

“They talked to him and sent him in there, encouraged him to flirt with you or whatever.”

“So that’s what you guys were doing out there, laughing like that.”

“And other things.”

“I don’t even want to know.”

“It was Jackson and Tucker, mostly,” Cole said. “Everyone’s been drinking, you know. And, I think we’ve all been under a lot of stress lately. You and me specifically. I guess they were just trying to lighten the mood.”

“And what was Ethan trying to do? He works under me.”

“Maybe that’s what he’s trying accomplish?”

Her stomach turned at the thought. “Come on, Cole.”

“Sorry,” he said. “That was bad.”

“Actually,” Annica said. “I think I know what it is.”

“What?”

“I think it’s you.”

“Me?”

“I think you’re threatened by our connection,” she said. “Ethan and mine.”

He chuckled at that, his hand immediately rising to his chin and rubbing there.

“Look at you,” Annica said. “You look like I’ve just caught you with something. You look guilty.”

“No,” he said. “No. I’m not threatened by anything with him. He’s a nice kid.”

“Yeah, he’s nice. He’s also a good reporter, and we work well together. So I don’t want anything to mess that up.”

“Me neither,” Cole said. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“What’s the first thing?”

“What’s the what?”

“What do you want?”

His hand went back to his chin. “As in, what do I want right now, with you, or . . .?”

“Let’s start with why you brought me outside,” she said.

“I already told you that.”

She had moved alongside him, creeping against the side of the house until their bodies touched. “Then let’s move on to what you really want.”

“You already know that,” he said, his hand wrapping around hers.

“Uh-huh,” she said, snuggling into him. “But where?”

“Where what?”

“They’ll see us,” Annica said.

“They’ll see us what?”

“They’ll see me ‘interview you,’” she said.

“Ah, yes, interviewing . . . Maybe we should conduct the interview where we’ll have some privacy.”

“Mainly from Ethan,” she said, grinning.

“Let’s go for a ride,” Cole said.

“What, in their van?”

“On my bike.”

“Oh.”

“You’re okay without a helmet?”

“Am I?”

Cole smiled. “I’m a good driver.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just somewhere away from these people. Aren’t you sick of it already?”

Was she? Everyone had been kind and welcoming, mostly, but things were heating up inside more than she wanted right now. Operatives blowing off steam before a mission. She should be used to it, but right now she just wanted some space, some quiet. Maybe recent events had changed her, too, this time more than she’d realized. “Yeah,” she said. “I need a break, too.”

“I can give you that,” Cole said, tugging on her arm and pulling her off the wall. She followed him down the stone path curving toward the road where his bike had been parked. Next to the curb. Next to the van. The sight of the white paneled moving van reminded her of their mission. His bike symbolized the opposite: escape from it, at least for a little while. Escape, with each other. They both needed this.

“Hop on back,” he said.

“Wait,” Annica said. “They’ll hear us.” She looked back at the house, the windows lit in the dark.

“So?”

She pushed at him, breaking their lock, and said, “So they’ll think you’re kidnapping me.”

“No, they trust me now.”

She huffed. “After one day?”

“What do you need to do? Ask Jackson for permission?”

She almost said yes.

But why? Permission from Jackson?

“Jesus,” Cole said, “it’s like I’m trying to sneak you away from your father or something.”

Was that what it was?

No, not even close. She could do whatever she wanted. She could rebel, and do it with whomever she wanted—even if it was the main subject of her latest investigation . . . biker bad boy Cole . . .

Annica looked back at him as he’d gone to his bike, inspecting something on it. A bike without any helmets. A rebel without a cause.

He flashed her a smile and said, “You ready?”

Yes, she was ready. More than ready. It was time to move on, and she was going to do it in style.

She strode over, her thoughts on nothing but the night, the open road, escaping down it with Cole. Being bad with Cole.

“How do I . . . ?” She looked at the bike, not knowing even how to get on.

“Straddle it,” he said with a grin that had gone even more devilish. “You know how to do that, right?”

“Shut up.” She swung her leg over the seat and slid in behind him. She’d never been on a bike before and it almost felt scary sitting on top—even just parked there—until she reached forward for him, for stability, for his muscles.

“That’s it,” he said, “just hold on.” Cole stomped his leg through the kickstart and brought the engine to life, loud and vibrating all through their bodies.

The jig was up now. The bike was louder than she’d expected. What she expected next was to see everyone pour out of the house at any minute.

She tapped Cole’s shoulder and shouted, “Let’s go.”

The sudden movement made her grab a firmer hold of him, her arms locking around his torso as they got up to speed down the winding, oceanside road. Fuck, this was actually fun. Annica wanted to lean her head against his back. It seemed like a natural thing to do, holding him tight and resting her head against him as her hair blew around. It felt good being close again. He wasn’t driving fast enough to be scary, as she’d suspected he might have done. She’d had enough scares for one day, even with adventures she’d normally found fun. All she wanted now was a nice relaxing drive, and the promise of Cole, and privacy, at the end of it—wherever they were going.

It turned out they weren’t going very far, Cole pulling to the side of the road after only a few minutes of riding.

“What’s wrong?” she hollered up.

And then he cut the engine.

She said it again, quieter this time.

“Get off,” he said.

“What?”

A wave of fear shook through her. Get off?

“Why?”

When his body moved, so did hers, Annica sliding to the side until she was suddenly up in his arms somehow. It happened fast and she was now being lifted off the bike. He placed her down on the street next to the bike. His smile reassured her.

“What’s up?” she said, trying to sound normal about it, like she wasn’t just worried that he’d revert back into the menace she originally thought he was. The security guard at the facility. The gun pointed at her face.

“You okay?” he said.

“Yeah . . . Why?”

“You look kinda scared or something.”

“No.”

“Did the ride spook you?”

“No.”

“I just wanted to get away from the house.”

They were away from the house. Away from any house.

She looked to both ends of the road. All empty. Along one side, a cliff perched above the green canopy of a forest. The ocean below that. Across the street, the mountainside continued up, steeper, the close crashing of waves echoing off the rock. She turned back down to the canopy, looking for a trail head. Maybe that was why Cole stopped the bike where he had. Her wondering, as well as thinking, came to an abrupt end as soon as he’d touched her again. She was already against him, Cole moving into her silently, his arms around her, dropping down to her waist, his face dipping to hers. Annica tilted her head back and felt his lips again.

Several waves crashed ashore.

They pulled apart, Annica a little reluctantly.

She played with his shirt to tide her over, hands bunching up in black cotton. She smiled up at him and said, “So you just wanted to get me away from them so you could do this?”

“Do what?”

“Make out.”

He waited a moment, then said, “Yeah. Was that too unreasonable? Just a few minutes?”

“No,” Annica said.

“Just a little drive,” he said with a shrug.

“Just a little.”

“No big deal.”

“None,” she said.

And then her phone buzzed inside her pocket.

She cursed at it, her hand leaving Cole and already going there. “You know who that is,” she said.

“Probably.”

“It’s probably him.” Jackson. Checking up on her.

“In all seriousness,” Cole said, “is he your boss or something?”

“No,” she said, her hand at her pocket. Waiting.

“Boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You sure? I mean, I know he’s got Mira, but—”

“No,” Annica said, her jaw tightening with the word. “No, it’s not like that. At all.”

“Okay,” he said, looking down through the canopy. “Just making sure.”

“Sure.”

“Sorry,” he said.

The phone had stopped ringing. But Annica had almost forgotten about it now. “Why did you say that?”

“Did I upset you?”

“No,” Annica said. Strangely, he hadn’t. If she thought about it, Jackson’s name had changed entirely in her head since the moment she’d started following the strange man who had caught her eye on the street. “I’m just curious.”

“I was just curious, too.”

“About me and Jackson?”

“I sensed something,” Cole said. “I don’t know. Chemistry? I mean, I know you guys are good friends, so . . .”

She took a step back. “Is this the same type of chemistry you sensed from me and Ethan?”

“No.”

“You seem to be sensing a lot of chemistry tonight.”

“No,” he said. “Aside from us, you mean?”

“Pretty much with whomever I talk to.”

“I was just teasing you,” Cole said, “about the Ethan thing.” He smiled and cocked his head to the side and said, “Come on, don’t be so easy.”

“Yeah, maybe I won’t.”

Cole said, “Easy to antagonize, I mean.”

“That, too,” Annica said, pulling out her phone and checking the screen, and seeing Jackson’s name appear as the missed call. “Shit, it was him.”

“I knew it,” Cole said. “Just call and tell him you’re in the middle of an interview.”

Annica sighed. “We already used that excuse.”

“We did?”

“I did. What did you say we were doing down there?”

Cole shrugged. There was something about his smile that seemed to imply that he’d told them everything.

“Cole?”

“You really are easy,” he said, laughing to himself. “Why would I tell them anything like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“So are you going to call him and ask permission?” Cole’s shit-eating grin faded when his face lit up in a pale glow. His focus swung off her face, his gaze over her shoulder and narrowing at something in the distance. Annica turned and saw a car approaching.

“What kind of car does he drive?” Cole asked.

Annica couldn’t remember. When she looked back to Cole, he was already at his bike, walking it off the side of the road. “What are you doing?” She followed him without knowing.

They stood a few feet lowered from the road, in a trailhead, the dirt bike camouflaged behind a boulder and a bushy clump of areca plants.

“Get down,” Cole said, his arm pulling her close. They hid together, crouched in the areca. Cole seemed to know who was in the car.

“What’s going on?”

His face was grim. “Maybe you should call him.”

“Cole?”

“After this car.”

She could see up over the street, across to the mountainside. It was glowing brighter from the headlights. Brighter, almost there.

And then the squealing of old brakes, the engine cooling down quietly. More brake noise, the engine ticking now. The sound and the light were steady. Stopped.

“Shh,” Cole said after she’d turned to him. She wanted to see what his face looked like, to measure the concern. But when they made eye contact, he just smiled.

“Having fun?” she asked.

“Shh.” And then with his face closer, mouth to ear, he whispered, “Sorta,” the word sending a nice little wave of shivers down her neck.

Annica leaned her head against his chest and waited. His heartbeat, slow and steady now.

She heard a car door open. But no footsteps.

She whispered, “What happens if he comes down here?”

“Who?”

“Whoever.”

“We can either run or fight,” he whispered. “Or you can run and I’ll fight. I’m packing.”

“I bet you are.”

“I can show it to you if you don’t believe me.”

“That’s okay,” Annica said, finding a way to laugh in the middle of their latest sticky situation. “Actually, I’ve already felt it.”

“Oh?”

“On the beach. Remember?” They both paused for a minute, listening for what came next from the car. Still no footsteps. Annica said, “We’re talking about your gun, right?”

“Of course. What else would we be talking about?”

“Exactly,” Annica said. “Way to keep us on topic.”

“It’s not so much me as it’s whoever that person is,” Cole said, motioning to the road, to the car. “He’s definitely keeping me on topic.”

“Should I call Jackson? Quietly?”

“Yeah, it might just be him,” Cole said, “looking for us. In which case, we can stay hiding until he leaves. And maybe long after that.”

Annica liked that idea. She felt his hand again, inching along the small of her back.

“Go ahead,” he said.

She almost forgot what it was . . .

The phone. The call. Jackson.

She squinted at the screen. There was a new message. From Jackson. He’d typed out a few frantic questions, trying to figure out where they’d gone off to. A new message came in as she read through the first: Take cover.