Chapter One

Belle Windsor stomped the gas pedal, racing her Audi down a scenic county road a solid twenty miles over the speed limit. She swerved around a turn, nearly losing control, but corrected and straightened out for the next stretch of roadway. As she pressed the pedal even harder, her heart sped almost as fast as the engine.

Only two more curves like that between here and home.

She checked the clock on the dash.

Eleven twenty-eight. She had exactly two minutes to make a ten-minute drive. Belle tightened her grip on the steering wheel. If she failed to perform said mission, her husband’s head would explode.

Let it. I’ll make popcorn.

Sputtering out a laugh despite the precarious situation she found herself in, Belle kept her foot heavy on the gas, surging forward. She struggled to make up a reason for her tardiness that would appease Thomas Windsor’s unavoidable fury.

“Brunch with the girls went a little long.” Belle spoke the half-truth in a voice she hoped sounded the perfect mix between truthful and contrite. Why did she even bother to practice? She was aware that nothing she said would ever suffice.

She and her friends, Kelsie and Lynzee, had met for their monthly brunch date. Said date was Belle’s one acceptable “extravagance,” according to her husband.

But Belle decided to throw caution to the wind today and join the gals for a few swings on the practice range before Kelsie and Lynzee started their post-brunch round of golf. That was their customary girl date following brunch, and Belle had always, resolutely, without fail, begged off the invitation to join in.

“Thomas needs me at home.”
“I need to be there for Thomas.”

How many other excuses and lies had she told over the past year, all to ensure Thomas’s feathers didn’t get ruffled?

Not this time. Today, Belle decided, she’d had enough, and without even thinking it all the way through, she’d said yes when Lynzee tossed the invitation her way over the last swirl of her mimosa. Maybe it was Lynzee’s playful manner, which always came out when she’d had a few.

Whatever the reason, Belle had joined in and gotten lost in the fun of just being a woman on her own again, out with friends.

A guy near them applauded one of her swings—over one hundred and fifty yards—and dared her to do it again, which she could not. But he still cheered her on. Belle’s first impression of the man had her wondering if he was off his meds. He was a little too loud, and his smile had an unhinged, toothy quality to it.

But truth be told, Belle hadn’t been completely turned off by the weirdo at the practice range. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be cheered on. To be appreciated rather than assessed.

The dashboard clock continued to glow in her peripheral vision.

“You sure know how to put the ‘ass’ in ‘assess,’ don’t you, Thomas Windsor?” She talked to herself when she was really nervous, and her nerves were currently vibrating at a fever pitch.

Once upon a time, she’d called him Tommy, and he’d treated her like absolute royalty. Dates in flashy cars at five-star restaurants. Whisking her off to Vail for a surprise weekend at a posh ski resort, where they’d enjoyed champagne and roses by an open fire.

Sex on the foredeck of a private yacht he chartered exclusively for the two of them. The crew had remained inside and below deck, as asked.

Because when Thomas Windsor made a request, it was a command, and it was followed.

He’d asked her to marry him afterward, while they lay in the sun, still warm and tingly from their frolic.

Of course, Thomas hadn’t framed his proposal as a question.

“Marry me.”

The ring he extended to her, still nestled in a satin-lined box, was set with the biggest, shiniest diamond she’d ever seen.

And I said yes. I married him. Wearing that rock like a millstone for the rest of my life.

Belle went from being a worshipped fiancée to a piece of property the instant “I do” left her lips. Thomas Windsor’s wife, her new title, had a set of expectations to live up to. On their wedding night, Tommy laid them out with no hesitation, including his command that she call him Thomas from then on.

She stared daggers at the ring on her finger, wishing she could just sell the thing and run away somewhere. Counting the seconds down in her head, Belle knew she’d lost any chance of securing a peaceful return to the Windsor estate.

She never thought of it as her home. It wasn’t a place they shared as a couple. It was his. All his, and she, like the furniture, the decor, and the flagstone flooring, was a mere ornament.

A possession. Not a person.

Belle sped up, flying down the open road to the upcoming curve. She let up on the gas and pressed the brake, taking that turn with better control. Then she pushed the pedal to the floor again for the next open stretch of road.

“He’s going to flip his lid, like he always does when you’re late. Or when you happen to get an idea of your own that conflicts with the plans he’s laid out for your day.”

Most of her friends—some of whom she’d known since preschool—were now treated as acquaintances. She could meet up with them to ensure the Windsor name wasn’t associated with snobbery, and that was it.

And everything was strictly scheduled down to the last minute.

“Married women don’t need to spend time gallivanting around town, giggling, gossiping, and embarrassing their husbands with childish behavior.”

The Windsor household was Belle’s new priority. Housekeepers, groundskeepers, chefs, pool maintenance…all these servants required her constant attention and oversight. If the rosebushes were under-pruned, it was Belle’s fault for not monitoring the groundskeepers more closely. If Thomas spotted a speck of dust on the bookshelves, Belle hadn’t been riding the housekeepers enough, keeping them in line.

“Or how about that time when the veal wasn’t tender enough? I didn’t lay a hand on the food, but, oh no, that was definitely my fault.”

Thomas had never struck her, never physically harmed her in any way. That fact was his out, his rebuttal for any complaint she’d ever voiced, though she’d ceased to voice anything years ago.

“You don’t have any idea what abuse is. You’re spoiled, selfish, and clueless.”

The truth was that love—blind and unyielding—had sentenced Belle to this life as a pampered rat in a cage. If she’d run screaming the second Thomas had shown his true colors, she could’ve started over. Started fresh.

Gotten the fuck out.

But she’d loved him too much in those early days to believe that her Tommy was truly the monster now on full display before her. She’d made excuses for him to her family, to her friends…to herself.

He’s a wealthy man from a wealthy family. Of course his wife needs to exhibit exemplary behavior.

It would reflect terribly on Thomas if she publicly embarrassed or disappointed him.

And she’d married him to spend her time with him. She wasn’t a child anymore. Her girlfriends, well-meaning as they were, couldn’t possibly understand the pressure of being Thomas Windsor’s wife.

None of them had married into the type of fortune and prestige that the Windsor name carried.

The biggest lie she’d told herself was that if she performed well enough and followed the rules, she’d get her old Tommy back.

She’d dazzle him with her devotion, and Thomas would remember why he loved her. Why he’d chosen her out of all the women in his orbit. He’d recall her precious smile, playful nature, and brimming intelligence, and they’d become a team. They’d run the Windsor empire together.

Belle glanced at the clock.

Eleven twenty-nine. Prepare for enemy fire.

“Shit.”

When he saw the dust on the Audi from the back road, that was really going to put him over the edge.

No one outside their mansion walls who’d seen Thomas’s endearing demeanor, contagious smile, and ridiculously handsome face would ever believe the dictator he was…but that was okay. Getting the hell away from him had been all that mattered, at one time.

But that was before the blue lines. Before Tobias was born.

A smile crept across Belle’s face as she thought of her son, with his shaggy, sandy-brown hair and bright-blue eyes. At three years old, he was the light of her life. The reason she breathed.

She’d been eight weeks pregnant when she decided to leave Thomas, and if he hadn’t found the pregnancy test in the bathroom trash, she and Tobias might’ve made it out. Thomas had nosed around as he always did—ensuring every remnant of her privacy and sense of worth as an individual was destroyed—and found the proof.

There’d been no celebration.

No kiss. No hug. No excitement.

Thomas had simply marched into the bedroom, held up the stick, and informed her that her chief reason for living from that moment forward was to bear his heir. Then he snarled like an angry dog and warned her that if she ever tried to leave him, she’d never see her child again. He had the money and the power to make that happen. In fact, he had the money and the power to make her disappear. No questions asked.

“Four years later, and look at us now.” Belle ground her teeth together. “Happier than ever.”

The dashboard clock flipped to exactly eleven thirty, and her phone immediately began to blare with the klaxon that Thomas had assigned to his number. Belle let out a long sigh, taking the final curve that stood between her and the Windsor estate. She slowed the car to a stop on the narrow shoulder of the road, just after the curve, and shut off the engine before answering.

She wasn’t allowed to take phone calls while driving—that was the man’s only reasonable rule.

Jabbing at the speakerphone button, she braced for the onslaught from her infuriated husband. “Hey.”

“Hey?” Thomas’s rage thundered through the speaker. “Since when do you address me as ‘hey?’ Never speak to me in that manner again. You’re not here, which means you are late. You know exactly how I feel about that. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Gazing at the wooded field to her right, Belle tried to remember what she’d imagined her life as Mrs. Thomas Windsor would be like. “I’m sorry. It’s just been so long since I saw the girls, and we got to talking. I lost track of time. I’m only a few minutes away.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Thomas roared, slamming something down as he spoke. “You’re late, and it’s unacceptable. When you arrive home, I expect you to go straight to your room. You will not be seeing Tobias today. And you’re never to see those disgusting women ever again.”

“Thomas—”

“Not another word. Get home and go to your room. Don’t you dare even speak to me when you arrive. Don’t you so much as look in my direction.”

He ended the call.

Never going to see Lynzee and Kelsie again? That’s what you think, you smug piece of shit.

Ever since marrying Thomas and learning who he truly was, she and her friends had established a secret code to communicate that Belle was in danger and needed a rescue.

She always called them to confirm she made it home safely after their monthly brunch dates. Belle explained the call by telling Thomas she wanted to know Lynzee made it home safe.

Which is the truth. That woman knows how to put away the mimosas, and even a full round of golf might not be enough to sober her up.

But her call today would involve an additional step of telling Lynzee that she must have eaten something that disagreed with her. She knew her friend would tell Kelsie, who in turn would drive to the Windsor estate with her husband, a lawyer and Thomas’s friend from the country club.

He knew Thomas, and knew what a wretched bastard he was, but could play his part well enough. He’d get inside with Kelsie, who would help Belle pack while her husband entertained Thomas with stories of cases he’d won.

The women would depart, with Tobias in tow, and without even saying goodbye.

Kelsie’s husband knows what to do. He’ll play along, acting as if his wife has abandoned him too.

Cackling as she imagined Thomas’s face, Belle cranked the radio to its loudest setting. She laughed out loud as Britney Spears called out Thomas with the chorus from “Toxic.”

Belle dug in her purse for the forbidden luxury Lynzee had sent with her and exited the car, lighting the cigarette with the equally forbidden lighter that had accompanied the gift.

Screw it. He’s given his orders and made his bed. You’ll be free within twenty-four hours, but it won’t be easy. Might as well enjoy these moments alone while you can.

The sound of a car engine swelled from around the curve behind her. Inhaling deeply, Belle blew out the smoke in waves, making sure to aim away from the Audi. If Thomas caught a hint of cigarette smoke lingering on his precious car, there’d be more hell to pay.

She watched the car slow, just as she had, as the driver approached the curve, disappearing behind a grove of trees. As she exhaled a cloud of smoke, she imagined her unknown future and what it might hold.

“Doesn’t matter where we go.” Belle took another drag. “I’m taking Tobias tonight, and we’re getting away. From Thomas, his house, his money, and all the bullshit that comes with it.”

She did something she hadn’t done in a good long while…she smiled. Her husband might have an actual heart attack when he discovered she’d finally left him and took his prized possession—Tobias, the heir to the Windsor throne—along with her.

If he ever finds me, he’ll have me killed.

She didn’t allow herself to dwell on it often, but the fact was that Belle had—on more than one occasion—noticed the sudden disappearance of groundskeepers or other hired hands within days after having an argument or “strongly worded disagreement” with Thomas. Had they just been fired?

Belle reached into the car and cranked the music louder. She closed her eyes, savoring the warm, poisonous puffs of smoke floating past her lips as she swayed to the music. “If I stay, I’m dead already.”

She dropped her cigarette butt on the road, smashed it with the heel of her shoe, and steeled herself against the frigid storm awaiting while the music changed to another song.

Heavy metal blasted from her car. It was the perfect soundtrack for her mood.

As she turned to get back in, a face poked into her peripheral vision. “Hello.”

Belle screamed, matching the singer’s voice roaring out of her car stereo. She spun to see a familiar face and settled her breathing.

The weird guy from the country club. The one who kept flirting with me, egging me on to make my swing blindfolded.

“You.” She took a step back, attempting not to panic. “Did you follow me here?”

The man backed away from her as well, belting out a good-natured laugh. “Why would I do that? But you do remember me. That’s nice.”

Belle cursed Thomas for not allowing her to carry pepper spray, knowing he’d feared she would use it on him someday. “Yes, I remember.”

And you gave me the heebie-jeebies, you dang weirdo. Now you’re scaring the shit out of me. I need to call the cops.

Belle put a hand into her car, wanting to get her purse, but the man tutted at her.

“Please don’t.” He pulled a handgun from his waistband, and she froze as the hollow of the muzzle aimed at her chest. “I meant what I said. That was an impressive shot you made. You have an excellent swing. Now I’m going to need for you to relax and come with me.”

“No.” Heartbeat in her throat, Belle grabbed at the driver’s door handle, her shaking fingers barely able to clasp it and pull. The door cracked open as a gunshot went off, and a whooshing sound began to stream from the Audi’s front left tire.

The man focused his gun on her. “Darn. That slow leak isn’t gonna let up. You’re going to need a new tire soon. Now listen to me carefully. You scream, you run, and the next slow leak will be coming from your brains. Got it?”

Belle’s lips quivered, but no sound came out.

I know better than this. I go with him now, and I’m done.

“Clock’s ticking, Belle.” The man’s smile widened as she gazed at him in horror. “Let’s get moving.”

I’m not going to make it home, and I can’t call Lynzee or Kelsie to tell them why…

A new and even more horrifying thought occurred to her.

Thomas is making me disappear right now, just like all those other troublesome faces that magically “went away.”

“Please,” Belle blurted as she envisioned her baby boy’s plump, little cheeks. “Whatever he’s paying you…I have a toddler at home. He’s my world.”

The stranger tilted his head, putting his free hand to his chest. “Paying? Who’s paying me, and for what?”

“My husband. He paid you to kill me. Maybe he didn’t, but one of his lawyers did. Please, I have a son. He needs his mother.”

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard all day. You really love your little boy, don’t you?”

Belle held her breath, praying to God that the man had changed his mind. Maybe she could get out of this alive and without Thomas ever having to know what had happened.

Unless Thomas himself had orchestrated the horror show playing out on this rural roadway right now.

“I love him more than anything,” she whispered. “He needs me.”

Laughing, the stranger wiggled the gun and urged her to step away from the car. “You worry too much, Belle. Your boy will be just fine. Lots of kids grow up without mothers.”

Chapter Two

Special Agent Autumn Trent took a deep breath and entered the office of Assistant Deputy Director Cassidy Ramirez. She’d resisted the early morning meeting when it appeared on her calendar, but duty called, and Autumn knew answering was her only path back to normalcy.

Aiden’s gone, but I’m still here. I still have a life to live and a job to do.

She accepted the latte that Ramirez held out across her desk and sat in the chair opposite the ADD.

“I made a stop on the way.” Ramirez removed the splash stick from her own cup. “There are some mornings when the thought of forcing down the Bureau’s coffee is simply unacceptable.”

Autumn dipped her chin, attempting to be pleasant. “I understand. Thanks for thinking of me.”

But a lifetime supply of the finest brew wouldn’t buy my forgiveness. It’s not for sale.

Ramirez leaned back in her state-of-the-art leather chair. “I’m not sure you’ll believe me, but I’ve been thinking of you constantly these past few weeks.”

Gulping down her emotions with a large sip of latte, Autumn floundered for a moment to come up with a proper response. “Okay.”

Why, Ramirez? Is it because my boyfriend blew up in front of my eyes? Or because the Bureau knew he was in danger and failed to protect him? Or because you, in particular, feel responsible for his death?

She met Ramirez’s uneasy, dark-eyed gaze, forcing herself to say no more.

“I’m aware that you’re waiting for an update.” Ramirez placed her cup on the desktop. “Aiden Parrish was my friend. I was here at the very beginning of his career and watched him grow into the fine leader he was. The Bureau knows they lost an incredible supervisory special agent, but it’s personal for me, which might be why…” Ramirez twisted her fingers together.

“Why what?” Autumn had no remaining patience for secrecy. Not when it came to Aiden’s murder.

“I believe it’s why they’ve shut me out of the investigation.” Ramirez’s brow creased so deeply that Autumn thought she might actually cry. “I was informed last night that I am officially off the case. But the truth of the matter is that they’d ceased giving me any information shortly after he died.”

Autumn’s blood began to boil, poisonous and hot. “Who is ‘they?’ Who’s handling Aiden’s case?”

Ramirez shook her head. “I’m not allowed to share that information. I’m convinced I never knew the real answer anyway. I just wanted to tell you I’ve been cut off. I can’t keep you apprised of the Bureau’s activity on this matter, as I’d promised to do. And I’m sorry.”

“That’s why you called me in early?” Autumn considered throwing her latte at the wall. “To tell me that you’re sorry? Again?”

“That was my personal reason, and I’m sure I’ll be apologizing for the rest of my life.” Ramirez’s down-turned mouth matched her furrowed brow. “The other matter at hand relates to the BAU directly. I’ve gathered from multiple sources that you and SSA Mullen butted heads somewhat frequently over the last case. Is there anything you’d like to tell me about this?”

Let me see. Gil Mullen is an asshole. A pretentious dick. He’s a heartless snake who managed to slither his way into a position of authority, and the sight of his face makes me sick.

“We don’t mesh very well.” Autumn kept her expression unreadable.

“So I’ve been told.” Ramirez leaned forward. “But has he crossed any lines? Verbally or physically? Has he been…inappropriate, in any way, toward you or the other agents?”

Autumn gagged down the vomit rising in her throat. “No. He’s never laid a finger on me nor made any comments that would suggest he had it in mind to do so. Verbally, he’s only been…cold. Cruel at times, but not specifically offensive to the point where he could lose his job over it.” She met the ADD’s gaze across the desk. “He’s just a very unlikable human being. Agents Ming, Holland, and Arnett would all agree with me.”

Nodding, Ramirez took another sip of coffee. “That’s what I figured. Now, to be clear, I hope and expect that he never will cross any line that could get him fired. But as long as he hasn’t, and he doesn’t, you have to learn to get along with him. He’s an agent with a stellar record and your superior, and more than that, he’s a body the Bureau needs right now. That the BAU needs.”

Of course he is. When agents start exploding into flames, standards naturally lower. The Behavioral Analysis Unit is desperate for a leader, and Gil Mullen has the credentials. Also, he’s breathing.

“I can get along with SSA Mullen just fine.” Autumn abandoned her coffee, folding her hands in her lap. “Regardless of what you’ve heard, I can say with all confidence that I also crossed no major lines during our last case. We tolerated each other, and we caught the killer.”

Ramirez offered a half smile. “You did. In fact, the work you did on your most recent case, subduing the perpetrator with no physical force whatsoever, was honorable. It speaks to your gift.”

Autumn froze. Surely, Ramirez wasn’t referring to—

Ramirez continued, unaware of the momentary panic her words had caused. “Having a doctor of forensic psychology as part of our BAU team is an advantage that none of us take lightly.”

Relax. Aiden figured out your superfreak ability because he was with you day and night. Ramirez knows nothing.

“Thanks.” Autumn didn’t say another word, in large part because she didn’t entirely agree.

Since joining the team, one longtime agent had been shot dead by his own partner, who later died by suicide, and her boss had gone up in a fiery inferno. Two others transferred to different field offices or departments, and one—her best friend Winter Black-Dalton—had switched careers altogether.

What’s that song again? Something about a wrecking ball…

“I do have one piece of good news for you,” Ramirez said. “Special Agent Bree Stafford is set to transfer back to the BAU next Monday.”

“What?” Autumn snapped to attention.

Bree had been a good friend, a rock in the storm during the most difficult of cases…up until she’d transferred to desk duty following an intense psychological scare thanks to one of the most sinister murderers Autumn had ever faced. Bree had recently had a baby with her wife, Shelby, and had declared herself done with active—and much more precarious—field duty.

“She asked to come back.” Ramirez searched Autumn’s face, probably hoping for some trace of happiness at the announcement. “And at a time like this, saying no wasn’t an option.”

Autumn imagined the first meeting between Bree and SSA Mullen. Bree was old school. She had a way of making her point known without causing any ruckus at all, and she didn’t back down.

“You’re right.” Something like hope stirred in Autumn’s chest. “We need her.”

Ramirez brushed some strands of her graying black hair behind her ear. “It’s nice to see a smile on your face, Agent Trent. That’s all for now. Make it a good day.”

Exiting the ADD’s office, Autumn took a moment to pause in the hallway and consider this turn of events. Of course it would be extraordinary to have Bree back in the BAU. A familiar face. A trusted colleague and friend.

Another person who spent ample time with Aiden and who will no doubt want to talk about his passing. Will ask how I’m doing. Will have that “is she going to break” look in her eyes every time I walk into the room.

Luckily, Autumn had been sharpening her skills at appearing fine for the last two and half weeks. And while none of her coworkers were naive enough to believe she was anything close to fine, they couldn’t prove any different.

Because they don’t have my gift. They can’t just touch someone and know their emotional state the way I can. They don’t have a freak sixth sense.

This was the gift that Autumn would never share with the Bureau. They knew everything about her past. Her abusive father throwing her into a table when she was only ten. The brain surgery that had been necessary to save her young life. The consequential stint as a foster child until her eventual adoption at thirteen.

But they’d never know that she’d woken up in that hospital bed able to learn things she had no logical rhyme or reason to know—and all it took was the merest brush of her hand against another person.

Depression. Happiness. Anger. Doubt. Confidence. Absolute gut-wrenching sorrow. Ecstasy.

Every day was a new opportunity to gather information that, more often than not, she didn’t want. Aiden had cracked the code of her out of this world ability only after months of having his internal emotions eerily remarked upon by his girlfriend.

Aside from him and Special Agent Emma Last of the D.C. Bureau team, Autumn’s best friend, Winter Black, was the only other human on the planet aware of the gift—or as Autumn sometimes thought of it, the curse.

And that’s fine. Emma has her own curse, and so does Winter. She gets it. She gets me.

But Aiden? Autumn hadn’t known his exact thoughts on the situation. Whether it scared or fascinated him were curiosities he’d never voiced.

And I’ll never know what they were. I’ll be guessing until the day I die.

Because shortly after admitting he knew her secret, Aiden told her goodbye, forever. And before she could chase after him, he was gone for good.