Chapter One

Ping.

Like a dog trained by Pavlov himself, Tyler Cochran lunged for his phone, heart jerking to attention before his brain caught up. One new message.

Please be him.

After swiping right on Nicky Silva’s profile days ago, he’d spent much of the time since playing up how unbelievably attractive he found the dark-haired Armenian to be. But despite Tyler lavishing compliments and dropping flirty double entendres, Nicky hadn’t taken the bait.

Maybe I’m coming on too strong. Dammit. I should have played hard to get.

Taking a deep breath, Tyler sank into a chair at the tiny table that served as a dining room, grateful that his roommate, Bastien Flank, was away at a shoot in Milan. No one needed to witness the rampant blush heating Tyler’s cheeks with every playful swing-and-miss shot he took at Nicky Silva.

“This is going to be just another message from some lonely teddy bear sugar daddy looking for love.” Grumbling to the empty apartment, Tyler unlocked his phone with a quick face scan.

He deleted those messages without hesitation. Tyler wasn’t on the dating app to find a date.

He was there for Nicky Silva.

Tyler believed Nicky was the key to finding out what happened to Kelsey Vinn. A model on the rise and a friend dear to Tyler’s heart, Kelsey had gone missing three weeks ago after dazzling the audience on the catwalk during a high-end fashion show. No one—not Kelsey’s family, not her roommate Frankie—had heard from her since.

Nicky Silva had been present that evening. A man with no official title or legitimate business affiliation, Nicky seemed to always be front and center at high-profile fashion shows and after-parties. If he’d been some wealthy trust-funder, Tyler wouldn’t have given him a second thought.

But though his name appeared on every important guest list, the guy was a nobody. Nicky had no real reason to be so friendly with the Manhattan elite. And yet picture after picture in the media linked Nicky to executives, models, photographers, magazine editors, and designers at modeling agencies and fashion houses.

All those pictures were recent. Tyler had tried to find older images, but before about twelve months ago, Nicky Silva hadn’t existed. He just showed up one day, and unlikely as it was, a society notorious for blocking outsiders accepted him as one of their own.

His appearance into society coincided with a shake-up in the major modeling agencies. The FBI had busted multiple agents at an elite gentleman’s club for prostituting their models. Though he hated to acknowledge it, Tyler had been active in that side of the business.

When the Mill went down, Tyler’s own modeling life took a hard turn for the worse. His agent viewed him as being worth more as a pay-for-play boy toy than a model, so he’d been without a fashion gig for a while.

The entire experience had left him with more than a few emotional scars, but dealing with his own trauma would have to wait for another day.

During the chaos and power vacuum following the FBI bust, Mr. No Name No History Nicky had splashed onto the scene, and a handful of models had disappeared. Including Kelsey.

An image of Nicky, smiling and chatting with Kelsey the night she disappeared, had circulated on many elite social blogs and news sites after her last fashion show.

Nicky Silva had to be connected somehow.

No one seemed to have any idea what happened to Kelsey after she’d appeared in that photo. Or if they knew, they weren’t talking.

Frankie Jenkins, Kelsey’s roommate, was trying to help while also scrambling to pick up extra jobs so she could cover rent on her own. She’d even gone with Tyler to speak with the private detective firm looking into the model’s disappearance.

But the P.I. had turned out to be useless.

Something terrible had happened to one of the sweetest women in the universe, and not a single person or media outlet was talking about it.

“None of this makes sense.” Tyler bit his lip, swallowing the rage bubbling up from his chest. “They should be screaming your name on the news right now, and you’re not even getting a mention.”

A rising star bound for success, Kelsey had one of those personalities that could light up a room. She made people smile even on their darkest days.

Tyler had only known her a short while, but they’d connected on a soul level. She’d stumbled into the bathroom while he was violently paying homage to the porcelain gods, emptying his stomach after one too many drinks.

Most people would have walked away, but not Kelsey. She refused to risk him aspirating alone in the bathroom.

She cared for Tyler through the night, witnessing him hit rock bottom in real time. When he finally woke the next morning, Kelsey’s face greeted him. No judgment. No mockery.

The empathetic model was simply happy Tyler was okay.

Everyone had wanted to talk to her after her last show.

Of all the people who’d chatted her up, Nicky Silva was the only one who didn’t seem to have an agenda. He wasn’t affiliated with any agency or designer. No way was he romantically interested in Kelsey because, according to his social media accounts, Nicky was gay—which Tyler hoped to use to his advantage. He’d set his sights on catching the well-connected man’s eye.

Opening the dating app on his phone, Tyler spotted the new message alert flashing, with Nicky’s avatar attached to it.

I’ll be at Café Bustelo in an hour. Wear something cute, and if I like what I see, maybe we can take the evening further.

“Yes!” Tyler punched the air with a triumphant fist as he contemplated how to respond.

Be careful what you wish for. I’ve been told I’m addictive. See you soon.

Cringing as he sent the cheesy reply, Tyler felt like he needed a shower after even that short interaction. Cocky wasn’t typically his style, and being treated as an object for inspection brought back too many memories.

But he had to get close to this guy if he hoped to find out what happened to Kelsey.

He shot off a message to Frankie.

I’ve got a real lead this time. Going undercover. If I’m MIA the rest of the day, don’t worry.

Her reply came in an instant.

Be careful! I don’t need you disappearing too.

Frankie didn’t understand that he couldn’t back out now. He’d committed to this mission, to finding Kelsey no matter what it took.

I’ll be safe. Just trust me.

Three little dots appeared on his screen before Frankie’s response came through.

Don’t take the risk.

Tyler could feel Frankie’s anxiety as he read her words. She’d wanted him to leave it alone and let the professionals deal with it, but she was putting far more faith in Sky Stryker and the P.I. crew than they deserved.

“They’ve done nothing.” Tyler spoke to his empty apartment. “Sitting around and waiting for them to follow through on empty promises isn’t helping Kelsey.” His fingers flew across the screen.

They’re too slow. I want to get Kelsey back. Now. I have to do this.

Just as he was setting down the phone to get ready, the device buzzed with another text alert.

If you disappear, I swear…

Frankie would keep going like this all night if he let her.

Signing off for now. You have to trust me.

***

The café wasn’t far from Tyler’s apartment. He arrived early, hoping to get a good seat before his pseudo-date arrived, but as he walked past the wall of windows on his way to the front door, he spotted Nicky at a corner table.

Casually sipping from a small cappuccino cup, Nicky focused on his phone.

Could he really be involved in all the disappearances?

If Tyler had passed Nicky on the street, he never would have believed him capable of kidnapping or human trafficking or murder. With his long dark hair tied back neatly at the base of his neck and his clean-shaven face showing off flawless skin, the guy was the kind of catch everyone dreamed of.

And he was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than Tyler made in six months of modeling. Both the legitimate and not-so-legitimate gigs.

Why does it always have to be the cute ones?

The cruel irony was that the first decent-looking and well-put-together guy Tyler had chatted up was some kind of criminal.

Nicky set his cup down. He lifted his gaze, glancing around.

With a steadying breath, Tyler ran a hand through his hair, giving it just enough of a tousle to refresh the messy bedhead look he was going for. The chime of the front door alarm announced his entrance into the café.

Tyler met Nicky’s unusually bright-blue eyes. Captivating in their contrast to his dark hair, they nearly stupefied Tyler on the spot. He blinked and gave himself a little mental slap before offering Nicky a suggestive wink, continuing toward the counter to order a coffee.

Nicky might have offered to buy him one, but Tyler preferred to handle his drinks himself. At least until he was certain no one would try putting anything strange in them. Plus, this little detour would give Nicky a nice view of Tyler’s assets.

As he stood at the counter and ordered his drink, Tyler smiled, imagining Nicky’s sparkling blue eyes taking the full tour of his features. Good thing he wore his lucky jeans. They hugged him in all the right places. That visual appetizer alone should intrigue the infamous Nicky.

At least he hoped so. Playing hard to get wasn’t really his strong suit, but he was trying. A casual glance over his shoulder confirmed he was being watched. Those ice-blue eyes were locked on target. Tyler had Nicky’s full attention.

Hopefully that played to his advantage.

The barista made quick work of his caramel cappuccino, and once Tyler had his beverage in hand, he had no more excuses to stall. With a steadying breath, he steeled his courage once more and strolled toward Nicky’s table. “This seat taken?”

Nicky’s lips quirked at the corners, giving his pristine teeth a chance to peek out before he nodded at the empty chair. “You’re more impressive than your profile pictures suggested.”

“Right back at you.” Mouth going dry, Tyler dropped into the seat. “Where have you been hiding? You’re definitely refreshing after all the bad dates I’ve been on.”

Nicky’s eyebrow quirked up. “You sound like you get around.”

Open mouth, insert foot.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I…um…” Mouth hanging open, Tyler couldn’t think of anything better to say.

Nicky chuckled, but the slip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips caught Tyler’s attention.

Maybe he hadn’t stuck his foot in it that badly. Still, he had no words to continue without risking ridicule. Instead, he used his drink to hold the conversation at bay, sipping the sweet coffee and praying Nicky might take the lead.

“I’ve had my share of bad dates too.” Nicky’s gaze was on the move, no doubt checking out the merchandise.

That was a good sign. Capturing and holding his interest would make getting an invitation to Nicky’s place easier.

Suggestively biting his lower lip, Tyler tilted his head. “Should we recount war stories or maybe talk about what we hope to get out of this evening?”

Nicky’s face was unreadable. “Someone sounds confident.”

“Well, you did say one of your turn-ons was directness.” Tyler winked again as he captured his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Did I?” His eyes narrowed, but the look wasn’t threatening. His gaze held a playful challenge as he met Tyler’s eyes. “Tell me more about me. What else has my profile clued you in to?”

For a moment, Tyler’s heart stopped. Light as his question had been, Nicky was involved with the missing models. Tyler couldn’t allow himself to forget that. Even if the man seemed as utterly charming as he was sexy.

With that sobering reminder, Tyler shrugged. “You got me. The rest is all a blur. Especially sitting with you now. Why don’t you tell me more about you? You know, the stuff you don’t put in your profile.”

“That kind of information is private.”

“Are you suggesting that we go somewhere…more private…so you can reveal it?” Waggling his eyebrows, Tyler picked up his drink and took another sip.

“Your place or mine?”

“I’ve got a roommate, so we wouldn’t have too much privacy at my place.” Tyler lapped at a dab of foam left at the corner of his mouth, not bothering to mention that his roommate was out of town. “How about yours?”

“I’m just upstairs, actually.” Nicky stood and pushed his chair under the table. “Want to come up?”

“Do I?” Tyler’s eyes widened as he all but sprang from his seat. This was going much better than he’d expected.

Nicky waved him to the café door. “I like your energy. I hope you have more where that came from.”

They exited onto the sidewalk. Two feet down from the door to the café was another with the same address and four letters. Nicky opened that door and held it for Tyler to enter.

The small lobby held a row of four lockbox-style mailboxes and a set of stairs.

“Talk about convenience.” Tyler couldn’t help but admire the luck. His apartment was above a dry cleaner. Other than the bodega down the street, his block wasn’t home to much. But Nicky had a sweet little café only a few short steps from his front door.

“Just up there. Second floor.” Nicky pointed.

Tyler started up with Nicky right behind. “You have any roommates?”

“I wouldn’t call them that.” They reached the landing of the second floor, and Nicky pulled out a set of keys. “We share this apartment when we need some privacy.”

“Are you saying this is your second home?” Tyler had pegged him as a man of some money, but affording two apartments in NYC meant he had to have some serious cash. It also meant he could be keeping incriminating evidence here—the kind of stuff he didn’t want normal people finding. Crossing his fingers, Tyler sent up a silent prayer that this man, or his information, would lead him to Kelsey.

“To cut right to the chase, which is something you seem to enjoy just as much as I do, it’s more of a fuck-and-play pad.” Nicky opened the door and guided Tyler inside. “And don’t sound so impressed. It’s not all that big. Just plenty big enough for our purposes.”

The lights clicked on.

Tyler’s breath hitched, and he stalled mid-step.

Four men. Wall-to-wall muscle. Suits tailored as nicely as Nicky’s.

He scrambled backward but only made it a few inches before slamming into Nicky’s chest.

No way out.

His heart slammed into a sprint, pulse roaring in his ears as his brain tried to backpedal through every mistake that led him to this moment. He lifted his hands, instinctively, stupidly, as if that would stop whatever was about to happen. “What the hell is this?”

He turned, but Nicky was already closing the door behind them, locking it with a soft snick that sounded more final than it should have.

Nicky’s smile had vanished. “You tell me.”

“I-I…” Tyler blinked, trying to process. “I thought…we were on a date.”

Nicky stepped close, too close, and his hand slipped into Tyler’s pocket like a knife sliding between ribs. He pulled out Tyler’s phone, tapped the screen, and held it up.

Face recognition unlocked it with a traitorous chime.

“‘Going undercover,’” he read aloud. “‘If I’m MIA the rest of the day, don’t worry.’”

Time stopped. Blood drained from Tyler’s head. The floor didn’t tilt…it lurched.

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. His mouth opened, but whatever excuse he’d prepared evaporated. Gone.

Tyler turned to Nicky, desperate to plead, to explain—something—but Nicky was already looking past him.

“He’s got some big questions to answer.” Nicky powered the phone off. “Knock him out, but make sure he can still speak.”

Tyler barely had time to flinch before something heavy and fast cracked against the side of his skull.

The world folded in on itself, and then there was nothing at all.

Chapter Two

Sky Stryker ignored the bustling sounds of New York City wafting into her third-floor Hell’s Kitchen apartment. She’d left the window open to air out her stuffy living space, despite the early February chill. The streets hummed with their usual energy, but inside, a different kind of tension permeated the air.

She paced the length of her living room, her mind racing with recent events. Just yesterday, the FBI had recruited Sky and the team at Hayat Investigations to assist with an official investigation into the series of model kidnappings that had persisted beyond the dissolution of the Mill.

The recruiting agent was Lupita, Javier Bainbridge’s temporary VP of operations at Guillermo De Luca fashion. The revelation that Lupita was actually an undercover FBI agent had thrown their little world into chaos.

Lupita’s real name was Guadalupe Flores. Even more unbelievable, Guadalupe was a chum of Calysta Baros, the former FBI special agent who was Sky’s dear friend and surrogate mother.

This whole situation proved just how small the world was.

Flores, alongside NYPD Lieutenant Clarkson, had brought the Hayat Investigations team into the fold of the joint task force focused on bringing down the human-trafficking ring plaguing New York models. Agent Flores had good reason to recruit Sky and her friends, as their actions had led to the capture and arrest of Arturo Silva, a secretly fiendish photographer, for his part in the trafficking ring.

Arturo refused to give up any information on his criminal cohorts. Flores hoped Sky and her friends could help uncover more details.

Sky was practically bursting with energy. Initially, the NYPD had slapped their hands for moving in on Arturo Silva sans law enforcement. Now they’d been given a rare green light to dive into the classified investigation related to his crimes.

One thing was crystal clear.

This was their chance to end these traffickers once and for all. The FBI and NYPD finally wanted their help, and Sky was determined to give it, no matter what it took.

Where the hell do we begin?

The most obvious starting point was Kelsey Vinn’s roommate, Frankie Jenkins, and their mutual friend, Tyler Cochran. Tyler was to thank for bringing Nicky Silva to the group’s attention, and he might have had more information they hadn’t been at liberty to dig for when he first visited Hayat Investigations.

Sky had already left both Tyler and Frankie messages urging them to get in touch with her or Sami Hayat, the private investigator who ran the firm. But she had no idea what to do while waiting.

Javier, her unofficial boyfriend and chief operations officer of Guillermo De Luca, was stretched out on her couch, the only spot not currently covered with notebooks or laundry. “You okay?” His eyebrows knit together, and she didn’t blame him for being concerned. She probably appeared manic, stalking around her apartment like an unhinged zoo animal.

“I just need to do something. But I don’t know what.”

With a half-formed idea, she whirled and went to her closet. Her cousin Megan Nowicki, a model murdered nearly a year ago, had left behind a shoebox of mementos. Sky’s involvement in this case began with her cousin, so Megan’s demise provided a natural, albeit somber, touchstone in all the madness.

Sky carried the shoebox over to her couch and flounced down on top of the worn cushions beside Javier.

Setting the box on the coffee table, she rifled through the photos and papers. Some were her own, while others were scavenged from cleaning out her late cousin’s apartment. Even with the passage of time, Sky still struggled to deal with the loss. She and Megan had been more like sisters than cousins.

Before the cruel twist of fate, Megan was set to become the next modeling superstar.

“Staying busy is a good thing, but it’s not going to make Arturo’s case move any faster.” Javier leaned in closer, placing his hands on Sky’s shoulders. “Callie warned us something like this might happen. Even with the cameras rolling, Arturo wore a mask when he tortured his victims.”

Sky had been a ball of stress ever since Arturo Silva’s arrest, especially after Detective Dante Houghton had ordered them to stop any investigation into missing models. The Doll Collector case had provided an incredibly effective distraction, but with that perpetrator now in custody, the trafficking-ring mystery had been relentlessly ricocheting in her brain, shattering her peace of mind.

Fingering through the box, Sky found a photo of Megan. Her cousin had printed it off using a low-grade portable printer, so the quality wasn’t great. But Megan’s beauty still shined through, with her overexposed face front and center.

Behind her lurked another familiar face.

Though he was blurred and out of focus due to distance and motion, the man’s identity was unmistakable.

Arturo Silva. He’s been skulking around for a long time.

Slowly, Javier kneaded Sky’s tense shoulders. As much as she enjoyed the way he seemed to know just the right spots to apply pressure to melt her knots away, Sky’s focus remained on the box of photos.

She thumbed through a few others, finding more pictures featuring familiar faces hiding in the background. Some people in the photos were behind bars. Others were dead.

Sky tossed aside one featuring Gil Stetson, Megan’s former agent currently serving time for his part in pimping out his modeling clients. Gil had made a living off fulfilling the twisted requests of the Mill, a group of high-powered men with more money than God. He didn’t care what they wanted—sex or a little arm candy to make them look good or just women’s feet to ogle in expensive footwear for hours.

Often the requests were much more sinister, and the vulnerable models who’d trusted Gil with their careers and livelihoods were simply dollar signs.

Gil Stetson hadn’t given a damn how exactly he made that money. His involvement with the Mill and running his own upscale mini-prostitution ring had landed him in prison, and Sky was glad his sentence was as long as it was.

Of course, forever would have been better.

Her lip curled as she picked up a photo with Dustin Wint’s ugly mug. Dustin Wint had been a maintenance man for GDL. He’d kidnapped Megan and had tried to take Sky as well.

When Dustin had come gunning for Sky in her own apartment, she’d shot him in self-defense, and the man had paid for his crimes with his life. Dustin’s actions left a lingering thought festering at the back of Sky’s mind. He seemed so low in the pecking order.

But who was he working for?

Maybe there was more to Megan’s death than the police could pin on Dustin because he was just a cog in the Mill.

If the cutthroat organization had truly targeted Megan, her fate had been sealed the second those soulless assholes set their sights on her. The Mill had the money to get whatever the hell their little black hearts desired. Most of the self-serving, demented players were wealthy high rollers. Dustin and Arturo, however, were cut from a different cloth. The two couldn’t be that far up on the criminal ladder.

No. They had to be bit players at most, just doing their part.

So who was pulling the strings? Who had that much power and resources?

That question was an itch Sky needed to scratch.

“You still with me, or did I lose you to case-related brain fog?” Javier’s thumb found a knot just under her left shoulder blade.

Sky moaned as he pressed on the knot, the delicious tension sending her head rolling backward. “Oooh. Yeah. Right there.” His thumb worked like magic, forcing the muscle to relax and release all the stress kinking her neck. “That feels nice.”

“You’ve got to get your mind off the case for a bit. Don’t you have a book to write?” Javier’s tone was more teasing than accusing, but his question still landed with enough power to induce guilt.

In her line of work, providing consistent content meant the difference between being a rising star and an out of sight, out of mind has-been. For some authors, a book a year was acceptable. Anything less frequent allowed time for the audience to forget the author existed. Sky blamed the instant gratification of social media for readers’ waning attention spans, but that didn’t change the fact that she needed to play by the rules.

“Maria said I should write up a proposal for the next book while she puts the last one through editing.” One thing was certain. As long as Sky lived in NYC, she would never have a shortage of topics to write about. Her biggest problem was finding the time to dedicate to her work, especially when her mind was occupied with unfinished business. “But…I…”

The pressure released as Javier’s hands stopped moving, though warmth remained at her shoulders. “But what?”

Dropping her head, Sky let her attention shift to the pictures again. “I’ve been lying awake at night just trying to connect the dots. Megan, all the other model victims, the Mill, the very real possibility that the Mill was just a small part of a much bigger problem, the Silva brothers, and all these disgusting lowlifes just hanging around like shadows. Unnoticed until they’ve killed or raped or tortured.”

“Or all three.” Javier shifted on the couch beside her, rubbing his jaw as though he could solve everything if he simply thought hard enough. “I get it. It’s a lot. Overwhelming.”

“Everything has to be connected. Look.” She picked up the small stack of photos and passed them into Javier’s empty hands. “Notice the faces in the background? Arturo’s there.” She pointed as he flipped through the images. “And this one. There’s Dustin. See?”

“True.” His left eyebrow arched as he flipped from one photo to the next. “These jerks were definitely around and infiltrating the business. Others might have been as well. But I’m also in the background of this one.” His shoulders slumped as the next few photos revealed familiar faces that weren’t part of Sky’s conspiracy theory. “And there’s Nadine.”

She shot him a pointed look. “I know you’re innocent, obviously. And Nadine too.”

“Yeah, well, apparently Agent Flores wasn’t so sure.” Javier crossed his arms, brow furrowing. “The idea that she was at GDL every day, analyzing and dissecting my words and movements like I might be one of the biggest pieces of scum in the city, hasn’t been an easy pill to swallow.”

Sky patted his leg. “You know she was just doing her job. GDL is connected to a lot of the missing models involved in this mess. You personally have access to people and places that the average New Yorker doesn’t. She had to consider you, and now she knows better.”

“It’s just a gross feeling, getting lumped into that suspect pool. People like Ashley might have deserved the scrutiny, but not me.” Javier shuffled the photo into the back of the pile. “Speaking of, if I never see Ashley’s face again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Wouldn’t it be funny if Ashley was the killer?” Sky had observed Javier’s former vice president of operations being nasty, stuck-up, and calculating. But mostly, Ashley Duncan was an all bark and no bite mean girl traipsing around New York with a sour expression and very expensive shoes.

“She never showed that kind of initiative at GDL.” Javier scoffed. “Well, she’s out of the picture now. And so is Arturo.”

“We hope. They’ve charged Arturo with stalking, assault and battery, kidnapping, and rape, thanks to the DNA he left on Mariela. All those charges are good, but it’s not enough.”

Sky tugged the photos from Javier’s hand a little harder than she’d intended. The lack of solid evidence connecting Arturo to the missing and probably murdered women meant that the bastard would sidestep the maximum prison time he deserved if the police couldn’t connect the dots fast enough.

Worse yet was the possibility that Arturo’s lawyer might convince a judge to let him out on bail, releasing him back on the streets until his hearing.

Javier repositioned himself and took ahold of her shoulders again, resuming his gentle kneading. “I hate to say it, but I’m pretty sure we made prosecuting Arturo harder by jumping the gun and going after him.”

“We had a shot, and we took it. How were we supposed to know the Feds didn’t have enough to pin the snuff films on him? So what if he was wearing a mask?” She lifted her hand, wiggling her fingers. “The gloves. The missing finger. C’mon…the case was a slam dunk, and you know it.”

“But a jury needs proof. No smoking gun, no conviction. And I’m sure the Feds want his boss and his boss’s boss. So they have to do everything by the book.”

Sky wanted to share Javier’s confidence, but every other case they’d helped solve had made the news. By stark contrast, most of the general public didn’t even know Kelsey Vinn was dead yet—including the model’s close friends and family.

She tried to stave off a jolt of guilt in her stomach. “I’ll feel better once I hear them making headway. We told them about Frankie and Tyler. About the possible Nicky Silva connection. I don’t know if the police have spoken to them yet, but surely they’re going to.”

“And when they do, they’ll get in touch with us.” Javier grabbed her hand and squeezed. “It’s only been one day since Agent Flores and Lieutenant Clarkson officially pulled us in on this.”

“Fortunately, I’m the world’s most patient person.” Sky managed to say so with a straight face. “Seriously, though. Maybe there’s something in these pictures. Arturo and Dustin were involved and hanging around for quite a while. They could have even known each other and anyone else slinking around GDL’s headquarters and events. Megan’s photos might hold some information we’ve been overlooking.”

“You’re right. We shouldn’t leave any stone unturned, no matter how much time has passed.” Javier’s voice softened as his lips drew downward into a frown. “Megan was a great person. She’s the reason I met you in the first place.”

Sky knew Javier had his own memories of Megan and mourned her loss in his own way.

“So then…will you go with me tomorrow so we can show Sami? There are bunches of people in the photos I don’t know. But if we all work together to get some identities, we can start compiling a list that we can maybe cross-reference later.”

“Do you think Callie can bring tacos or something? Sounds like hungry work.”

“You’re the best.” Leaning in, Sky gave him a peck on the cheek. “Until then, distract me. Tell me about work or something equally mundane. This whole case has put me in a terrible state of mind.”

“Is that all I am to you? A convenient distraction?” Javier scoffed, but the amusement in his voice undermined any anger or annoyance he might have tried to convey. “Okay. Well, my mental predictions for the coming work week are that it will be massively…eventful…these next few days, given the ‘Lupita is an undercover FBI agent’ revelation.”

That again. It really was bothering him a great deal.

Sky sat up straight again and twisted around to face him. “I bet. Does it even seem real?”

“Not yet. I mean, she’s been incredibly efficient at her job, which now makes a lot more sense. But knowing she was investigating us all along…faking everything and now just quitting…it’s unsettling.”

“Wait a minute. Let me make sure I’m hearing this right. Your new assistant, who turns out to be an FBI agent, did her cover job well, better than your previous person.” Sky didn’t want to bring up Ashley Duncan’s name again. “And even though you’re annoyed with having been under a microscope, you’re also perturbed that she’s vacating her cover job and leaving you high and dry?”

“It’s a complicated situation.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Fashion Week is almost here. She helped me keep things running smoothly, and I got dependent on her pretty fast. But all those questions she asked. I’ve been interrogated for weeks without knowing it.”

“Can you blame her? She was doing her job, trying to uncover the connection between GDL and the missing models.”

“I get that. And I’ve done my best to give her all the information she needed. But now, looking back at all those ‘gossipy’ questions about relationships and the social side of the industry…it’s obnoxious.”

“Sounds like she was thorough in her investigation. Now she has to move on and keep doing her job…her real job…and she wants our help. That’s got to count for something, right?”

“It’s just a lot to process.” Javier had shifted to a darker mood.

“Never said it wasn’t. But you are a high-powered executive for a prominent fashion label, and now you’re in a position to help the FBI crack a major case. Don’t forget that.”

He puffed out his chest. “When you put it that way…”

“Do you need a little reminder of what kind of power you wield?” Sky winked, her gaze dropping to the tie hung loosely around his neck. The last time he’d used a tie to restrain her, he’d bound her hands and secured them to the headboard of her bed. Javier played the part of a dominant with ease, taking charge while teasing her into submission.

Just the memory had her heart skipping a beat as it revved into high gear.

As if he had a direct connection to her thoughts, Javier reached up, unknotting his tie and slipping it from his neck while breaking into a lopsided grin that promised mischief. “What’s the magic word?”

Sky’s gaze drifted from the tie dangling from his hand. There would never be a time when she could say the words and not giggle. “Please, Master.” She held out both hands, waiting for his next move.

Javier’s lips kinked at the corner as he captured her wrists in a loop of his tie.

This distraction would be anything but mundane.

But they both needed it to get them through the night.