As her breathing drifted into the rhythm of sleep, he touched his lips to her forehead one last time.
I love you, Danni Angelo. Be happy.
Without waking her, he slipped the engagement ring from her finger. She didn’t need it anymore, but he did. Christ, he needed every memory of her he could carry.
The tightening in his chest was unbearable, his insides hemorrhaging. He pushed through it and pulled away from her sleeping form.
She had Trace, and Cole had enough job offers to keep him distracted for years. He could do this. He had no choice.
In the dark, he slipped out of bed.
Then he slipped out of her life.
Chihuahuan Desert, West Texas
Present Day
“Ready?” A thrill coursed through Cole as he met Rylee’s eyes.
Huge, silver-grey eyes.
Just like Danni’s.
Sometimes, it was difficult to hold that stunning stare, for it conjured echoes and aches of the one he let go.
He looked away, directing his attention to the kitchen table, which gleamed in an array of guns, ammo, and other weaponry. Amid the gear lay the high-tech GSM bug he’d pulled from Rylee’s house.
The mystery behind who had put it there remained unsolved. After months of investigating, he and his vigilante team didn’t have much to go on. But one thing was certain. Someone had bugged her house to fuck with him.
Rylee was just collateral. A means to lure him into the open. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. They’d already tried.
The question was who?
Who murdered her next-door neighbor, two innocent motel clerks, and put a hit on her life?
The best clue they had was a word uttered by a dying hitman.
Thurney.
During a mission eleven years ago, Cole had faked his death on Thurney Bridge. Since that detail was classified, it meant he was dealing with someone connected to that assignment. And they wanted him alive. Otherwise, they would’ve killed him instead of hunting Rylee.
Most likely, they wanted information. Dangerous, top-secret intel from his work in the activity. Or maybe this was a revenge plot against him, and they wanted to draw out his death, slowly and excruciatingly.
Time to find out.
Outside, his seven vigilante teammates stood by, waiting for him to set the plan in motion. Most had already moved into position around the perimeter of Tomas’ house. The other nine Freedom Fighters, including the Restrepo Cartel’s jefe, were en route from Colombia to provide backup and reunite with their family.
Family.
The Freedom Fighters were an entangled, dysfunctional mix of blood relations, enemies-turned-lovers, spouses, soul mates, workmates, and above all, loyal friends. They protected and loved one another with a ferocity that made them unstoppable. They killed, waged wars, and sacrificed everything for one another.
And over the past year, he’d become one of them.
It was strange to have a team again after being alone for so long. Even stranger to have a family he could depend on and trust. Criminals or not, he’d grown to care about these people. So much so that he didn’t want to put them in harm’s way. Didn’t want to risk their lives. The thought of losing one of them scared the hell out of him.
That made them liabilities. If his enemies knew what they meant to him, they would use them as leverage.
“I thought I was ready.” Rylee tilted her head, studying him. “But I don’t like that look on your face. Are we going to die?”
“Everyone dies, darlin’. That’s a guarantee.”
“Tonight?” Her face paled as she pointed at the high-tech bug. “When you activate that thing and let them know we’re here, what are our chances of survival?”
Fifty-percent chance. Sixty, if he was feeling cocky. Which he wasn’t. But he wouldn’t share those odds with her. This was her first job as a Freedom Fighter, and her fear was palpable, trembling through her willowy limbs.
Nevertheless, she wanted to be part of this. She was committed to the team. More specifically, she was committed to Tomas, one of their longest-standing members.
“You know this is dangerous.” He crossed his arms.
Standing over the table, she braced her hands on the surface and leaned in. “A plan that isn’t dangerous isn’t a plan at all. You can’t scare me away.”
She wasn’t wrong. A few months ago, she drove here alone, with a pocketful of audacity and a reckless plan to meet Tomas Dine, fully aware he was a criminal, a murderer, and livid enough with her to shoot her on the spot.
Her chance of survival had been closer to zero then. Yet here she was, alive, in love with the ruthless vigilante, and ready to fight another fight.
Cole should’ve kissed her when he had the opportunity. Four months ago, here in the kitchen while Tomas was in the shower, he’d thought about doing more than feeding her breakfast.
It wasn’t just her enchanting eyes. She was a remarkable woman. Fierce. Smart. Gorgeous.
Where Danni’s hair was blonde, Rylee’s was dark brown. Same long, straight style. Same slender, athletic build and graceful mannerisms. Like Danni, she exuded raw, natural beauty. No makeup. No maintenance. No nonsense.