Page 76 of Girl, Bound

Out in the kitchen,her phone sat on the table. Once upon a time, she'd have called Ben. Unloadedthe whole sordid story, from the crazed serial killer to the knife's-edgerescue. He'd have listened, made all the right noises, been her rock in thesea.

But Ben was gone, faraway from her cursed touch somewhere on the West Coast. Another piece of herlife, broken off and discarded.

Ella's fingerstwitched, muscle memory reaching for the phone. She could text him. Just aquick ‘hope you made it okay’ or ‘stay safe out there.’ But she squashed theimpulse like a bug beneath her heel. Ben had made his choice, and she had toomuch goddamn pride to go crawling after him like a lovesick schoolgirl.

The phone buzzed,startling her out of her funk. She snatched it up, heart doing a treacherouslittle leap.

Okay, she reasoned,maybe she didn’t have as much pride as she thought.

But it wasn’t Ben’sname on the screen.

Luca Hawkins. The newgolden boy of the Bureau, with his movie star looks and that megawatt smile.They'd shared a moment, back at HQ. A spark of something that might have beenchemistry, or just the adrenaline of the hunt.

Sorry for nottexting sooner, didn’t want to distract you! Still up for that coffee? the text read, practically oozing charm even through the digitalvoid.

Ella chewed her lip,torn. Part of her wanted to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over her headand shut out the world. But the thought of another day spent stewing in her ownmisery made her want to eat her gun.

Sure, she typed back, fingers flying over the keys. When and where?

A quick response.Tomorrow afternoon? That place over the road from HQ?

Done, Ella replied.

Her heart fluttered alittle bit, and she could only hope that Luca was as ravishing on the inside ashe was on the outside. She quenched the thought, not wanting to get her hopesup. Hope was the catalyst true despair.

Ella did a quick scanof the room, and of course, the conspiracy board called out to her. The web offaces and red string that dominated her living room wall. Logan Nash, RandallCarter, Trevor Saunders. The three men who'd died in such awful ways. Three menwho’d been adjacent to her, upset her, and then wound up with bullets in theirfaces.

Something was buggingher, a half-formed thought circling her brain like a buzzard over roadkill. Butevery time she tried to grasp it, it slithered away.

She needed to talk itout, bounce her theory off someone who could keep up. Looking down at her phoneagain, her finger hovered over Ripley’s name, ready to shoot off a ramblingtext. But something held her back.

Mia had taken abeating back in Millhaven, both physical and mental. The woman was built like atank, but even tanks needed time for maintenance. And after the wringer they'dbeen through, some one-on-one time was long overdue.

Ella threw on someclothes, not bothering with the niceties. Ripped jeans, a t-shirt that had seenbetter days, boots that could kick down doors and stomp nuts in equal measure.If she was gonna play nursemaid, she might as well be comfortable doing it.

Keys in hand, sheglanced one last time at the board. The faces stared back, mute and accusing.Nash, the hitman who'd snuffed her father and kick-started this whole sordidtale. Carter, the Fed who'd had it out for her and Mia from day one. AndTrevor, the slimeball who'd tried to blackmail his way into Ripley's bankaccount.

Three men, threemurders. And somewhere out there, an avenging angel with blood on his hands anda hard-on for rough justice.

Time to go check onher partner, compare some scars, maybe even crack a smile or two.

***

Ella pulled up to thesprawling monstrosity that was Mia Ripley’s lakeside home. Ella’s trusty Civiclooked like a sad tin can next to Ripley’s two behemoth SUVs in the driveway.Tinted windows, luxury wheel trims. Ripley always said the job didn’t pay enough,but Ella could confidently say the woman was talking out of her ass.

She clambered out,slamming the door with enough force to rock the little Civic on its shocks. Thesecurity cameras tracked her like the eyes of a hungry predator as she pickedher way up the path.

Ella's boots thuddedon the pretentious stone steps. She knocked on the door, then ten secondslater, it opened and Ripley peered out of the crack.

‘Dark? To what do Iowe the pleasure?’ Ripley drawled.

‘Mia, I got some ideasI wanted to run by you. And I wanted to check how your injuries were holdingup.’

Ripley patted herselfdown. ‘Still alive, still kicking.’ She stepped aside and waved Ella insidewith a smirk. ‘Come on in, you mangy old stray. Make yourself at home.’

‘Appreciated.’

‘Coffee?’

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