Page 2 of Girl, Reborn

In that moment, Rickysaw his life unspool behind his lids in a mocking film strip. All those latenights schmoozing at rubber chicken dinners, pressing the flesh, makingpromises he couldn't keep. Fighting with his ex-girlfriend in their kitchenuntil she stormed out. Missing his mother’s birthday, spending too much timehunched over zoning laws, disappointing his friends for the umpteenth time.

He'd failed them all,over and over, and this was the final punchline to a joke only the devil couldlaugh at.

The cops would findhim pruned up and white as a fish belly, eyes bulging. Some ignominious end fora man who should be at the top of his game.

‘I'm sorry,’ he raspedto no one, hot tears tracking down his stubbled cheeks. ‘God, I'm so sorry.’

For letting everyone down.For trying to play the hero politician instead of the good brother. He'd makedifferent choices if he had it to do over – to be there more, nag less. Tochase fewer highs. What he wouldn't give for one more shot, one more chance todo right by the few people who held him dear.

As the rising waterreached his chin, Ricky squeezed his eyes shut and sent up one last prayer.That those he loved would find peace and purpose outside his wreckage.

And then his bodyseized in its concrete coffin, straining for one last precious gasp, but therewas only choking, spluttering agony – water heavy in his lungs, a taunting voidas the cold took him down.

CHAPTER ONE

Ella Dark leaned on the balconyrailing as she waited for the caffeine to kick in. Three days since she’dgotten back from Delaware. Three days of mandated ‘rest and recovery’ that wasalready driving her cuckoo. Seventy-two hours to stew in her own juices, but thistime, she’d had someone to share that downtime with.

Luca Hawkins. Her blue-eyed devil, newagent extraordinaire. The Bureau’s freshest piece of meat, and one that Elladidn’t mind spending some serious time with.

Sure, he was easy on the eyes – a regularAdonis with sweet-as-sugar features. But it was more than that. The guy had abrain to match the brawn. They could jaw for hours, swapping theories, arguingprofiles. He matched her quip for quip, gave as good as he got. In Luca, Ella'dfound a kindred spirit; someone who got the job, lived the job, sameas her. The fact that he filled out a suit like nobody's business was justicing on the cake.

She thought back to their night at thatclub in Delaware. They’d caught the psycho the press had since dubbed theLaughingstock Killer – as creative a moniker as ever – and as they were ridinghigh on adrenaline, Luca’s lips met hers. Everything else fell away. Noprotocol, no crime scene cleaners. Just then, the rest of the world bedamned.

Christ. She dragged a hand down her faceand made her way into the kitchen. They’d kissed. So what? It didn’t mean athing, especially as they hadn’t done it since despite several opportunities todo so. And besides, Ella had bigger fish to fry right now.

Like Mia Ripley, the Thelma to her Louise.Well, if Thelma was a hard-bitten ball-buster with all the tact of a hammer tothe face. They'd been through the wars, her and Mia. Come out the other sidewith a few more scars and a lot less faith in humanity.

But the past few months? It had been somenext-level insanity, even for them.

It started with Logan Nash, the scumbagwho'd offed Ella's dad all those years ago. The old hitman had wound up dead ina safe house, brains rearranged by a 9mm PMC Bronze one-fifteen grainbullet. ThenRandall Carter, the ex-Bureau Chief who'd had it in for her and Mia since dayone. Ella’s ex-boyfriend had been attacked too, but the last finality on thelist was Trevor Garbett, Mia’s douchebag of an ex-husband. Old Trevor had ahistory for blackmailing Mia out of money, until someone introduced hisforehead to the business end of a Glock .17.

Three stiffs, all with one thing incommon: they'd all upset her and Mia at some point.

They had a murderous guardian angelon their side, but the identity of this vigilante triggerman was still amystery. At least, unofficially.

It was the kind of thing a twistedmind might do for the person they loved, and the only person who fit the billwas Martin Godfrey – Mia’s boyfriend. She’d seen the attacker on both CCTVfootage and in the flesh, and the murky silhouette she saw was a perfect matchfor Martin.

Ella pieced it together, saw the patternstaring her in the face. Martin had worked for the police, FBI and military inthe past, so he had access, opportunity. So Ella had gone to her partner, laidit all out. The photos, the timeline. Braced for impact.

But Mia? Mia exploded. Ranted andraved, called Ella every name in the book, then some. Accused her of trying totank her happiness, of being jealous. It was a masterclass in denial, and Ellahad a front-row seat. That same day, Martin Godfrey had disappeared without aword.

That was the last she'd seen of Mia. Threedays of radio silence, phone calls and texts pinging into the void.

Ella turned from her balcony and slumpedinto her chair at the kitchen table. The caffeine was hitting her system like afreight train but barely touching the dread threatening to erupt in her gut.

What now? Crawl back to Mia? Apologize?

She doubted it would do any good. Mia wasas stubborn as a mule, and chances were she was probably still living indenial. It wasn't the first time they'd gone a few rounds, but this deep freezewas new territory. Three days of zip, zilch, nada.

Ella grabbed her phone and hovered herthumb over Mia’s number, only a hair’s breadth from craving for probably thetwentieth time since Monday.

But pride was a funny thing. It could propyou up one minute, kick your legs out the next. And Ella's was built like aJenga tower – one wrong move and the whole thing would come crashing down.

Besides, how'd that conversation even go? ‘Heypartner, sorry for accusing your boy-toy of murder. My bad. Friends?’

Ella snorted. Right.

Still, the niggling worry remained, like ahangnail she couldn't stop picking. Mia was out there, maybe in the clutches ofa killer. As far as Ella knew, Martin was still on the loose. What if he hadMia in his sights? Or what if they’d reconciled, thus thrusting Mia straightinto the lion’s den?

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