Page 7 of A Rhapsody of Ravens and Revenge

The gunfire sounded like it came from a cannon it was so close, and she watched as his hand jerked—one, two, three times—as he squeezed the trigger.

The man who’d jostled her fell straight to his knees. He was so close she could almost touch him, could’ve reached out and touched the bottom of his shoe. She pulled her knees into her body so she was a smaller target, but there was nothing more she could do to protect herself.

The shooter’s hands dropped to his sides, silver cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. Time froze and the silence after the last bullet was deafening. No one moved and the sounds of the city disappeared into a void she couldn’t explain. There was a split second of time where nothing existed.

And then reality whooshed back with perfect clarity. The man toppled to his side and his head hit the sidewalk with a terrible crack. People screamed and car horns blared and everything went into motion once again. But there was nothing she could do for the dead man beside her.

She looked away, trying to find anything else to see other than the empty-eyed stare of a stranger. Instead she looked into the face of the man who’d pulled the trigger. And he was smiling. Not at her—he hadn’t even noticed she was there. But he smiled, a slash of cruelty over what would otherwise be handsome features.

Tires squealed and a car door slammed. And then the man was gone. The entire event had taken only seconds. Seconds for one man to take the life of another. People were still screaming and the blood still rushed in her ears, but she could hear the sirens in the distance.

Her knee throbbed and her teeth chattered uncontrollably. A limp and lifeless hand lay inches from her, but she had to make sure. She reached out and touched his wrist, but there was no pulse beneath the skin. And then she noticed the blood.

It pooled beneath his prone body, so dark it was almost black, creeping closer and closer to where she lay. She glanced at his face one more time and recognition registered. Her skin went cold and clammy and her breathing shallowed. Darkness crept in at the corners of her vision, but she was determined to not give in to blessed escape. It would leave her vulnerable and weak, and that wasn’t how her father had raised her.

The enormity of what had just happened hit her. Senator Myron Biddle was dead. And she’d be replaying his murder in her mind for the rest of her life.

Chapter Three

“No,” Cal Cruz said. He knew better than to say it, but he couldn’t help himself. It was a gut reaction.

“I beg your pardon?” Atticus Cameron raised a dark eyebrow and the jagged scar along his jaw turned white.

Cal recognized the tone of Atticus’s voice. He wasn’t happy. Not that Cal could really blame him. There weren’t very many people in the world who had the guts to tell Atticus Cameron no. Only people who didn’t know any better. Or idiots. Cal was pretty sure he fell into the second category.

“I apologize,” Cal said quickly. “You caught me off guard. I meant to say ‘No, sir’.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that so we can move on without anyone getting fired or killed.”

“I’m okay with getting fired if it means not having to take this job.”

“Then we’ll take that option off the table and go with door number two.”

Cal was pretty sure Atticus was kidding. Though Atticus liked to keep things close to the vest. They’d been friends a long time, and worked together longer than they’d been friends. And still Cal wasn’t 100 percent sure that Atticus wouldn’t slit his throat in a second if push came to shove.

“What’s the problem, Cal?” Atticus folded his hands on the top of the file in front of him. “You’re like a son to Robert Lockwood. Why wouldn’t you want to take this mission? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I can see how it wouldn’t make sense to you. But it makes perfect sense to me. I’m going to have to respectfully decline. I’m due for some vacation time. I think now is a good time to take it.”

“All vacation time has to be approved, and I can promise you that I’ll crush any dreams of vacation for the foreseeable future if you don’t take this mission. You’re the only available agent I have for the job. Max is in Israel, and Nate and Eden are in Guatemala. Jade is leading a team of agents in Rio, I’ve got a black ops team in Syria, and a couple of deep cover agents in Moscow. I’m tapped out. And there’s no way in hell I’d trust a junior agent with Robert Lockwood’s daughter. You’re up to bat.”

“You know I hate doing fieldwork. My job has always been behind the scenes.”

“I know you hate it, but that doesn’t mean you’re not trained for it. And you still haven’t explained why you’re whining like a little girl about a job that should be one of the easiest paychecks you’ve ever earned. All you’ve got to do is go to Florida and protect her until the killer is found.”

“That could be years, Atticus.” And he sure couldn’t live in close quarters with Evangeline Lockwood for years. Not even for a few minutes. That was a disaster waiting to happen.

They’d seen each other only a handful of times in the past ten years and hadn’t spoken one word. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told him she’d hate him forever. But darned if that hatred had kept her out of his dreams.

Cal had stopped visiting the Lockwood home for holidays, and he’d gotten in the habit of meeting Robert at restaurants, the gym, sporting events, or on the golf course—though his golf game had never been all that good.

“I want to know what is going on here, Cal. I tell you that Robert calls me in a panic to say that Evangeline is in danger and needs protection and you blow it off like it’s no big deal. You’re not a jerk. At least not most of the time. So that means something is going on.”

“I can’t believe you fell for it,” Cal said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You of all people should know what he’s been up to over the past several years. Robert has hired bodyguards for Evie ever since that assassination attempt he had a few years before he retired. He’s an overprotective father. And he’s been a meddling overprotective father ever since she hit twenty-five and showed no signs of settling down into a serious relationship. Have you noticed that every bodyguard he’s ever hired has been single and between the ages of thirty and thirty-five? And that most of them have a military background, good education, and no shady family history?”

Atticus’s lips twitched in what might have resembled a smile. “I noticed. But he’s not concerned about people getting to him through his daughter this time. He’s concerned because she witnessed the murder of Senator Biddle. Not only witnessed the murder, but she got a good look at the person who shot him.”

“Have there been any leads on the murder?”

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