Page 57 of Torgash

I sink into my chair—the one he'd been occupying moments before—and stare at the folder. Inside is the man who destroyed my sister's life. The man who's been living free while Carman lies in the ground. Justice, real justice, within my reach.

All I have to do is betray everything I believe in.

I think about last night. About Ash's touch on my skin, his promise to help find and prosecute Carman's killer, the way I slept through the night for the first time in months.

I pick up the folder.

Derek Bauer. Current address. Daily routine. Everything I need.

My fingers don't even shake.

The question is: which version of justice am I willing to live with?

Chapter Eleven

Ash

Nova's twenty-three minutes late, and something restless prowls through my chest.

I check the war room's secure entrance again, scanning the empty parking lot behind the clubhouse. No county cruiser. No sign of the woman who's been arriving at nine sharp every morning for the past week, armed with case files and that stubborn determination that makes my chest tight.

The Garcia deposition is scheduled for eleven, and she wants to prep the witness beforehand. We should be reviewing testimony by now.

I pull out my phone and call Knox. "Yeah, boss?"

"Where's Nova?"

"Station. Normal route this morning, apartment, coffee stop, then there."

"What's keeping her?"

"Don't know. She's just... been inside longer than usual." Knox pauses. "Santos rolled up maybe ten minutes ago, somaybe she was waiting for him? But she should've been done by now."

Something's off. Nova doesn't wait around for small talk. She grabs what she needs and moves. And she definitely doesn't need Santos for anything related to our case.

"Any visitors? Anyone else go in or out?"

"Negative. Just her, then Santos. Roberta hasn't shown yet."

I end the call and check the time again. Nine twenty-five. Maybe I did wear her out last night. The thought makes my mouth curve despite the irritation gnawing at my chest. She'd been responsive as hell, coming apart in my hands like she'd been starving for it.

But Nova's tougher than that. A few hours of good sex wouldn't slow her down, if anything, she'd be sharper. More focused.

So what's keeping her?

The Garcia deposition can't be delayed. Mrs. Garcia is nervous enough about testifying against Royce's people without us showing up unprepared. And if Nova is running behind on prep work, it could compromise the entire case.

I spend the next fifteen minutes pacing the war room, checking my phone every few minutes. The Garcia files sit ready on the strategy table, but without Nova's witness prep notes, I can't do much more than review what we already know.

Nine forty-five comes and goes. Then nine fifty.

I'm about to call her cell when I finally hear tires on gravel outside.

When Nova finally walks through the door, I'm ready to give her shit about the timing.

"The Garcias are already nervous about testifying. We can't afford to—"

The words die in my throat.

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