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Rhyan smirked on the iPad’s screen I had propped up on the table. At that moment, the entire jet shook, hitting turbulence or the precursor for crashing to our fiery death, causing the device to tip forward. I jerked my hand out, but the iPad smacked the table before I could catch it. After propping it back up, I leaned back in the chair, both hands gripping the armrests until my knuckles ached.

“Since you’re doing this one solo, I also want to make sure you have all the support you need. This case is interesting, to say the least.”

“With you and Charlie at my back, plus the others on the team waiting in the wings to offer help, I have all the support I could need.” Releasing my death grip on the chair, I pulled the file folder to the edge of the table to scan the pictures inside for what felt like the hundredth time since Rhyan dropped them on my desk that afternoon. “Interesting case indeed. We have little to go on except that all the murders were committed by the same unsub.” I held up the picture of the most recent victim. “Little to no evidence and a decent amount of time between kills. This unsub is a planner.”

Which made my job that much harder.

Four male victims all stabbed to death, all with different knives and blades, with no sign of sexual assault. The two found outdoors, one in an alley and the other in a parking lot, still had their watches, wallets, and keys. The two found in their respective homes had nothing taken or displaced, outside the bloody scenes in their bedrooms.

Wrapping my sweaty palm around the drinking glass on the table, I downed several gulps of the cold water to ease the building nausea.

I fucking hated flying.

Too bad it was part of my job now.

If I had known how much I would fly around the US as an FBI profiler, I might not have accepted Rhyan’s offer. But when we’re called, we go, and the BSU’s private jet was the quickest way to get to those who needed our expertise.

Well, the others’ expertise. I wasn’t there yet. Eight months out of training at Quantico did not make me an expert by any means. My years working as a cop, then a detective in Nashville, helped, though. It was how Rhyan even knew I existed in the first place to offer me a job on her new team, based out of the Dallas office.

“I agree. Looks like a single unsub,” Rhyan mused while looking off-screen, no doubt scanning the same pictures as me. “Once you land in Santa Coasta, you’ll head to the main police station, where you’ll meet with the lead on these cases, Detective Slade Taylor. He’s the one who reached out for help after their ME noticed similarities in the cases.”

I nodded along, letting her know I understood as I continued to scan the four case files. There wasn’t any evidence or connection between victims to go on. No matching DNA—hell, no DNA at all besides the victims’—and no consistent fibers. A few foreign hairs, but the initial analysis pointed to those being cat hairs, the particular breed not yet identified. It was a surprise the ME even noticed that the cases were connected. Most were too overworked and overwhelmed to have connected these dots.

Their ME was a damn good one.

And I would know, considering I’d worked with her before. It shocked me to see her name listed on all the autopsy reports, which morphed into excitement at seeing her again when Rhyan assigned me this case.

Just thinking about Dr. Rain Evans had memories from those two years working together flickering to life. Slightly awkward in an adorable, quirky way, Rain drew me to the morgue more often than needed. She was married, so nothing happened between us, but that didn’t stop the spark our friendship struck within me. Her easygoing nature, the strange things she’d blurt, the genuineness of her laughter, and her personality made me wish I’d met her before her asshole of a husband did.

If I were to settle down with anyone, it would have to be someone as amazing as Rain. Which I’d yet to find.

My shaggy, light-brown hair swept across my forehead as I shook my head, hoping to dislodge the ever-present loneliness her memory stirred to the surface. Between Tallon and Remy busy working on their new relationship and the new job that sent me hundreds of miles from my family in Nashville to Dallas, the glaring solitude in my life was almost too much to shove to the background.

I was too focused on completing training at the top of my class, then learning the ins and outs of the profiler role to even think about anything other than work. The past several months, my personal life took a back seat to advancing my career. Besides, it was tough to find a partner—or partners, really—who enjoyed the type of relationship I did.

“Check in once you’ve met with everyone and had a chance to get set up. I requested a room set aside for you at the station, but apparently, they’re busting at the seams. Detective Slade offered to kick someone out of their office, but….”

Yeah, starting off a challenging case with some officer or detective already hating me for taking their space wasn’t ideal. Not everyone agreed with the FBI coming in and poking around their cases, claiming to know more than the local police force, so adding to the tension wasn’t what I wanted at all.

“The last case, Cooper and I worked mostly from our hotel rooms,” I said absentmindedly. “But that wasn’t great since we couldn’t let housekeeping in with pictures of the missing women plastered all over the walls.” Considering I didn’t know how long it would take for me to come up with a solid profile, not having housekeeping wasn’t an option. “I’ll figure something out once I’m there and let you know where I end up.”

“So, what else is going on in life?” Rhyan asked, her odd tone triggering all the red flags.

“Nothing much, but what’s all this about? Not that I don’t enjoy talking to you, boss, but I really need to review these case files before landing in an hour.”

On the screen, her eyes cut to the side. “Um….”

“She’s trying to keep you distracted since you’re afraid of flying” came the familiar voice of Special Agent Charlie Bekham, our tech genius and Rhyan’s romantic partner, from somewhere off-screen.

Rhyan cringed, validating his announcement.

“I’m not afraid,” I said through gritted teeth. “I just hate not being in control.”

“There is so much to profile from that statement,” Rhyan said with a sly grin.

There was.

Too much, which was why this conversation needed to end before she tried to profile me.

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