Until Kai Jordan nearly beat his brother to death at a party.
Until the Jordan family gaslit half the town into believing it was just a little roughhousing between siblings.
Until Melissa Parker stumbled out of those woods, claiming Kai had kidnapped her.
Suddenly, the waiting was over.
Agony Hollow has secrets.
And if there’s one thing I hate more than snow, it’ssecrets…and those with enough money to cover them up.
The cruiser shudders. I correct the slide, jaw tight, and resist the urge to punch the steering wheel.
I should have pushed Rooke harder at the bar.
He dangled the truth in front of me like bait, then walked out before I could bite. It rattled me more than it should, because I thought I had the fucker figured out.
I’d played right into his hand…and he’d folded. Why?
Maybe he wanted me dead to rights. Calling after him, following him outside, desperate and needy—because I figure that’s how he likes his prey.
Instead, I sat there, too afraid of what might happen if I gave him what he was looking for.
Too afraid he’d look at me with those dark eyes, flagrant in their intelligence and cruelty, and I wouldn’t be able to pull myself out of the depths before I drowned.
The last time I got this caught up in a suspect, I forgot myself and stopped pretending to be the nice, easygoing deputy I always pretend to be. I let my true colors show once—just one fucking time—and suddenly I’mpersona non grata, shipped off to this backwater as punishment for being too aggressive.
Too aggressive?
I chuckle to myself as drifts of snow slam silently against my windshield.
We found fourteen bodies in that Outbye warehouse, most of them kids. AndI’mthe aggressive one because I broke a suspect’s jaw during questioning?
Fuck ‘em.
Fuck ‘em all.
I drag in a shuddering breath through my nose.
That can’t happen again. I have to play nice.
Nice.
Lord, I hate beingnice.
I’ve had to wear it like a mask—smiling when I want to snarl, swallowing my temper when every instinct screams to let it loose.
That was then. This is now.
I’m Deputy Nice Guy, all please-and-thank-you, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly. Locals love me. College kids tolerate me. And every goddamn day, I swallow a little more of myself just to keep the status quo.
Even this is better than the alternative.
Losing my badge would finish me.
Not because I was born into a cop family—it’s not in my blood. It’s more like a splinter that worked its way so deep it touched bone.
Obsession’s too weak a word for it.
