Prologue
The sun was still struggling to crest the horizon when Angel Conway entered the small park next to Lake Michigan. Shivering, she hunched herself deeper in her heavy coat. Shit. Was there anywhere in the world colder than Chicago in the winter? She doubted even the North Pole felt as frigid. Especially this morning, with the wind whipping the icy droplets from the nearby lake. They stung her face like tiny darts.
Unfortunately, she had no choice but to drag herself out of her bed at such a god-awful hour to brave the cold. It was the same reason she snuck out every Friday morning.
When she came to Chicago, she’d intended to have a clean start. No drugs. No men. Nothing that would screw up her one opportunity to climb out of the sewer she’d made of her life. But after the operation, she’d been given painkillers, and the hunger had been stroked back to life. Within three weeks of her arrival in the city, she was back to the same old habits.
Stomping her feet in an attempt to keep blood flowing to her toes, she scanned the shadowed lot. Where was her john? Usually she was the one running late. She did it deliberately to avoid being turned into a human Popsicle. She wanted to arrive at the park, climb into the man’s expensive Jag, do her business, and get her pills. No fuss, no muss.
And no frostbite.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered, rubbing her hands together.
Maybe she should bail. She could sneak out this weekend and find a street dealer. Of course, what little money she had . . .
Her thoughts were shattered by the sharp snap of a branch. She frowned, glancing over her shoulder at the trees directly behind her. She’d chosen this spot because it offered her an open view of the lot, but at the same time gave her cover in case a cop decided to drive through the park. Now she felt a weird sense of dread crawl over her skin.
She was from the country. She knew the difference between a critter scrambling through the underbrush and a human footstep.
There was someone moving in the darkness. The only question was whether it was an early morning jogger. Or a pervert who was spying on her.
She never considered there might have been a third possibility.
Not until she felt the cold blade press against her throat . . .
Chapter One
Dr. Ashland Marcel entered his office on the campus of Illinois State University. It was a small, dark space that had one window overlooking the parking lot. An office reserved for a professor who hadn’t yet received his tenure. Not that the cramped space bothered Ash. As much as he enjoyed teaching criminal justice classes, he hadn’t fully committed to spending the rest of his life in an academic setting. Especially after his hectic morning.
With a grimace, he dropped into his seat behind the cluttered desk. A sigh escaped his lips. It was only noon, but he was grateful he was done teaching his classes for the day.
The students weren’t the only ones looking forward to the end of the semester, he wryly acknowledged. Early December in the Midwest meant short, brutally cold days. A bunch of twentysomethings trapped inside for weeks at a time was never a good thing. His classroom was choking with their pent-up energy.
But it was Friday. And Monday the students started finals. Which meant that in less than seven days, he could look forward to a month of peace and quiet.
Pretending he didn’t notice the tiny ache in the center of his heart at the thought of spending the holidays alone in his small house, Ash opened his laptop. He needed to get through his email before he could call it a day.
He’d barely fired up the computer when the door to his office was shoved open. He glanced up with a forbidding glare. His students were told on the first day of class that they could come to him during his posted office hours. He’d discovered his first year of teaching that they would follow him into the toilet with questions if he didn’t set firm guidelines.
His annoyance, however, swiftly changed to surprise at the sight of the man dressed in a worn blue suit who stepped through the opening.
Detective Jackson “Jax” Marcel.
At a glance, it was easy to tell the two were brothers. They both had light brown hair that curled around the edges. Ash’s was allowed to grow longer now that he was no longer on the police force, and had fewer strands of gray. And they both had blue eyes. Ash’s were several shades darker, and framed by long, black lashes that had been the bane of his childhood. And they were both tall and slender, with muscles that came from long morning jogs instead of time in the gym.
Ash rose to his feet, his brows arching in surprise. It wasn’t uncommon for his family to visit. The university was only a couple of hours from Chicago. But they never just appeared in his office without calling.
“Jax.”
Jax stretched his lips into a smile, but it was clearly an effort. “Hey, bro.”
Ash studied his companion. Jax was the oldest of the four Marcel brothers, but they had all been born within a six-year span, so they were all close in age. That was perhaps why they’d always been so tight. You messed with one Marcel, you messed with them all.
“What are you doing here?” Ash demanded.
“I need to talk to you.”
“You couldn’t call?”
Jax grimaced. “I preferred to do it face-to-face.”
Fear curled through the pit of Ash’s stomach. Something had happened. Something bad. He leaned forward, laying his palms flat on the desk.
“Mom? Dad?”
Jax gave a sharp shake of his head. “The family is fine.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“Sit down.”
Ash clenched his teeth. His brother’s attempt to delay the bad news was twisting his nerves into a painful knot. “Shit. Just tell me.”
Perhaps realizing that he was doing more harm than good, Jax heaved a harsh sigh.
“It’s Remi Walsh.”
Ash froze. He hadn’t heard the name Remi in five years. Not since he’d packed his bags and walked away from Chicago and the woman who’d promised to be his wife.
“Remi.” His voice sounded oddly hollow. “Is she hurt?”
This time Jax didn’t torture him. He spoke without hesitation.
“Her body arrived in the morgue this morning.”
Morgue.
“No.” The word was wrenched from Ash’s lips as his knees buckled and he collapsed into his chair.
Jax stepped toward the desk, his expression one of pity. “I’m sorry, Ash.”
Ash shook his head. “This has to be a mistake,” he said, meaning every word.
It was a mistake. There was no way in hell that Remi could be dead.
“I wish it was a mistake, bro,” Jax said in sad tones. “But I saw her with my own eyes.”
Ash grimly refused to accept what his brother was telling him. He’d tumbled head over heels in love with Remi from the second she’d strolled into the police station to take her father for lunch. Ash had just made detective and Gage Walsh was his partner. Thankfully, that hadn’t stopped him from asking Remi out. She’d been hesitant at first, clearly unsure she wanted to date someone who worked so closely with her father. But from their first date, they’d both known the sensations that sizzled between them were something special.
That’s why he couldn’t accept that she was gone.
If something had happened to Remi, he would know. In his heart. In his very soul.