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Turning back to my computer, I pulled up the shared calendar we all used and did a search under Angela’s name. The calendar was one of the things I pushed to have (with a fair amount of argument from Marty before he finally gave in) as a safety measure for the agents. That way there were multiple people who knew where we were at any given time.

As soon as I scrolled to her schedule for yesterday, my blood turned to ice. Her last showing was with that asshole, Matthew Wilkes. Alarm bells started going off in my head as my stomach lurched into my throat like I’d taken a dive from the top of the world’s tallest roller coaster. Every instinct inside me was screaming that it wasn’t a coincidence she didn’t show up today.

Snatching my purse off the desk, I launched to my feet and raced for the door.

“Hey! Where the hell are you going? You can’t just leave!”

“Bite me, Marty!” I snapped back as I shoved through the door. If something happened to Angela because of that asshole, it was on Marty’s shoulders. And I would make damn sure he felt that weight.

“Angela?” I beat on her door with the side of my fist, the panic gripping my chest as icy fingers grew tighter with every second that passed without a response. “Angela. Open the door. I’m not leaving until you do.”

Pressing my ear to the door, I listened closely. I heard the shuffling of footsteps on the other side right before the curtain by the door fluttered. “I know you’re in there. Please, Angela. Open the door. I’m not here to start anything. I’m just worried about you, okay? Just . . . please.”

I heard a thump from the other side, like she was leaning against the door or something. “Did . . .” I swallowed around the thick ball of cotton suddenly drying my throat. “Did something happen? If it was Wilkes, you can talk to me. I only want to make sure you’re safe.”

My shoulders sagged on a relieved breath when I heard the turn of the locks, but then the door opened, and that all went up in a puff of smoke at what I saw.

“Oh, Angela.”

Big, fat tears slipped from her swollen eyes, running down her bruised cheeks. A second later, she burst into tears, swinging the door open and collapsing into me as she sobbed, like the pain of holding herself up was too much.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed into my shoulder, soaking my shirt. I held her tighter as she poured it all out. “I’m so sorry. I sh-should h-have listened t-to you.”

At her words, the past came rushing back, slamming into me like a tidal wave. I knew that feeling all too well. Most specifically, the self-blame. “No, stop it,” I ordered gently, stroking her hair, wishing I could take her pain away. “You have nothing to apologize for. You did nothing wrong, you hear me? Not a single thing.”

And I would do everything in my power to make sure she realized that.

TWENTY

NORTH

I opened the door, my heart in my goddamn throat ever since I got the text from Iris, and stepped right into chaos.

I heard Iris’s voice before I saw her. The force of her rage filled the entire house, slamming right into my chest like a giant fist. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice⁠—”

“And I’m going to have to ask you to fuck right the hell off, you human equivalent of a yeast infection!”

I picked up the pace, recognizing the voice that had spoken before as Simmons. I needed to intervene before one of two things happened, either he arrested her, or she beat the holy hell out of him.

Iris was standing in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips, and pure, unadulterated violence etched into every muscle in her body. She was standing between Simmons and the woman curled up on the couch like she wanted to sink into it until she disappeared. The victim, my brain told me, and from the bruises she was sporting and the fear locking her body tight, the fight happening in front of her was the last thing she needed.

“What’s going on here?”

Iris didn’t even look my way, refusing to tear her glare off Simmons. “What’s going on is that you have a victim-blaming skunk anus in your department. Not that that’s much of a surprise. Whole town knows it too. You worthless piece of⁠—”

Simmons had one hand on his piece and made the mistake of shoving the fingers of his other hand in Iris’s face, setting off my own rage. “One more word out of you and I’ll throw you in cuffs.”

I didn’t think before I reacted, reaching out and grabbing Simmons by the wrist, twisting it in a way that nearly took him to his knees. Just a little more pressure, and I could have snapped it like a twig. Something I was incredibly tempted to do.

“Like hell you will,” I growled, using my hold to jerk him away from Iris and getting in his face.

He narrowed his eyes at me, jerking at his wrist, but I didn’t let him go right away, making my point that the little pissant didn’t stand a fucking chance. “This isn’t your scene, Hastings. I’ve got this under control. You need to leave.”

Iris scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Handled? The first question out of your mouth after she recounted her attack was did you do anything to make him think you were interested?”

Suddenly I understood Iris’s rage, because I felt it myself. “You asked her that? The woman sitting there with a bruised face?”