“Iz, I’m not going to drop it,” Mia started, trying for calmer than before. Lacey had something planned, she was sure of it. And that plan involved Izzy thinking Mia was out of control. Mia needed Izzy firmly back on her side, and acting erratically wouldn’t do it. No matter the hurt that ached like a wound in her chest. “I need to make sure she doesn’t try anything.”

A low chattering filled the quiet that followed. Lacey’s teeth, and they both shifted toward her. With Mia wearing the coat, Lacey was dressed in a tank top and leggings, nothing more.

Helpless. She looked so tiny, so vulnerable, so helpless. But she’d called Izzy here. She’d thrown Mia her gun. There was definitely an exit strategy cooked up in her devious little mind, and it probably involved both Izzy’s and Mia’s deaths.

Mia’s gaze flicked between Izzy and Lacey. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said. “Izzy, do you have handcuffs?”

“I do,” Izzy confirmed slowly. Then she deflected. “How about you place the weapon on the floor, and then we’ll sort it.”

“Izzy, she’s been playing us this whole time.” Mia switched tactics, even though it sounded desperate, like she was grasping at straws. That’s why she hadn’t said it before. “She’s playing you right now.”

“Funny, because she hasn’t said anything,” Izzy countered. “And you’ve done a lot of talking.”

Frustration licked hot in Mia’s belly, crowding out that hint of sadness. “Right before you walked in the door, she was holding the gun on me.”

It sounded absurd. She knew it sounded absurd. That, coupled with the assertion that Lacey was playing them, was denting Mia’s credibility with Izzy. But it was all she had left.

“Mia” is all Izzy responded with.

When Mia didn’t say anything further, Izzy looked back at Lacey, whose lip trembled as if she were trying to speak, but no sound came out. “All right, come here, Lacey.”

“You’re going to cuff me?” There was a quiver in Lacey’s voice that slipped like an itch beneath Mia’s skin, burning and just out of reach. She wanted to slap her, see her crumple to the floor.

Instead, Mia remained where she was, not wanting to do anything to derail getting handcuffs on the sociopath.

Lacey stepped toward Izzy, her arms coming away from her body so that her wrists were held out, the picture of compliance.

“You’re going to cuff yourself,” Izzy said.

Lacey chewed on her lip but then moved closer. Mia could see the sweat that beaded along the line of her hair.

“Thank you for coming,” Lacey whispered, loud enough for Mia to hear. The words meant to be a punch in the solar plexus for Izzy as Lacey took the cuffs.