Ellie was so exhausted and hungover, the thought swam away from her. When it came back, when she realized what might be in the box, she reached inside his pocket, her mind taking her back to last night, that business about his married brothers, Cody saying how much he loved her.

Had he been planning on proposing to her?

She found the answer sitting in the small box: an emerald-cut diamond ring.

If Ellie were a different woman, she’d call the commissioner and politely decline the undercover assignment—and, most certainly, any future spot on the Blood Unit. She loved Cody and supposed, even though she hadn’t given it much thought up until this moment, that she did, in fact, see a future with him. But if she went undercover, it would cost her months—maybe even a year or more—of her life.

Would he wait that long? Could their love survive that?

What if it didn’t?

The ring was a choice. Cody or J.C. Pick one.

In the end, Ellie made the choice she had always made: her brother. She wouldn’t abandon him again.

Thy Will Be Done

CHAPTER 13

ELLIE UNPACKED HER groceries in the kitchen of her studio apartment. She had been living in it for three months.

She listened to the satellite news on her phone, the anchorman talking about the wildfires raging across the state. They had brought out the Bible-thumpers. They were out protesting in droves, ranting and raving about how God’s judgment was upon them, punishing the sinners in California, the modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah.

Her smartphone chirped once. A text had been delivered. She glanced down at the counter.

The text was from the dry-cleaning-and-laundry service located two blocks from her building in Culver City. Her dry cleaning was ready for pickup.

The text was addressed to Faye.

That was her name now, Faye Simpson. Faye had an interesting backstory: she was twenty-four, born and raised in Las Vegas, and, until recently, had been a degenerate gambler. Faye’s thing was blackjack. She was a good but not great cardplayer and had racked up sizable debts before deciding, nearly one year ago, to tap the remaining equity from her dying mother’s small home—money her mother was using to pay for hospital and medical bills. Faye headed to the casinos, determined to win big and settle all of her accounts.

Faye lost every single penny.

Which forced her to come clean to her mother—not just about the money she’d technically stolen from the home equity line but also about the fact that she was addicted to gambling and now into the casinos for big, big money. Her mother had died heartbroken and disappointed in her daughter. Faye had hit rock bottom.

Faye had promised her dying mother she would get her act together, and she did. She religiously attended Gamblers Anonymous meetings in the basement of a Mormon church, and, working several jobs, paid off the loan from the funeral home to bury her mother and went on a payment plan with her creditors. When she had saved up a good amount of money, she packed up and headed to Los Angeles to search for a new beginning—and better earning opportunities.