It’s Thanksgiving Eve, and for many, that’s a good time to put up a tree. To me, it’s a good time to stuff my face with chocolate, Cheetos, and strawberries while watching TV, preferably naked with Kane. That’s the plan. And it’s a good one. But first, comfy leggings, a warm sweater, an airport and a chopper out of the city and to the Hamptons. Because, in an odd twist of events, just one week after I stabbed Roger Griffin, my former profiling mentor turned serial killer, to death, we’re having Thanksgiving with my police chief brother. Logically, you’d think that’s because Kane and Andrew getting rid of Roger’s body together was a bonding experience, right?

Wrong.

They did whatever they did with the body and then they went back to hating each other, especially after Andrew saw the big rock Kane had put on my finger—that’s still on my finger, where it will stay. “Are you crazy?” he’d demanded and then scowled. “Never mind. You just stabbed a man twenty times. Yes. You are fucking crazy.”

“Fucking?” I’d challenged. “Now you’re cursing like a sailor, Andrew. Shame on you.”

He’d glared at me and then Kane before charging away to fight crime, but two days later, he’d still taken my call, and agreed to join us for Thanksgiving dinner. And Kane agreed to such an invitation for one reason and that reason is not me. He’s worried Andrew is flipping the fuck out over the dead body. He wants to assess him. Still, I say it’s the bonding thing. It’s going to happen. I feel it in my Lilah fucking Love bones. At least, in some alternate universe.

Kane, looking just as much the hot Latin king of the oil world that he is in jeans and a sweater as he does his custom suits, catches my hand and we head toward our departure gate. An hour from now, we’ll be out of the city and in the Hamptons and that much closer to Thanksgiving Eve paradise. We make it all of two steps toward the doors leading outside and to our chopper, when my cellphone rings. I snake it from my favorite Chanel trench coat and grimace at the number. “It’s Director Murphy,” I say and decline the call. “I’m not taking it. I’m on vacation.”

“Good decision,” Kane approves, but already my cell is ringing again.

“Damn it.” I grimace, and my gaze lifts to the television above the waiting area.

I catch Kane’s arm and drag him to a halt. “Kane,” I say, my voice strained.