It felt like sacrilege to come to that conclusion, given how that woman’s face looked, but the truth was what it was: Vin hadn’t known a thing about Thursday night and what had happened in Jim’s truck. Not one thing. The totally-in-the-dark had resonated through his shocked voice.

Why had she lied about telling the guy? And what else had she lied about?

Sure as shit it made Vin’s denial more credible.

One o’clock came and went and so did one thirty. Then two. Devina had to be coming out soon, assuming it took about an hour to process her paperwork and her folks were on time—and assuming she didn’t go out another way.

And assuming anyone was coming to pick her up.

Wishing he had a cigarette, he held on to his phone and rubbed the flat surface of the screen until it grew warm. Truth. He needed a truth injection into this situation. He needed to know who Marie-Terese was and who Devina was and what the fuck was going on.

Unfortunately, that was going to cost him—

Devina abruptly stepped out of the double doors, a pair of big sunglasses taking up most of her face. She was dressed in a black yoga suit, and her oversize crocodile shoulder bag made her seem thin as a ruler in comparison. As she came out to porte cochere’s curb, people stared at her as they passed, like they were trying to place her in the celebri-verse.

There was no one with her.

And…the bruising that had been on her face was now gone. All of it. She was photo-op ready, as lovely and perfect as she’d been over dinner Friday night.

Ice-cold warning splashed through Jim’s veins, the kind that had come only a couple of times in his life.

This was wrong. Way wrong.

Straightening in the truck’s seat, he braced himself as he looked at the pavement down at her feet.

In the light that was pouring out of the sky and creating echoes of objects large and small on the ground, she did not throw a shadow. She was form, but not substance, shape but not flesh.

This was the enemy.

He was looking at the enemy.

He’d fucked the enemy.

As if she heard his thoughts, Devina looked right where he was parked. And then her brows tightened and her face slowly panned from side to side—which he took to mean she couldn’t see exactly where he was, but she knew someone was staring at her…

Her expression was stone cold. Nothing like the warmth she’d radiated in front of Vin or what she’d thrown around at Jim in the truck or in the car or in that hospital bed.

Stone. Cold.

Serial-killer cold.