Edge started shaking his head.

Callie ignored him. “You’re detectives, right? You and Skye? Finding people is what you do. Once I get a job, I’ll have money. I can pay whatever you want.”

“It’s not the money,” Edge said.

“Edge is right,” Skye said. “It’s not the money. You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve already decided I’m going to find Henson. He’s not getting away without paying for what he did to Sarah, to you and Molly and the rest of those women.”

Sometime over the past few hours, Henson’s actions had become personal. He’d managed to escape the DEA, but Skye was going to find him. She was a private investigator, and she was a good one. She was going to hunt Daniel Henson down and bring him to justice.

“Both of you stop right there,” Edge said. “This is DEA business now. You get in the middle of it, you’ll be interfering in a federal investigation.”

“I don’t care!” Callie said, jamming her hands on her hips. “Lila needs my help. You don’t know what Henson’s like, what he might do to her. Sarah’s dead. Lila could be next. I have to help her get away.”

Callie’s eyes filled, and Skye pulled her into a hug. “I’m going to find out where he’s gone,” Skye said. “Once I know his location, I can bring in law enforcement. The feds will be looking for him, too. If Lila’s with him, they can help us get her to safety.”

Edge blew out a breath, paced away to stare out the window, then walked back. “I had a bad feeling this wasn’t over.” He looked at Skye hard. “Dammit, are you sure about this?”

Skye felt the impact of those intense blue eyes, but it couldn’t dissuade her. “I’m going after Henson. It may take me a while to find him, but once I do—”

Edge swore softly. “All right, fine. If you’re that determined to do this, count me in.”

Skye felt a rush of relief she wished she didn’t feel. Not only would she be working with a partner she could count on, she would be spending more time with Edge.

* * *

It was early Monday morning. Conner Delaney’s dark head bent over the wide oak desk in his office. He finished his call to Zoey Rosen, the office digital forensic expert, and hung up the phone, then looked up as a knock sounded on his door. The knob turned, and the door swung open without his permission.

Edge Logan walked into the room.

“Well, come right on in.” Used to the aggressive males who worked in his office, Conn leaned back in his chair. “What can I do for you at this hour of the morning?”

“I need to talk to you,” Edge said. He was as tall as Conn and as solidly built, but his hair was black instead of brown. Edge had been army, while Conn was a marine.

“I gathered that from the way you barged in here,” Conn said.