Chapter 5

The air inside the car turned glacial.

Evelyn Laurent pressed herself against the window, fingers absently tapping the leather seat. The rearview mirror reflected her tense jawline and almond eyes swirling with complex emotions.

Ten years.

Since being dumped in that remote mountain village with spotty cell service, she never imagined returning to Cloudhaven this way. Least of all discovering that deliberately concealed paternity test in the police archives.

"Ms. Laurent seems familiar with Cloudhaven?"

Ethan Sullivan's deep voice shattered the silence. His slender fingers toyed with a bronze pocket watch, its metallic clicks punctuating the stillness.

"Not really."

Evelyn tore her gaze from the window. Plane trees blurred past as dappled shadows flickered across her face. She suddenly narrowed her eyes—

Three unmarked black SUVs were tailing them in a sinister formation.

"Mr. Sullivan." Her voice turned arctic. "It appears someone objects to your homecoming."

The pocket watch snapped shut. The driver floored the accelerator, launching the Maybach into hyperspeed as the needle hit red.

"Brace yourself."

A truck loaded with steel rods careened from a side road. Amid screeching brakes, Evelyn glimpsed the driver's contorted face—and the viper tattoo coiling around his neck.

CRASH!

The deafening impact of twisting metal made her ears ring. Airbags deployed as she instinctively shielded her vitals. The car somersaulted, shearing through guardrails before landing sideways on the median.

Gasoline fumes choked the air.

Evelyn kicked the mangled door open, glass shards slicing her knuckles. Squinting through smoke, she counted a dozen machete-wielding thugs closing in.

"Mr. Sullivan!" The trapped driver yelled. "Three minutes till backup!"

She was already hefting a crumpled door panel. The steel slab whistled through the air, sending three attackers flying like ragdolls.

Ethan moved with terrifying precision. His manicured hands snapped wrists with clinical efficiency. When he roundhouse-kicked the seventh assailant, his bespoke suit remained immaculate.

"Keep one alive."

Evelyn disarmed the last goon, pressing a bloodied pipe to his throat. Then she spotted the telltale gun calluses on their hands.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Ethan adjusted his cufflinks, moonlight silvering his profile. He picked up a ringing phone and purred into the receiver: "Tell Charles Kensington..."

"I accept his welcoming gift."

Three armored Range Rovers screeched to a halt. Twenty black-suited bodyguards bowed in unison—their leader's serpent earring matching the truck driver's tattoo.

Evelyn's pupils contracted.

Now she knew who this ambush was really for.