The sound of waves lapping at the shore reached into my living room. Did the sound calm her, as it did me?
The door behind me opened, and I turned to see Merl entering the large space, his footfalls silent even on the marble steps. The man was a ninja, all wiry muscle and controlled strength coupled with remarkable skill. Merl's morals, his sense of justice, steered him as true and steady as a compass needle pulled north. This made him easy to predict. He posed no danger to me.
My gaze was pulled back to Sydney. The wind played with her hair, making it dance around her neckline.
Her heart was broken.
Peering through that window into Mulberry's room, we'd seen him kissing his ex-wife. And, wow, what a kiss.
"He doesn't remember you," Lenox told her. There was a beat of silence as she continued to stare, to spy on the intimate moment.
Then she'd turned away. "It's better if he never does." And she'd strode back down the hall, her back straight, her face a mask of indifference, but I knew that pain radiated through her.
Merl came to stand next to me now, his eyes on Sydney as well. "How is she today?" he asked. Merl had flown in the day before, here to help oversee Sydney's care.
Because I couldn't be trusted.
"Quiet," I answered. Merl nodded, but didn't speak. "She's been out there most of the day."
"And you've been here?" he asked. "Watching her?"
"Something like that," I admitted.
"The therapist came today?"
"Yes."
"Dan says he's the best."
Like I would ever work with anyone who wasn't. "Yes, I've known him for some time." He owes me.
Merl watched me, his eyes sharp. I turned to meet his gaze. "Something about you is different."
My brows rose. "Is it?"
His eyes narrowed, inspecting me. I let him look. "It's like…you want to take care of her, instead of control her."
Insightful little shit.
I forced a smile onto my face. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've always wanted to help."
Merl shook his head. "No, you're different." He grinned, exposing gapped front teeth. "You're—"
"Enough," I barked. "I'm not the one in therapy."
He laughed, and my hand clenched into a fist.
"No, but you're different anyway."
Merl's phone rang, and his face lit up when he looked at the screen. Must be his girlfriend. He stepped away to answer it. He spoke in Mandarin Chinese, a language I studied but wasn't fluent in yet.
My own phone rang, and I pulled it from my pocket. One of my contacts at the police department. "Yes."
"Mr. Maxim, I have some information for you."
"Go on."
"April Madden was shot at an evangelical revival."
“When and where?" I kept my voice steady even as my heart rate picked up.
"Just now, sir, about fifteen minutes ago. In Fort Lauderdale.”
"Is she alive?"
"On last report. She’s on her way to the hospital."
"Keep me updated."
"Yes, sir."
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and returned my attention to Sydney.
Merl came back, his long ponytail swinging with each stride. He didn't know about April. But he would soon. Dan would too. And he'd tell Sydney.
But for right now, in this moment, I'd keep Sydney safe. Keep her free of worry and pain. She was finally under my care.
Sydney
Blue leaned against my side, releasing a low sigh. His puppies, whom I'd named Nila and Frank, slept on the wooden deck.
Nila, the word for ‘dark blue’ in Sanskrit, was the smallest of the litter, her eyes the same rich aqua as the bay before me. Frank, the only pup with his father's mismatched eyes, was also the biggest…and I was starting to think the dumbest. Named after my father, he ate like a beast and had only learned to sit, while Nila could heel, lie down, and stay. Hopefully he would learn in time.
Something to work for, something to live for.
Their soft snoring brought me comfort and purpose.
Robert Maxim's gaze on my back felt like a blanket around my shoulders, one both protective and stifling.
Mulberry kissing his wife, his hand at her waist, his face bent to hers, the way she molded to him like they belonged together, kept flashing through my mind—a knife stabbing into my chest. My heart ached for my own loss, but also celebrated for him. Everything we'd been through together, all the pain, the adventure, the disappointments…it was all wiped out for him. He got a fresh start.
Maybe I could have one, too.
Could I, perhaps, become someone else? Someone healthy, happy, and normal?
A laugh bubbled in my chest as I imagined myself rollerblading along the ocean path in Miami Beach, Blue and his puppies racing alongside me. It didn't seem possible.
But it wasn't so long ago that I wouldn't have conceived of killing, of fighting for justice. I just wanted my takeout and TV, to pay the rent and have fun with my friends…with my brother.
James's face floated through my mind, pushing aside the painful image of Mulberry. James's infectious laugh reverberated in my head. To think of him no longer hurt.
A revelation.
Time heals all.
Maybe even me.
Lightning cracked across my vision, and I gripped the railing of the deck as a harsh voice whispered into my mind. You can run, but you will never escape me. I am you. I am Her.
We are not done yet.
<<<<>>>>
Turn the page for a sneak peak of Sydney Rye #11,
Betray the Lie.
Betray the Lie
Sydney Rye Mysteries, Book 11
Declan
Five years. I've been waiting five years for this moment. And now here I am. Standing behind my men, controlling them with the microphone at my mouth. Sydney Rye, aka Joy Humbolt, will not escape. I've got the warrant. I've got the man power. We are on US territory.
I will defeat her.
The pounding of Fermont's fist against the mansion’s door echoes inside Robert Maxim’s giant, modern Miami residence on Star Island. From the road, all you can see are white walls fronted with lush tropical gardens, but on the ocean side it's all glass.
The guy lives quite the life.
He offered me a job years ago—tried to lure me away from the New York police force right as I made Detective. I thought I'd go. Figured I'd make a killing.
But then...Joy Humbolt. She upended my life. Instead of being the easy, fast, fun fuck I wanted her to be, she turned out to be a goddamn assassin. She humiliated me....made me into a fool.
After murdering her brother’s killer in New York, she went on the run; but her act of vengeance—those few bullets sunk into a man’s chest—spawned a movement. Joyful Justice, a vigilante network that started as an online forum, soon mutated into an international fighting force causing havoc around the world. Taking justice into their own hands and making headlines doing it.
Robert Maxim protected her all these years. Fuck that. I’m bringing them both down, then I’ll destroy the rest of Joyful Justice one member at a time. But I need to stay calm now, in this moment of victory.
No one answers the door, so I call for the battering ram. The team moves in seamless formation. The ram appears, the men swing it back and smash into the mahogany doors. Once...twice...on the third time, the big frame lets go and the door swings in. My men pour forth: black, armored warriors here to save the day.
I follow in their wake, my weapon up, the weight of my equipment making me sweat in the warm night.
I doubt Robert will try to fight his way out of the house. He's too slick for that.
It took me five judges to find one who would write the warrant, but I found one. I always win.
Sydney
The doors to the secret elevator, open and a voice behind us yells, “Freeze. Now!” Glancing back, I see three men in the living room, their weapons raised, the matt
e black of their helmets absorbing the last rays of the sun set.
With the elevator doors open, on the precipice of escape, Robert and I freeze, our bodies stilling. The calm before the storm.
Blue growls, and Frank gives off a deep bark of excitement. Nila presses against my leg, waiting for a command.
“Turn around slowly,” the man orders.
Robert releases my hand, and we both turn to face the armed intruders, joined now by two more. Their radios crackle. Bodies hunched around their weapons, the heavy armor they wear under their uniforms making them sweat, they keep their rifles aimed at our chests.
A strong gust of wind puffs through the open glass doors, bringing the briny scent of the sea. I take a deep breath. I love that smell.
My hands are up, Robert’s, too. But we are not surrendering. That’s not what Robert and I do.
Declan Doyle pauses at the top of the four steps leading down into the living room. His brown eyes land on mine. A smile, predatory and satisfied, leaps into his gaze—the look of a wolf whose crept into the center of the sheep herd. Declan thinks he's about to feast.
Poor Declan Doyle, so wrong, so often.
A small hint of sympathy curls in my stomach considering what it must be like to pursue someone so desperately, to believe in one moment you’ve captured them, only to lose them again in the next.
Parting is such sweet sorrow…for one of us anyway.
"Sydney," Declan says.
I nod. "Declan, how are you?"
He starts down the steps. "Better than you."
"Perhaps, but I have been well recently. How has your recovery been?"
His face darkens, and his hand brushes against his side where I shot him. "I'm fine."
"Hello, Declan," Robert says. "Making more terrible career choices, I see."
Declan glances at Robert for only a moment before returning his attention to me. "I wouldn't take career advice from him," Declan says to me. "Could land you in jail." He grins. "Oh right, you're going there anyway.”
Robert huffs a laugh but does not speak.
Declan frowns and then, looking down at Blue, a smile crosses his face. “It’s a shame,” he says. “If those dogs don’t come easy. They will be put down.”
“Declan,” I say. “Do you really need to threaten my dogs? Aren’t you bigger than that?”
“Besides,” Robert says, shrugging. “I’ve never seen threatening Blue go well. For anyone. Ever.”
Declan looks over at Robert. “Well, Robert Maxim, things are changing.”
Robert smiles, slow and scary, like he knows so much more than anyone else in the room…hell, anyone else in the world. “The more things change the more they stay the same,” Robert says it quietly, almost humbly…if it wasn’t for the glee in his gaze.
“Not this time, Robert,” Declan says, his own smug smile pulling at his lips.
A sigh escapes me as the two men’s egos clash. The ego is to be transcended, not bargained with or defeated.
Declan turns on his heel. “Cuff and ready them for transport,” he says to one of his men as he heads back out to the hall.
Sympathy wells in me for one more moment as I watch his broad back leave the room. He won’t even be here to witness his defeat.
Click here to preorder Betray the Lie and continue the adventure on September 20th.
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A Note From Emily
Thank you for reading Flock of Wolves. I'm excited that you made it through my whole bio right here to my "note". I'm guessing that means that you enjoyed my story. If so, would you please write a review for Flock of Wolves? You have no idea how much it warms my heart to get a new review. And this isn't just for me, mind you. Think of all the people out there who need reviews to make decisions. The children who need to be told this book is not for them. And the people about to go away on vacation who could have so much fun reading this on the plane. Consider it an act of kindness to me, to the children, to humanity.
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About the Author
Emily Kimelman not only writes adventure, she lives it every day. Embodying the true meaning of wanderlust, she's written her Sydney Rye mysteries from all over the world. From the jungles of Costa Rica to the mountains of Spain, she finds inspiration for her stories in her own life.
While living under communist rule in the former Soviet Union, the KGB sprinkled her with "spy dust", a radioactive concoction that made her glow and left a trail they could follow. She was two. She was destined for amazing things after that, and she continues to find adventure to inspire characters like the badass Sydney Rye.
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