FORMULA

“Devlin, someone is out to destroy my company. They might be plotting to kill us off one by one. Or their angle might be to jeopardize our reputation, or to somehow usurp the power that my company wields in the industry. I don’t know who it is or why they want to destroy Aurora, but I know that I need your help to find out. Now, more than ever.”

Devlin stood and walked across the room. He reached for a bottle of water, but thought better of it. He’d sworn that he wouldn’t leave Giancarlo’s death with unanswered questions. A sniper was still at large. An owner of the company, formerly his prime suspect, was dead. Hard evidence existed—bullet casings, syringes, and a tainted dog bowl—that might pinpoint real answers to a case that clearly demanded them.

He turned to face Erika. She stood with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed in determination. Was it an outside job or an inside one? Was the real perp standing in front of him, manipulating him into believing otherwise? Only one way to find out. He opened his mouth to accept her offer. But Scotti rang, and he picked up the call.

Devlin told Scotti, “Tell Lupo to get the band back together and meet me in Rome. In forty-eight hours, at the Grotto, we’ll get the HELL Rangers started on our next big, kickass mission.”