Private investigator Mike Callahan scrunched down in the driver’s seat of his black SUV and watched the front door of Duncan O’Hare’s house through the open driver’s-side window. He was parked in the driveway next door, knowing the young couple was out of town for the weekend. Duncan O’Hare was a Milwaukee cop, but Mike didn’t believe the guy was dedicated to upholding the law.

Quite the opposite.

However, witnessing a meeting between Duncan O’Hare and Lane Walters, believed leader of the Dark Knights, two days ago outside an apartment building owned by Walters, wasn’t enough. He needed proof to back up his suspicions. Mike had tailed Duncan, but the cop had managed to evade him.

On a mission to solve his father Max Callahan’s murder, Mike wasn’t about to let anything stand in his way.

His father had been shot in the back while visiting the crime scene of an officer-involved shooting. Four years later and the crime remained unsolved.

The key was buried deep within the Dark Knights, a civilian vigilante group known for meting out its own brand of justice against alleged criminals. There were several unsolved murders that were believed to be the work of the Dark Knights. As the police chief, his father had vowed to bring the Dark Knights down. Yet Mike knew the group had connections within the police force—possibly to Duncan O’Hare and Duncan’s father, Ian O’Hare, who had conveniently taken Mike’s father’s place as chief of police after his death.

The night of his father’s funeral, Mike had overheard a conversation between Ian and Duncan O’Hare about how much they secretly admired the Dark Knights. Mike’s theory was that his father had learned about their connection to the vigilantes and had been murdered because of it. Mike wanted them arrested and held accountable for the role they’d played in his father’s death. Staking out Duncan’s house tonight had been a recent attempt to confront the cop about his meeting with Walters.

Duncan’s front door unexpectedly opened and a pretty blonde stepped outside, holding the hand of a small boy who, in Mike’s estimation, was around four or five years old. In the balmy May evening, there was plenty of light in the sky to see them clearly. The woman was wearing jeans and a pink hoodie with a white T-shirt underneath. He gasped and abruptly straightened as he recognized her.

Shayla O’Hare. Duncan’s younger sister and Mike’s former fiancée. He hadn’t seen Shayla in four years, since their heated argument and breakup over her family’s complicity in his father’s murder. The child was a surprise. Since she hadn’t had any children while they were together, Mike assumed the boy was a stepson or an adopted son. He ignored the shaft of pain to his heart at the thought of her being married to another man. She paused near the Jeep and leaned over to talk to the boy.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a dark sports car with tinted windows rolling down the street toward the O’Hare house. A tingling sense of danger had him tugging his gun from his shoulder holster.

The low-slung car slowed and he watched in horror as the passenger’s-side window silently slid down, revealing the barrel of a gun. From what he could tell, the weapon was pointed directly at Shayla.

“Get down!” he shouted as he instinctively fired at the car in an attempt to save Shayla and the boy. The gunshot was loud, hitting the frame of the car with a metallic thud. Shayla screamed and he hoped and prayed she hadn’t been hurt. He fired again, then shifted the gun to his left hand so he could push the start button. The SUV’s engine roared to life.

The sports car accelerated and Mike yanked the gearshift into Drive. He stomped on the gas, gunning down the driveway toward the sports car. He attempted to ram his larger SUV into the small vehicle to halt its escape, but only clipped the back fender. The sports car fishtailed for a moment, then sped off.

He considered following it, but knowing that Shayla and a young boy were in danger had him twisting

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