Groaning, I roll toward the alarm clock and slap it.

My eyelids feel like they’ve been cemented shut. Prying them open takes a Herculean effort. Unable to force my limbs into action, I lay in bed as memories of yesterday assault me.

Roman is an undercover police officer.

Never in a million years could I have foreseen this. If anything, I’d wondered if he worked for the Russians.

But the police?

The Chicago PD?

No. I feel ...