The Risk

I picked up The Risk because a friend kept saying the Mindfck series was the darkest romance she had ever finished in one sitting. I was skeptical. The book is short, 132 pages in the 2016 indie edition from S.T. Abby, and the cover copy sounded intense. I read it on a Sunday afternoon with coffee going cold, expecting to stop after a chapter. I finished it in about three hours and sat still for a while after. It is book one in the Mindfck series, and it ends on a hook that pushes straight into Sidetracked.

A note before details. This story centers on a woman hunting men who harmed her and others in the past. The book refers to sexual assault from about ten years earlier as the reason for her revenge. The text does not linger on graphic assault scenes in this volume, and I will not describe them here either. What is on the page is mostly present day killing, FBI procedure, and a romance with explicit consensual scenes between adults. Triggers still apply for assault, murder, grief, and stalking behavior. If those topics are hard for you right now, skip this one or read with care and support nearby.

The setup is simple on the surface. Lana Myers lives a quiet life in Minnesota. She works, she keeps to herself, she has red hair that people remember, she is polite to regulars at a local coffee shop. At night she is someone else. She tracks men she holds responsible for past abuse and kills them one by one with planning and patience. FBI agent Logan Bennett arrives in town to work the serial cases. He meets Lana by chance over coffee. He likes her fast. She likes him back, which complicates everything she has planned for ten years.

A short book with a long fuse

The length shapes the whole experience. At 132 pages, there is no room for slow buildup. S.T. Abby opens with Lana voice, dry and tired, explaining that she has waited a decade to settle a debt. She does not give speeches. She checks lists, watches houses, learns routines. One man drinks too much after work and trusts a friendly face at his door. Another thinks his money and friends protect him. Lana studies each pattern, then moves when the risk is lowest for bystanders.

I liked how ordinary her cover looks. She grocery shops and pays bills on time. She makes small talk about weather and remembers a barista name. That normalcy is the point. No one suspects the quiet woman in the corner booth. Here the method is closer to true crime podcasts about women who vanish abusers. Lana uses wigs and gloves and cash. She cleans carefully and thinks about DNA and cameras in a modern way.

The ten year wait matters. Lana was young when she and others she cared about were harmed by a group of men with power and connections. The book keeps that history brief and non explicit. You learn enough to understand her motive without being asked to watch the harm replay. What fills the pages is consequence. Grief that never settled. Anger that cooled into focus. A ledger she intends to close herself because she does not believe courts will.

Her narration has a flat humor that caught me off guard. She jokes about Minnesota cold, about bad motel art, about her own poor sleep. Then she describes scouting a target house with total calm. That swing between neighborly and lethal is what makes the book hard to put down. You keep asking whether she will slip, and whether you want her to get away with it.

Logan Bennett and the coffee shop meet

Logan Bennett is FBI, young for his role, earnest, good at reading rooms. He comes to assist local police because bodies with similar signatures keep appearing. He profiles, he maps, he argues for task force cooperation. He is also lonely on the road, living out of hotels, calling his sister, trying to eat real food between briefings. Abby writes him as decent rather than dark. He respects victims. He listens to local cops. He hates the politics around high profile suspects.

He meets Lana at a coffee shop before he knows who she is to his case. She spills something or he takes her table, depending on how you remember meet cute scenes. The details are small. A shared laugh about a misspelled name on a cup. A comment about a book left behind. He notices her hair first, then her steadiness. She notices his watchfulness and his manners. Both are attracted quickly. That speed will bother some readers. I found it believable for two tired people who recognize focus in each other, even if the timing strains logic.

Their early dates are normal in a way that feels strange against the killings. Diner breakfasts. Walks to the car in cold air. Texts that turn flirty. Logan talks about his job in vague terms. Lana asks careful questions that sound like curiosity but are also intel gathering. She learns what the FBI knows without revealing herself. He senses she holds back, and he assigns that to shyness or past hurt rather than guilt.

Bold chemistry carries these chapters. The dialogue is light, the physical pull is direct, the consent is clear between them as adults. Abby writes romance with confidence. Logan is attentive, Lana is responsive, neither plays games once they admit interest. If you dislike fast attachment, this will feel rushed. The book frames it as recognition. Two people who live in their heads meet someone who keeps up. I bought it for the length, though I wished for one more quiet scene without case talk to earn the trust.

What makes the meet work for suspense is dramatic irony. You know Lana is killing the men Logan hunts. Every kind moment doubles as risk. When he describes the unsub at dinner, she nods and asks what profile suggests. When she mentions a scar or a habit, he files it away as color. The reader sits between them, nervous for both.

Dual voices and a cat and mouse game

The book alternates point of view between Lana and Logan. Lana chapters are first person, close and wry. Logan chapters are close too, worried and methodical. The switch happens often because the book is short. You get a kill plan, then a task force meeting, then a date, then a lab result. That rhythm keeps pages turning fast.

Lana planning scenes show patience. She rents cars under false details. She watches a house for nights to learn when lights go off. She picks a knife or a trap based on what will look quiet. She times entry for weather that covers sound. She wears layers she can burn. She wipes surfaces she barely touched. She thinks about neighbors with dogs and about street cameras at gas stations. None of this reads as manual instruction. It reads as character. She is meticulous because she has rehearsed this for years in her head.

Logan investigation scenes show a different kind of care. He pins maps, he lists victim links, he pushes back when local money tries to steer attention. He notices that victims share old ties to the same social circle from a decade ago. He wonders why no one talked then and why bodies fall now. He interviews widows and friends who close ranks. He asks for phone tolls and bank trails. His boss wants progress without scandal. Logan wants truth even if it embarrasses powerful families.

The cat and mouse tightens when Logan realizes the killer understands police timing. A body is found where cameras were down. A witness remembers a red haired woman but cannot place her. A timeline gap matches a night Lana said she was home sick. Logan does not jump to suspect her. That is the hook. He likes her, so he explains away small flags. Readers will see the flags clearly. The tension is not will he catch the killer in this volume. It is when will he connect the woman in his bed to the file on his desk.

A scene in a hotel parking lot stayed with me. Logan calls Lana after a grim autopsy review, voice thin, asking to hear something normal. She talks him through making pasta, step by step, while parked outside a target house. Kindness and predation share one phone call. Abby does not comment on the moral split. She lets it sit. I found that restraint stronger than any speech about justice.

Who Lana hunts and why it scares the town

Without naming every victim, the pattern is clear. The men Lana targets were part of a group assault and cover up from ten years ago that destroyed lives around her. Some went on to jobs with status while others married and coached youth teams, all assuming silence would hold. Lana kept names and proof in her own way. Jake and Hadley and others in her orbit appear as memory and motive, not as present day players who steer scenes.

Abby keeps revenge logic personal rather than political. Lana does not want reform. She wants specific men dead by her hand. She spares bystanders, she avoids harming families, she leaves scenes that point toward each other so police will eventually see link. That signaling is risky and human. Part of her wants to be stopped by Logan. Part of her wants to finish before he can stop her. The book lets both wishes live in her without resolving them here.

The town reaction feels true to small city crime. Rumors at bars. Extra locks. News vans. True crime chatter. Men with records lawyer up. Wives ask questions they avoided for years. A detective who missed signs a decade ago drinks more now. Lana watches this ripple with little satisfaction. Fear does not return what she lost. It only confirms that people will act when bodies fall in ways they would not act when a young woman asked for help.

I appreciated that Abby does not make victims into caricatures to justify murder. Some targets show flashes of guilt or fear that complicate the kill. One begs and offers money while another tries to threaten his way out. Lana answers with cold facts about what he did and who else knew. Those exchanges are brief, not torture scenes. The violence is quick and purposeful on the page.

The throughline to Sidetracked is planted plainly. Lana has more names. Logan has more questions. Their relationship deepens just as professional pressure peaks. The final chapters end mid arc, with a discovery that reframes Lana risk and a personal choice that cannot be undone. You will need book two for resolution. That abrupt stop annoyed me slightly, yet it fits a 132 page opener built as part one of a serial.

What works in 132 pages and what wears thin

Pace is the clear strength. Short chapters, dual voices, dates cut against stakeouts, no filler about office budgets. I read fast because Abby cuts entrances and exits. A scene starts in the middle of a watch, ends on a text from Logan, cuts to a briefing. That economy suits indie romance thriller readers who want heat and danger without a 400 page procedural.

Character voice is the second strength. Lana sounds distinct from Logan on every page. She is wry, tired, precise. He is warm, diligent, slightly naive about how far someone will go for revenge. Side figures get quick sketches that work. A local cop who resents feds. A motel clerk who remembers too much. A sister who teases Logan about settling down. No one gets a full arc here, but no one feels like cardboard.

Now the fair criticism. Insta love is real. Logan trusts Lana fast, shares too much case feeling, misses signs a trained agent should catch. You can explain it as attraction and fatigue, but two or three slower scenes would have helped. Lana opens up fast too, for someone guarding a ten year plan. The romance beats sometimes outrun the thriller logic.

Triggers need care beyond the content note. Even without graphic flashbacks, the premise itself can distress. Discussions of past assault, of victim blaming, of powerful families protecting sons, appear throughout. Consensual spice between Lana and Logan is explicit and frequent for such a short book. Readers who want fade to black will not find it. Readers who want careful aftercare and discussion of trauma in the romance will find some tenderness but not therapy language. Know your limits.

Indie roughness shows in spots. A few repeated phrases about hair and coffee. A timeline that requires you not to check clocks too closely. A forensic shortcut where a result arrives faster than real labs allow. Dialogue tags that lean on the same beat. None of this broke immersion for me, because momentum covers seams, but copyedit sensitive readers will notice. The 2016 self published origin explains the texture. Later books in the Mindf*ck series polish the style while keeping the edge.

I also want to name the moral question plainly. The book asks you to root for a serial killer murdering rapists while dating the FBI man hunting her. That setup can feel cathartic, especially if you have seen assault cases dismissed. It can also feel uncomfortable, because Lana denies families due process and risks innocents with each scene. Abby does not resolve that discomfort here. She lets Logan goodness and Lana pain sit side by side. I found myself switching sides by chapter. That unease seems intended.

If you want a long procedural with courtroom payoff, look elsewhere. If you want a fast, dark romance with thriller pressure, explicit heat, dual POV, and a cliffhanger into book two, The Risk delivers. Read the warning, accept the short length, and clear an evening. Logan and Lana will pull you forward before you decide how you feel about what she does. I closed the file uneasy and curious, which for part one is probably the goal.