“It’s okay, Ryan. Go home.”
A mixture of emotions flashed across his face. Evelyn recognized the remorse and frustration. She bit her lip. Now was not the time to go soft on her partner. He needed to cool down, for all their sakes.
Without another word, Ryan turned and stormed to the stairwell. He slammed his open palm into the door, which bounced off the wall as he exited. And just like that, he was gone.
Marcus walked over and sat in the seat Ryan had vacated.
“Did you know he was going to go off like that?” she asked.
He raised his hands in defense, then shook his head.
She sighed. Of course he didn’t know. She’d seen the startled look on his face as Ryan went off on his tangent. That wasn’t something you could fake.
“How bad is it?” he asked.
“He’ll be fine. He cools off quickly. Kate, on the other hand, may be pissed at you for stirring him up by sending him home. But you made the right call.”
She pushed her chair back and stretched before grabbing her jacket and putting it on. “I need a drink. Since you’re my taxi service tonight, care to join me?”
Marcus grinned. “You know I do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
COFFEE AT STARBUCKS wasn’t exactly the type of drink Marcus had in mind when Evelyn invited him to join her. He’d hoped for something more. But she’d been right in insisting that it be coffee, not hard liquor, that pacified them tonight. He didn’t care really. As long as he got to spend time with Evelyn, he was one happy man.
So here they were, tucked securely in the far corner, backs to the wall, eyes on the door, silently nursing their drinks. Old habits died hard, and every muscle in his body was taut, ready for action if called upon.
“Sorry about Ryan.” Evelyn looked down and swirled the steaming liquid. “He can be a bit of a hothead.”
Marcus chuckled. “You think?”
Her gaze snapped to his face and her eyes flashed. “He’s a good cop.”
“Easy, tiger. No need to defend him, Ev. Ryan’s solid.”
Marcus should have been pissed that Ryan mouthed off on live television, but he wasn’t. How could he be, when Evelyn’s partner had merely beaten him to it? The very idea that this sociopath still ran loose sent chills down Marcus’s spine.
The door chime sounded. Both Evelyn and Marcus glanced over as a younger couple walked in.
“It’s almost as if these murders are fueling him.” Evelyn took a sip of coffee. Her face grew hard. “But what’s the trigger? Why is the rage intensifying? Is he searching for revenge? For a release? Nothing makes sense with this guy, and it’s driving me insane.”
Marcus needed to change the subject, and fast. Even the best needed a break, a moment to give their brain time to reboot. He’d hoped to give that time to Evelyn now, not rehash pieces of the case.
“Tell me about this fed friend of yours.”
She sat back, clearly startled at the about-face in conversation. “Not following.”
“The friend you talked about the first day we met. In the conference room.” He winked at her and motioned with his hands. “I think your exact words were, ‘I don’t think FBI agents are idiots, Special Agent Moretti. As a matter of fact, one of my closest friends is FBI.’”
“Oh, yes.” Evelyn laughed. “You must mean Fiona?”
Marcus reached for his steaming cup of coffee and scanned the room before returning his gaze on Evelyn’s face. “So, where is this friend of yours based out of?”
“San Diego. She’s the Bureau liaison with ICE’s Human Smuggling and Trafficking Unit.”
Marcus’s eyebrows shot up. ICE? Sex trafficking was organized and violent, particularly along the border. Would-be terrorists and criminals often accessed the same routes as the traffickers. Working in that unit required a thick skin and some serious skill—both in combat and in brains. Somehow it didn’t surprise him that one of Evelyn’s best friends would be working in such a capacity. It seemed everyone in Evelyn’s inner circle was a step above the average Joe. Would this woman, casually sitting across from him, ever cease to amaze him? He smiled. Probably not.
“Impressive.”
“You don’t even know the half of it. She’s amazing. Her strength inspires me.” Evelyn’s eyes softened. She took another sip of her latte. “She’s a bit like me—survivor turned champion of other victims.”
“How so?”
He wasn’t sure he wanted her to answer him. If Evelyn had survived her family’s murder and become a homicide detective, her statement could only mean that Fiona had been a victim of the sex trade herself. Bile rose up in his throat. No one should have to survive that type of brutal horror.
“She was sold,” Evelyn said softly. “She was only eleven.”
“Eleven?” The word came out in a primal growl. Marcus felt his blood boil.
She pursed her lips. “I know. Disgusting, right?”
“There are no words.”
“We met a year after she’d escaped, at a youth hostel in San Diego.”
“She escaped? How?” Marcus knew the stats. The majority of trafficked victims didn’t escape.
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “Some stories aren’t meant to be told.”
“Fair enough. Go on.”
“So here we are, two broken, grieving, angry teenagers, trying to figure out what to do with the remaining pieces of our lives. If it hadn’t been so sad, it would’ve been a bit comical.”
She shifted in her seat and tucked her leg underneath her. “A sweet volunteer at the hostel recognized the signs of trauma we were both clearly exhibiting, and somehow, bless her soul, convinced us to see this counselor friend of hers who specialized in youth trauma. The volunteer opened her house to us, and we both spent the next two years healing. Our friendship blossomed. Ultimately, our goals took us in different directions.”
She smiled, looking nostalgic. “There’s this bond between Fiona and I that distance can’t break.”
“You’re pretty incredible. You know that, right?”
The blush creeping up her neck surprised him. He swallowed the chuckle in his throat. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to him that she’d opened up. Let him in to her inner circle. And now, willingly talking so candidly about her past, she’d let him even further into the secret chambers of her heart. He didn’t take that lightly. Nor did he want anything—even a well-meaning, affectionate chuckle—to ruin that. Especially when he had every intention of staying in that inner circle for good. There was no better time than now to test the waters with just how far she’d let him wander into that gorgeous, generous and strong heart of hers.
“And to be completely truthful with you, Detective Davis, I’m falling for you.” He all but whispered the words, his voice raspy. He studied her face, watching for a reaction.
She put down her coffee, wove her fingers together and leaned her chin on them. Blue eyes sparkled with a fascinating combination of reservation and excitement. Marcus’s heart jumped into his throat.
“Well...don’t let it go to your head, Special Agent Moretti, but I’m beginning to think the same about you.”
She threw him a coy smile, then winked before picking up her latte and taking another sip.
His heart kicked into overdrive. Be cool, man, just be cool. Promise shimmered in her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to know all of her. Marcus shifted in his chair. He couldn’t wait to nail this psycho and wrap up this case.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
RYAN BLINKED. THE tiny movement sent excruciating agony through every part of his body. Pain and confusion clouded his mind, making his thoughts muddy. He blinked again and tried to get up off the floor. Why was he on the floor? What was that putrid smell? Why did everything hurt? He shook his head to clear his mind, then vo
mited as the room began to spin. Pain boiled over, searing every nerve ending. He managed to pull himself up to his hands and knees and cried out before collecting his breath. Crimson droplets and tears fell from the tip of his nose and dripped onto the floor. He tasted copper in his mouth.
Blood was everywhere.
The room spun, tilted on its axis. Speckled lights flitted in and out of his vision. With each ragged breath, his chest convulsed in violent spasms. He felt as if he were breathing through Jell-O.
What was happening?
Nothing made sense.
When he’d left Kate and Ava in the kitchen, they were devouring vanilla gelato straight out of the container. The last thing he recalled was kissing Liam and laying him down to bed. He remembered turning on the sound machine, then softly pulling the door closed.
Then he’d felt searing pain in his back.
He’d turned. Another jolt of pain had hit him as a blade plunged into the softness of his belly. His breath had left him, but still he’d fought hard, Kate and Ava on his mind. He had to get to the kitchen. Protect his family.
He’d twisted and rolled away from another swing of the knife. Protecting his family was his sole goal. He’d driven his shoulder into the hooded man, then tackled him. They’d tumbled down the stairs and landed hard. He’d looked up and seen the butt of a gun come down. Then darkness.
Soft cries from the kitchen screamed for his attention. Panic tore into him. He dragged himself from the dining room, a trail of blood following behind his wrecked body. Pushing through the torture, he crawled down the hallway toward the quiet, desperate pleas. Kate. He could hear Kate begging someone. Who was she talking to? Suddenly, she cried out. A single gunshot exploded in his ears. His wife’s hysterical sobs echoed in his mind, then went quiet. Too quiet.
He tried to stand. His legs buckled, betraying him. Collapsing against the wall and gasping for air, he put his hands on his knees, then struggled to right himself. A figure loomed over him.
Ryan gathered his waning energy and lunged, desperate to get to his family. He needed to see them. Protect them. The figure sidestepped Ryan’s feeble advance. He fell. The figure’s boot came down and cracked against Ryan’s skull. His face exploded in blinding pain. He tried to raise his head, but the movement sent an electric surge through his body.
He opened his eyes and stared through blood and tears. “Why are you doing this? What do you want?”
The man knelt in front of him. His head cocked to one side, and his eyes narrowed into tiny slits.
“What do I want? I want Evelyn to know that she misjudged me. She should’ve taken me more seriously. She can’t take from me and expect me not to take from her.” He sneered at Ryan. “So I’m sending a message.”
He leaned into Ryan’s face and pressed his hand into one of Ryan’s knife wounds. Ryan swallowed the moan in his throat.
“Do you think Evelyn will get this one? That I stole the only family she had left?”
“Evelyn?” Ryan’s mind was muddy, hazy, but he knew he had to keep the bastard talking. “What do you have against her?”
“She lived. My family died, but that bitch lived. It’s her fault. She was supposed to pay then. She got lucky. Her family didn’t. But I’m collecting now.”
“You’re...” The man who killed Evelyn’s family. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. And just as she’d been powerless to save them then, he was now helpless to save her or his own family. His heart stuttered and dropped. His body sagged as despair ripped through him.
“Yes. I’m...I’m...” He mimicked Ryan in a singsong voice. “I’ve tracked her for fifteen years. But now I’ve got her. And there’s not a thing you can do about it.”
A cruel smile spread across his dark features. He raised the gun.
Ryan stared down the cold metal barrel. Hope trickled out of him. His chest constricted and his breath caught in his throat. He’d lost his wife. Pain gripped his heart and squeezed. He couldn’t lose Evelyn, too; he needed to warn her. But he knew he couldn’t. He’d failed her, failed them. He turned his face toward the kitchen that held his broken, bloodied family. Sorrow tore at his soul. A series of sharp cracks exploded into the still air.
Then Ryan felt nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE EVENING HAD been perfect. Marcus wanted to prolong it and take Evelyn down to the local hole-in-the-wall pub he’d discovered, then continue talking over a nice bottle of wine. But with a sweet smile, Evelyn had insisted on going back to Ryan’s. So here he was, opening the car door so he could take her back to her partner’s home. How did this woman have such an effect on him? He grinned. He liked it.
She turned, reached up and gently put her hands on either side of his face. Marcus’s pulse took off. Without a word, she pressed her lips softly to his. Disappointment shot through him when she pulled back. He wanted so much more.
“I’m glad you’re here, Marcus.” Evelyn smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling. “Let’s close this case already.”
She winked and slid into the passenger seat, then looked back at him, her eyes soft, warm and trusting. His heart jumped. Had she just...? Yes. He could see it in her body language, her face, her expression. She’d just let him in—completely. He’d thought it was coming, felt something shift between them during the evening. But it still somehow managed to leave him speechless.
Evelyn Davis had just let him into her heart.
As he shut the door, he grinned like an idiot, then walked around the front of the car and got in. She locked eyes with him again and he forgot to breathe. Swallowing hard, he turned the key and the engine rumbled to life. He checked over his shoulder, then pulled into the light traffic on Pike Place.
He grabbed her hand. “You know, all I want to do right now is take you to my place.”
Color stained her cheeks and a surprised, nervous laugh bubbled out of her. After a brief pause, she smiled at him. “And all I want to do right now is say ye—”
His police scanner squawked, interrupting her. “Shots fired. We have a possible oh-ten at 5345 Southwest Admiral Way. All available units respond immediately.”
The color drained from her face. She pulled her hand from his and lunged for the purse sitting at her feet. She frantically rifled through it until she pulled out her phone. “No, no, no.”
Marcus yanked the wheel hard, slammed on the brakes and threw the car into Park. “What? What is it?”
Her fingers shook as she hit the number one on her speed dial, then pressed the phone to her ear for a moment. She hung up, then hit redial. “Come on...come on...don’t give me voice mail. Pick up!”
“Evelyn. Talk to me. Now.”
“It’s going directly to voice mail.” She stared straight ahead. “That’s Ryan’s address.”
Marcus’s eyebrows knit together. Before she could utter another word, he threw the car into Drive and, tires squealing, pulled a U-turn in the middle of Pike Place.
“He’s not picking up.” Terror was etched in her face. Her eyes turned turquoise as tears threatened to overflow.
He flipped on his siren and lights. The siren screamed as he gunned it.
“Call again.”
She grabbed the dash as he weaved, dodging traffic. She hit the next number on her speed dial and clutched the phone.
“Kate isn’t picking up, either,” she whispered.
Marcus heard the panic in Evelyn’s voice. It sent cold fear down his spine. Please, God, let them be okay.
“Call again.”
She punched at the phone and hugged it between her ear and shoulder, then pointed at the looming green street sign. “Take Western to Lenora, then hang a left. Get onto Alaskan Way. Go, go, go!”
With surgeonlike precision, Marcus maneuvered his car through the throng of traffic toward Western. Dread sna
ked its way around his heart and squeezed.
“Without traffic, it’ll take at least ten minutes to get there.”
“Yeah, if you’re driving like a fucking civilian,” Marcus said, pressing the accelerator farther to the floor.
“Get onto West Seattle Bridge.”
The car flew over the wet concrete. The streetlights flashed by in a blur. The minutes crawled, each second more agonizing than the last. His mind tumbled over itself, endless possibilities emerging for him to filter through. None of them good.
“Take Admiral. Follow it around,” she shouted.
The force of gravity pushed them into their seats as his car hugged the curve, topping ninety.
“Oh, God, please don’t let us be too late. Please...” She whimpered against the back of her hand pressed firmly to her mouth.
His heart pounded. He wanted to take it all away: the fear, the panic, the pain. If he could, he’d absorb it all into himself.
Marcus pressed the pedal harder and the speedometer flashed past ninety-five. He should slow down. The road was hazardous enough without adding the slickness of the falling rain, but he ignored the warning bells clanging loudly in his head and inched the car toward one hundred. Instead of speaking to Evelyn, he focused on driving, on getting them to Ryan’s house.
Besides, what was he supposed to say? That everything was going to be okay? That maybe it was a mistake? How could he say any of those things when none of them were true? His gut twisted as he thought about Ryan, Kate and the kids.
What the hell would he and Evelyn find waiting for them?
Up ahead was the flashing light of a cop car. He took his foot off the accelerator, letting the vehicle slow itself down. “Evelyn. Let me go in—”
Evelyn whimpered again and angrily dabbed at her eyes before glaring at him.
“No way. I’m going in. We don’t know anything yet.” She unbuckled her seat belt and stared straight ahead as they approached. One hand rested on the door handle, the other tightened into a fist in her lap.
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