by C. A. Szarek
Berto’s ass hit the chair and he cradled his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
His fault. The entire fucking thing.
He’d been a fool to think Caselli wouldn’t make a go for Maria. The man was a ruthless bastard. Trying to kill Berto’s wife—almost succeeding—was a move right up his former boss’s alley. Hit him where it counted. His heart. His life.
Trembling from head to foot despite the hard surface underneath his ass, Berto fought the pain in his chest along with the rising sob. He was about to lose it like a pussy. Bawl like a baby.
The old Berto would hunt down the bastards Caselli had sent to do the hit. Kill them. Beat the ever-loving shit out of them first. Shoot them in the arms and legs to watch them suffer before the final head shots.
Now… Those two little girls, with their mother’s big brown eyes… They needed him. Maria, too. His wife would need him more than ever.
He couldn’t risk prison.
Even if murder would be just. Could he stand going through legal channels? Would it be enough to see them locked up instead of bloodied, broken, dead?
I can’t lose her. I just…can’t.
I’m next.
Caselli’s roses were a promise. Only a matter of time. Kill Maria. Come after him. Checkmate.
Leave the girls orphaned, if alive at all. Caselli had no scruples about killing the children of enemies.
“Son of a fucking bitch!” Berto shot to his feet, pacing the small room and thanking God he was the only one in it. He buried his hands in his hair, gripping the short dark length and tugging.
Helpless was putting it mildly.
The bastard had accused him of talking to the Feds. Berto hadn’t. But… He was going to have to make one call in particular. The choice had been made after Caselli’s final promise tonight.
He’d hedged on the idea from the moment he’d stomped his cell. Thought about it more on the frantic drive to town. Made up his mind when the automatic doors to the emergency room had opened, even before the hospital rent-a-cop had directed him upstairs.
Berto had never been a rat, even long after leaving New York. Not even when that female detective—MacLaren or something—had come with Cole Lucas to question him about Maldonado last year.
To save his family, he’d sing like a choir of birds.
Berto glanced up when the door to the waiting room opened. The guy offered a head-nod like you did to acknowledge a stranger, then did a double-take. Their eyes locked as the very tall T-shirt and jean-clad man froze.
No. Fucking. Way.
“Berto?”
“Are you here for my wife?” They spoke at the same time.
Cole Lucas had just walked into the waiting room. Like he’d answered the call Berto had yet to make.
The FBI agent-turned-local-police detective came closer, dark brow furrowed.
“Are you here…to talk to me…about my wife?” Berto croaked.
Lucas shook his head. “Your wife? No.” The guy shrugged and thumbed the Coke machine in the back of the room. “Just looking for a soda. Damn near had to search the whole hospital.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but didn’t.
Coins jingling in hand, Lucas headed to the vending machines lined against the wall of the waiting room. Then there was the click of a depressed button followed by the thunk of the can falling. He bent to grab it.
Berto swallowed hard. Wanted to demand what the hell was going on, but words dissolved on his tongue.
The pop and hiss of Lucas opening the can took Berto’s attention. He stared at the red and silver aluminium. As the man brought the Coke to his mouth, a glint of gold caught his eye. Left hand. Wedding ring?
“What’s going on, Berto? You’re jittery.”
When he managed to look back at the former FBI agent’s face, the guy actually appeared concerned.
What happened to the SOB who’d blackmailed him into cooperating when Carlo Maldonado had come to town?
Words fell from Berto’s lips. Rushed. Shaky. “He ordered my wife killed. I’m next.” He clenched his jaw until pain shot through his teeth.
Cole Lucas’ grey eyes sharpened. He squared his broad shoulders. “Caselli.” It wasn’t a question.
The waiting room door opened again with a creak, stopping any answer Berto might’ve been planning. What the hell could he say, anyway? He needed Lucas’ help. But he wasn’t going to beg for it. Even if the guy was a cop.
He glanced to the doorway, gritting his teeth when he took in who’d joined them. Though both men were dressed casually, they carried themselves as only cops did. Detectives.
The shorter one—but only because the other guy had to be six-three—was fair-haired and wore a pale blue button-down tucked into his jeans. His demeanour screamed cowboy. All he needed was a Stetson and a buckle, because he already wore the cowboy boots.
Not unlike the way Berto often dressed in his role as Mateo Mata, owner-operator of the successful cattle ranch, the Circle Bar B.
“Cole.” The detective’s voice was deep, eyes wide as his gaze went from Lucas to Berto. Obviously he was surprised to see his colleague here, too.
The dark-haired man slid around, shaking Lucas’ hand and muttering congratulations. Lucas nodded and flashed a grin, showing dimples. The former FBI agent’s stance relaxed, but only for a second.
What’s that about?
The third detective was younger than Lucas or the blond guy, baby-faced. But he looked hard in a way, regarding Berto with a sober expression after dropping his smile and squaring his shoulders. He stood next to Cole Lucas. Partners?
“Hey, Pete,” Lucas said, inclining his head.
Shaking hands, the two exchanged low greetings, then three sets of eyes bored into Berto.
He squirmed but tried to stand taller, ignoring the fact that these three men towered over him. For once, these guys were here to help. Right? He wasn’t being arrested or hauled to jail—yet. They always suspected the spouse first, after all. Though Berto would off himself before he hurt Maria. Then again, it was his fault she’d been shot.
Fuck.
“You caught his case?” Lucas thumbed towards him.
The blond detective nodded. “Are you Mateo Mata? Husband of Maria, a nurse at Health Solutions?”
Berto nodded and met a pair of very green eyes.
The man put his hand out for a shake. “Detective Pete Crane. This is Detective Jared Manning. You know Detective Lucas?”
“Yes.” Berto shot a look at Lucas, shifting on his feet.
“Don’t worry, Berto. Detective Crane will have your back. Tell him everything,” Lucas said, his steel gaze intense.
“Berto?” Detective Manning asked.
“This is Alberto Carbone,” Lucas said before he could speak. “You might remember his name in my Maldonado report last year. We managed to keep him out of the courtroom, but only because we had a hell of a prosecutor.”
Detective Crane nodded.
The cop’s last name triggered a memory of the prosecutor Lucas had just referred to. The Assistant District Attorney who had handled Carlo Maldonado’s case in court. Nathan Crane. Berto had seen his name in the papers. Was he related to the detective who had apparently picked up his—Maria’s—case?
He’d rather have Lucas.
“The shooting definitely wasn’t random then,” Detective Manning said, dark brow furrowed.
“No,” Berto and Lucas said at the same time.
Detective Crane ran his hand through his short hair, suddenly looking as haggard as Berto felt. “Might as well start at the beginning.”
Numbness spread over his limbs, but Berto managed a nod.
Then he opened his mouth.
Chapter Seven
“What are you doing here?” Pete asked, frowning as he strolled to his cubicle, steaming Styrofoam tall of fresh coffee in hand. Not that Starbucks crap, either. Good, old-fashioned, cheap grounds the city paid for were his fave. Good coffee was subjective.
“I just stopped by to look at the initial report from Neil. Good thing he’s so fast. It was here waiting for ya.” Perched on the corner of Pete’s desk, Cole sipped from a travel mug with Ethan’s picture on it. The kid was dressed as a cowboy, an adorable grin on his face the size of Texas.
“When’s my partner getting discharged?”
“I got some time, promise.”
“You really need to look up the word vacation,” Pete said, arching a brow.
“Damn, you’re giving me a harder time than Andi did. I’ve only been here about five minutes. Besides, Cass is with her. My sister’s helping out.”
“You need to be there for her and that baby right now, Cole.”
“No shit. Now, then and the rest of their lives.” His partner’s husband put the stapled bundle of papers down and met Pete’s eyes.
He couldn’t fault the guy for wanting to know CSI’s take on things—see what actual evidence they had. Didn’t doubt Cole’s loyalty or work ethic. Nor did he want to say no to the assistance. Pete just didn’t want Andi upset. His partner needed her husband right now. Wrangling a rambunctious four-year-old was bad enough without adding a new-born into the equation.
He sighed. “Sorry. Not tryin’ to ride ya.”
Cole cocked his head to one side and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just trying to help out. Believe me, I know where I need to be, and I want to be there. I’ll go in a few.”
After sliding into his chair, Pete set his coffee down, reaching for the report.
“How’s Nikki?”
Gorgeous as ever. He cleared his throat, refusing to think about their kiss. “I talked to her a few minutes ago, she was fine. Good even. She’s stubborn and strong. Insisted on coming to work today. Trying hard for normal. Sergeant Stein talked to the grandmother last night. I have her report already. BOLO’s still out. So far, no sign of the Hummer.”
“Dude, this is Caselli. Nikki and her grandmother saw Guido-squared,” Cole said. “You need to get her to a safe house, and slap a cop on Mrs Jenkins twenty-four-seven.”
“Shit,” Pete breathed. He’d been foolish not to consider that. The asshole had gone after Alberto Carbone’s woman, after all. He shoved his hand through his hair. Gonna be a loooooong day. “I’ll go talk to Chief. Gut tells me Nikki won’t agree easily.”
“I get that. But it’s for the best. Hell, take her to your place.”
Pete’s stomach fluttered and he shifted in the chair. His cock could certainly get attached to that idea. Off limits, remember? “I’ll see what Chief thinks.”
Cole stared at him for a moment, one dark eyebrow up, but his buddy didn’t ask any questions about his denial. “Good deal, but she’s probably going to insist on staying nearby—easy access to her grandmother. Andi says they’re really close, but Nikki has her own place. She can’t go home.”
“Agreed.”
“Also, you’re gonna wanna call Dawson. This is her case.” Cole frowned.
Pete smirked. Bet that hurt, even after almost a year.
Cole had lived and breathed the Caselli case. It’d been his case for almost three years, as Pete understood it. As an FBI agent, he’d been undercover within the vast Caselli trafficking organisation—both drugs and women—for fourteen months.
Before he’d come back to Antioch, Cole had been partnered with Special Agent Selena Dawson, or Lee, as most called her. She’d accompanied them—him, Andi, Cole and APD SWAT—on a raid of a local warehouse where Cole’s bad guy, Carlo Maldonado, had been holding Andi’s kidnapped babysitter.
Lee was a badass, as Cole always called her. Long dark hair the last time Pete saw her, big brown eyes and olive skin, she was petite and curvy in all the right places. Agent Dawson wasn’t a chore to look at, for damn sure.
He wouldn’t mind seeing her—working with her—again. “Makes sense. Maybe she knows what’s behind all this. I mean, Caselli’s known where this guy’s been for years. What spurred an act of revenge now?”
“Good point. I’ll give her a ring.” Cole paused, taking a sip of coffee. “I mean, if you don’t mind. This being your gig and all.”
“I don’t mind. But you better get your ass to the hospital to take Andi and Micah home. You have a family. And if I remember correctly, my partner can be…cranky after giving birth.” Pete winked.
Cole grinned, flashing dimples that made him look about sixteen. “Nah, she’s happy.” His expression shouted just how happy he was, too.
He smiled back. For some reason, Nikki’s face popped into his head. Shaking himself, Pete ignored the image of the redheaded beauty with flushed cheeks, looking thoroughly kissed. “Seen Manning this morning?” His voice cracked.
Cole threw him a ‘What’s-up-with-you?’ look and Pete fought the urge to squirm. “Nope. But I think he’s back to the burglaries we’ve been working.”
“Ah. So your partner’s not on loan to me even though you’ve taken mine out of commission?” He chuckled.
“Hey, now, are ya saying you can’t handle things on your own?”
“Nah. I can one-man-show it for a while. But I’m sure Dawson will get her shapely ass on a plane as soon as you get off the phone.”
Cole laughed. “Hmmm, I thought work affiliations were off limits?”
“Hey, dude. I can look and dream.”
“What I got at home is better than empty dreams. You should try it sometime.”
Nikki’s big brown eyes flashed into Pete’s mind once again. And her mouth. Plump lips he’d tasted. He remembered every inch of her soft curves pressed against his body. Chiding himself, he stood, resisting the urge to readjust the crotch of his jeans.
I hope you’ll be happy, Pete. And find what you’re looking for. Liz’s words reverberated as clearly as if she was standing in front of him again. Another memory he didn’t want. He frowned.
“Something wrong?”
Meeting his buddy’s grey eyes made him want to groan. Since when is Cole so perceptive?
“Nope. I’m fine,” Pete said, forcing a smile.
“Goin’ somewhere?”
“Gotta talk to Chief, Nikki, then head to Marty’s.”
“Marty’s?” Cole asked.
“Nikki said the Hummer cut her off after pulling out of the grocery store lot. I’m hoping they have cameras.”
“Ah. Call me with what you find out.”
Pete shook his head. “V-A-C-A—”
Cole growled. “I know. But do you know what Caselli’s men look like? Can you recognise them?”
Frowning, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Point taken.”
“Don’t worry about Andi. We’re good. But just make sure you call me when you get the footage, all right?”
“I might not need you. Have Dawson call me if she heads in and needs a ride from the airport.”
Cole mirrored his frown. “She doesn’t know them like I do.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll call you. But I’m calling your wife.”
Dimples made another appearance. “Please do. You’ve yet to see my kid.”
Pete left the CID room shaking his head. But he couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips.
* * * *
“Hell no.” Nikki crossed her arms over her breasts, glaring at her boss and Pete. “Absolutely not. I’m leaving here today like normal, going to see my grandmother, and then home.”
“No. You. Are. Not.” Chief Paul Martin glared right back. His hazel eyes flashed and his greying brown moustache twitched, like it did only when he was very irritated.
Nikki didn’t give a shit.
“Listen, Detective Lucas knows what he’s talking about.” Pete’s hands were spread wide, imploring. The detective’s green eyes were concerned, handsome face drawn, serious. The usual smile he wore was nowhere in sigh
t.
At least Pete wasn’t trying to order her around like her misguided boss. Who did Chief think he was, her father?
Pete sat on the edge of the chair, his gaze intense.
Nikki’s stomach fluttered and she remembered his mouth on her own. Warm lips moving, his tongue twined with hers. Desire claiming, spreading…arousing them both.
What are you, a hormone? These men are ordering you around. Make choices for you. You have no say in what they want you to do.
No. She was independent. Grown. Strong like Gram had raised her to be. Capable of making her own decisions. She knew what was best for her, and for her grandmother.
“I’ll be fine at home. I have a gun. I know how to use it,” Nikki said.
Chief frowned.
Pete shook his head and spoke before their boss could. “These guys aren’t your average thugs. This is more serious than you think—”
“They didn’t pay any attention to me or Gram.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Chief barked.
“I agree.” At least Pete had the decency to look as if he felt bad.
Dammit.
“What about Gram?”
“Rodriguez is already at the rehab centre. Crowley will switch out with him at nineteen hundred hours, and Monroe at oh-seven. She’ll have twenty-four-hour protection,” Chief said.
Nikki’s heart went into overdrive.
This is real. We’re both in danger.
She swallowed hard. Tears were born and the two men blurred. She and Gram were witnesses. Pete and Chief were worried they’d be victims.
No. She refused to end up like her parents.
Pete grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I—Chief and I—need you safe.”
“You’re family,” their boss said, his voice about as gentle as she’d ever heard it.
She blinked. Do not cry in the chief’s office. “Where am I going to go?” Her voice wavered, and she allowed the detective to entwine their fingers instead of pulling away from him. Nikki fought the urge to leap forward and wrap her arms around Pete. She wanted to feel safe, and the last place she had was in his arms the night before. Trembling started, rattling her teeth and moving down her spine.