“This is a really bad fucking idea.”

Shane Stephens pulled onto Terhune Alley and parked next to a section of broken chain link fence. He glanced up through the windshield at the full moon before looking at the snarled tangle of dark woods to his right and the empty baseball field to his left. A low fog crept along the ground, rolling across the turf in a smoky wave—an image that couldn’t fit the scenario any better.

“This is some Mike Hammer bullshit right here,” he muttered, referring to the famous hard-boiled detective in the pulp fiction series by Mickey Spillane. Late night, mysterious contact…like he’d stepped onto the set of a movie adaptation. He squinted in the dark, trying to catch signs of movement. “Twenty hours of training and even more kissing ass to get a firearm license might pay off tonight.”

Glad for the Glock he kept in an ankle holster, he stepped out of his car. Muffled traffic noises sounded from the highway on the other side of the dense thicket. Other than the occasional birdcall and barking dog, everything remained silent because with the incoming fall season, the nights had grown too cool for most insects.

He looked for the man who’d contacted him and refused to give his real name. “Call me Jacopo,” he’d rasped into the phone. Shane cracked a grin and rubbed a hand over his prickly jaw. The whole cloak-and-dagger thing was silly as hell when there were plenty of public places for them to meet. This empty back road in an unfamiliar part of Cincinnati, Ohio was taking it a bit too far.

Better be worth it.

He’d had to cancel a date with a hot bodybuilder tonight. One with tattoos from the neck down. Shane had been doing his best to count them while the guy worked out at the gym and he’d looked forward to discovering the rest. He’d also hoped to coax out some of those hot, grunting noises the man made while lifting weights.

Straightening his brown suede jacket, he leaned back against his car and waited, still pissed about missing the date. He’d been pulling long hours lately and hadn’t gotten laid in weeks. But he really couldn’t complain about the work.

When he’d started The Merleau Detection Agency with his friend, Ethan, they’d had no idea the business would take off the way it had. Especially since a lot of the investigative agencies in the area came with more security options, such as bodyguards.

Neither of them had wanted to compete with the popular Ward Security in that respect. The company had managed to pull itself back up after all the crazy nightclub fires and was now the leading source for personal security in the tri-state area and beyond. He liked Rowan Ward and found him to be honest yet irreverent—pretty cool, actually. And he welcomed the business the man threw his way when his clients needed more of an accounting approach.

Meeting someone in the dark of night was new. The life of a detective wasn’t nearly as glamorous as it seemed in shows and books. He’d gone dumpster diving only once for evidence, and that hadn’t been nearly as exciting as the pulp novels made it sound. He hadn’t even had to pull his gun yet, though he was grateful for that. Most of his time was still spent sitting at a computer. But at least it wasn’t all about numbers like it had been when he’d worked as an accountant.

“You came alone?”

Proud of not showing how much the voice startled him, Shane turned and narrowed his eyes into the flashlight aimed at his face. He raised his hand to try and block some of the glare. “Hey, back off. You’re blinding me.”

“Sorry.” Dropping the light, the man stepped forward.

Shane blinked, fighting to get his night vision back after it had been temporarily destroyed. When his eyes focused again, moonlight spilled across features younger than he’d expected. The guy was no more than a boy really, with round cheeks and innocent eyes. Maybe eighteen or nineteen, he still had areas of heavy acne on his cheeks and forehead. His thin body was hunched in, his arms crossed protectively over his chest. Light blond hair reflected brightly in the moonlight.

“I feel like I should be wearing a fedora and smoking,” Shane said, waving his arm toward the field. “What’s with the film noir setup?”

The kid didn’t answer for a few, long moments. His eyes kept darting around the area, searching for…something or someone. “Come on. I’ll feel better if we’re moving.” He headed toward the opening in the tall fence wrapping the baseball field.

Again with the drama.

Shane would have rolled his eyes, but the fear coating the guy’s voice sent all Shane’s internal alarms off as he followed. “Why couldn’t we meet at my office?”

The kid looked around them again. “Because I think I’m being followed.”

“Stalker?”

“Just walk with me.” He went up a few cracked concrete steps and started striding across the sandy field like he expected Shane to keep step. He passed the baseball area and kept going.

For a kid who wanted secrecy, walking across a huge, open stretch of dying grass made absolutely no sense, but he was young and amusingly dramatic, so Shane followed, not bothering to hurry to catch up. It didn’t take the boy long to realize he’d left him behind. He stopped and waited for Shane.

“Listen,” he said. “I called you because we’re in the same cycling club.”

“We are?” He’d never noticed him. Granted, it was a large group, and people picked and chose which outings they attended.

He nodded. “You seem nice. I asked around and found out you were part owner of a private investigation company. I really need you to help me find my mother.”

He hadn’t expected that to come out of the kid’s mouth. “When did you see her last?”

“It’s been months and it’s not like her to just disappear. Nobody at her job has seen her and she hasn’t been home.” He hugged his arms tighter around his waist.

Something was really off here. “Why the hell all this secrecy? And why wouldn’t you go to the cops?”

“Because I’ve seen the same car behind me four times in the last week.”

“You need to report a stalker to the cops.”

“No, this is about my mom. I know it. She—”

A few birds squawked loudly in the woods behind him, so when the shot rang out, Shane didn’t realize what it was at first.

Not until he understood the sudden warmth landing on his cheeks was blood splatter.

A look of shock crossed the kid’s face; then it went slack. His knees crumpled, his body falling. Shane grabbed him before he could hit the ground. Another shot rang out and Shane dropped, covering the boy’s body with his own. His heart pounding in his ears, he slowly reached down to pull up the leg of his jeans. He felt better with the gun in his hand, but that feeling disappeared when he saw the lack of life in the kid’s eyes. Throat tightening, he lay there, indecision paralyzing him. He couldn’t stand to just leave the kid’s body.

More shots kicked up the dirt around him, stealing his choice. He had to move. There was no helping Jacopo now. He jumped up and fired back in the general direction of the shooter as he ran to the playground in the corner of the field. He ducked and knelt behind a slide with tunnels at the top. The plastic was thick, but not strong enough to stop a bullet, so he stretched out on the ground and tried to see where the shots were coming from.

Only, no more came. Everything was still. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” He gritted his teeth and pulled out his phone. He was close to a neighborhood, so more than likely the cops had already been called. Hands shaking, it took him three tries to dial Hollis Banner, his friend and only employee—one who’d been a cop until recently.

“What’s wrong?” Hollis answered. “Need to ditch your date? I didn’t figure you’d need help in that department.”

“Hollis,” he hissed into the phone. “Listen to me. I’m in a baseball field near Florence Avenue and Boone Street. You know it?”

“Yeah.” The lazy humor was gone. Like Shane, Hollis paid attention to everything—his awareness of every detail and his ability to ferret out information had been the reason Shane had shuffled things around to hire him over a couple of cheaper employees. As he had expected, Hollis picked up on the seriousness of his situation immediately. “You in trouble?”

Shane kept staring, then thought of the woods now on his left. A tall, chain link fence would keep whoever was firing from coming onto the field, but it sure as hell wouldn’t stop a bullet. The fear that ripped through his gut nauseated him. He hadn’t been in any kind of situation like this before. “Stay on the phone with me. I’m gonna run before he shoots again.”

“Shoots? What the fuck, Stephens?” Hollis was yelling now. “Your date is shooting at you?”

That thought would have cracked him up if he hadn’t been so damn scared. “Date was postponed.” He skirted across a short street and turned right onto Monroe. He ran down the dark road, wishing the kid had picked a spot with more lit areas like a goddamn grocery store. Why couldn’t they have met at one of the new mega Krogers? Grabbed a sandwich and wandered the aisles in bright fluorescent lights? No one would have looked twice at them and they’d both be alive.

“Shane! What’s going on?”

He panted into the phone. “I’m headed to Kenton Street. I came here to meet a potential new client. Turned out to be a young guy. Now a dead, young guy. I didn’t get his name. And shit, I just left him there. I ran and left a poor dead kid on that field.”

“There are bullets involved, so you did what you had to. Is there any place for you to take cover?”

“Not yet. I think there’s a building up ahead.” Headlights blinded him, and he dashed to the side of the street and completely missed the low, wood railing. He tripped over it, crashing into a mass of snarled underbrush and dropping his gun just as sirens filled the air. “Shit,” he groaned as he lay there. More headlights swept past, this time with swirling red lights above. “Cops are here.”

“I can hear them. I’m on my way.”

“Nah.” Thin, dead branches cracked as he rolled over and felt around for his weapon. He’d never find it in the dark. Of course, the cops had those high-powered flashlights. How fucking embarrassing to have to ask them to help find his damn gun. He pushed to his feet. “You don’t have to come. I’m sure the cops will run this guy off. I have my car.”

“Fuck that. I’m coming anyway.”

Another police car passed him, then screeched to a halt.

He pulled small branches and leaves out of his curly hair, just as a policeman stepped out of his car, gun drawn. “I was just spotted. Gotta go.”

“Spotted by who?” Hollis shouted. “Damn it, Shane!”

“Cops, Hollis,” he hissed into the phone. “I really have to go.”

Shane hung up as the policeman yelled at him to stop. He held his hands up. Fuck, it was gonna be a long night.