“What do you mean, she’s not here?”

The desk clerk shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you, Man. There’s no answer in her room and I’m not letting you in there without her say-so.”

Seth nodded. He wasn’t going to protest. A desk clerk that actually gave a damn was probably the only thing this place had going for it. He could too easily imagine God knows who pulling up in the middle of the night and insisting that the clerk take them to Maya’s room, that her “uncle” needed to see her urgently. Hell, maybe they wouldn’t even bother with that. If what he and Liam had been hypothesizing was possible, they’d probably just follow her and shoulder in the door when no one was looking. Seth smiled politely at the clerk, forcing himself not to react to the thought. Yep, he was moving her out of here as fast as possible. “Any idea where she might be?”

The dude shrugged again and then turned around, bellowing over his shoulder. “Ruby! Any idea where the chick from North Carolina was going?”

Okay, so maybe not such a great bet for Maya’s security after all.

“The library!” A woman yelled out from the back room. Ruby, he presumed. “She asked me directions this morning, after asking for more coffee. We’re all out.”

Okay, so Maya was in need of a new place to stay and caffeine. He mumbled his thanks and walked back out to his truck. The library was safer than the motel, and he could stop for a cup of coffee for her. And a muffin. Along with his gut feeling about the fire, he’d also bet money that Maya hadn’t stopped to eat anything that morning.

He swung his truck out onto the highway again, and after a pit stop at the coffee cart outside the building, walked into the library and found Maya, safe and—he was thankful—seated at the casual reading tables at the front where food was allowed. A pile of newspapers surrounded her and she was scribbling notes on a legal pad. As he approached, she huffed out a breath and rubbed a hand over her eyes. Crap. It was obvious that she was still upset when he’d dropped her off the night before, but he had hoped she would have at least been able to get a reasonable night’s sleep. He hadn’t wanted to drop her back at the motel, but she’d insisted, saying that she needed some time to herself. That was understandable, that and the little voice at the back of his mind confirming that of course she wouldn’t want to be around him after he’d dropped such a bombshell. He’d backed off and after waiting until she was safely inside, driven home and tried to get a small measure of sleep himself before his shift started. Seth’s grip on the coffee cup tightened. Last night was the last time that was happening. Maya was spending another night alone at that motel over his dead body. If anyone wanted her, then they’d have to get through him first. He may be the rookie, but he was no pushover.

Seth forced the thoughts from his mind and focused back on Maya. Her forehead was subtly lined in concentration and her pencil tapped against the legal pad as she roughly turned through the pages of the newspaper in front of her. He glanced downward. Her foot was tapping under the table again, too. Maybe a triple shot coffee wasn’t the best idea.

She looked up suddenly, the tapping stopping as she caught sight of him. Despite the tiredness around her eyes, the smile that spread across her face when she caught sight of him made his entire day. It was barely eight a.m., but nothing was going to top that smile. Nothing ever would.

Maya raised her hands, gesturing wildly at him. He frowned, then broke into a chuckle when he realized her intent. She wasn’t madly grabbing at him—though he had to force back something else at the thought—but at the coffee cup in his hand.

“Gimme gimme,” she said, still grinning.

Seth pulled out a chair on the other side of the table and presented the lidded cup to her with a flourish, passing her the brown paper bag with the muffin inside. “I come bearing cake. Well, sort of.”

Maya opened the bag and then almost stuck her entire face inside, inhaling deeply. “Lemon raspberry. My favorite.”

She took a large sip of the coffee, groaning with appreciation as it hit her tongue, and Seth had to adjust himself in his seat. He waved an arm out over the piles of paper. “So what you got here?”

Maya made a face, despite another sip of coffee following the first. “This is newspapers for the last year. Apparently, nothing is digitized yet. I wanted to search for any reports about the judge or local FBI involvement in anything for a few months either side.”

Either side of that night. She didn’t need to say it.

“Have you found anything?”

There was that face again, with a lemon raspberry muffin chaser this time. “A lot of noise, but probably nothing useful.” She tapped a newspaper lying open just to the left of the main pile. “You were right about the judge. He was generally accepted as fair and just—among the law-abiding citizens, that is. But he definitely had his detractors.” She shrugged. “Of course, nothing could ever be proven, but there were rumors that some of the cases the judge was assigned to were more connected than the casual observer might realize.”

He nodded. “The Dixie Mafia.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And you know about them how?”

“Judge Turner was from here, lived here for a lot of the year. Even if it wasn’t his permanent residence anymore, didn’t stop the ladies at the grocery store from gossiping. It was his pet project; most people around here knew something about it.”

Maya’s face relaxed and she reached forward for another pile of papers. Seth picked up her coffee cup and quickly moved it out of the way before her definitely much-needed caffeine became a casualty. She spread them out over the table, jabbing her pencil at the headlines. “They’re not as organized as in the North, but that doesn’t appear to make them any less deadly.”

Seth scanned the papers. Jersey Murder Case to Grand Jury, Scam Defendant Denies Murder Involvement, Parolee Links to Killing, Officials Say Simpson May be Deeply Involved in Case. Each headline was about a separate case, but if you read between the lines, and spent some time tying together lose ends, it didn’t take much to see a pattern.

Maya nodded, pulling her laptop over to her and opening the lid. “See, you see it, too. And the FBI were right in the thick of it, have been for years. Ever since the death of another judge and his wife in the 1980’s. Maybe before then. Who knows? At the time, that group of the Dixie Mafia had their hands in anything and everything they could find in Mississippi. Maybe they’ve expanded.”

Seth stood and moved behind her, one hand resting on the back of her chair as his eyes skimmed the research she had open on the screen. His stomach dropped as he read the details. A sitting state circuit judge and his wife, each shot in the head four times and found dead in their home. No sign of forced entry. It had taken over ten years to finally crack open the case. A leader in the Dixie Mafia had accused the judge—falsely—of stealing money from an extortion scheme and had ordered the hit.

A judge, killed in his home, as revenge by the Dixie Mafia.

Seth felt the chill down to his bones.

Maybe they had expanded. Maybe they were here.