Quinn stood frozen in place among the concrete and cinderblocks, willing herself not to vomit as she listened to Shae describe the bomb strapped to the undercarriage of Engine Seventeen. Her brain twisted with an overload of terrifying questions—how could someone have snuck in here to plant a device that sophisticated and insidious while they’d been inside for roll call? How was that person watching, and could he see them all right now?

Was Ice watching? With that stare he’d given her the other day and the message on the bomber’s cell phone—die like all ten of you deserve—there was no way he wasn’t behind this.

Most importantly, how the hell were she and Luke and everyone else she loved going to get out of this without dying right where they stood?

Easy. Breathe. Luke is right. There’s a plan. Breathe.

The message got past her fear center, albeit only by a hair. Quinn inhaled, watching closely as Shae slid out from beneath the engine.

“Okay,” Sinclair said over the two-way. “I’ve got Captain Logan Pierce on the line from S.W.A.T.’s bomb squad. He’s got jurisdiction until the immediate threat has been neutralized. He’s en route to the scene with the rest of his team. The intelligence unit is also headed your way, ETA ten minutes.”

Quinn’s heart pounded hard enough to make her dizzy. “But you can’t come in. If this guy sees you—”

“We’re not coming in,” Sinclair assured. “The last thing we want to do is give this guy a reason to detonate that bomb before we can defuse it. But the RPD has to evacuate the block, and S.W.A.T.’s presence is standard operating procedure for a bomb threat of this nature.”

“Something your bomber likely knows.” Quinn didn’t recognize the masculine voice on the line, which meant it must belong to Pierce, who continued with, “With a device like that, there’s no way this is his first trip to the big dance. We’re not going to break any of his rules, but I’m sure as hell not going to let him blow up your fire house, either. So let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“Affirmative,” Bridges said, everyone else in the engine bay nodding in unison. “Just tell us what to do.”

Pierce didn’t pause. “From what you’re describing, this device is pretty complex. It doesn’t mean I can’t defuse it, but walking you through the process is going to take time, and you’re going to need at least a couple sets of very steady hands to make it happen.”

“That, we’ve got,” Luke said. He sounded so calm, so certain everything would be fine, that the pressure in Quinn’s chest eased enough to allow her half a breath.

“Good. Two of you have military experience, is that correct?”

“Affirmative.” Bridges nodded. “Both Gamble and Walker did multiple tours in the Middle East, one as a SpecOps Marine, the other as a Ranger. But McCullough is the only one who can fit all the way under the engine.”

“That’s okay. I think we can still make this work.”

Pierce talked Shae through a return trip back beneath Engine Seventeen. Luke lay down on the floor beside the engine’s rear driver’s side tires, holding the two-way as close to Shae as possible so she could communicate with Pierce hands-free. After a few minutes of slow back-and-forth, Pierce gave Quinn a list of tools to gather—all of which were thankfully standard issue for rescue squad and readily available in their vehicle’s storage compartments—and began walking Shae, Kellan, and Gamble through defusing the bomb, step by excruciating step. Quinn’s breath caught with each command, every tool Luke passed over making her pulse race faster and her stomach twist into softball-sized knots. Although it was rocky and definitely not swift, the team seemed to make some tentative progress, Pierce’s tone lifting with each step in their exchange.

Right up until an odd buzzing sound caught Quinn’s attention. “What the…” She looked around the engine bay, her heart launching into her windpipe as she realized where the sound had originated.

She scooped up the cell phone with a shaking hand. Oh…God. “Captain Pierce! A message just popped up on the cell phone that was left with the bomb.”

“I need you to read it to me, Copeland. Word for word.”

“It says, ‘Tick tock. Time to die’.” Quinn’s throat threatened to close over the rest, but she managed to shove the words past her lips. “And there’s a timer under the message. It just started counting down.” Her voice trembled. “From five minutes.”

Silence punched through the engine bay, swallowing all of the air around her until Pierce said, “We’re all just going to keep doing our jobs here, okay? You guys have been great so far and my team is right up the block. I will get you out of this.”

“Okay,” Gamble grated. “What’s next?”

Pierce gave them a few more directives each before he said, “Alright. McCullough and Walker, you’re good to disengage. Gamble, I’m going to need you to cut that final wire on my command. But first, we need to clear that engine bay.”

“Captain—” Bridges argued, but Pierce cut him off in less than a breath.

“Time is of the essence here, Captain Bridges. As soon as Gamble cuts that wire, I want everyone to fall out through the front door of the fire house. S.W.A.T. is standing by in an armored personnel carrier at your ten, and that’s your rendezvous point. We have less than three minutes left. It needs to be now.”

Bridges blew out a breath, turning his chin into the two-way on his shoulder. “Copy that. Hawkins, get squad to the primary exit and prepare to evacuate to the APC on Pierce’s command.” Lowering his hand from the radio, he spun his stare from Quinn to the rest of the crew on engine. “Everybody but Gamble out.”

“Go,” Gamble said, cutting off any would-be arguments from the rest of them at the quick. “No time for fucking around. Let’s get this done.”

Quinn looked at the lieutenant, tears pricking at the backs of her eyelids. Shae, Kellan, and Luke did what he said, though, moving from the engine bay floor to the doorway. But two steps shy of the threshold, Luke turned back.

“Gamble. I owe you that story and a beer at the Crooked Angel.”

“Don’t worry, rookie,” he said, the brief flash of emotion in his dark stare sending Quinn’s heart into a full corkscrew. “I intend to collect.”

The group hustled from the engine bay to the front lobby, where Lieutenant Hawkins met them all with turnout gear at the ready. The coats were a small precaution in the face of the big-ass bomb beneath the engine—don’t think about it, don’t think about it—but they were better than nothing against the heat of a potential blast.

“Breathe, baby.” Luke’s whisper found her ear, and he grazed a kiss over her temple even though they were in plain sight of every firefighter at Seventeen, save Gamble. “We’re going to be just fine.”

“Okay.” Reaching down, Quinn grabbed his hand, gripping tight as they listened to Pierce give the command to cut the last remaining wire in three…Oh God…two…watch over me, I know you’ll watch over me…one.

Gamble’s voice sliced over the line. “The wire is cut and the timer is dark. I repeat, the timer is dark.”

“Fall out, fall out, fall out!” Pierce yelled.

Everything that happened next was on fast-forward, a jumbled blur of images and sounds. Quinn surged through Station Seventeen’s front door, pushed on a tide of firefighters and adrenaline, still clutching Luke’s hand. She ran as fast as she could, her boots stabbing into the pavement and her muscles burning with exertion. Bright late-morning sunlight threatened to fry her vision, but she didn’t stop running. With every slam of her feet, she expected the full-body impact of an explosion less and less, and she chanced a glance behind her just in time to see Gamble clear the front door of the fire house, the building still intact.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

Everyone was out. Everyone was safe.

They’d done it. They’d defused the bomb meant to kill them all.

Even though the fire house hadn’t exploded and the normally busy block had been emptied of traffic and bystanders, chaos still rippled around her. Quinn had lost hold of Luke’s hand in the frenzy, but a pair of well-armed S.W.A.T. officers were guiding the firefighters toward a large, armored vehicle sitting in the middle of Washington Boulevard. Sweat bloomed between her shoulder blades as she hustled alongside her station-mates, but a flash of a familiar face caught in her peripheral vision, a hard prickle of dread following in its wake.

There, standing among the smattering of people either brave or stupid enough to be standing behind the bright yellow RPD road block barriers, stood Ice, staring her down from beneath the brim of his baseball hat. Only this time, he wasn’t smiling.

This time, his dark, soulless stare pierced right through her, and it promised nothing short of murder.

Everything in Quinn’s brain screamed at her to freeze, and her feet clattered to a sloppy halt on Washington Boulevard. Her survival instinct shrieked at her to run, to find Sinclair, to give in to the cold, sharp fear daring her to break down and fall to pieces right there on the street.

But she didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, she snatched her cell phone from her back pocket and started snapping pictures.

* * *

An hour later, Quinn’s adrenal gland was still firing on all cylinders. She was safe; hell, between the S.W.A.T. team and the intelligence unit, she was probably surrounded by enough grit and firepower to protect a small nation. Still, from the near miss of the bomb scare to the way Ice had tried yet again to intimidate her with his stealthy presence, her nerves had pretty much gone through a blender.

“Hey.” A bottle of water appeared in front of her, and Luke along with it. “Drink this. You need to stay hydrated.”

“You do know that if I was going to go into shock, I’d have done it by now, right? Plus, the paramedics from Station Twenty-Nine gave me the all-clear, just like everyone else.” Quinn lifted enough of a brow to mark the words as not entirely serious. Too bad for her, Luke didn’t bite.

“Yep. And you know I’m going to worry about you regardless of how many medical facts you throw at me right now, right?”

Fair enough. After all, she’d blatantly listened to Luke’s exchange with the paramedics who had done his assessment to make sure they’d done a thorough job. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

“Good. Then drink up.”

Taking a healthy sip of water, Quinn looked around the interior of S.W.A.T.’s mobile command post, which had been situated two blocks south of the fire house for safety’s sake. The last of A-shift had just earned a green light health-wise, and they’d all been shepherded into the S.W.A.T. team’s tour bus-like vehicle along with all the members of the intelligence unit. Although the firefighters wore no less than a hundred questions apiece in their stares, they waited as Sergeant Sinclair finished privately talking to both Captain Bridges and Captain Pierce in the back of the vehicle.

“Okay.” Sinclair walked to the center of the space, taking everyone’s attention with him. “Let’s get the most important information out of the way. Captain Pierce’s team has confirmed that the bomb has been fully disarmed. They’ve obviously got a task in front of them in getting the device thoroughly dismantled and safely disposed of,” he added. “So until then, Station Seventeen—and the entire block—will be shut down. RPD’s crime scene unit will also be working in conjunction with S.W.A.T. to gather any evidence from the scene that will point us in the direction of the perpetrator.”

“But you have a theory about who did this,” Gamble said, and Quinn had to hand it to him. The lieutenant wasn’t just tough and gruff. He was also sharp as hell.

“We do,” Sinclair said slowly, looking first at Captain Bridges, then at her and Luke. “As most of you have probably guessed, it’s our feeling that Station Seventeen was chosen as a specific target for today’s bomb threat. While the investigation is ongoing and we can’t disclose a lot of details as such, here’s what we can tell you right now.”

Quinn’s heartbeat accelerated as he gave a bare-bones account of her and Luke’s kidnapping, along with the intelligence unit’s belief that Ice was ‘a person of interest’ in both the assault on Carmen as well as today’s bombing. She felt her station-mates’ shocked stares on her throughout the debriefing, but she did her best to keep her fear over what had happened today far from her face.

Ice might have tried to hurt everyone she cared about, but they’d been stronger. Smarter. And the intelligence unit would catch him.

They had to.

“So obviously, we’re going to need to proceed with caution now that the threat level has increased,” Sinclair finished.

Lieutenant Hawkins was the first person to break the two-ton silence that followed, leaning forward to brace his forearms over the tops of his navy blue uniform pants. “Just tell us what to do, Sarge. Copeland and Slater are two of our own. We’ll do whatever it takes to keep ’em safe.”

Sinclair nodded, and Quinn’s heart went for broke against her ribs. “I appreciate that, Hawk, but it’s going to be a matter of keeping all of you safe. A-shift is obviously done for the day while the S.W.A.T. team and the crime scene unit work,” the sergeant said. “We’re actively pursuing several leads in this case, and we’re not going to stop until Ice is behind bars. That said, until we get him, we have to ask that you all keep a low profile. Walker and McCullough”—he paused to pin each firefighter with a stare—“because of your living arrangements, you’re obviously covered. But the rest of you will have to check in at twelve-hour intervals, and no unnecessary outings for anyone, especially not alone. If anything around you looks suspicious, don’t wait. Call it in. Any questions?”

After everyone shook their heads, Sinclair continued. “We’ve got officers standing by who will escort you safely home. Copeland, Slater.” He slid a steely glance at the two of them, his expression making her breath and her pulse play a full-contact game of tag, you’re it. “If you could stay behind for a word.”

“Of course,” she said, her reply mingling with Luke’s “copy that.” The group began to disband, with Isabella talking in low tones to Kellan and Luke giving up a quick, “be right back,” as he took a few steps toward Gamble. Shae appeared in front of Quinn, not hesitating a microsecond before grabbing her into a fierce hug.

“Jesus, girl! That’s why you’ve been off rotation so much for the last week and a half? You were kidnapped and threatened at gunpoint by some psycho?”

“Yeah.” Quinn disentangled herself from her friend’s grasp, torn between fear at the reminder and relief that finally, she didn’t have to hide the truth anymore.

Shae shook her head, her disheveled ponytail bouncing off one shoulder. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”

“The case has been…” Right. There was no good way to finish that sentence, so Quinn went with, “Sinclair wanted to be really careful not to tip Ice off.”

Shae waved a hand through the air. “Oh, the safety part, I get. After what happened with me and Capelli and that hacker-stalker-wingnut Vaughn a few months ago, I trust the intelligence unit a billion percent. But I had the support of everyone around me then. I just hate that you had to go through this alone.”

“I wasn’t alone.” Quinn glanced at Luke, who was talking quietly to Gamble and Dempsey a handful of feet away. Her heart squeezed, but God, the feeling was frighteningly good. “I had Luke.”

Shae followed her gaze, her smile surprisingly sweet. “I’m glad.” She squeezed Quinn’s shoulder, leaning in to whisper, “But when all of this is said and done and this jackass Ice is rotting in jail, I am so feeding you margaritas until you dish on the rookie.”

Quinn should’ve known her friend’s devious streak wouldn’t stay at bay for more than a second or two. “Let’s get there first, okay?”

“Mmm. ’Til then, call me if you need anything.” Shae hugged her one more time for good measure.

“Please stay safe,” Quinn said. They might’ve stopped Ice today, but if he tried again…

Shae surprised her by letting out a long laugh. “Something tells me Capelli isn’t going to let me out of his sight anytime soon. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

She winked, turning on her boot heels to head for the front of the vehicle. The rest of A-shift followed, giving Quinn various shoulder pats and we’ve-got-your-back chin lifts as they filed out. Everyone in the intelligence unit remained inside the command post with her and Luke and Captain Bridges, and Sinclair didn’t waste any time diving in.

“We’re going to need to put the two of you under around-the-clock surveillance for at least the next day or so. It’s not the same thing as protective custody,” he added quickly. “You can stay at your own apartments, and you’re not on total lockdown. But you won’t be able to go anywhere without a police escort and your check-ins will be frequent and mandatory. In light of the bomb threat, the constant eyes-on is a necessary precaution until we can zero in on Ice’s location and make an arrest.”

“Agreed,” Bridges said with a nod, and Luke’s brows went up, seconding Quinn’s surprise.

“And no one else needs that kind of protection?” he asked.

“Everyone needs to be vigilant,” Sinclair said, both Isabella and Maxwell’s nods confirming the statement. “We’re all on heightened alert, and Capelli will arrange for both check-ins and more frequent patrols for your family after they’ve been briefed. But we’re about to launch a man hunt for Ice that he wasn’t expecting, and he’s not stupid. We want to make sure he doesn’t try to retaliate before we can take him down. I know he threatened your loved ones”—Sinclair’s voice dropped low enough to send goose bumps over Quinn’s arms even though the interior of the command vehicle was plenty warm—“but at this point we have to consider the two of you his primary targets.”

Slowly, Quinn nodded. She was far from in love with the idea of having a perma-shadow—God, she was on edge enough as it was. She was pretty fond of the whole living-and-breathing thing, though, and anyway, she trusted Sinclair. “Okay.”

Luke nodded in agreement, then asked, “While we’re busy laying low, what’s next for the investigation?”

The detectives volleyballed a secret-code glance around the command post, and eventually, it landed on Sinclair. “Officially, I can’t disclose any details pertaining to your case. Unofficially…”

He looked at Garza, who answered with a jerk of his darkly stubbled chin. “One of the guys from the gang unit just heard from an informant connected to the Scarlet Reapers that this arms deal is going down on Saturday night. I can’t substantiate this yet, but he says the seller is Brady Sorenson.”

“Whoa.” Hollister’s shoulder blades smacked against the back of his chair. “The Brady Sorenson? As in, the guy who supplies weapons to more than half the cartels in Miami?”

“Along with most of the gangs in Jacksonville and Atlanta,” Garza agreed, the look on his face making Quinn wonder if this could possibly get any worse. “His reach is huge. Word is, he’s looking to keep branching out, and Ice is his guy.”

“Not anymore,” grated Sinclair. “What’ve we got from the foot patrols and city cams?”

Isabella frowned. “Unfortunately not a lot, although we’re still waiting on the footage from RPD headquarters and a couple of the private businesses on the block. There was a ton of chaos directly after the evac. We did a thorough sweep of the surrounding area as soon as we could, but there was no sign of anyone who could have been the bomber, or of Ice.”

“I’m one hundred percent sure it was him.” Quinn willed her voice to steadiness even though the rest of her felt like dry leaves in a wind tunnel. “The photos don’t lie.”

Hale reached out to put a hand on her forearm. “We’d believe you even without them, Quinn. He’s just really good at hiding, that’s all.”

“It was really quick thinking to grab pictures.” Garza flipped through the images on Quinn’s phone, which she’d immediately handed over the second Ice had whipped around and disappeared into the churning crowd. “He hasn’t shown his face in ages. These will go a long way toward helping us find him.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Luke said, leaning in from beside Quinn to look carefully at Sinclair. “I mean, Ice has made a career out of hiding well, and like you said, he’s not stupid. So why would he do something as brash as planting this bomb right before this huge gun deal goes down?”

“Because that bomb was meant to cause the sort of destruction that would have taken us weeks to recover from.”

Shock rippled up Quinn’s spine as the sergeant’s bone-chilling words sank in. “You think the bomb was just meant to be a diversion?”

“Actually, we think his intent was twofold,” Maxwell ventured. “If the bomb had gone off like Ice had meant it to, then yes, that would have been one hell of a distraction from the gun deal with Sorenson. But he’s also a mean SOB, and he knows you told us about the kidnapping.”

Luke’s eyes went wide with sudden understanding. “So he was trying to make good on his threat to hurt us.”

“It’s why we’re going to go after him with everything we possibly can.” Sinclair looked at Capelli, who had set up not one, but two laptops at the desk built into the side wall of the command vehicle. “Let’s get all the security patrols set up. And I want all that street cam footage run under a goddamn microscope. Find out who Ice is working with.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Garza, talk to your buddy’s informant. Get everything you can on this gun deal. Maxwell, you and Hale take another run at Dixon. See if he knows anything we can use. Moreno.” He turned toward Isabella, his expression as serious as Quinn had ever seen it. “You and Hollister wallpaper the goddamn city with the photos Quinn took. I want everyone with a pulse to know who Ice is and what he looks like. In the meantime, I’ll reach out to my contacts at the ATF to see if they’ve got anything on Sorenson that can help us with this case.”

Although Quinn hadn’t thought it possible, Sinclair’s stare grew sharper, his tone growing even more frost-filled as he said, “This asshole took a serious jab at some of our own today. I want him behind bars where he belongs. Let’s go, people.”

“So for now, Luke and I just lie low and wait?” Quinn asked, reaching for Luke’s hand.

Sinclair nodded. “We’re going to catch him. With those photos you took and the intel we’ve got on this gun deal, it’s only a matter of time.”