Quinn sat on one of the hard plastic chairs in the intelligence office’s meeting room and wished she could go numb. She’d only been in the small, rectangular space with her station-mates for twenty-two minutes, but each one had felt like a freaking century. Between the slow crawl of time, the lack of any further updates, and the cold terror that washed through her every time she thought of Hayley being anywhere near Ice, Quinn’s nerves were thoroughly shot.

Add in the fact that her heart had been smashed into no less than a dozen jagged pieces, and yeah, numb was definitely at the top spot on her wish list right now.

“Hey. How are you holding up?” Shae asked, sliding into the standard-issue office chair beside her. After the initial relieved greetings Quinn had shared with everyone on engine and squad, she’d gone tight-lipped enough that they’d all given her some space to decompress.

Right. Ice had Hayley, and he was going to hurt her unspeakably all because of Quinn.

How the hell was she supposed to do anything other than scream?

“Fine,” she said, and great. Guess the other F-word was back in her vocabulary. “I mean, you know. Considering.”

“How about Slater? Have you heard anything?”

“No.”

At least this wasn’t a lie. She and Luke hadn’t spoken a word to each other since they’d been in her bedroom. After they’d arrived here at the precinct, he’d chosen to stay with his grandmother in the sergeant’s office, where there was a couch for her to lie down. Although Quinn had made sure her cell phone was fully charged and readily available in her back pocket and she’d seen Luke’s in his hand when they’d been buzzed upstairs, he hadn’t texted her with any sort of update, or any sort of anything.

This thing between me and you was a mistake…

Quinn cleared her throat, the rock-hard seatback of her chair digging into her shoulder blades as she straightened. “Yeah, I ah. I’m sure he wants to be with his grandmother. The poor woman is probably worried sick.”

“I’ll bet,” Shae said, although her green eyes creased with enough intuition to tell Quinn that her friend’s spider senses were definitely tingling. God, Quinn hated being a bad liar. “But the intelligence unit is full of pit bulls and piranhas. They’re going to find Slater’s sister.”

“Yeah,” Quinn said. Unless they don’t. Ice was stone-cold diabolical, and it was already a few minutes after eleven. The intelligence unit might be good, but could they really dial up a miracle?

“Copeland.”

Quinn jumped about a mile out of her skin before turning toward the source of the voice beside her. “Jeez! Gamble, you startled me.” For a guy whose shoulders filled an entire doorframe jamb to jamb, he was unnaturally stealthy.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to know if you need anything.”

Gamble had never been a man of many words—or, okay, any more words than were blatantly necessary. But the concern in his stare was obvious enough to send a twinge through Quinn’s chest.

“That’s really sweet of you. But you don’t have to take care of me.”

One dark brow lifted. “Why not? You take care of all of us.”

“Oh.” The words sent a pang through her gut, reminding her how spectacularly she’d failed at keeping all of them safe, and damn it, the last thing she needed right now was to cry in front of everyone in this room.

“You know what, I think I’m going to walk the halls,” she said, pushing her way out of her chair/torture device.

“Do you want some company?” Shae asked, but Quinn slapped together what she hoped was a convincing smile.

“No, thanks. I just want to clear my head.” And cry. A lot.

Shae nodded. “Okay. Just let me know if you change your mind.”

Quinn slipped past the door, making it about six steps down the empty hallway before allowing the tears in her eyes to fall. But she didn’t want to attract attention from anyone who might pass by and see her bawling like a baby, so she forced her feet to keep moving, down to the end of the hall leading to the main room of the intelligence office.

“We’ve got a time-sensitive situation here, with an asset in grave danger. Give me something I can use.”

Sinclair’s sandpaper voice caught Quinn’s attention, full-on. She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop—when they were talking about a case, it might even be illegal for all she knew. But still, this was Hayley they were talking about. She had to know what was happening.

“The phone used to shoot the video was a burner, so that’s a dead end,” Addison said, and Sinclair made a noise of displeasure.

“How did Ice get past the alarm?”

“Looks like he used a pretty simple signal jammer.” That was Capelli. “They’re illegal, but unfortunately not that hard to find. Even easier to use once you’ve had a tutorial. But they don’t leave a trail, so that’s another dead end.”

Quinn’s heart pounded in her ears. The intelligence unit had to have a plan. They had to.

“Tell me you have good news on the video,” Sinclair said.

The rapid-fire clack of a keyboard accompanied Capelli’s answer. “I’m getting closer, but the signal was bounced around more than an NFL game ball. It’s going to take a little more time to locate the asset.”

The asset? Wait, were they talking about Hayley?

“It’s twenty-three twenty. We don’t have any time,” Sinclair pointed out. “What else?”

“I’ve got something,” Garza said. “Word just came in from the gang unit. There’s buzz all over the place that this deal between the Vipers and Sorenson is off. Apparently Sorenson backed out.”

“Whoa,” Addison murmured. “Too much heat on Ice?”

“Looks that way. But it makes sense. He blamed Copeland in the video, and she’s the one who took the pictures. Now he’s looking for revenge.”

Quinn’s chest constricted beneath her T-shirt, and she placed one hand against the wall for support. Oh God. Oh God oh God, this was all her fault.

“He did say he had to get ready,” Isabella said. “Which means he wasn’t when he sent the video.”

“And that means he’s acting on impulse,” Garza continued. “Which makes him weak.”

“Or a wild card,” Maxwell said. “With an asset he sees as clearly expendable.”

Again with the asset thing. What was wrong with them? Couldn’t they see that Hayley was a bright, smart, funny kid, one who was terrified and in dire need?

“Ah! I’ve got him!” Capelli’s voice sent Quinn’s heart pinballing through her rib cage. “Sneaky fucker. The video signal came from an abandoned warehouse on the edge of North Point, over on Beaumont. The address matches the original kidnapping site where Damien snatched Copeland and Slater.”

“Jesus, he really is getting brash,” Garza muttered. “We need to extract that asset right now.”

The sound of chairs scraping over linoleum told Quinn they meant business, but Sinclair stopped their movements with one word.

“Wait.”

“Wait? Sarge, we’re in a bit of a time crunch here, and there’s an asset on the line,” Hollister said.

“Exactly,” the sergeant replied. “There is an asset on the line, and we can’t barge in there like gangbusters without knowing what we’re dealing with. Ice could have the place swarming with Vipers, or worse. Let’s not forget this asshole planted a bomb at Seventeen. If we aren’t smart about this, we’re only creating a bigger risk, for the asset and for ourselves. We need site recon and a tactical plan, which means we need time.”

“But you just said we don’t have any,” Addison pointed out.

“We’re going to have to make some.”

Quinn released a shaky exhale into the empty hallway. She knew whatever plan the intelligence unit came up with would work. They knew where Ice was, and they’d take him down. All they needed to make that happen was a little time. Time they didn’t have.

Time she could give them.

What Ice wanted above all else was to make her pay. She’d been the one to go to the police in the first place after he’d told her not to. She’d been the one to take the pictures of him that had apparently cost him this big gun deal.

And she was the one who could take care of Hayley, who wasn’t an “asset” or part of some tactical mission. She was a kid. A kid Quinn had put in danger.

Gamble was right. Quinn took care of the people who mattered to her. She could take care of this.

Even if it killed her.

* * *

Luke paced the floor in Sinclair’s office for the six trillionth time in forty minutes. Momma Billie watched him from her spot on the couch, and Christ, what the hell was the intelligence unit doing right now that they couldn’t come down here and tell them something?

Ice had his sister. He was going to kill her in less than twenty minutes.

And Luke would never, ever forgive himself.

“Is Quinn alright?”

His grandmother’s question sounded off like a canon in the quiet room, stunning him into place.

“What?”

“Quinn,” she repeated, her hands folded tightly in her lap over her dark gray slacks. “She must be worried about you.”

Luke dodged the topic, his old skills coming back like a bad habit. “There are way bigger things to be worried about right now.”

“I know,” Momma Billie said, her voice catching but her gaze remaining steel-strong. “But I can’t think about those things and stay calm, so let me worry about you.”

“I’m so sorry.” The words flung themselves from Luke’s mouth completely unbidden. But once they were out, he couldn’t stop the rest. “I should have been there with you. I should have protected her. I—”

Momma Billie stood, planting herself directly in front of him on the floor tiles. “Luke Matthew, you stop that right now. You’ve done nothing but care for your sister and me since you were a boy. You did the right thing by telling the police what happened to you and Quinn, and by trusting them to take care of it. The only person at fault here is that monster.”

“But—”

“No.” Momma Billie lifted a finger in her trademark I-mean-it gesture. “You are a good grandson, a good brother, and a good man. I won’t have you thinking otherwise. None of what happened here is your fault.”

Luke exhaled, all shock. Could she be right? “I’m just really scared.”

“I know, baby. I am, too. But the police are working hard. They’ll get your sister back. Have faith.”

Luke bit down on his tongue. He wanted to have faith, he really did. He wanted to believe there was a plan that would work, that Hayley would be fine, that Ice would go to jail where he fucking belonged.

He wanted Quinn. Even if she probably hated him right now.

Luke’s cell phone buzzed from the pocket of his shorts, and shit, he’d forgotten he’d even had the damned thing with him. Sliding it free, he went to silence it, but the text message on the screen turned his blood into ice.

I’m in Omaha. Tell the intelligence unit there aren’t any other gang members at the warehouse with Ice. And in case I don’t get to say this later, I’m sorry. I love you.

“I’ll be right back,” Luke said. But his hand was already on the doorknob, his body already in motion, and he launched himself toward the main office.

“Stop!” he shouted, realizing only belatedly that every detective in the unit was covered in Kevlar and armed to the teeth.

“We’ve got a location on your sister and we’re falling out,” Hollister said, throwing his badge over his neck. “We can’t stop.”

“You have to,” Luke tried again. “I have a message from Quinn, and it’s for you. She says she’s at the warehouse.”

Everyone in the room stopped moving except for Sinclair. “Give it to me.”

Luke read the message, handing over his phone a second later. A thousand questions raced through his gray matter, but they were nothing compared to the pure adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Ping Copeland’s phone. Right now.”

Capelli didn’t appear to waste so much as a single keystroke. Thank fuck. “Oh, shit. She’s at the location.”

“How the hell did she know where to go?” Hale asked, her blond brows sky-high. “Or that we needed that information?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Garza clipped out. “She’s there, and frankly, she’s buying us time.”

“She gave up the code word, so her intel is legit,” Isabella said. “Sarge, the clock is ticking. We need—”

“To go,” Sinclair said. “Let’s fall out, people. Right now.”

“I’m going with you,” Luke said, scrambling to catch up as the detectives followed Sinclair down the hallway.

Garza looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Too dangerous. Ice already has his hands on one asset, and he may well double that if he finds Quinn.”

“An asset?” Was this guy seriously for real?

“It’s what we call people who have been kidnapped,” Isabella said, not unkindly, as she started to hustle down the stairs. “We do it to keep ourselves on the level and our heads in the game. We have to keep our emotions out of it so we can do our jobs. That’s all.”

Luke pressed forward to the bottom of the stairs, standing in Isabella and Garza’s path even though he knew it would probably earn him a top-shelf ass chewing later. “I get that you have to keep your emotions out of this, but I can’t. My sister and the woman I love are out there. So you can either throw me in jail or take me with you. Those are your choices right now.”

“You’re staying in the car,” Isabella said, sending a spiral of relief through Luke’s gut and a solid shot of are-you-kidding-me over Garza’s face as they started to move again. “Trust me, Garza. Once you find someone who makes you this crazy, there won’t be any arguing with you, either. Now come on. Let’s go catch a bad guy.”