Red and blue sirens spun around her, marring the otherwise serene early morning in Austin, Texas. Marisol Santos yanked on the frayed edges of the hastily donned t-shirt and willed an end to the nightmare as she studied the dance of blue and red along the cracked pavement outside Shady Apartments.

The colors should inspire security and comfort, but they didn’t. Not for Mari.

Another vehicle arrived, an unmarked one. Dread clawed her insides, wrapped around her lungs, and squeezed until every breath was pained.

No, that wasn’t dread. It was a war wound—one of many she’d collected when hell broke loose. Her gaze swept to the long, windy route leading to the front of the complex. The lone path back to her patch of existence remained empty. “There’s fingerprints. I can show you where.”

“Ma’am, I’m afraid we can’t call out a crime unit. Procedure is very clear. Without blood or fluids on scene, there’s nothing we can do, especially not for a theft.” The beat cop’s lips thinned as he scrawled something else in his pad. “Are you sure there’s no one I can call for you?”

She swallowed and somehow forced her mind past what he’d just said. There’d be no crime scene unit because the only crime tonight per his little notebook was the loss of a cell phone. Loyalty ran deep in brothers in blue, a fact she’d learned long, long ago, but that didn’t stop her from trying one more time. “There’s fingerprints. I can show you where.”

The man’s lips thinned once more. “Very well, show me.”

Another layer of numb settled around her, shielding her from his placating tone. Mari followed his progression into her open apartment door. “Someone keeps leaving the door open. My cat.”

That someone was likely the cop’s partner who’d spent more time tromping in and out of her place than anyone. To say the Austin Police Department was less than interested someone had broken into her tiny unit at 3:04 a.m. was an understatement. The fact the bastard had…

Nope. Not going there.

So she focused on the danged door. In terms of obsession, it’d become her primary one. Worrying about June Bug fleeing the small one-bedroom like any sane-minded person or animal would kept her mind off the real troubles—troubles the young cop in front of her wasn’t picking up on even though she’d tried every which way to get the discussion moving.

Without blood or fluids on scene, there’s nothing we can do, especially not for a theft.

She repeated his words in her mind, accepted them as a brick wall, one she’d slammed up against enough to know it wouldn’t crumble easily. She’d officially reached the end of her rope, though. Admitting defeat wasn’t something she did. Where there was a will, there was a way.

She studiously pointed to where she knew the bastard had touched. The officer nodded, but his lack of desire to do anything about the potential fingerprints spiked her anger. She was so far in over her head she’d likely drowned months ago and simply hadn’t noticed.

“Can I borrow a phone? I need to make a call.” She held her hand out expectantly.

The young beat cop had no idea who she was, who her ex was. To him she was merely another incident report he’d have to fill out before he got to go home and crawl into bed.

But an unmarked police car had just arrived, which meant someone entrenched deeper within blue had arrived on scene. Her anonymity was about to expire, which meant she only had a few moments to phone for help. Who would wade into this mess she called a life and keep her safe from a crazy stalking ex-husband high up within the Austin Police Department?

The cell phone settled into her outstretched palm, and for the first time since the incident occurred, she felt something aside from shock, fear and anger.

Hope.

She only knew one badass with the ability to take on the APD. The only problem was he was stationed overseas with his unit. Or team. She wasn’t sure what they called themselves, and she didn’t much care. Joseph was the best big brother she could ask for, which was why she’d had to be smart and not let him know how bad things had gotten between her and her ex-husband, Chester.

Mari moved away from the officer to get a bit of privacy, not that it mattered. She didn’t care if he heard the conversation because it was a last-ditch effort to get help. The number was one she’d memorized a few weeks ago when her brother had offered it up. A contact. A man Joe knew, one who knew lots and lots of people.

It was terribly early in the morning, and she wasn’t sure where the phantom named Tex lived, but he was literally her only hope at this point. Fear clawed her insides as her gaze swept the parking lot. Dread settled like a lead balloon as she locked gazes with Paul Gomez, Chester’s former partner.

“Hello.” The voice on the other end was deep and alert, despite the wretched hour.

“Erm, hi. I’m so, so sorry I know it’s late. Or early, really. M-My brother gave me this number, said to call if I ever needed help.” She stammered the words out as a tremble knocked her insides around and radiated outward until her entire body quaked. “I need Tex.”

“You’ve got me. You’re shaking so bad I can hear your teeth rattling through the phone. Take a deep breath for me.”

“Afraid deep breaths aren’t an option. I’ve got a couple cracked ribs.” Her pulse steadied as silence settled on the other side of the phone. “Sorry, I’m screwing this up. I…my brother gave me this number. Joseph Santos, but you likely know him as Hazard.”

“You’re the sister, Marisol. He mentioned you’d been having some troubles with an ex.”

“Yeah.” She tightened. “I need help, but I’m not sure who to trust.”

“There a reason you aren’t phoning the cops about this?”

“He is one,” she answered as her gaze settled on Paul Martin. Crap. “A sergeant in Homicide. I need help. Please.”

She’d pull what little she had in savings. Somehow she’d come up with the money to get someone to help her. She squeezed the phone tighter and tracked Paul’s progression as he made his way toward her.

She’d once really liked Paul, back when she’d still been with Chester and they’d been detectives in the Robbery Division. But he’d taken Chester’s side, as expected, when the tumultuous divorce played out. Ever since then everyone in a uniform was persona non grata as far as she was concerned.

“You’re at Shady Apartments in South Austin?” Tex asked.

“Yes.” She didn’t question how he knew. Joseph said Tex had wicked mojo, and her big brother had never steered her wrong before.

“I’m sending someone to you now. He’s former military, he and his brother were both Deltas, the kind of men your brother would trust with his life. Or his little sister’s.”

Mari took a deeper breath and expended some of the stress. Someone was coming. She wasn’t alone against an army of blue. “Thank you.”

“They’ve got a good program, one meant to help people with their back against a wall and no way out of their mess. They knock down walls, Marisol.”

“Mari.” She took another breath. “My friends call me Mari.”

“Well then, I’m honored to call you Mari. Your brother’s team is in the middle of a mission right now. You want, I’ll get word to him, see what I can do to get him stateside.”

He could do that? Mari gulped, shook her head fiercely, then realized he couldn’t see her. “No, don’t. He can’t do anything.”

“I’m thinking Hazard would come up with quite a few things he could do,” Tex clipped. “But Ethan and his brother Milo will likely do them all for him.”

“Ethan and Milo?” Those didn’t seem like kickass military names, where monikers like Hazard were more commonplace.

“Gemini. They’ll get you sorted.”

“Thank you.”

“Call me once you’re settled. On second thought, I’ll have Gemini call me. He’s en route, so ten minutes at most. Is that your cell you’re calling from?” Silence, then he returned. “It’s not. Where’s yours?”

“The guy took it.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Number?”

She rattled it off. “I can get another.”

“That’s good to know, and I’m sure Gemini will see that you do, but I’m working on finding the bastard who hurt you. You want, I’ll hang on the line until he gets there.”

“No. I-I’d better go.” Paul came to a stop a couple steps away from her. “Thanks again.”

She clicked off and handed the phone back to the beat cop when he returned. The young officer nodded his head and greeted Paul with a handshake.

“What’ve we got?” Paul asked.

“Intruder woke her. There was a struggle. He took off with her cellphone.”

Another bolt of anger surged within her adrenaline-charged body. She fisted her hands and forced silence with a bite to her tongue. Paul didn’t give a shit what had really happened. His disdain was a fourth presence within their cluster, so strong and palpable it was a punch to her resolve.

“Ms. Santos,” Paul quipped. “It seems your decisions are catching up to you. This isn’t the safest neighborhood for a recently single woman.”

“You know Ms. Santos?” The beat cop’s gaze narrowed.

“She divorced my former partner, Sergeant Rollins in Homicide.” Hand on hip, he glanced around. “Pretty desolate back here. We have any witnesses?”

“No, sir.”

“Very well.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “Call me later today, Ms. Santos. We’ll sit you down with a sketch artist.”

“This isn’t your division’s investigation,” she replied, her voice mottled with the anger she didn’t bother hiding. How dare he come onto the scene and dismiss what’d happened. “You’re Robbery.”

“I think I know my job,” Paul replied, a bite in his voice.

“He hit me and ripped my shirt off, then proceeded to force himself on me. That accelerates it out of the Robbery Division and into the Sex Crimes Unit, a fact I would have pointed out if the officer here had allowed me to give him more facts about what happened.”

Paul’s face reddened. “You were assaulted?”

She forced a nod. The beat cop shifted restlessly beside her.

“Sorry, Detective, she hadn’t mentioned that.”

“Ms. Santos has a history of falsifying facts.” Paul’s focus slid past Mari and to a presence behind her—one who’d just halted within the fringes of her peripheral vision. “This is a police investigation, sir. Head back into your apartment or leave. Your choice, but you can’t be here.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you’re done with Ms. Santos, Detective.”

The gravely voice startled Mari a moment because of its proximity. A hand settled on her shoulder. She looked up. And up. Geez, the man was tall, at least a foot taller than her height, which wasn’t saying much since she was five two. A black t-shirt stretched across an incredibly wide chest. Muscles rippled along his arms.

His strong jawline flexed slightly as his gaze remained locked on Paul. She swallowed beneath the intensity etched on his handsome face. Protectiveness. It radiated from him in every action he took, the protective stance along her back, the slight touch of his hand at her shoulder.

She was no longer alone, and even though he was a stranger woken in the dead of the morning, he wanted her to know that fact. More importantly, he wanted Paul to know.

Her eyes burned as the tenuous grip she’d held on her emotions slipped a little beneath the stranger’s rocksteady presence.

“I must’ve misunderstood you, Detective. I could swear I just heard you dismiss a victim’s statement without investigating the facts. Fortunately for Ms. Santos, you won’t be the investigator handling her cases. Ms. Santos and I will be over there until the proper division is called.” His statement brooked no discussion. A firm hand touched her hip.

“I didn’t catch a name,” Paul said.

“Ethan Davenport,” he replied. “I’m here on behalf of Counterstrike. Ms. Santos is in our protection now.”

“Is that right?” Paul’s mouth kicked up in a smug grin. “I hate to break it to you, Mr. Davenport, but Ms. Santos here exaggerates the truth. I’m aware of your group. You’ve done a lot for this community, and for the victims of domestic violence. She’s not one of them.”

“Is that so?”

Mari tensed beneath Paul’s indignant and accusatory tone. Didn’t military men and former soldiers hang tight with cops? Chester had known lots of former Army people, or so he claimed. She’d rarely seen any hang around with him at the house.

“If you’ll come with me, Ms. Santos, I’ll continue to take your statement.” The beat cop glanced at Paul. “Sorry for the confusion, Detective.”

Mari nodded and mutely followed behind the uniformed officer. Ethan, aka Gemini, remained at her side, hand on her back. For the first time since she’d woken up at 3:04 a.m. and touched an intruder’s ear, she breathed deep.

Then winced as pain lanced her side.

But it didn’t matter. She’d handle a little pain if it brought her closer to sealing the door shut on her nightmare.

Ethan prowled the area outside the second curtained examination room at South Austin’s emergency room. Though the waiting room had been packed, he’d managed to get Marisol expedited thanks to Daphne, a woman Counterstrike had helped a few months ago. It was one of the main reasons he’d chosen the hospital over its counterpart closer to his home.

He pulled out his cell and punched the first name under his favorites. As always, Milo answered on the first ring. Big brother by two minutes never messed around with waiting for the second ring, especially not when they had a client in need of their help. “The safehouses on Manor and Shady Lane are both available and ready for use.”

“She’s coming home with me. None of the safehouses have security.”

“Neither does our place,” Milo replied.

“We’ll be there. That’ll do until we can get a bead on systems.”

“Guess this favor for Tex is a bit more involved than we realized.”

That was an understatement. “Her ex is a cop from what I gathered. We need to get more from Tex.”

“We’ve got data coming in.” Milo paused. “He’s a sergeant in Homicide. Divorce was messy, restraining orders.”

“Kids?”

“No,” Milo responded. “Her status?”

“A battered face and a couple of broken ribs.” He paused his pacing and growled the rest into the phone. “Bite marks on her breasts and chest area. Potential hairline fracture of her forearm. She was taken to x-ray to confirm the arm and ribs.”

“Did they call in a crime scene unit?”

“Yes, grudgingly. They collected her clothing and are processing the apartment for prints.” Ethan stared down the hall where they’d taken Mari.

He should have insisted on remaining with her. She’d slipped in and out of her head since his arrival. One minute she was alert and standing her ground with the cops and the next she was zoned.

Shock.

“Will she be okay at our place with just the two of us, or should I call Jen and have her get a guestroom at her place next door ready?”

Their little sister, Jen, lived next door in a small three-bedroom bungalow. They’d acquired both properties and spent a small fortune overhauling them. Given their location within highly sought-after Hyde Park, it had been a great investment.

He and Milo had gone into business with Jen to form Counterstrike after they’d left the service a year before. Though they were still getting situated, they’d managed to solidify themselves within the Austin metroplex as the best nonprofit resource for victims of domestic violence, and anyone else needing help in situations where they were the underdog. No one should suffer because they couldn’t afford help.

“We’ll likely need her help at some point, but don’t wake her until I assess the situation closer. So far Marisol’s not exhibiting signals she’s nervous around me. I think we’ll be fine. Get the guest room on my floor ready, though.”

“Will do. I’ll send a couple guys over to the apartment after the cops are finished. We can get Jessica to run prints and evidence we gather, as a secondary precaution.”

Jessica Randolph was a family friend who’d started a private crime lab a few years earlier after her sister’s murder investigation was botched because of faulty evidence handling. She left her cushy job in California as Assistant Chief Medical Examiner and founded Second Trace with a couple of her associates.

She offered pro bono work to them as her time permitted, which was often since she was a workaholic dedicated to helping people uncover the truth she was denied.

Movement in Ethan’s periphery drew his attention. He tracked Marisol’s progression down the hall and toward him. Shoulders drawn inward, eyes cast downward, she trudged alongside the nurse, who seemed more impatient than situationally aware.

The woman in pink scrubs spoke fast and loud, but Ethan doubted Mari had heard a single word. She stopped when the nurse put a hand on her arm. Blinked.

“Do you have any questions?”

Mari shook her head.

“I’m going to need you to go over everything again with me,” Ethan ordered. “In case you haven’t noticed, she’s in shock. She won’t remember much of what you said.”

“And you are?” The older woman peered at him over her glasses.

“A friend,” he replied.

“Do you know him, ma’am?” The woman looked at Mari, who shuffled toward Ethan the moment he outstretched his arm.

She curled into his side and settled her head on his chest. Protectiveness swelled within him. He didn’t know why she trusted him enough to do it, and he didn’t much care. He’d fight the entire APD to keep her safe if that’s what was needed.

The nurse sighed and went through the discharge paperwork a second time. Prescriptions in hand, Ethan made quick work of getting Mari out of the hospital and situated in his truck. The sooner he got her home where she could rest, the better. Sleep might prove difficult for her, but it would help her bruised body begin the healing process.