Chapter One
Four weeks later.
So help him, he was going to kill her!
“Get him out!” Stephen roared, punching the steering wheel as he fought his way through the clutsterfuck that was Manhattan traffic. Behind him a siren blared, his already pounding heart nearly exploding with the sound. Traffic stopped, coming to a complete standstill while sweat trickled down his face, the heat of the city too much for the air-conditioning in his thirty-year-old Porsche.
“We’re doing everything we can, sir.”
The words, patiently uttered, had him seeing red, the control he’d managed to hold onto during his interviews earlier in the day evaporating. Did they not understand the seriousness of the situation? Rage blasted through him as he punched the accelerator, his tires squealing as traffic finally moved, the car’s rear end fishtailing slightly before he managed to regain control.
“Everything you can?” he repeated, barely managing to reign in his temper, desperately striving for patience. He lost the battle. “He’ll be killed within hours! And that’s if he’s not already dead!”
And God help the woman who’d brought this down on their heads. Because sure as shit, he wouldn’t be showing her any mercy. Unbelievable that she’d do something so cold and calculating. To think he’d touched her, slept with her...
And now Alex’s life was in jeopardy. Six long, fucked up weeks since he’d seen him. Learning Alex had gone back to work, had gone undercover, scared him shitless. Alex’s head wasn’t on straight, intensifying an already dangerous situation.
Jesus, his life was a fucking mess, a downward spiral that seemed to have no end. Alex missing, putting his life in jeopardy. His parents battling, his siblings left the state, trying to cope with the new reality that their grandfather was a murderer. Countless interviews with the Attorney General’s office that felt a hell of a lot more like interrogations, making it increasingly difficult to hold his head up when he walked into his office, especially since he’d been forced to hire his own attorney.
And he could only imagine the field day the press would have with that.
Assistant District Attorney Stephen Chandler Lawyers Up!
Three Generations of Criminals?
The Untold Chandler Conspiracy!
So much for innocent until proven guilty.
Slamming on his brakes, Stephen barely avoided crashing into the yellow cab in front of him, ignoring the man’s finger as he thrust it out the window, the incessant honking and sirens adding fire to the rage that was quickly spiraling out of control.
“Mr. Chandler.” Different voice, authoritative tone. Finally, he was getting somewhere, at least with the damned phone call. Holy hell, how long could it possibly take to drive two blocks?
“This is Captain Alessandro. We are currently working on a strategy to extract Agent Chandler—”
“Working on a strategy?” Stephen exploded, his hands shaking as he gripped the steering wheel, cranking it hard to the right when he noticed an empty parking spot. “Do you not understand—”
“Mr. Chandler, you will listen to me or I will disconnect this call. Do you understand me?” The man’s commanding voice whipped through the car, irritation evident in every clipped word. “As it is, you have interrupted the very meeting where we are working on contacting your brother.”
Horns blared, tires screeching as he whipped into the spot, cursing under his breath when he saw the fire hydrant. Not that it would help, but he shoved his official tag from the DA’s office five counties away onto the dashboard and rushed out of the car, racing down the street on foot, losing precious seconds while he turned off his Bluetooth.
“While I’m waiting for a response, you are wasting our time.” Cold, still clipped.
“I’m listening.” At nearly midnight, foot-traffic was still thick. Stephen struggled to keep his control, the phone pressed to his ear.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, this situation must be handled delicately for the safety of all our agents working undercover. We cannot go in with guns blazing, putting innocent people at risk,” Captain Alessandro continued. “As I tried to relay a moment ago, we are working to get your brother out safely. We are aware of the threat to his identity and will do everything in our power to make sure he’s safe. I will keep you updated on the situation as it progresses and will call you when we have answers. Until then, please refrain from harassing our offices.”
“Thank you.” Somehow, Stephen managed to sound sincere, though Alessandro’s statement did nothing to relieve the pressure in his chest or the fear clawing at his insides. “Please call me when you’ve got him.” Stephen stabbed the red button on his phone, disconnecting the call that hadn’t yielded any information. One more block. Foot traffic eased as Stephen all but ran toward his brother’s apartment. At least he hoped it was Alex’s. It was the only address he’d found when he’d ransacked Alex’s house upstate.
His skin prickled as he neared, the hair at the back of his neck standing on end as he looked up at the apartment building that had seen better days. The outside door was unlocked, opening to a filthy foyer that smelled of desperation under the overwhelming odor of pot. The ceiling light flickered, casting a flashing glow on the chipped linoleum floor that didn’t look like it’d been cleaned in years. Or ever. He’d known Alex’s living conditions wouldn’t be lavish, but he hadn’t truly been prepared for the despair and hopelessness that seemed to cling to the walls, the filth that littered the floor.
Removing his gun from the small of his back, he slowly made his way toward the stairs, staying as silent as possible as he headed up to the third floor. Second guessing his impulsive decision, wishing he’d have at least called Xavier.
Apartment 314 was at the end of the hall. Rap music warred with a screaming baby and a couple fighting, the smell of marijuana growing stronger as he crept down the hallway toward Alex’s, wondering how the hell his brother could live like this, even for his job. Fear for him increased as Stephen’s heartrate accelerated, the sight of the slightly open door doubling that fear.
Raising his gun, he kept it close to his chest, pointed up, feeling like a poor imitation of a television cop. He was way over his head, taking risks he shouldn’t be taking. Nudging the door open with his foot, he took cover behind the door jamb as sweat once again trickled down his face. Waiting a few heartbeats, he entered the apartment, gun first.
And nearly fell to his knees in despair.
“God, no.” Bile lodged in his throat, the sickly metallic scent of blood flooding his nostrils, choking him, his head spinning in denial as he fell back a step, nearly tripping in his haste. Bound to a chair in the center of the living room, the man’s entire body was covered in blood, pooling in a puddle at his feet, his head resting on his chest, obscuring his face.
Black hair.
Strong body.
Alex.
The name roared through his head as he lowered the gun, the hot sting of tears burning his eyes as he took a step forward, only to freeze at the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
Stephen’s thoughts raced even as he felt the gun press into the back of his head, never removing his eyes from the mass of black hair before him, longer than the last time he’d seen Alex. He sucked in a breath, fear for his own life coming full force.
Although he was decent with a weapon, he had no doubt the man who held the gun to his head was a hell of a lot faster. But it didn’t matter. If he raised his weapon, no doubt he’d be dead before it hit the floor. Forming a half-assed plan, Stephen raised his hands as if in surrender, keeping his finger on the trigger.
“Police! Drop your weapon!”
Stephen dropped, slipping in the blood that covered the floor.