Olivia scanned the picture on her phone. It was the one from the gossip magazine. Taken from fifty yards away, the photographer had caught Tracee and Victor in front of the hospital entrance. Tracee was leaning into him slightly, looking up with adoration.

The angle was such that Olivia couldn’t make out Victor’s expression, but he seemed stiff. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

A call came in from Alfie. She swiped it away, sending it to voicemail. This wasn’t the place or time to talk to him. He’d probably caught wind of Valiant’s visit with the judge, although everyone was keeping it hush-hush, and there was no way she was discussing the situation in the courthouse in front of her partner.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Danny pushed off the wall opposite her, checking his watch. “I thought the lawyer already had the deal set up. How long does it take for Valiant to spill what he knows?”

Olivia wasn’t completely up to speed on Henry Valiant, but what she did know was he’d gotten some information out of his temporary cell partner regarding an ongoing murder investigation. It might help Valiant cut a deal to lighten his sentence.

Information that might also lead to the arrest of Frankie B Molina.

Alfie called again, and she rolled her eyes, hitting the ignore button once more. The mobster had his undies in a bunch, no doubt, wondering if his immediate boss was about to be arrested. If the judge felt Valiant’s intel was enough to go after Frankie B, Alfie’s confidential informant status was in jeopardy.

Valiant and his lawyer were inside the judge’s chambers and had been for the past two hours. The courthouse was already closing for the day, only a couple of security guards manning the exits. Olivia put her phone away, and leaned against the wall. “They can’t be much longer,” she said, reassuring herself as much as Danny.

Her phone continued to buzz as she stood there and she finally turned off the ringer. It was nearing six before the door opened and Valiant and his lawyer emerged.

“I want protection,” Valiant said. He was dressed in prison orange with handcuffs on his wrist and ankles, causing him to shuffle as he walked. “This gets out, I could end up with a shiv in my gut.”

His lawyer was short, bald, and heavyset. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he dabbed at it with a hanky. “The appropriate paperwork will be filed tomorrow morning first thing, and I’ll look into getting you into solitary until the detectives have confirmed the information.”

Danny met Olivia’s gaze and rolled his eyes as he prodded Valiant to move toward the back exit. The man balked, jerking his elbow out of Danny’s grasp.

“I’m not kidding,” he said to his lawyer. “You promised I’d have protection if I came forward.”

Olivia was tired, hungry, and wanted to get this guy back to jail so she could go home. Victor had texted earlier to tell her he was on his way to Los Angeles for a meeting and hoped to be done and to her place in Carlsbad by eight. She barely had time to drop off Valiant, get home and cleaned up before his arrival. Tonight was the night when she planned to come clean.

But that meant getting this bozo to cooperate. “Tell you what.” She made a show of pulling out her phone and hitting some buttons. “I’ll see about getting you into solitary. Seems to me you’re being uncooperative, so I’ll tell Gambitt you need to cool your heels in there tonight.”

Gambitt, the prison warden, was a hardass and would have no reservations about throwing Valiant into isolation.

A convicted criminal locked eyes with her, seeming to reevaluate who had the power in this group. “You would do that for me?”

She nudged his elbow and they started walking. “Anyone who helps take down Frankie B Molina and his group gets a star in my book.”

The lawyer waddled behind them, trying to keep up. “That’s really not necessary. I can handle this.”

“You’re an overworked DA who has better things to do tonight than worry about your client.” They were heading for the back door, the transport vehicle waiting for them at the bottom of the steps. Once she had Valiant in the car, the rest would be easy. She held up the phone. “I’m making the call right now, so Henry will be taken directly to solitary upon arrival. I’ll handle any necessary paperwork, okay?”

They passed the guard, who nodded, more than ready to lock up and head home. The attorney shrugged but she could see the relief on his face. “I guess that works.”

Danny sent the guy a harsh glare. “My partner is doing you and your client a solid. Show some appreciation, huh?”

“It’s okay.” As the direct line to Gambitt’s office went to voicemail, Olivia caught sight of an incoming call from Victor. She accepted it as she maneuvered Valiant between them. “Hey, there, can I call you back? I’m not done with my prisoner transport.”

His voice was sharp, demanding. “Where are you?”

Danny pushed open the door and they walked out onto the top of the steps.

“Leaving the courthouse. I won’t be home until—”

Danny pulled up short, jerking Valiant to a stop and nearly causing Olivia to stumble into them. The lawyer brushed past her, gaze down as he jogged down the steps.

“Wait!” Danny called to him. At the same time, Victor said, “Stay inside! Thomas just got a tip that something is going down—”

She didn’t hear the rest as gunfire rang out.

Valiant’s attorney dropped first, tumbling down the last four steps, papers flying from his unzipped briefcase. Across the street, Olivia saw six men dressed in baggy jeans and matching black hoodies. All were armed.

Danny jumped on their prisoner, knocking him to the ground, and yelling, “Get down!”

Bang, bang, bang. As the crack of gunfire continued and bullets smacked into the concrete pillars, sending chunks flying, Olivia ducked behind one. She dropped her phone and reached for her side arm.

On autopilot, she returned fire, wondering in the back of her mind where the uniformed guard inside was. Why wasn’t he backing her up? Danny was lying on top of Valiant. They were going to be pincushions, chock-full of bullets if they didn’t move.

She nailed one of the men in the firing squad, a direct hit to the chest, knocking him off his feet. The two on either side stopped and reached down to grab him. The others closed rank, protecting their own, but also making it easier for Olivia to take out another.

In the distance, she heard sirens and squealing tires. A black and white must have been close to be there already. No looking a gift horse in the mouth—she would take all the help she could get.

With two men down and the other four helping their injured cohorts, the rain of bullets eased up. They were only a few yards from an alleyway and as Olivia peeked out from behind her cover, she realized they must have a getaway car there.

She wanted to follow them and keep shooting until she had every last one down on the ground, but as her gaze dropped to Danny and Valiant, she saw a dark pool of blood running down the steps.

Shit!

Keeping one eye on the retreating shooters, she stayed low and ran to the spot where Danny lay draped over their prisoner. “Danny!” Olivia shook him, but he was dead weight. She shifted his body and saw his shirt covered in blood.

Under him, Valiant curled into a ball, hands over his head. “Are they gone?”

Olivia checked Danny’s pulse, found it to be slow but strong. “Don’t you move or I’ll shoot you,” she said to Valiant. She threw a look over her shoulder at that disappearing firing squad, then placed her hands under Danny’s armpits and began to tug him behind the cover of the pillar. He outweighed her by a good thirty pounds or more and she huffed, digging in her heels to slide him across the concrete landing.

She heard Victor’s voice and thought it was coming from her phone, but then suddenly he was there, like an apparition bursting out the back door. “Get down!” he yelled, and the next thing Olivia knew, he tackled her, sending her backward as a fresh round of bullets peppered the steps, columns, and exit. Glass from the door shattered, raining down on them, but Victor was on top of her, protecting her.

Her ears rang, her head buzzed from the impact of hitting it on the concrete, and her mind spun. Who was shooting now? She’d seen the firing squad all run off.

Would Danny live?

What about Valiant, still exposed on the top step?

Without warning, Victor jumped up and fired back.

Olivia looked like hell on wheels. Victor knew that look—like someone with PTSD who was pissed at their own fear as well as the people who’d scared them.

It had been an hour since the shooting, and she was strung out but trying to be tough. Her partner was in intensive care, the prisoner she’d been transporting was dead, and the shooters were long gone. The lone gunmen who’d come back to finish Henry Valiant was already around the corner before Victor could fire.

Olivia swore she’d nailed two of them. All local hospitals had been put on alert for gunshot-wound victims showing up at the ER, but Victor doubted the two Olivia had nailed would be that easy to snatch.

“It was a fucking hit squad,” she said. “We were sitting ducks. Maybe if that damn guard hadn’t stayed inside hiding like a scared rabbit…”

She pushed out of the kitchen chair, ignoring Victor’s protests. He was trying to clean the scrapes on her face caused by flying debris. She’d refused to see a doctor, and by the way she kept holding her head, he was concerned she might have a concussion.

The deputy marshal was on a tear though. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—sit still.

He sank back into his own chair, tossing the washcloth on the table. They’d already been over this when they’d given their statements at the scene. “Danny will be okay. It’s not your fault he was shot.”

She rubbed the back of her head again, pacing his kitchen and making Taz nervous, the dog’s dark eyes watching her wear a path in the tile floor. “It had to be Frankie, but those guys…”

Her gut was telling her something. She kept circling back to the six gunmen. “What about them? You said they wore bandanas around their necks, gloves on their hands, and sunglasses to cover their eyes. No identifying features were exposed, and they were all dressed alike, except the bandanas were different colors.”

“That’s just it. They hid every single distinguishing mark. Like they knew I could identify them if I so much as saw an inch of skin.” She whirled and looked at him. “Like gang members with tattoos.”

He stood and took her hand, guiding her back to the chair and forcing her to sit. “That’s a strong possibility.”

“But Henry Valiant was tattling on Frankie. Why would a gang try to take him out?”

He resumed washing dried blood from her face and putting witch hazel on the scratches. If he could keep her in the chair and talking, he’d have her doctored in five minutes, tops. “It would make sense for Frankie to send someone to take out Valiant in order to stop his testimony. The judge pulled his cellmate from general population, by the way, in order to protect him, so we still have the opportunity to get the goods on Frankie. But it’s possible Frankie used members of the Kings, rather than his own people, to take out Valiant. He certainly made a statement to anyone else who might be thinking of turning state’s evidence against him.”

Her eyes grew wary and curious at the same time. “Why would six members of the Kings do a hit for Frankie?”

“Roman and I have a theory.”

She flinched when he dabbed the cut next to her temple. “Lay it on me.”

“We believe the two organizations—the Fifty-seven Gang and Suarez cartel—are working together.”

Her spine straightened, drawing her away. “They’re sworn enemies. They hate each other. Gino is trying to run the Kings out of town.”

Even banged up and worried, she was beautiful. He wanted to pull her into his arms and reassure her, but the deputy marshal wasn’t in the mood for a consoling hug. “They could be working together to capitalize on each other’s specific skills and resources.”

Disbelief made her shake her head. “No way. They would never do that.”

He gave up doctoring her, going to a cupboard and pulling down a bottle of brandy. He fished out a couple of clean glasses and poured them each a shot. Returning to the table, he handed one to her.

His phone rang and Tracee’s name popped up on the ID. Damn, with the shooting and the aftermath, he hadn’t had a chance to call her. He definitely wasn’t driving up to her place at this hour and leaving Olivia alone.

“You should answer that,” she said, looking miserable. “It could be Celina or your friend from Homeland.”

“It’s my ex,” he confessed, wanting to keep things as honest as possible. “She’s worried about a stalker, but she’s fine, trust me. I’ve got someone watching her place.”

When Olivia wouldn’t look at him, he took her chin and raised it so she had to. “You’re the only one I’m worried about at the moment.”

She gave him a hint of a smile. “Your theory doesn’t make sense.”

He took his seat again. “Criminals do a lot of things that don’t make sense, right? But it’s not unusual for the mafia to work with other criminal organizations. They’ve done it with terrorist groups, both international and homegrown, as well as motorcycle gangs, and various other entities.”

Tap, tap, tap. She drummed her fingers against the glass before downing the brandy in one gulp. “True, but…if they are, what about Cooper’s shooting and the bomb meant for Thomas? Are both organizations involved?”

The brandy was warm on the back of his tongue. “Cooper spotted a King at the park before he was shot, and the guy seemed to be sizing him up. Maybe he was IDing Cooper for his counterpart in that building across the street.”

She fell quiet for a moment, the wheels turning. “Something my CI said keeps going ’round in my head. I asked him about Cooper’s shooting, and he said, ‘We never miss.’ So maybe it wasn’t one of the mafia guys, and it was indeed a King.”

His phone quit vibrating, Tracee’s call going to voicemail. “Roman’s group finally tracked down one of the members who has explosive experience and brought her in for questioning. She did not give up any specifics about the bomb under Thomas’s car, but she alluded to the hit squad going after Henry Valiant today. Roman called me just as I hit Los Angeles. The woman had not given specifics about who the hit was on, but I put two and two together, fearing exactly what happened.”

She sighed, leaning forward and putting her head in her hands. “And that one came back to make sure Valiant was dead. He tried to put a few bullets in me as well.”

He touched her shoulder, pushed some hair behind her ear. “But he didn’t.”

She raised her head and met his eyes. “Because you stopped him. I owe you my life.”

He was desperate to see her smile again. He gave her a cocky grin. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

Her hand grabbed his and squeezed. She threaded her fingers through his. “I’m serious. Thank you.”

Coming out of his chair, he leaned forward and kissed her across the table. She tasted like the brandy and he wanted more, but held himself in check. She’d been through too much in the past few hours, so he placed his other hand behind her neck, gently cradling her sore skull. “My pleasure.”

She came out of the chair and into his arms. She kissed him, needy and demanding, her hands working over the muscles in his arms, his back.

He broke the kiss. “Liv, I was teasing. You really should take it easy.”

She sat on the table and wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him close as she untucked his shirt. “Screw that,” she said. “I’m pissed. I need to work off some anger.”

He should argue. Make her rest.

I really should.

Under her assault, though, the voice of reason in his brain went mute. Her tongue tangled with his, her hand cupping him through his pants and squeezing.

Yep, he was gone. Just like that. It was insane—he hadn’t had this much sex in ages.

Whatever she wanted, he would give her. He was so screwed.

I love her.

The thought hit him hard in the gut, but he didn’t have time to analyze it. She grabbed his hands and put them on her breasts, the soft light overhead making her skin glow. As he massaged the full mounds, his shirt lost a button from her ripping it open. Her lips found his skin, kissing and sucking on his pecs, his neck.

He divested her of her shirt and bra, loving the way her breasts bounced free. He laid her back on the table, trapping one luscious nipple in his mouth.

And then his damn phone started vibrating again.

For a minute, they both ignored it. When it didn’t stop, she pushed him gently away. “Your ex is as persistent as my CI. You better answer.”

Hating himself, he knew she was probably right. While Tracee was not his responsibility, this new stalker of hers might be. “She’s sure someone is following her, and unfortunately, after that picture went viral, I’m afraid it could be tied to this case.”

Olivia sat up and handed him his phone. “Then you definitely better take it. She could be in trouble.”

Doubtful with his friend watching her place, but maybe if he answered, he could put a stop to her calling.

As he answered, Olivia slid off the table, throwing her shirt on and grabbing her own phone. She left the kitchen, Taz following her.

“Yeah, Tracee, I’m sorry I didn’t get there tonight,” he said into his phone, “but something happened. I’ve already made sure you have plenty of police protection. My friend, Detective Gordon, is looking into the situation and keeping me updated. I’ll keep you apprised of anything he discovers, but so far, we all believe you’re safe.”

She sobbed into the phone. “You don’t understand, Vic. I need you!”

Drama. There had never been a lack of it with her.

Victor rubbed his tired eyes. “Tracee, if this is a ploy to get me back, I’m not going there with you. You’ve had stalkers before, and if you can’t give me more specifics than you think someone is watching you, there is nothing I can do. I’ll do my best to come by in the next couple of days, but I’m in the middle of a very serious investigation, and you have plenty of people to help you with this.”

The crying lasted several long moments, meant to wear him down. He’d been through this before and knew the way she used emotions to manipulate others. It was one of the things that made her such a good actress.

The sobbing tapered off, and then she whispered, “Goodbye, Victor.”

The connection went dead. He blew out a deep breath, slightly uneasy about the finality in her voice. He would have plenty of eyes on her, and if it appeared her stalker was real and had anything to do with the mafia or cartel, he would make sure she was put in protective custody until he wrapped everything up. At the moment, from everything he’d seen and heard, there was no substance to her fear, and nothing he could divert more resources to. Luckily, Gordon was a good friend and willing to keep an eye on Tracee because of it.

Victor went looking for Liv and Taz and found them upstairs in his bedroom. Olivia sat on the edge of the bed, talking to whomever she’d dialed, and the dog lay at her feet. “Thank you, Alfonzo. I will pass that information on… Yes, I told you, I’m fine, but I appreciate your concern.” She glanced at Victor and rolled her eyes. “Sure, I’ll see you for dinner next week.”

She disconnected and tossed it on the nightstand. “Alfie knew about the hit on Valiant today. He called me six times this afternoon, trying to let me know. He had no idea I was one of the deputy marshals escorting Valiant to and from the courthouse, but claims he wanted to prove he’s helping me. Oh, and he has it on good authority that it was indeed Frankie who set up the hit.”

It was after eleven. He didn’t want to wait until the sun came up to go after Molina, but Olivia was beat and he wasn’t leaving her. “First thing in the morning, I need to pay Frankie a visit.”

She shrugged off her shirt and started undoing her pants. “One more thing, Alfie confirmed Frankie arranged the hit on Cooper.”

Victor felt a sudden shift, a little buzz inside him that meant the case had turned the corner and a successful end was in sight. “He has proof?”

“So he claims, but he wouldn’t tell me what or how he got it.”

“I need that before I go see Molina.”

“I’ll get it, but you’re not going to talk to Molina alone. I’m going with you.”

They’d see about that, but for now, if it made her happy, he’d let her think she was his partner.

He helped her out of the rest of her clothes and into his bed. She watched him undress with hungry eyes, raising her hands above her head and showing him her breasts above the sheet.

He crawled in beside her, skimming his hands up her arms and catching his fingers in her hair to bring her face closer to his. “Now, where were we?”

Their bodies came together with the same fiery passion, both shutting out their exhaustion in an effort to forget what happened only hours earlier and to prove to themselves, as well as each other, they were still alive.