The marshal was on the move again.

The man watched the red dot pulse on the map, glad he’d stuck the small tracking device on her car when he’d seen her at the hospital. She was proving to be of more value than he’d expected.

Technology was a wonderful thing. A few years ago, he would’ve had to physically follow her, and she was a busy woman. He would’ve found himself running all over the place, trying to keep up with her. Today, he had time, so he’d followed her just for fun.

She was an unexpected bonus in this scenario. He hadn’t realized she was involved with the director, and his ego smarted a little. The director was a slight impediment on that front, but give the situation time. Olivia would come around.

Now he understood things differently and he was always one to use every opportunity.

Deputy US Marshal Olivia Fiorelli definitely presented a prime one. It was no hardship to seduce her into his web.

She could access important information he needed and assist in his mission with the director, without ever realizing she was doing so. She might also offer a bonus target his superiors would appreciate, but that’d mean putting his quest to win her heart aside.

No way he was doing that. Olivia was his and he would protect her at all costs. She was the woman he wanted next to him when he pushed his bosses out of the way and moved to take over the Southern California quadrant of the Fifty-seven Gang. The DeStefano Syndicate was going down in flames, and the sooner the better.

More power, more money, more security. He could eliminate his enemies in one fell stroke, all thanks to the woman driving the car he watched on the GPS map.

She was headed for the hospital, leading him to believe there were two possibilities. Cooper Harris was dead, or the man was awake and talking.

While he preferred the former, his gut told him it was the latter. Either way, it made no difference. Harris wasn’t the real target. Neither were the other taskforce members. In his line of work, a good distraction and sleight-of-hand were the best ways of getting what he wanted. It was unfortunate he’d missed the man’s heart by centimeters—another dead agent on his kill list would be a nice addition, especially one as prominent and seemingly invincible as Harris—but in the end, it was the director he wanted gone.

Soon. Very soon.

Everything was going to work out fine. With Olivia providing effective intel, it might be sooner than he’d originally planned. All he had to do was convince her he was the better man.

Which meant finding a way to make Director Dupé look like the bad guy in this scenario.

Hmm…

That would take some doing, but it wasn’t impossible. The man turned over options and ideas as he tracked Olivia’s progress. Watching the red dot make a turn off the main road, he wondered if she would return to Carlsbad yet tonight. She had a meeting later; would she put Dupé over her job?

His phone rang with a call from one of his superiors. He thought about letting it go to voicemail, yet believed in taking care of things immediately and not letting them pile up. He’d have to talk to the man sooner or later, might as well get it over with.

As he watched the red pulsing dot arrive at the hospital parking lot, he answered with a statement. “Nothing to worry about, boss. I have everything under control.”

The man on the other end seemed to disagree, launching into a series of arguments and accusations. The red dot stopped.

Interrupting his superior wasn’t the best idea, but he wasn’t in the mood for being berated by a man who sent others to do his dirty work while he enjoyed the power and profits his position allowed.

“I told you I have everything under control,” the man said. “Let me do my job.”

“Where are you?” his superior asked. “We should meet. Now.”

Not going to happen. “I’m in San Diego,” he said, staring at the red dot. “I should have more information after tonight. I’ll be in touch.”

He disconnected, knowing it was a bad idea, but the other man didn’t realize his days were numbered. Soon, he’d be nothing but another mark at the end of the riflescope.

Because taking out Victor Dupé was only the first step in the overall plan. Soon, DeStefano and Molina would join him six feet under, somewhere in the desert.

His superiors were shortsighted. They were so intent on controlling the micro aspects of California, they kept missing the bigger picture.

He sat back and took a swig of whiskey. He could appreciate the director’s position as head of the entire West Coast FBI, but he needed a source inside the Bureau to smooth the way for certain transactions. From all accounts, Director Dupé was not that person. He couldn’t be bribed or threatened into cooperating.

Which only left one option—someone needed to take his place.

Taking another sip, he sat back, eyeing the GPS as a new thought came to him. If Dupé had feelings for the marshal, that could work to his advantage, at least in the short term.

Liking this recent turn of events in more ways than one, he smiled to himself.

Yes, Olivia Fiorelli definitely offered many opportunities, and he was going to make sure she ended up on his side of the law very, very soon.

Cooper Harris was indeed awake, but extremely groggy according to Mitch Holden, who met Victor and Olivia as they stepped off the elevator. Mitch’s handshake was firm and quick. He frowned slightly at Taz’s presence, but said nothing, giving the dog a pat on the head before he directed all of them down the hall toward the ICU.

Olivia planned to stay in the waiting room with the dog, and at first, Victor didn’t seem to notice she wasn’t right behind him. She’d just settled into one of the worn waiting room chairs when he popped his head back in.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Aren’t you coming?”

The ICU floor limited how many people could be in a patient’s room at one time, and with Celina and Mitch already here, Victor would max that number. Plus, law enforcement was a funny thing. She knew Cooper and Celina casually, but she wasn’t part of the team. It could make things awkward. “They won’t allow Taz into ICU.”

He seemed genuinely surprised. “I’m sure the rules forbid it, but since when has that stopped you?”

She smiled, but stayed put. “I’ll hang out here with your dog. I know when to push it, and when not to. Go talk to your agent and tell him I said hi.”

After he left, she checked her emails as Taz lay at her feet. A minute later, Dr. Emma Collins came strolling into the waiting room.

“Hello, Olivia.” Emma was dressed in a peacock blue skirt and matching jacket. Her blond hair hung loose around her shoulders, and a pair of blue framed glasses sat on her nose. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

“Lending moral support,” Olivia said. “How is he doing?”

She leaned down and patted the dog’s head. “Cooper? They don’t call him The Beast for nothing. He’s one tough guy, and I suspect he’ll be up and running in no time.”

“And Celina? How is she holding up?”

Emma glanced out the window. Olivia had the feeling she wasn’t seeing the view from this floor. The doctor had some interesting experiences in her background, all of which would leave a normal person with severe PTSD, so Cooper wasn’t the only tough one around here. “There are times when it’s harder on the people around the injured person, because of the emotional strain, than on the person themselves.”

In other words, Celina was still a hot mess and probably would be for quite a while. Seeing the man you love shot in the heart right in front of you and your child was about as traumatic as it could get. “Victor hoped she might talk to you about what happened, so I’m glad you’re here. How is Jett?”

Jett was Emma and Mitch’s son, about the same age as Cooper and Celina’s daughter. The two kids had been fun to watch back at Christmas, and Olivia was once again grateful that no one had gotten hurt that night at the hospital.

“He’s a handful,” Emma said, bringing her gaze back and smiling at Liv. “I wouldn’t trade him for anything.”

There was that look in her eyes that parents got when they talked about their kids. Olivia wondered if her dad had ever looked like that when he’d told someone about her. “I don’t suppose he takes after his dad in the ‘handful’ department?”

The smile grew. “I’m surrounded by a lot of testosterone at the ranch. You should come out sometime. Do you like to ride?”

“Horses? Never been on one, but they look…nice.” She preferred dogs over just about anything, and found herself automatically reaching to pet Taz. “Does Jett like them?”

“Loves them. Mitch will have him riding before he’s walking, I’m afraid.”

Rarely did Olivia feel comfortable chatting with another woman about normal things like family, but Emma had a way of putting even a workaholic outsider like Olivia at ease. “A couple of daredevils, huh?”

She chuckled and took the seat next to Olivia. “I’m glad you and Victor are getting along so well. Thank you for being here for him with this. He’s not one to ask for support, if you know what I mean. Are you two…?”

Seeing each other? The invisible words hung in the air. Are we actually a couple? Sure felt like it, even though they’d only really shared a couple of intense lovemaking sessions and lots of texts and phone calls. It almost felt like being in high school instead of a mature relationship. “We’re taking it slow.”

What a lie. She wasn’t even sure what “it” was, but they’d jumped into a physical relationship so fast, her head still spun. That was not how she took it ‘slow.’

But then again, she hadn’t had a real relationship since…

Damn. She couldn’t even remember the guy’s name it had been so long. Dean? Dan? No wonder she was starved for attention and super-hot sex with a good-looking, powerful man. Her library card was way past due on getting stamped.

Emma smiled again, this one more placid, psychologist-like. “Nothing wrong with slow. I would expect nothing else from Victor. He’s not one to rush into a relationship. He’s a good man, Olivia. He deserves a strong, honest woman like you.”

And whoopsie, another lie. This one of omission, but a mistruth nonetheless. She was strong, yes, but she was not honest. She still hadn’t told Victor about her investigation into him for the Justice Department.

A man hustled past the door, coming back and peeking his head around the frame a second later. “Dr. Collins?”

Emma stood and brushed down her skirt. “Dr. Walsh? What are you doing here?”

He was tall and lean, the hint of a beard covering his jaws. He seemed to fill up the room as he entered, extending a hand to Emma. “I have a theory to run by the director.” He glanced at Olivia and offered his hand to her as well. “Roman Walsh, Director of the Southern California Domestic Terrorism Taskforce. You’re Olivia Fiorelli, correct?”

The DTT was under Homeland. Olivia rose to her feet and shook his hand, wondering where he recognized her from. Had he been at the Christmas party? “I don’t believe we’ve met before, have we?”

A commotion sounded in the hallway. Victor appeared at the door. “They’re moving him to the cardiac floor. Since he’s awake but still in serious condition, that’s the best place to keep an eye on him.”

“That’s good news,” Olivia said.

Victor stepped aside as Cooper was wheeled by, Celina following. “Roman, good to see you,” he said. “You mentioned in your text earlier you had information I needed? We have time to catch up—the nurses say it will be half an hour or so before we can talk to Cooper again. Once they get him situated, the doctor wants to check him over.”

Roman glanced around, noting the waiting area was empty outside of the four of them. Still, he seemed to think it better if they had privacy. “Any chance they have a conference room available?”

“On the first floor,” Emma volunteered. “I’ll get someone to open it for us. That’ll give Cooper and Celina time to adjust to the new room before Victor questions him.”

She led the way, Roman on her heels. Olivia grabbed Victor’s hand before he could follow. “I should probably get going.”

He looked disappointed. “You sure? I could use your input on whatever Roman has found.”

Hearing that he wanted her in on the meeting caused a flush of heat to her chest. “Dr. Walsh might feel differently. I may not have clearance for whatever he’s going to talk about.”

“If you’re with me, he’ll grant you clearance. All I have to do is say the word.”

The warmth spread lower. “Do you know how sexy that is?”

“What?”

“The way you swing your power around like that.”

He chuckled and tugged her after him.

They caught up with the others at the elevator and rode down to the first floor, Taz bracing his feet at the drop and giving Olivia a worried look. Emma texted someone she knew and, by the time they arrived at the conference room, her friend had unlocked it and placed several bottled waters on the credenza for them.

Victor sat at the head of the table and Olivia took the chair to his right. Emma sat next to her and Roman paced the floor. Taz wedged between the table leg and Olivia’s chair, laying his head on one of her feet.

“Did Cooper see anyone?” the head of the DTT asked Victor.

“He did,” Victor answered. All eyes swung to him. “At least, he thinks he did. Everything happened fast, and his memory is blurry. We only spoke for a minute or two before the nurses kicked me out to move him, but what he told me is, he believes he saw a Suarez gang member as he and Celina walked to the park. The male suspect is approximately 5’7”, Hispanic, and clean shaven. He wore a red baseball hat cocked to the left over a purple bandana wrapped around his head. He sported a flame tattoo on one arm, and was wearing a leather vest with the gang symbol on the back. The guy walked past the park entrance, looked square at Cooper, and jumped into a rusted out, late 80s, Pontiac Grand Prix that pulled up to the curb. No license plate. The car circled the park once, then disappeared.”

Roman stopped pacing and pulled several papers out of his briefcase. “You like this kid for the shooter?”

Victor shrugged. “I do. He’s the best lead we’ve got and it jives with some of the intel we’ve received.”

Roman handed out papers to each of them and took a seat. “Preliminary report on the bomb that blew up Agent Mann’s car this morning. I put a rush on it.”

Like the others, Olivia scanned the chain of command, agency number, and the brief description of the scene. Explosive device specialists had examined what the crime scene technicians had recovered, which wasn’t much. It appeared to be an IED and had been sent to the FBI’s Terrorist Explosive Device Analytical Center to see if they could match it to anything in their database.

The homemade improvised explosive device was simple in its makeup and yet had caused the death of an agent. In Olivia’s mind, it made no difference how it was designed or what materials had been put into it—the result was the same.

“There weren’t any large enough remnants of the bomb to provide us with fingerprints,” Roman said, “but the bomber left us a different kind. The explosive was placed in a backpack we assume was tossed under the car. It appears it was triggered by the call from a cell phone.”

They all looked at him, waiting, anticipating. What kind of fingerprint was he talking about, and how did this help the case?

“Is this bomb similar to others you’ve investigated?” Victor asked.

“The bomb itself is pretty generic; it’s what it was carried in that gave us a clue.”

“The backpack,” Olivia said.

Roman nodded. “Several fibers and the zipper were recovered from the blast site. They happen to match those from another car bombing two months ago in Oceanside. Polly, my CSI expert, caught the similarities. She also did some cross-matching and discovered this particular brand of backpacks has been used by the Suarez Kings for running drugs across the border, and carrying their own shake and bake meth labs.”

‘Shake and bakes’ consisted of a two-liter bottle, cold pills, and a couple noxious chemicals. Drug users loved the simple method, but it was highly explosive, much like the more complicated meth labs.

“They’re recycling the drug backpacks for bombs?” Emma asked.

“The last one was used to take out Giada Russo.”

Olivia sucked in a breath. Giada was Frankie Molina’s little sister.

Taz lifted his head and came to sit beside her, nuzzling his nose against her arm. She petted him absentmindedly. “The Kings killed Giada? I thought her case was unsolved.”

“It was,” Roman said, “until now. The problem is we don’t have an individual to arrest. Like I said, no actual fingerprints, DNA, or witnesses. But I’ve forced the local detectives to reopen the Russo case and I’m trying to get some FBI involvement.”

Because the woman involved was a known criminal, like her brother, the cops weren’t all that eager to solve Giada’s murder.

Victor sat forward. “I’ll make sure the investigation becomes a top priority.”

Roman turned to Emma. “Giada Russo was the sister of high-ranking mob boss Frank Molina. The two of them worked like a team up-and-down the West Coast for several years under the guidance of Gino DeStefano until Giada married Tony Russo. The Russos stayed under the radar, supplying military grade weapons to various motorcycle gangs and survivalists. We’re not sure if the Kings were purposely trying to take her out, or simply send a message to her brother.”

Emma stacked her papers neatly. “What kind of message? Is Molina interfering with the cartel’s business?”

“That’s what we’re hearing through the grapevine.” Roman pointed at Olivia. “As I’m sure Deputy Marshal Fiorelli can explain in more detail, Gino DeStefano and his right-hand man, Frankie, want to stamp out the Suarez Kings and use their infrastructure for the same businesses—drugs, money-laundering, and human trafficking.”

“It’s easier than starting from scratch,” Olivia added, “which is what Gino and his made family have been trying to do for many years and failed. The Mexican gangs, motorcycle gangs, and other enterprising criminal syndicates have made it extremely difficult for the traditional Italian mafia bosses to take over. Giada probably broke completely with Frankie when she married Tony Russo and he continued supplying the motorcycle gangs and survivalists with guns.”

“Olivia, our own rock star agent here, has played a huge part in stopping them as well,” Victor said.

Olivia had challenged every guy she’d dated, although few, searching for her soulmate. She’d refused to settle, or maybe she’d simply been terrified of having a lasting relationship. Her father’s ghost hanging over her shoulder never helped either. Maybe that was why she constantly sabotaged herself and couldn’t even remember that last guy’s name. Although there’d been few men on her dance card, no one had measured up to her ideal.

Until now.

One of her biggest fears was not being special. Silly, but true. She was always trying to prove herself in her work, in her life. Hearing Victor’s compliment made her feel more than special.

But also a tad embarrassed. Did he mean it? Or was he saying it because…

Because he’s sleeping with me.

Taz laid at her feet again, shoving himself against her leg. Oh, she needed to get over herself already. Maybe in the end, it wasn’t the men in her life who’d never measured up —

Maybe it’s me.

Taz started snoring. All eyes were on her, and heat flushed her cheeks, her throat constricted. She once again reminded herself to stop overanalyzing everything and just go with it. “I do what I can.”

Roman’s phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID. “That’s one of the reasons I’m glad you’re here, Olivia. Everything we’ve uncovered so far points to the Suarez Kings being involved in both hits against Victor’s taskforce. If things are heating up between them and DeStefano’s Fifty-seven Gang, I want you on board. I already have a call into my boss at Homeland. I want to put together a special taskforce to investigate these crimes, and I want you on it.”

He didn’t wait for her response, standing and walking away as he answered his phone.

Olivia looked at Victor, then her watch. It was getting late and she had a two-hour drive, more if traffic was bad, to Carlsbad. And when wasn’t it between here and there?

He understood her code. “I know you have a meeting, but let’s talk afterwards, okay? I’ll get the details from Roman about this new taskforce and fill you in.”

They all stood, and Olivia mentally smiled at the thought of Navarro getting wind of this. “Of course. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

The dog jerked upright from his sleeping position and nearly tumbled over himself as Olivia shifted and pushed the chair in. She said her goodbyes to Emma and headed for the door behind Victor.

In the hallway, he tugged her close. “I’ll walk you out.”

“That’s not necessary.” But please do.

“I have time to kill before I can see Cooper again. I want to check your car.”

Ah. “Afraid there might be an errant backpack under it?”

He took her hand and led her and Taz outside. In the sunlight, he paused and took a deep breath. “I know you’re on alert and don’t need me hovering, but it’s a good excuse for me to spend a few more minutes with you, so don’t give me grief, okay?”

She grinned at him. “I might have seen something in the back. Maybe we should both climb in and check it out.”

He returned the grin, understanding her invitation. “It’s a big backseat. Might take fifteen minutes or so to investigate properly.”

God, this man. How was she going to keep him in her life? He made her laugh and feel incredibly good about herself. All of herself, from her obsession with work to her generous curves he couldn’t seem to get enough of.

I’ll tell him the truth as soon as I can, but not today. Handing him Taz’s leash, she dug out her car keys. “Fifteen minutes might not be quite long enough for what I have planned for you, but I’ll do my best.”

He slapped her playfully on the ass as she walked away, making her laugh out loud.