Cam picked up her drink.

She wanted to drain the entire glass.

No, the whole damn bottle.

Alex had dropped one bombshell after another, and he wasn’t done.

In fact, she was pretty sure he was just getting started.

She’d never been one to hide from her problems, to drink herself into oblivion, but it sure felt like a good coping mechanism at the moment.

Because she didn’t know how else to handle everything he had just thrown at her.

Juan was dead.

The younger brother she never had, the round-faced boy with golden eyes and dimples that carved deeper than his brother’s, that popped into existence with just the hint of a smile. The boy who, when he wasn’t holed up with pens and markers, creating sketches and drawings on whatever scrap of paper he could get his hands on, would scour the neighborhood for bottles and cans to turn in at the recycling center, hoping to save enough for better art supplies.

Juan.

Cam sucked in a shaky breath at the memory and swallowed another gulp of tequila. It slid easily down her throat, warming her chest and stomach, dulling her thoughts.

Too bad it couldn’t do the same for her emotions.

Alex had continued with his story; in fact, Juan’s death had been the starting point instead of the ending. How he’d decided to turn his life around, getting help from an unexpected source.

She remembered Mrs. Kowalski. Cam had taken one year of art, just to meet the requirement, and as the class progressed, she wished she were better with the subject matter. Not because she enjoyed creating paintings or drawings but because Kowalski was the kind of teacher every kid deserved to have: warm, kind, encouraging. Cam didn’t have a creative bone in her body, but that didn’t stop Mrs. K from pouring the same amount of time and energy into teaching her that she did every other student in that class.

Knowing Mrs. K was the one who had pulled Alex out of the neighborhood, out of the bleak future he was almost assured to have, was fitting. If anyone could have done it, it was her. She’d gotten him out. She’d made everything okay for Alex.

“Until it all went wrong.”

Cam looked at the man seated across from her, his words reverberating through her. He was holding his glass, clenching it tightly between his fingers. He wasn’t drinking nearly as quickly as she was.

“What do you mean, it all went wrong?” she asked.

She had a feeling she knew exactly what he meant. He’d been undercover. If things had gone wrong, it was probably because his cover had been blown.

He didn’t respond right away. His eyes focused on something across the room, close to the kitchen. Cam was tempted to look that direction, too, to see what had grabbed his attention, but she knew there was nothing there. The thing he was focusing so intently on was in his head, visible to him alone.

He lifted his glass and drained it in one long swallow. His gaze shifted back to her and she knew.

He was ready to speak again.

“Friday night,” he said. “We were set to move in. We had enough to bring down the guys at the top and the suppliers, too. We’d set up a buy, a new supplier, and my unit was on standby, waiting to make their move.”

Cam sat absolutely still, listening.

“Car shows up, we do the deal. I give the signal for my team to move in.”

He paused. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and Cam could tell he was trying to get his emotions under control. But his expression was unreadable, and she didn’t know what he was feeling: anger, sadness, frustration. Maybe a mix of all three.

“Then what happened?” she asked quietly.

“A different car shows up,” Alex said. “Groupo 55 members.”

“Groupo 55?”

His jaw hardened. “They have a growing foothold in the area. Mostly heroin, like La Gente.”

“So they messed up the sting?” Cam asked.

“They wanted to fuck things up for us. It was a power play. So they started shooting,” he said shortly.

Cam’s mouth dropped open.

“All hell broke loose. They come in with guns firing. One of my guys—my gang guys—is hit in the arm. Gato’s arm is gushing blood, and Rico is screaming at me to help, to do something. My cover is still good, and they think I’m gonna help. And I’m about to, because the whole thing had just gone to shit. Suppliers had already taken off when the Groupo car showed up, so we knew we weren’t getting them. Groupo didn’t stick around for long, and I knew it was just better to regroup, figure out where to go from there. To sit back and figure out a new plan. But then Rico goes to yank off his shirt—I think to stop the bleeding—and more shots are fired.”

Cam’s stomach tightened.

“My sergeant steps out of the shadows, firing at both of them. Multiple times.” He shook his head. “They never had a chance.”

“Holy shit,” Cam breathed.

“I freaked.” Alex’s voice rose a fraction. “Ran over to him and asked him what the hell he was doing. Lenny was still in the car—he was driving—and he tore off. Left the money, the drugs, Rico and Gato. Just took off.” He shook his head. “And I’m sort of panicking, because not only are these two guys dead on the asphalt, but my cover’s been blown, too.”

Cam just nodded. She didn’t know what to say.

“Sarge is freaking out, immediately starts trying to craft a story about what went down.” His expression hardened. “None of which was true. He’s trying to get me to sign off on the story before he calls anything in.” He paused, and when he looked at Cam, she shivered. His eyes were like shards of ice. “I told him no. We needed to report it, what really happened, not some bullshit story he was making up.”

“And he didn’t want to do that?”

“No.” Alex’s eyes glittered. “Told me it wasn’t an option. I told him I’d call it in myself. I wasn’t going to lie for him.”

She waited, but she had a feeling she knew where the conversation was going.

“I started to walk away, but he put a hand on my shoulder,” he said. “I thought he wanted to talk it out some more. I turned around to tell him that, but his fist smashed into my mouth before I could say anything. Total sucker punch, and it took me off my feet.” He shook his head. “I never had a chance.”

Cam shook her head.

“So he beat the shit out of me and left me lying in the middle of the road. Last thing he said to me was he hoped I’d come to my senses and fall in line. Or else…” His voice trailed off.

Goose bumps sprouted on Cam’s arms. “Or else what?”

“Or else he’d make sure I took the blame. And that I’d pay the ultimate price.”