No one threatens my woman and lives to tell about it.

I feel that to the very depths of whatever is left of my soul. And that’s why it’s ten times harder to watch Temperance walk into a police station to face this motherfucker when I want to handle things my way.

I should have dug deeper into Standish’s life than his ex-wives. I didn’t realize he had an assistant who was fucking crazy. I could have prevented this, and I didn’t. I feel like I’ve failed her.

My vigilance will know no bounds from here on out.

I wanted to take care of the situation, but Temperance argued that the police needed to sort it out. It took everything I had not to ignore her request. What sealed it?

When she said, “I don’t want you to carry around this burden because of me, Kane. I want to brighten your life, not add to the shadows.”

She meant the burden on my conscience for another death. I’ve never had someone care about the effects of my job on me or my soul before, but Temperance continues to amaze me.

She loves me.

I still can’t believe it sometimes.

Instead of shaking her for being stubborn, I held her tight and thanked God again for sending her into my path.

I don’t deserve her. But I’m not giving her up.

Temperance Ransom is mine, and she’s staying mine until there’s not a single beat of my heart pounding in my chest.

I watch as her brown ponytail disappears inside the front door of the precinct. Wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, I sink lower in the driver’s seat of a blacked-out Cadillac CTS-V across the street, impatient and aggravated as I wait.

This isn’t the life I want for us—her having to face things alone because I’m a fucking dead man. Literally. I should be beside her, and I could have been, but as Ken Sax. Not as Kane Savage.

I punch the steering wheel before I pull my shit together and turn up the volume on the transmitter she agreed to carry inside. If I can’t be there in person, I’m going to hear every damn word that’s spoken. If anyone says a single cross word to her, dead man or not, I’ll find a way to get her out of there and so far away that the cops will never find her.

After the pipe went through the gallery window, my digging finally connected the dots. I recognized the assistant’s photo. He’s the asshole I saw sitting at the bar of Seven Sinners during the speed-dating event, and had to have been the one to pull the fire alarm.

I should have put it together earlier. That’s what I do. But I didn’t this time because we had too many other things to worry about—namely, keeping Temperance safe while I faked two deaths and then kept that from her while Ransom and I systematically removed every person who presented a threat to their safety.

Or almost every person. That Lagarto motherfucker and Giles are still walking the earth, and that’s not okay with me.

Giles is only breathing because I still can’t link him to any of the trafficking. All I have to go on is Magnolia’s word, and that I don’t trust. I’ve been watching Giles for years, and his shit is tight. I don’t know what he’s doing, but whoever he hired to clean up his tracks is better than I am. But that doesn’t mean they won’t miss something eventually. I could take him out on Magnolia’s word, but my finger doesn’t pull a trigger without feeling completely certain, and I’m not sure yet that she doesn’t have a hidden agenda—like getting him out of her way at the club.

And then there’s Lagarto. About to move another shipment, and well versed at staying off the radar. In the only photo I’ve been able to find of him, he’s wearing a big floppy hat and baggy clothes, which is completely fucking useless. Information about him is the only thing standing between us and ending this, and we need more of it so we can all move on with our lives.

Except . . . Ransom and I don’t have lives anymore. We’re both legally dead, and while that’s never bothered me before, now it does.

It never occurred to me that someday I’d want a woman to take my name. My name. Not an alias. Hell, I never thought I’d find a woman I’d want for more than a night.

Temperance changed everything.

My earpiece crackles to life, interrupting that train of thought.

“Ms. Ransom, Mrs. Hendrix. Thank you for coming in today. We know this isn’t how you wanted to spend your afternoon, and I promise we’ll be brief.”

“Whatever you need, Mac. You know that.”

Valentina’s tone and her use of the cop’s nickname tells me she’s met the person interviewing them before, and it makes me feel marginally better that they’re not working with a stranger. Then again, with her husband being a cop, there’s no way in hell he would have let that happen either. I don’t know much about Beauregard “Rix” Hendrix, but he doesn’t seem like a complete asshole.

“I just want to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Mr. Riddel.”

“Who?” Temperance asks.

“The man who’s being held on charges of destruction of property and vandalism. This man.”

I can picture the cop flashing a mug shot at her.

“I’ve never met him before,” Temperance says.

“But he seems to know you, Ms. Ransom,” the detective replies.

“How?” Temperance’s question holds a cautious tone.

“He says that you stole his boss’s career and caused his death, which, on the books is a suicide. However, Mr. Riddel states emphatically that Mr. Standish’s death was the result of a conspiracy to commit murder.”

Rix’s voice cuts in. “Mac, are you fucking serious with this?”

I’m so fucking glad he didn’t send our women into questioning by themselves. Apparently, he doesn’t give a shit about breaking police protocol, which I respect.

“I bring my woman and her girl in for you to ask some questions about a broken fucking window, and you want to talk about some crazy-ass theories of the man who did it? He’s screwing with you.” Rix’s reply is barely contained rage, and Mac doesn’t have a chance to respond before Rix starts again. “He wants to make sure you’re so busy chasing your own goddamn tail that you don’t even look at him for what he did. Valentina is pressing charges. End of story.”

“Rix, you know I have to—”

“Not listen to petty criminals looking for some reason why life got them down and they aren’t responsible for what they did. Now, take their statements, and let us all get on with our fucking day.”

I decide right then that I’m sending Valentina’s cop husband a box of doughnuts tomorrow.

Mac relents. “Fine. We have a witness who saw him throw the pipe. She should be in to identify him already. If she confirms it was him, everyone can go about their day.”

They chat a few minutes longer before someone knocks on the door.

“Mac, I got something you’re gonna want to see,” a new voice says.

“What?” Mac asks.

“Suspect went off during the lineup. Got real interesting.”

“Send the footage to my laptop.”

“You should already have it.”

“Thanks.” I hear some noise that must be Mac fucking around with his computer. “I’ll just watch this and come back.”

“Bullshit, Mac. Just play it,” Rix says.

“Fine. Not my fault if it scars them for life.”

Rix scoffs. “They’re made of tough stuff.”

I have to agree with him, but I’m tense as I wait to hear what’s coming next.

First, it’s unintelligible yelling. Then, “You bitch! You killed him! I know you’re behind that glass! I’m not going to rest until I ruin the career that you stole! Next time, I won’t just put nails in your tire or take off your mirror, I’ll take you out!”

My hand is on the Cadillac’s door handle before he finishes yelling. I’m ready to rush the station and get Temperance out of there.

“That’s definitely him. Please tell me you’re going to nail his balls to the wall for threatening her,” I hear Valentina say, confidence in her tone that slows my knee-jerk reaction.

“Damn fucking right. You’re going to arrest him. Charge him with every fucking thing you can. That piece of shit is nuts, and he’s not getting anywhere near my wife or her girl ever again. You hear me, Mac?”

That comes from Rix, and I release the door handle and take a deep breath.

“Ms. Ransom, can you confirm that Mr. Riddel put nails in your tire and damaged your mirror?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I didn’t know it was him, but those incidents did happen. Roadside assistance took pictures of the tire. They’re in my email. I can also get you pictures of the mirror.”

“Good. Let’s get your statements on each of those incidents, and you can send over the pictures when you get home. This asshole has a history of property damage, and now statements in a police station about escalating his behavior. I don’t expect the judge is going to like that.”

I don’t breathe easy until Temperance is out of that building and back within my reach.

The next thing on my to-do list as soon as this mess Ransom got us all into is taken care of? Figure out how to get my life back so I never have to let her walk into a situation like this alone again.

I have no fucking clue how I’m going to do it, but I will.

I have no choice.