Caid stepped into his apartment and tossed his keys on the entry table. He dropped his gym bag and headed for the fridge to grab a beer. It had been a long damn day. Ended well though, he thought to himself as images of Jemma came to mind.

She really was something. She fought with intense focus and strategy, and he wished he could say he held back when they hit the mat. But just like she had yesterday, she schooled him with form. Strength could only take you so far if your opponent knew what they were doing.

She was someone who seemed to believe that doing something wasn’t worth shit unless you were doing it to the best of your ability. She did not do things half-assed, unlike Brittany. He very nearly growled to himself. Who the fuck was she to come waltzing back into his life that way? For all Caid cared, she could fall off the face of the damn planet.

He stepped toward his bedroom and turned when he noticed the throw pillows his sister had forced him to buy were not in their usual order. His mind went on high alert as he set his beer down and grabbed for the gun he kept on top of his fridge.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Caid turned to see the owner of the voice standing just outside his bedroom door holding a gun trained on Caid’s chest.

“Who are you?”

“Just someone who has a message for you.”

Caid straightened and studied the man who stood before him. He looked normal enough, except for the patch covering his right eye. The dude was built more like a quarterback rather than a linebacker, which certainly boded well for Caid if it came down to hand to hand. Still, there was the matter of the gun.

“So, is shooting me the message?”

The man shook his head. “You’ve been sniffing around my boss, making trouble for him, and that doesn’t sit well with me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m drawing a blank. Who’s your boss?”

The man’s top lip drew up in a snarl. “You know who he is.”

Caid shook his head. Keep stalling, he told himself. “No, still not sure. Oh wait! Do you work down at the coffee shop? Man, I’m sorry, but that coffee just wasn’t hot enough.”

“Do I look like I fucking work at a coffee shop?” the man yelled, and Caid smirked. Probably not smart to be goading a man with a weapon trained for a kill shot, but there was something genuinely amusing about it.

“I mean, kind of.”

“I work for The Runner, you asshat.”

Caid tapped his forehead as if he hadn’t known that. “Of course! How is that bastard doing?”

“We’re going to have a little chat with him.”

“Well, you’re the one with the gun,” Caid said innocently and turned to head for the door.

When the man was just within reach, Caid pretended to stumble, and struck out with his foot to knock the man to the ground.

“You will pay for that!” the man howled, and Caid dove for the gun that had clattered near his couch.

He felt a hand grasp his ankle, and he reached back with his other foot and drove his heel into the man’s nose. Caid heard the crunch of the bone just as his hand closed around the butt of the gun.

“Don’t you fucking move,” he warned his visitor and then stood to retrieve his phone.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” the man growled out. Blood was pouring down his face and forming a puddle on Caid’s floor.

“Thanks a lot, dick, I just mopped. Hey Pax, it’s King. I have myself a little unwanted visitor tonight. Think you can send someone to pick him up?”

* * *

“How’s your face?” Caid asked as he stepped into the interrogation room two hours later. The man’s face was completely bruised, his eyes and cheeks swollen, and his nose wrapped in white tape.

“I ain’t talking.”

“Listen, man, I know we got off to a rough start, but I think we might be able to come to terms with what happened and move past it. I just need a little cooperation from you.” When there was no response, Caid took a seat across from him and opened the manila folder he’d brought in with him. “Cooper Sandoval, you have quite the reputation for being a badass, huh?” Caid clicked his tongue. “What’s this? Six counts of aggravated assault in the last two years? How are you not locked up for good right now, man?” Caid smiled and stood. “Oh yeah, because my old boss was helping you out, huh? Well, I got some bad news. He’s not here anymore.”

Cooper ground his teeth together.

“So how about you help me, and I’ll see what I can do for you?”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“That’s a shame, Coop. Can I call you Coop? Because I’ve got some things to say to you.” Caid took his seat again. “Your boss is up to some nasty stuff, and it’s only a matter of time before I bring him in. The fact that he sent you is only proof of that.”

Cooper stared at Caid and smiled. “You have no idea why I was at your place tonight, do you?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Cooper shook his head. “It’s going to be so much more fun when you figure it out for yourself.” He leaned back in his chair, and Caid could see it written all over his face. Cooper Sandoval was not going to talk.

Caid closed his file and stood. “We’re going to bring him in eventually. It’s up to you to decide if you want something out of it as well.” He knocked on the door and stepped out into the hall when the guard opened it.

“What did he mean by that?” Pax asked when he stepped behind the other side of the glass.

“I have no fucking clue.”

“Not everyone is who you think they are, Agent King,” Cooper sounded from the room, and when Caid looked up, he was staring directly at the glass. Sandoval laughed. “Someone you know isn’t who they seem.” He sang the last part, and Caid couldn’t help but feel a slight chill at the cool façade of the man staring at him.

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Pax asked Caid.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

Caid left the room and headed back to his office. What the hell had Cooper meant? Not everyone is who you think? Who could he have been talking about? Was someone in the agency dirty? He took a seat at the desk and unlocked his computer. If the FBI had another mole, he was going to figure out who it was and bring the fucker down.

* * *

“King.”

Caid looked up to see Pax standing in the doorway of his office. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“You’ve been here for eight hours; it’s time to go.”

“Shit.” Caid looked down at his clock for the time and realized it was nearly five p.m. He was going to be late to the gym, and seeing Jemma would make this shitty day so much better.

“I want to put you up in a safe house across town,” Pax informed him, crossing her arms.

“No, that’s not necessary.”

“The Runner knows where you live, King. It’s only going to be a matter of time before he sends some more thugs your way. You can’t go home.”

“I’m not letting that bastard kick me out of my house. I’ll be prepared this time.”

“Just think about it.”

“I’ll be good, Pax.”

She sighed. “Your pride is going to get you shot one day.”

Caid shrugged. “If I feel like something’s off, I’ll grab a hotel.”

“All right.”

“I’ll be back--”

“Unless you’re going to finish that sentence with tomorrow, I don’t want to hear it. You’ve been here since you brought Sandoval in. Go home, Caid. If I remember correctly, you have quite a bit of blood to mop off your floor.”

“All right, tomorrow.”

“Be careful.”

He made his way to the elevator, thankful Jameson wasn’t in his office. The last thing Caid wanted was to run into that asshole on his way out. Once the doors had closed in front of him, he relaxed slightly.

His mind was fried, and had it not been Jemma waiting for him, he would have no problem simply going home and ordering a large pizza while drinking a beer. How did she already have this effect on him? They had only met twice, but there was something about her, beyond her physical attributes, that was causing her to be at the front of his mind constantly.

He thought about the blonde hair she seemed to always have pulled back. Would it feel silky in his fingers? Those gorgeous caramel-colored eyes of hers made him feel as if she could see straight down into his soul.

The doors opened, and the thought of her smile had him nearly running the two blocks to the gym.

“Hey, Caid,” Mikel greeted him from the front desk. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure.” He followed her down a hall and into a small office.

“Are you meeting Jemma here?”

Caid nodded. “I think so. She waved at me when I confirmed it last night, so I’m assuming so.”

Mikel bit her lip, and Caid had enough experience reading people he could tell something was off. “What is it?”

“Probably nothing.”

Caid stayed quiet while Mikel thought through whatever it was going through her mind.

“It’s just, three years I have seen her at least once, sometimes twice a day. She never shows up after five, because that would put her leaving here past dark, and she doesn’t like to be out at night. I haven’t seen her at all today.”

Caid’s mind began to race. Had something happened to the girl he had only just begun to know? The cop in him came out, and he pulled out his phone. “Do you have her number?”

Mikel shook her head. “I don’t think she has a phone.”

“Do you know where she lives?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know that--”

“Do you know what I do for a living?”

Mikel hesitated and then nodded. “You’re with the FBI.”

“So let me help. I’m sure she’s fine, but why don’t we go check? Just in case.”

Mikel stepped from her office. “Zeke, I’m heading out for a few. Keep everything running until I get back.”

“You got it, boss lady.” The tattooed man at the front counter waved, and she grabbed her purse before heading out with Caid.

“Tell me more about her routine. Does she always come in at exactly the same time?”

“No, she switches it up every week or so.”

“Her panic attacks, how often do they happen?”

“When I first met her, she was getting them constantly, but over the last year they seem to have gotten much better.”

They stopped in front of an apartment building a couple blocks away from the gym. “This is it. She’s on the fourth floor.”

“All right.” Caid started to move forward when something caught his eye.

“Oh no.” Mikel covered her mouth with her hands. “That’s Jemma’s gym bag.”

Caid reached into his pocket, thankful he hadn’t changed out of his work clothes yet, and pulled out a glove. After pulling it onto his hand, he sifted through the bag and stopped when he saw a Glock 9mm buried underneath a change of clothes.

“Any idea why she would be carrying a gun around in her gym bag?”

“None that are solid anyway. I’ve always gotten the feeling she was running from something, but she never confided in me what that might be. I assumed it was an ex. What if it was? Oh God, what if he found her?” Mikel’s face visibly paled.

Caid ground his teeth together. If anything happened to Jemma, he was going to personally tear the attacker apart limb by limb until nothing was left. “Let’s go up.” He took a few snapshots with his phone, and then lifted the bag. He had no intention of leaving it there for some bystander to stumble across Jemma’s gun.

They took the elevator up in silence and stepped out onto the small, dimly lit fourth floor. “This is her,” Mikel gestured to apartment 4B, and Caid knocked softly.

“Jemma?” Mikel called and waited a minute before no one answered.

“Jemma, you in there?” Caid called out. The door across the hall opened, and a sleepy-eyed brunette stepped out.

“You guys looking for Jemma?” she asked, and Caid nodded.

“She home?”

The woman shook her head. “I saw her leaving last night. She said she had to get out of town for a bit, something about visiting family.”

Caid studied the woman for a moment. “What’s your name?” he asked with a smile.

“Maria, and yours?” Caid noticed her straighten slightly when she caught sight of Jemma’s bag in his hand.

“Caid. I’m a friend of Jemma’s. If she comes back, will you have her call me? She has my number.”

“Sure.” Maria winked at him and then disappeared back into her apartment.

Caid leaned down to whisper to Mikel, “I don’t suppose you have a key?”

Mikel shook her head. “She didn’t trust anyone enough to give them one.”

Caid headed back toward the elevator, and Mikel followed him around the corner toward where the fire escape was.

“I’m going to lift you; think you can grab that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, and if you tell anyone I did this, I will absolutely lose my job, so let’s keep it between us, yeah?”

“Deal.”

Caid lifted Mikel easily, and she grabbed the ladder for the fire escape. Once it was pulled down, they both began to climb.

“She ever talk to you about her neighbor?”

“No. Jemma kept to herself for the most part. She’s never come to the gym with anyone and has never talked about any friends.”

When Caid was quiet, she continued, “You think Maria was lying?”

“I think Maria looked a little nervous when she saw I was holding Jemma’s gym bag.”

They reached the window of Jemma’s apartment, and Caid knelt to look inside. “Fuck,” he said before using his elbow to smash the window in.

“Oh, my God.” Mikel stepped inside and covered her mouth with her hands.

“Don’t touch anything,” Caid instructed and pulled out his phone.

“I need a team at the Street View apartments. We’ve got what looks like a robbery coupled with a missing person.” He hung up the phone and set the bag down on the floor.

“What if something’s happened to her?” Mikel asked quietly as she surveyed the destruction.

Caid put his hands on Mikel’s shoulders. “We’ll find her, Mikel. I’m going to take a look around. If you think of anything that might help, I need you to tell me.”

Mikel nodded, and Caid headed toward the bathroom. It was the only part of the studio apartment that had any separation, and once it was cleared, he started looking for clues. There was no sign of Jemma anywhere, and whoever had done this had been thorough. Her mattress, couch, pillows, and even her comforter had been sliced open; her bookshelf torn apart, and the pages ripped from books. Her clothes had been pulled from their drawers and scattered throughout her apartment.

The bastards had even gone through her fridge and freezer. What the hell had they been looking for? Who was Jemma? And where the hell was she now?