The Metro Police were staked out at dinnertime near a century-old renovated townhome in the Columbia Heights neighborhood in DC.

Grayson stood down the block next to a lieutenant, glancing again at the photo on his phone of the man they sought. As he listened to the team’s preparations through the earbud he wore, he shook his head at the memory of how stunned he and the others were at the revelations Rex Gibson made that morning.

Who would have thought the Iceman would be a defense attorney?

Gibson had explained how he’d been assigned a court-appointed attorney named Dustin Abbott several years ago when he was picked up for dealing. Once Abbott had spoken with him at length and learned of Gibson’s background, he’d dropped hints about an opportunity for Gibson to increase his income. When Gibson took the bait, Abbott brought him into the drug empire he was building by recruiting from his client pool. Apparently, new small-time dealers who’d been arrested for the first time were eager to receive personalized free legal help 24/7 in exchange for a little leadership. Gibson’s chest had puffed out a little as he’d recounted how quickly he’d moved up the ranks in Abbott’s organization.

As the team lead began a countdown, Grayson adjusted the earbud in his ear.

“Three. Two. One. Go!”

Two of the team members surged forward, wearing shields over their faces. They forced the home’s front door open with a battering ram.

Apparently, Gibson had a healthy sense of self-preservation and had recorded many of his phone conversations with Abbott. He’d transferred the digital files to a flash drive and kept it in his safe deposit box, the very same box that fit the key that had been found during a sweep of Gibson’s home after his arrest. Gibson was only too happy to provide the name of the bank and his box number, and sign off on permission for the box to be accessed without a warrant. Being able to disappear without a trace was an awfully strong motivator.

As the rest of the team rushed inside single-file, Grayson listened to the ensuing commotion.

“Over there!”

“Where?”

“Son of a bitch . . . he’s gone out a side window! Go!”

Several more seconds went by before, “We don’t have eyes on him!”

The lieutenant standing beside Grayson cursed hard. As he picked up his radio and shouted out instructions, movement caught Grayson’s attention from the corner of his eye.

He turned and squinted at a figure running down Sherman Avenue.

Can it be?

Grayson thought quickly, comparing the fleeing figure to what he knew about Abbott. About six foot one, a hundred sixty pounds, African American, short-cropped black hair, thirty-eight years old. This guy looked pretty damn close, and he was wearing a business suit as he sprinted down the street like his ass was on fire.

Bingo.

Grayson took off running in that direction, shouting out his intention to pursue.

“You wearing a vest?” the lieutenant yelled after him.

“Yeah!”

Grayson grabbed his Glock from his shoulder holster as he sprinted down the street. At the next corner, the entrance to an alley, he came to a halt and swung his head around, searching for Abbott. Which way?

Taking a chance, he chose the alley. Halfway down it, he spotted his quarry and shouted out his location into the radio.

Within seconds, he was gaining on Abbott when the man suddenly turned and fired off a shot. Grayson ducked behind a rolling trash can, wishing like hell it was a Dumpster so it would afford better protection. He resisted the urge to fire back. Here in a residential area, the last thing he wanted was to draw fire and risk a stray bullet killing an innocent.

Three more gunshots sounded in rapid succession, and then everything went quiet. Grayson peered out from behind the trash can, the noise of the gunshots ringing in his ears.

Was Abbott fleeing again or was he still in the alley? It was pitch dark already, courtesy of Daylight Savings Time, and Grayson didn’t have a flashlight. Streetlights in this area weren’t well maintained, and many were out.

Grayson’s muscles bunched with tension as he looked around. He left the cover of the trash can, easing out to get a better look.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He raised his weapon, sensing Abbott was nearby, but was taken by surprise when Abbott stepped out from behind a ramshackle backyard fence only ten feet away. Abbott pointed his gun at Grayson’s chest.

Before Grayson could react, Abbott fired. Despite the vest he was wearing, Grayson doubled over at the impact of the close-range shot. His pistol fell from his hand and he staggered backward, tripping on household junk stacked next to the trash cans for pickup.

Lying on his back, he clutched at his chest as he gasped for air. Although the force had stunned him in the same way King’s Taser had the week before, he couldn’t let it paralyze him.

Grayson looked up at the set of bright white teeth gleaming in the darkness. The drug lord let out a laugh as he kicked Grayson’s gun aside.

Making a split-second decision, Grayson looked past Abbott and shouted, “Over here!”

As he’d hoped, the dealer spun around, thinking officers had come bursting into the alley.

Grayson yanked his backup weapon from his ankle holster. “Drop your weapon!”

Abbott jerked his head around but didn’t listen. He raised his weapon to fire, but this time Grayson beat him to it. The bullet hit Abbott’s shoulder, knocking him back.

“Shit!” Abbott’s gun clattered to the pavement.

“On your knees!” Stumbling to his feet, Grayson grabbed handcuffs from his belt. Abbott was writhing in pain as Grayson cuffed him, but Grayson had little sympathy.

Flush with satisfaction, he radioed into the team. As he waited, he pressed a hand to his chest and winced.

Damn. That’s gonna leave a mark.

* * *

Hours later, after completing the necessary paperwork, Grayson finally made it to Claire’s condo near midnight. The smile she gave him at the door as she held back an excited Charlie brought back memories of the past few nights.

Since they’d been reunited in Virginia, he and Claire had practically been living together. And each night, after the passion they shared, he’d enjoyed a restful night’s sleep.

Being with Claire calmed him. When he was with her, he could relax.

This afternoon, though, once he’d received the call from Eli saying the raid was a go, he’d called Claire and told her he might be late, giving her the vague excuse of having to work. It was strange, this unfamiliar urge he felt to account for his whereabouts to someone else. Not knowing how Claire might react, he’d been cautious.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him before he gave Claire a long kiss. Cupping her cheek, he said, “There was a drug bust.”

Claire gestured toward the television that was playing a local news program in the living room. “Do you mean this one?”

Grayson leaned over and tugged affectionately at one of Charlie’s ears. “Yes.”

“How involved were you?”

He stood back up and shrugged, not meeting her eyes as he resisted the urge to rub his chest. “Pretty involved.”

“They said an agent was shot.”

When he didn’t answer, her mouth dropped open and every drop of blood seemed to drain from her face. “My God.”

Grayson let out a sigh. “I was wearing a vest.”

He drew her into his arms, praying she wouldn’t fight him. She didn’t, although she pulled her head back and looked up at him.

“You knew you’d be involved in this raid and chose not to tell me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

When Claire moved her hands against his chest to push him away, Grayson winced but held her even tighter. They were going to deal with this, and they were going to deal with it now.

“I didn’t plan to get involved. I thought I’d only be observing.”

“Yet you did get involved.”

“Because they needed my help.”

Tears shimmered in Claire’s eyes as she shook her head. “I’m tired of learning about things after the fact.”

“I’ll do better. That’s a promise. You need to trust me.” Relief filled him when she gave him a nod. The corners of his lips lifted in a smile. “You know, I’ve kind of missed you being pissed off at me.”

Claire sniffled, her brown eyes luminous as she whispered, “Good thing the reprieve’s over.”

Grayson grinned, then leaned forward to kiss her again.