She’s become his whole world...and she’s under fire

Ever since forensics analyst Shaye Mallory survived a police-station shootout, Detective Cole Walker has felt personally responsible for her well-being. Then another shooter takes aim at Shaye. Cole decides the only thing he can do is stay right by her side until he finds the man who wants her dead.

Cole knows that he must set aside his attraction to Shaye if he’s going to do his job. But as the days—and nights—go on, it becomes harder and harder to resist his feelings. And, as danger moves ever closer to them both, Shaye realizes that her safety might cost her the life of the man she loves.

The Lawmen: Bullets and Brawn

“Shaye!”

“Cole?”

Her voice was weak, but relief hit him hard, a wave that almost took him to his knees. She was alive.

He rounded the second car and found her huddled near the back tire. The flat back tire, Cole realized. The gunman’s final shot must have just missed her.

But relief was short-lived, because she was hit. There was a trail of blood alongside the car, as if she’d dragged herself here. He yanked his cell phone out, calling Monica directly. “Gunman ran east out of Roy’s parking lot, on foot. Male, white, average height and build, wearing jeans and a dark hoodie, carrying at least one pistol. Send backup. And get me an ambulance to Roy’s, right now.”

He barely paused as he knelt next to Shaye, who was abnormally pale, her freckles standing out more than usual against her porcelain skin, her red hair tangled around her face and her pretty brown eyes huge. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

Police Protector

Elizabeth Heiter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ELIZABETH HEITER likes her suspense to feature strong heroines, chilling villains, psychological twists and a little romance. Her research has taken her into the minds of serial killers, through murder investigations and onto the FBI Academy’s shooting range. Elizabeth graduated from the University of Michigan with a degree in English literature. She’s a member of International Thriller Writers and Romance Writers of America. Visit Elizabeth at www.elizabethheiter.com.

It’s amazing to have friends who’ve been by your side since childhood. Robbie Terman, Jaime Pulliam, Julie Gabe and Esi Akaah—this one’s for you!

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Paula Eykelhof, Kayla King, Denise Zaza and everyone involved in bringing Police Protector to readers. Thanks to my family and friends for their endless support, especially my “usual suspects”: Kevan Lyon, Chris Heiter, Robbie Terman, Andrew Gulli, Kathryn Merhar, Caroline Heiter, Kristen Kobet, Ann Forsaith, Charles Shipps, Sasha Orr, Nora Smith and Mark Nalbach.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

She’d made it.

Shaye Mallory smiled as she juggled two bags of groceries and headed toward her ten-year-old sedan at the far end of the grocery store parking lot. She’d been back to work at Maryland’s Jannis County forensics lab for a full week now.

A full week where no one had shot at her.

It felt like a good reason for a celebration, so tonight’s trip to the grocery store had included a big carton of chocolate-chunk ice cream. She tried not to feel too pathetic that she’d be having that celebration all by herself on a Friday night in her living room with an old movie and spoonful after spoonful of sugar.

But she’d lived in Maryland for only two years. She’d moved out here for the computer specialist job. She worked with police officers in her role, but bullets had seemed as foreign to her as living alone, far away from her big family. When she’d left the forensics lab last year after the shooting, most of those friendships had eventually lapsed. At the job she’d taken in tech support before returning to the lab, she’d kept mostly to herself. Although she had friends, there wasn’t anyone close enough to tell she wanted to celebrate going a week without being shot at or having a nervous breakdown. And celebrating with her family over video chat seemed way too pathetic, not to mention that it would get them worried about her all over again.

The truth was today was a milestone for her. A year ago, when she’d quit the job, she’d sworn she’d never return. Never walk back into the forensics lab parking lot—one that was shared with the Jannis City Police Department—where she’d watched three officers die. Where she’d hit the pavement, panicking as shots rang out, having no way to defend herself, knowing she was going to be next.

The shiver of fear that bolted up her spine now was just a memory, Shaye told herself, repositioning her bags so she could dig out her car key. She’d worked late tonight, but when she’d arrived at the store, the parking lot had been relatively full. Apparently she’d spent too long inside debating treats because now it was nearly empty. She forced herself not to spin around, not to check her surroundings, not to give in to the paranoia that had caused her more than one moment of embarrassment over the past week.

But she’d done it. She’d conquered her fear and finally called the forensics lab back, finally accepted their offers to return to her old job.

Every single time she’d walked into the parking lot where the shooting had happened, she’d felt a near-paralyzing fear. She’d frozen more than once before stepping out of her car, but she’d done it. And each day she’d paused for slightly less time before gathering the courage to run for the lab.

But everything was getting back to normal now, Shaye reminded herself. Soon—hopefully—she’d hardly even remember feeling afraid.

If only she could say that right now. She stopped ignoring the tingle at the back of her neck and glanced around the vacant lot, dimly lit with bulbs and two cars, barely keeping hold of her groceries as she slid her key into her door. She swore as one of the bags ripped and started sliding out of her hands.

She dropped to her knees, trying to catch the bag before eggs broke everywhere, and then a boom she’d recognize anywhere rang out. A gunshot.

She panicked, and her feet slid out from underneath her, sending groceries smashing to the ground. Then another gunshot split the night air, and pain exploded in her hip.

Dropping lower to the ground, Shaye looked around the parking lot, certain she’d see that same rusted-out sedan with the spinning rims from a year ago cruising to a stop, gang members leaning out the windows with semiautomatics. Instead she saw a lone figure running across the dark parking lot toward her, a weapon in his hands.

Shaye whimpered, her blood racing through her veins so fast her whole body started to shake as blood spread on the leg of her khakis. Not again. And this time she was all alone. No Cole Walker, heroic police detective and star in too many of her fantasies, to save her.

Fear overrode her ability to think clearly as her brain went back to that horrible evening when gang members had tried to get revenge on the police station for investigating them. She’d been dawdling as she’d left the lab, hanging out closer to the station than her own building, hoping for a chance to run into Cole, when the gunfire started. Shoving the memories back, she glanced up at the key in her car door. Could she get it unlocked, get inside and start the car fast enough?

She looked back toward the shooter, who’d made it halfway to her and stopped to line up another shot through the lot’s dim lighting.

Pressing her feet hard against the concrete, Shaye launched herself toward the front of her car. She heard another bullet hit—probably her car—but didn’t stop to check.

Adrenaline pumped so hard she couldn’t feel the bullet wound on her leg, or the nasty scrapes she knew she’d made on her hands and knees when she’d shoved herself along the concrete. She kept going, her heart thudding in her eardrums as she scurried around to the other side of her car. It wouldn’t be a barrier for long, but now he’d have to get closer to hit her.

There was another car ten feet away. If she could make a run for it, dart for new cover while he was trying to move closer, maybe it would give someone inside time to call the police. Or another vehicle would pull into the lot and scare him off. She scrambled to her knees and got ready to race for the other car, but the sound of footsteps pounded toward her too quickly, and she knew she’d never make it in time.

A sob lodged in her throat as she readied herself to make a run for it anyway, one last desperate effort to survive when she knew she was going to fail. She’d lived through the shooting at the lab, actually conquered her fears enough to return to that job, and now she was going to die in a supermarket parking lot.

* * *

“SHOTS FIRED AT Roy’s Grocery.”

The call came in over his radio, and Cole Walker scowled at it, then pressed the button and replied. “Detective Walker. I’m a minute out. Responding.”

He punched the gas as Monica’s voice came back to him, “Aren’t you off duty, Detective?”

It was a rhetorical question, so he didn’t bother answering. A cop was never really off duty.

“We believe there’s a single gunman in the parking lot,” Monica advised him. “Call came in from the owner, who thinks there’s at least one customer out there, too. No other information at this time.”

“Got it,” he muttered, not bothering to key the radio. It didn’t really matter what information they had; with shots fired, they always reacted as though there could be more gunmen. Ever since the shooting at the station last year, calls about gunfire spurred extra caution.

That thought instantly made an image of Shaye Mallory form in his head. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near Roy’s Grocery, except he’d been on his way—uninvited—to her house. And the store was only a few miles down the road from her. His gaze caught on the champagne bottle with a ribbon on it that rolled off his seat and smacked the floor as he whipped his truck into the grocery store parking lot.

The store had crappy lighting, but he zoned in on the shooter immediately. The man glanced back at him, a hoodie obscuring his face, and then darted around one of two cars in the lot, firing at something—or someone—behind it before sprinting around the corner.

Cole hit the gas, scanning the parking lot for any sign of additional shooters. But he saw no one as he raced past the first car. He was ready to continue past the second after the shooter when his mind registered the make and model of the first one—he recognized it. He slammed on the brakes, yanked his truck into Park and had his weapon out of its holster before he’d even cleared the door.

“Shaye!”

“Cole?”

Her voice was weak, but relief hit him hard, a wave that almost took him to his knees. She was alive.

He rounded the second car and found her huddled near the back tire. The flat back tire, Cole realized. The gunman’s final shot must have just missed her.

But relief was short-lived because she was hit. There was a trail of blood alongside the car, as if she’d dragged herself here. He yanked his cell phone out, calling Monica directly. “Gunman ran east out of Roy’s parking lot on foot. Male, white, average height and build, wearing jeans and a dark hoodie, carrying at least one pistol. Send backup. And get me an ambulance to Roy’s right now.”

He barely paused as he knelt next to Shaye, who was abnormally pale, her freckles standing out more than usual against her porcelain skin, her red hair tangled around her face and her pretty brown eyes huge. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but tucked his phone against his shoulder, holstered his weapon and found the source of all that blood. It was coming from her right leg, up near her hip. Finding where the bullet had entered, he grabbed the fabric of her khakis and ripped so he could see the wound.

“Hey,” she complained, but her voice was even weaker, and she leaned her head against the car as he prodded carefully around her wound.

It was bleeding badly, but not as badly as it would have been if the shooter had gotten a major artery. He slid his hand down into the leg of her pants around to the back of her thigh and found what he suspected. An exit wound. The bullet had gone straight through.

“How bad is it?” Shaye whispered, her eyelids dropping to half-mast.

“You’re going to be fine,” he promised.

“What’s happening?” Monica asked in his ear. “Backup is close. Two minutes out.”

He cursed inwardly, hoping the shooter wouldn’t be long gone before officers arrived. Two minutes was too long. This guy had shot Shaye. Cole wanted him in handcuffs now.

Monica’s voice sounded in his ear again. “I’m getting that ambulance now.”

“Cancel it.” Cole shifted his weight and warned Shaye, “This might hurt a little.” Then he wiped the blood on his hands onto the leg of his pants and scooped her into his arms. “Shaye Mallory was hit,” he said into his phone as Shaye’s arms went around his neck and she tucked her head against his chest, almost before he saw her wince with pain and clamp her jaw closed.

“I’m driving her to the hospital myself,” he told Monica as he hurried back to his truck, deposited her in the passenger seat and then ran around to the driver’s side. “I’ll call you when we get there. Send me updates as they come in,” he said, then hung up the phone and hopped in the truck, yanking it back into Drive.

As he sped out of the parking lot, Shaye asked, “Were you on your way to a date?”

“What?” He frowned over at her, both at the oddity of her question and the way her voice sounded like she was in a daze.

She gestured to her feet, and he looked down, realizing she was talking about the bottle of champagne on his floorboard, which was still miraculously unbroken.

“That was for you,” he replied, seeing her confusion before he yanked his attention back onto the road and drove as fast as he could through the surface streets toward the freeway.

“For me?”

“Put pressure on your wound,” he said, instead of explaining that he’d gotten it to celebrate her returning to work.

He risked a glance at her as her head dropped forward. As if she’d just realized how much blood there was, she pressed both hands down frantically against her leg.

She was coming out of her shock. He’d seen enough shooting victims to know what was coming next: panic.

He tried to stave it off as he merged onto the freeway and punched it up to ninety. “We’ll be at the hospital in three minutes,” he promised, keeping his tone calm despite the fear he felt. “You’re fine. It’s a flesh wound. I know it looks like a lot, but the bullet went through and you haven’t lost enough blood for it to be a problem.”

He’d seen enough bullet wounds to know when they were life threatening. But he’d also seen enough to know that sometimes they surprised you. He’d seen people operate on adrenaline, actually getting up and running, when their injuries said they should already be dead. And he’d seen minor wounds turn fatal.

Not for Shaye, he promised himself, speeding off the freeway. A few more too-fast turns and then he made an illegal turn into the hospital parking lot and slammed to a stop. He tossed his key at the valet and ran around the other side to open Shaye’s door.

An orderly was coming their way with a wheelchair, but Cole ignored him, reaching in to lift Shaye himself. If it was possible, she looked even more pale and terrified, reminding him of that day almost exactly a year ago and the drive-by at the station. Shaye had been caught in the middle of it all.

“Why does this keep happening?” she whispered, then promptly passed out.

Chapter Two

Shaye woke in a hospital bed, a warm blanket pulled up to her chin and a frowning nurse strapping a blood pressure cuff to her arm.

“How are you feeling?”

She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Shaye turned her head, and there was Cole, perched at the edge of a chair next to her bed, his reddish-blond hair rumpled and concern etched onto his normally laid-back expression.

Embarrassment heated her. Had she actually fainted?

Okay, yes, she was a lab rat, and gun battles—except for the gang shooting that still gave her nightmares—were way outside her experience. But she’d managed to make a run for that second car, hiding until Cole had magically arrived. She’d managed to stay relatively cool until they’d made it safely to the hospital.

Yet she’d fainted in front of Jannis’s best detective, the guy who’d led the charge to bring down the entire gang’s network after that shooting. Cole was one of the bravest people she knew.

And she was most definitely not.

“I’m okay,” she said, surprised when her voice came out weak. She realized just how tired she was.

“We stitched up your wound,” the nurse told her, jotting something down and then taking the blood pressure cuff off her arm. “You were lucky—it went straight through and didn’t hit anything crucial. The doctor is going to want to watch your vitals for a few hours, but then we’ll send you home. You should be feeling fine in a few days.”

Shaye nodded, trying not to focus on the dread she’d felt as soon as the nurse mentioned leaving the hospital. Would she ever feel safe again? Or would everywhere she went become like the forensics lab, requiring her to psyche herself up to leave her house? Tears welled, and she shoved them back, refusing to show any more weakness in front of Cole.

Once she knew no tears were going to escape, she looked over at him, hopeful. “Did they get the shooter?”

He frowned, shaking his head. “Not yet. But we’re already reaching out to the news stations. We’ll be putting out a call for information on all the evening shows. Someone will know something. We’ll find him.”

She shivered, suddenly cold, pulling the blanket tighter around her. Would they really? The department was good. She’d seen firsthand how dedicated they were. But with nothing to go on but a vague description of a gunman? Especially one who’d managed to escape the police’s net?

Cole must have sensed the direction of her thoughts, because he said, “We’ve got officers at the scene now, pulling the slugs from your car. The security camera at the grocery store was just for show, but we’re canvassing the area, hoping someone saw the shooter running away. And we’re checking nearby traffic cameras, too. Unless he lives close by, he must have had a vehicle waiting. Once we find that, it’s over.”

There was a dark determination to his voice that told her he planned to be there to slap on the handcuffs himself.

And what he was saying made sense. Although her job was peripheral—she analyzed digital devices like laptops or cell phones that cops brought to her under the fluorescent lights in her lab—she’d seen how investigations worked.

Roy’s Grocery was in a safe area. There were a lot of independent businesses there, and it was close to family neighborhoods. People watched out for one another. They would report someone running away after hearing gunshots. Logically, that would lead to a location where the shooter had a car waiting, and a license plate they could run through their system to get a name. She’d seen it happen before. She’d seen it work plenty of times.

But she’d also helped with cases where they’d come up empty no matter how hard they tried, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to be one of those cases. Even worse, she hadn’t been any help at all. All she could say about the shooter was that he was male, probably white, definitely determined to kill her.

“Do you think it was the same people from last year?” She spoke her deepest fear.

Gangs didn’t give up. They didn’t forgive, and they held grudges.

The police had rounded up the whole group, killing some at the scene, then getting the driver from her identification. After that, they’d worked tirelessly to bring down the leadership, being creative by going after them on racketeering charges, using the digital trail she’d found before the shooting, before she’d quit. But was everyone behind bars, or had they missed someone? Had someone gotten out?

With gangs anything was possible, including someone new making a play to bring the group back, to make a name for himself by taking out the key witness in the trial that had brought down the old leadership. Last year she’d worried that she’d never be safe again. There had actually been talk of the Witness Protection Program.

But Cole and his partner had kept at it, even working with local FBI agents in one of the biggest task forces their small department had ever seen. She’d been gone by then, but she’d heard the rumors. Cole had ignored death threats. He’d kept going until he was certain every member was behind bars.

She’d seen the news headlines later that year, too, proclaiming the demise of the Jannis Crew gang. Her fear of returning to the station hadn’t gone away, but at the time, her logical brain had said there was no more reason for her to be scared.

“We’re looking into it,” Cole said, fury in the hard lines of his jaw. “But don’t worry. Chances are this is totally unrelated. You were probably a random victim, just in the wrong parking lot when he happened to be looking for trouble.”

“You think this guy was planning a mass shooting and the parking lot was emptier than he expected?” she asked. Or had Cole arrived before the shooter could head into the building to find more victims, she wondered, staring at the man who’d saved her life for the second time.

She flashed back to that moment when she’d flattened herself to the ground in a different parking lot, certain she was going to be killed. Back then, there’d been three other men in the lot with her, armed men, who’d each taken a bullet before they could unholster their weapons. She’d gotten as low as she could, with nowhere to run, bullets spraying over her head, and then Cole had run out the front door of the station, right into the line of fire.

“It’s definitely a possibility,” Cole said, and she refocused on their conversation.

Mass shooting. This was different from last year, she reminded herself. Except back then, she hadn’t been an intended target, either. Just at the wrong place at the wrong time. How many chances would she get before she ran out of them, or Cole wasn’t around to save her?

A shiver worked through her, and she spoke quickly to change the subject, knowing he’d seen it. “How long have I been here?”

He didn’t even glance at his watch. “A few hours.”

And he’d stayed beside her the whole time? She didn’t need to ask. She could tell from the way the nurse had maneuvered around him when she’d left the room without even looking, as if she’d been doing it repeatedly.

She had an instant flashback to the day she’d arrived in Jannis, having accepted the job as a digital forensics examiner. She’d walked through the station doors, thinking it was connected to the laboratory she was supposed to report to, her palms slick with nerves and her stride quick with anticipation. She’d turned the corner toward security and walked smack into Cole Walker.

She was tall, and in the heels she’d worn that first day with her carefully tailored suit, she’d been close to his six feet. But even in heels, she didn’t have slow or dainty strides. She walked with purpose, so she’d collided with him hard. Enough that the impact with his rock-hard chest had almost sent her to the ground.

The memory made her flush, warming her up, and Cole’s lips turned up at the corners like he could tell what she was thinking. Before he could comment on it, she blurted, “I’m not quitting.”

He looked surprised by her outburst, and, in truth, it had surprised her, too. She’d had no idea she was even thinking it until the words came out, but as soon as she spoke, she realized they were true.

A year ago she’d let the tragedy at the station derail her career. The fact was she’d let it derail her life.

She was scared. But how many times could she be this unlucky?

And she was tired of running from the things that scared her. She met Cole’s gaze, momentarily distracted by the perfect sky blue of his eyes, then felt her shoulders square on the scratchy hospital pillow. “Whatever needs to be done to catch this guy, I want to be a part of it.”

* * *

HAPPINESS BURST FORTH, then instantly warred with Cole’s need to keep Shaye safe.

He’d been thrilled when she had returned to the lab. It had been part of his motivation when he’d called her a month ago, asking for some off-the-books help with a situation his foster brother Andre had been battling. When she’d provided key information to help them nail the guy who’d been coming after his brother’s new girlfriend, he’d seen it boost her confidence again. Even more, he’d seen it remind her how much she loved the electronic chase.

He’d worked with enough forensics specialists in his years at the police department to know Shaye was special. She had a gift with computers, able to pull from them things no one else could find. And that kind of talent rarely came without passion.

When she’d left the job last year, he’d understood. A tiny part of him had even been glad, because it kept her out of the line of fire while they chased down the dangerous gang nervy enough to stage a drive-by at a police station. But he’d missed seeing her every day, those few moments each morning when they’d walk in from the parking lot together before she veered off to the county’s forensics lab located behind the station. Those few moments each evening when she’d wait for him outside the station doors, and they’d stand and chat before going their separate ways.

Once he’d been confident they’d shut the gang down, he’d reached out a few times, tried to convince Shaye to return. He knew her director had, too. But each time she’d refused, seeming embarrassed by the fact that she was afraid to come under fire again. So he was shocked that she was standing her ground now.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Before she could argue, he continued. “Believe me—I want you to stay. I think this is where you belong. But we don’t know who came after you today—and although I don’t think you were the target, I want to be sure. Your safety is most important.”

“I—”

“Hopefully, we’ll catch him today and discover he’s acting alone and picked you at random. But until we’re certain, I think you should go into protective custody.”

When she looked ready to argue, he held up a hand. “Not WitSec. I’m not asking you to give up your life here. This is nothing like last year.”

He hoped that was true. Nothing about this situation resembled the other—the shooter hadn’t been wearing gang colors, and he’d gone after Shaye at a store, instead of attacking where the rest of the gang’s presumed targets would be, back at the station. All logic pointed to this being random.

But he couldn’t shake the fear that someone wanted Shaye dead. And he couldn’t let anything happen to her.

“Just temporary police protection,” he continued, trying to stop his morose thinking. “Then, once we’re sure you’re out of danger, you get back to work.” He reached out and took her hand, which felt cold and tiny on top of the too-warm blanket. “Deal?”

“No.”

He almost laughed at the stubborn tilt of her chin, the petulant look in her eyes. But this wasn’t a joking matter. “No?” he repeated, in his best “bad cop” voice.

Staring at her now, looking so vulnerable in that hospital bed, made all his protective instincts fire to life. She might have belonged in forensics, but she could have gotten a job doing that anywhere. He’d been the one who’d lured her back to this department after she’d helped with his brother’s case. So everything that was happening to her now was on him.

The idea that he’d had any part, no matter how small, in putting her back in danger left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d always been drawn to Shaye, from that first day she’d shown up at the station, looking nervous behind her determined posture.

She’d slammed into him, all lean muscle and surprisingly soft curves, and then her cheeks had gone such a deep red, he’d been immediately charmed. He’d sought out excuses to see her every day. But he’d never been able to bring himself to ask her out. She was shy and sweet and smart. She came from a close-knit family and he knew when she looked into her future, she saw someone solid and stable to share it with, someone with a normal job. She deserved far better than he’d ever be able to give her.

But when it came to this—when it came to her safety—he knew he was the best man for the job.

He could tell she was scared. It was there, behind the determination in her eyes, in the slight tremor in her hand. But she shook her head.

“I let a shooting scare me off once. I work in law enforcement. Maybe I’m just a lab rat and not a cop, but I’m not letting it force me out again.”

“There’s no shame in going into hiding for a short time,” he told her, but she was already shaking her head again. “You know they’ll hold your job for you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” A smile quivered on her lips, fleeting and self-deprecating. “If I leave now, I’ll never come back. And I want to do this job. I want this life. I’m not giving up on it.”

Cole stared at her, not really sure what she meant by this life. But he could see it in her gaze—she wasn’t going to back down. Which meant he’d have to keep her safe. It would be way more challenging than if she’d agree to go off the grid, but the more he thought about it, there were upsides, too.

With no evidence this was a targeted hit, he’d be hard-pressed to convince the brass to use resources to protect her. He knew he could talk them into it for a short time, but it wouldn’t be easy. And if she went to a safe house, they’d assign a couple of patrol officers to watch her. If she kept working, he’d be on the case. He’d make sure of it. And that meant he’d also be personally in charge of her safety.

“Okay,” he said, not pulling his hand away from hers even as her cheeks started to flush from the extended contact. “Have it your way. But you’d better get used to having me around, then, because I’m not letting you out of my sight until we catch this guy.”

Chapter Three

He wasn’t letting her out of his sight?

All sorts of inappropriate thoughts ran through Shaye’s mind until she was sure Cole could see exactly what she was thinking, especially when his pupils dilated, staring back at her.

She dropped her gaze to her lap, her heart thudding way too hard after the day she’d had, and pulled her hand free from his. She’d had a massive crush on Cole from the moment she’d met him. But if she hadn’t already known it, last year’s shooting had quickly shown her that they’d never work. While she’d turned in her resignation the very next morning—over the phone because she was too afraid to return to the scene of the crime—he’d gone right back to work.

They would never be equals. He would always be the brave detective with the badge and the gun, and here she was again, the terrified forensics expert. It couldn’t be more obvious, with her stuck in this hospital bed, in a hospital gown someone had changed her into—she hoped not in front of Cole—and him ready to dive right into solving the case.

But this time would be different, she vowed. Because she might be way too shy, way too awkward, way too boring for a man like Cole Walker, but she was tired of feeling like a coward. Two years ago she’d moved out to Maryland from Michigan, leaving behind her big, well-meaning family and the anonymity that came with being the middle child in a group of five. She’d dived into the unfamiliar, trying to break out of her comfort zone. She’d even bought a house, putting down roots right away, to force herself to stay if things got tough. And things had sure gotten tough.

She wasn’t going to let herself be driven out of the job she loved and the place she’d come to consider home a second time.

She clenched her jaw and looked back up at Cole, praying her cheeks would cool. “What do we know so far about the forensics? What can I do?”

Her specialty was computers, but she had plenty of cross-training. There had to be some way she could help catch this guy. And once they caught him, maybe she could get back to the task of putting her life back on track.

Cole patted her hand. “Right now I just want you to focus on healing up.”

“I’m fine.” She knew he didn’t mean to condescend to her, but if she wanted him to take her seriously as a professional—and not a victim he had to take care of—she needed to show him a reason. She shoved off the blanket and got to her feet, remembering too late she was hooked up to an IV.

The nurse ran in as her monitor went off, and Shaye clapped her hand over the crook of her elbow where she’d pulled out the line.

Cole stood, tried to steady her as she wobbled a little on her feet. “What are you doing?”

“Going home.”

“You need to be under observation,” the nurse stated, scowling as she slapped a piece of cotton over the blood on Shaye’s arm and taped it down.

“I’m fine,” Shaye said. “The wound on my leg is closed, right? My heart rate and blood pressure have been pretty normal the whole time I’ve been in here.” She’d been peeking over at her monitor periodically as she and Cole talked. “You said you were going to release me today. I’m ready to go.”

The nurse frowned at her, but it was nothing compared with Cole’s expression, a mixture of worry, frustration and anger.

Shaye stood her ground. “Have the doctor look at me if you need to, but I feel okay. I want to go home.”

The nurse muttered something under her breath, then looked her over. “All right. But if you start feeling dizzy or your wound opens up, I want you to come back here—understood?”

Nodding, Shaye hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. But she couldn’t stay here any longer. She needed answers about who had shot at her—and why. And she wasn’t going to get them on her back in a hospital bed.

She was tired of letting things happen to her. It was time to fight back.

* * *

“EVERYTHING HAS BEEN quiet all night,” Marcos Costa told Cole as soon as he drove up next to the car.

Cole’s youngest brother may not have shared his blood—they’d met at a foster home as kids—but they’d formed a bond that went deeper than genetics. After Shaye had spent several hours in the forensics lab, Cole had driven her home and then promptly called his two brothers to see who was available to watch her house until he got off work. Their middle brother, Andre, was on a mission for the FBI, but Marcos had been free.

Now it was 3:00 a.m., and everything looked quiet on Shaye’s street. Her house was situated on a corner lot in a cute little neighborhood that boasted its fair share of picket fences and young families. The kind of place where a stranger skulking about would be noticed.

Still, it was Shaye. He wasn’t leaving anything to chance. And his youngest brother worked for the DEA, so he had plenty of experience spotting suspicious characters.

“Thanks,” Cole said through his window as his car idled next to Marcos’s.

“No problem. We all love Shaye.” Marcos glanced past Cole at his partner, Luke, in the passenger seat and nodded hello. “Is there a reason we’re doing this on the street instead of in her house?”

“She doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Marcos said with a dimpled smile. “I’m wondering why exactly.”

“She refused police protection.” Luke Hayes, Cole’s partner on the force for the past three years, spoke up. “Officially we can’t force her.”

Marcos frowned. “But if someone’s gunning for her—”

Cole didn’t have to turn his head to feel Luke’s glance as he replied. “No one is gunning for her. The shooting that happened earlier this evening looks random.”

“Ah.” Marcos nodded knowingly. “Got it.”

“It’s a precaution,” Cole said, not bothering to hide his annoyance at what Marcos and Luke were clearly thinking. That he was overreacting because it was Shaye. That no matter how far out of his league she was, he was still going to be there whenever she needed him.

“Don’t worry,” Marcos said, starting his engine. “I don’t mind. But right now I’m going to head home and get a little sleep.” He started to shift into Drive, then paused and asked, “Shouldn’t you get some of that yourself?”

“That’s why Luke is here.”

Marcos grinned again. “You’re going to nap while he keeps watch?” He peered at Luke and joked, “All that Marine training means you don’t actually need sleep?”

Cole’s partner had been in the Marines before becoming a police officer.

“Ha-ha,” Cole said. “We’re going to take turns getting a little shut-eye.”

“Good luck,” Marcos said. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“You got it.” As Marcos pulled away, Cole eased into the spot his brother had chosen at the corner of the street. It was a perfect vantage point since it gave him a good angle on the two sides of Shaye’s house that abutted streets. The remaining sides of her house were bordered by neighbors’ yards, and they would be trickier for someone to approach.

Cole shut off his truck. It was a typical November night, hovering near forty degrees, but Cole didn’t want the running engine to draw any attention from the neighbors, in case anyone was a night owl. Besides, he and Luke were used to working in uncomfortable conditions. Both of them had been patrol officers before being bumped up to detectives.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, checking the area, and then Luke asked, “Have we officially released her car yet?”

Shaye’s car was still at Roy’s Grocery, where the parking lot had been roped off so he and Luke, along with a handful of cops working with them on the case, could pull evidence. They’d finished an hour ago, but Cole figured he’d tell Shaye in the morning.

“Technically, yeah. I thought I’d take her to pick it up tomorrow.”

“Or just have it towed,” Luke suggested. “She’ll need that bullet hole repaired.”

The gunman had fired three shots. One had hit the driver’s door of Shaye’s car, another had hit the back tire of the grocery store owner’s car and the third had gone into Shaye. He’d asked the forensics lab to put a rush on reviewing the bullets, but they’d looked insulted he’d even asked. Shaye was one of them. They were already rushing it.

“We hear anything yet about those security cameras?” Cole asked. Although the camera at the grocery store wasn’t real, there were others nearby they were checking. He’d probably have heard if there was news, because he’d made sure everyone working the case knew they should call him at any hour with updates. But he’d also spent several hours this evening at the hospital while Luke headed up the investigation. It was possible he’d missed something.

“Not yet,” Luke replied, but he dutifully pulled out his phone and tapped in a text, then shook his head a minute later. “They haven’t found the guy on any cameras yet.”

Cole wasn’t surprised. The grocery store wasn’t in a highly commercial area, and it didn’t get much criminal activity, either. There weren’t as many security cameras as there would have been if the shooting had happened in another area of town. He wondered if that had been the shooter’s intent.

“Shaye’s got bad luck.”

“What?” Cole shifted in his seat to face Luke, who always looked serious, with his buzz cut leftover from the military and his intense greenish-blue eyes.

“That’s all this was. We went over her timeline. She was at work until eight, and then she drove straight to the grocery store, which she said she hadn’t originally planned to do. If someone was after her specifically, that means they would have had to watch the forensics lab from at least five and then followed her. And in three hours, sitting outside a police station, don’t you think someone would have spotted him?”

Cole nodded. He knew it was true. All the evidence said this had nothing to do with Shaye. Still, ever since he’d shown up at that shooting, his instincts had been buzzing the way they always did on a case when he knew something was off. And it was telling him there was more going on here.

“If it was random, meant to be a spree shooting, then why did he wait until the place was almost empty?”

Luke frowned. “Yeah, that bothers me, too. But he ran into the parking lot. Maybe he’d been coming from committing a crime and Shaye was in his way.”

“We didn’t have any reports that would match up,” Cole reminded him.

“Not yet. Or maybe he planned to keep going—run though the grocery store lot, taking out anyone there, then move on to the rest of the businesses on the street. There are a couple of restaurants that were pretty full.”

It was one of the reasons they didn’t have any witnesses yet. It seemed counterintuitive—the shooter had run toward businesses full of people—but on a Friday night, it meant the music was loud, the patrons were drinking and no one heard a thing. Except for Roy still inside the grocery store, who’d sheltered in place and called the police.

“That’s possible,” Cole agreed, but he still couldn’t shake the dread gripping him, saying Shaye had a direct connection. Because Luke was right about one thing: how unlucky could one woman be? Two attempts on her life in a year?

“Today is almost a year to the day of the shooting at the station,” Cole said, even though he knew Luke didn’t need the reminder. Luke had been there, too; he’d run out right behind Cole, firing back at the gang members, completely outgunned with their service pistols against semiautomatics.

“Yeah, and that’s why I’m sitting in this car with you instead of in bed at home,” Luke replied. “Because I think we got everyone in that gang. But they’ve all got families, too.”

Cole nodded. It hadn’t occurred to him that a gang member’s family member might be trying to get revenge on Shaye for speaking up as a witness in the trial earlier in the year. His thoughts had always been on the families of the three officers who’d died that day. But his and Luke’s bullets had killed two gang members at the scene, and four more had died in subsequent raids, because they’d pulled weapons instead of throwing up their hands when police came to arrest them. Any one of those men—or the ones who’d landed in prison—could have family or friends desperate for revenge.

“That theory has the same problem, though,” Luke said. “If Shaye was a specific target, someone followed her to that grocery store. And if we’re talking about someone affiliated with a gang, yes, they wouldn’t be afraid to stake out a police station, but I doubt they’d be subtle enough to get away with it.”

“True. And if we’re looking at that kind of revenge, wouldn’t someone want us to know it was them?” Cole added. “Or go after the station too? Both of us instead of just Shaye? I don’t like the timing, and it seems way too coincidental that she’s targeted by gunmen twice—”

“She wasn’t targeted before,” Luke cut him off. “They had no idea she was involved in the digital analysis that got us the lead we needed on the gang leadership in the first place. They were there because we’d been investigating. She just happened to be on our side of the parking lot.”

A fresh wave of guilt washed over Cole. He knew why she’d been by the station doors, when she should have been on the other side near the forensics lab, out of the line of fire. Most days they’d ended around the same time and stood outside chatting for ten or twenty minutes before going their separate ways. That day, he’d been late, caught up in paperwork. And she’d almost paid with her life.

“Well, still,” Cole said, hoping Luke didn’t notice the new tension in his voice, “she’s been shot at twice in just over a year. I don’t like it.”

“Me, either,” Luke said, then swore.

“What?”

“Here she comes.”

“What?” Cole said, spinning back toward the direction of Shaye’s house.

His partner was right. Shaye was storming their way, her injured leg dragging a little behind, her hands crossed over her chest and a furious look on her face. None of that stopped him from noticing she was heading toward them in a nightgown that was way too short and way too thin for this kind of weather.

His mouth dried up as he got out of his truck, rushing over to her side and slipping his arm behind her shoulders in case she was still off balance from her injury. Behind him he heard Luke step out of the vehicle a little more slowly.

Shaye shrugged his arm off. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping an eye on things,” Cole said. “Just until we catch the shooter.”

She scowled but didn’t look at all intimidating in her nightgown. It was just cotton, basically a big T-shirt, but on Shaye it somehow looked sexy. Especially with her hair spilling around her shoulders, loose and rumpled.

“I told the chief I didn’t need protection.” Her words lost some of their anger as he continued to stare at her, trying to keep his gaze on her face. As if she suddenly realized what she was wearing, she tugged the hem of her nightgown farther down her legs, her gaze darting to Luke and back again.

Then she spun around. Just when he thought she was going to demand he leave and call the chief about his unauthorized stakeout, she called over her shoulder, “This is unnecessary. But if you’re going to insist on being here, you shouldn’t sleep in the truck. Come on. You can stay with me.”

A million images rushed through his brain, most of them involving that nightgown on the floor, and Cole knew he should refuse and climb back into the truck with his partner. Instead he followed Shaye inside.

Chapter Four

Shaye tried not to feel self-conscious as she strode quickly back to her house, but she’d never been more aware of the swing of her hips as she walked, of her long, awkward limbs. She pulled at the hem of her nightgown, willing her cheeks to cool as she held the door open for Cole without turning around.

Mixed in with her embarrassment was annoyance. The chief had offered her protection, even though she could tell he thought it was unnecessary. She’d had only a moment’s hesitation before she refused. And yet here Cole was anyway, deciding what was best for her.

She tried to shove back her frustration. Cole was just doing what he always did, what seemed to come naturally to him: protecting everyone around him, whether they needed it or not.

“I’ll be right back,” she said over her shoulder as she headed to her bedroom. Pushing the door shut behind her, she changed quickly into a pair of loose sweatpants and a T-shirt, cringing every time she moved her leg. The painkillers were starting to wear off.

She paused a minute in front of the mirror, combing her hands through her messy hair. There wasn’t much she could do about the deep circles under her eyes, not without makeup, and she wasn’t going to dress up for Cole. Not when he’d shown up uninvited, determined to look after her whether she wanted his help or not. And not when the sound of his car on the quiet street had woken her from an almost sleep.

When she returned to her living room, she found Luke settled on her couch, his legs stretched out in front of him and his hands tucked behind his head. Somehow he managed to look relaxed and totally alert at the same time. She nodded at him and continued looking around, until Luke pointed silently into her kitchen.

That was where she found Cole, checking the locks on her windows.

Shaye let out a heavy sigh. “I always leave those unlocked.”

He spun toward her. “What?”

“The front door, too. I just let anyone in who asks.”

He frowned, giving her the kind of stare she’d seen him use on hostile suspects. “That’s not funny.”

She planted her hands on her hips, subtly resting more of her weight on her left foot as her whole right leg started to throb. Apparently when the painkillers wore off, it wasn’t a gradual thing. “I told the chief I was fine. You told me I had nothing to worry about, that this was an unlucky fluke. So why are you here? Were you lying to me?”

He leaned back slightly, and she could tell she’d caught him off guard. Good. She was tired of being scared all the time, tired of waiting for someone else to solve her problems. Tired of being in the dark about what was happening with cases that concerned her.

“No,” he said slowly, looking her over as if he wondered what had happened to the nervous computer nerd he was used to.

She’s gone, Shaye wanted to say, and she’s not coming back. Except that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was she was scared. But she needed to take charge of her life instead of letting things happen to her.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Cole finally said.

Frustration built up in her chest, and she was humiliated to feel tears prick the backs of her eyes. But she’d been shot today, so maybe she had an excuse. Her hip felt like it was on fire.

“I’m fine,” she lied. “And I really don’t need a couple of babysitters.”

“If I’m a babysitter, my rate is ten dollars an hour,” Luke called from the other room.

A smile quirked her lips, and she tried to hide it as Cole rolled his eyes.

“I wasn’t lying to you,” Cole said, taking a step closer, his hand hovering near her elbow, as though he expected to need to catch her if she suddenly fell. “There’s no reason to suspect this guy was specifically targeting you. Because if that were the case, how would he even know where you were at that exact time? It makes more sense that he’d come here, beat the pathetic lock on your front door and do it in the middle of the night when you were sleeping.”

She must have gone pale, because he was quick to continue. “That’s not what happened. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time—that’s it.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because.” His frown deepened, but instead of looking annoyed, he looked flustered.

She didn’t think she’d ever seen him flustered. She tilted her head, curious. “Why?” she insisted. “If this was a total fluke and no one was targeting me, then what were you doing sitting on my street in the dark, watching my house?”

They were keeping something from her. She stared up into his light blue eyes, trying to find answers there. “It’s gang related, isn’t it? You think this guy wants revenge for last year?”

“Probably not.”

“Then what?” she snapped, leaning even more on her uninjured leg. She wanted to sit, but he already had a height advantage. Plus, he was properly dressed in dark jeans and a button-down while she was dressed like a slob. And she needed answers. Needed the truth about what danger she was really facing. “What is it?”

“I can’t take the chance,” he barked right back at her.

She swayed, and it had nothing to do with her injury. “It is connected to the shooting from last year?” She had an instant flashback to being in that parking lot, bullets flying over her head as she hugged the pavement. To the panic, the absolute certainty she was going to die, and all the things she hadn’t accomplished yet in her life.

“It’s not connected to anything. Everyone thinks I’m crazy. But it’s you, so...”

Her lips parted and she tried to find words, but there were none. Because all of a sudden, she saw what was underneath the anger and worry and frustration in his gaze. He was attracted to her. And not just in a he’d-seen-her-in-her-nightgown kind of way, but genuine interest.

The realization slammed through her, shocking and empowering. The pain in her leg faded into the background as she took a small step forward, then leaned in.

For several long seconds, he stood immobile. Then something shifted in his eyes, and all she could see was desire.

Shaye’s heart took off at a gallop as his hands came up slowly and feathered across her cheeks. His thumbs stroked her face, and then his fingers plunged into her hair and his mouth crashed down on hers.

I’m kissing Cole Walker. The stupefied thought blared in her head as he nipped at her lips with his mouth and tongue and teeth until a sigh broke free and her lips parted. Then his tongue was in her mouth, slick against hers, sending shivers up and down her entire body.

She leaned into him, and thankfully he dropped his hands from her hair to her waist, keeping her from falling. His big hands seemed to make a hot imprint through her T-shirt and for a second, she wished she’d worn something sexier. Then she couldn’t think at all as he changed the angle of their kiss, and every nerve in her body came alive.

The scruff on his chin abraded her face, but it didn’t stop her from pressing even harder, wanting more, wanting it now. Looping her hands around his neck, she pulled herself up on her tiptoes to eliminate any last space between them, and then yelped as pain shot down her leg.

Cole lifted his head, the fire that had been in his gaze doused with worry. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

He held her at arm’s length, still breathing hard. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Why not? she wanted to ask, but before she could get the words out, he’d reached past her and dragged a chair forward, pushing her into it.

“Did your wound open up?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” He reached for the band of her sweatpants, and she scooted sideways.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m fine. Why—”

He stood up, backing away from her. “We came here to make sure you were safe. That was...that wasn’t part of the plan.”

Heat raced up her cheeks, this time from embarrassment. He kissed her like that and then told her it wasn’t part of some plan? If it weren’t for his use of the word we, reminding her that Luke was in the other room and had surely heard exactly what they were doing, she would have kissed him again.

Instead she nodded silently and got to her feet, holding up her hand when he tried to help her.

“We’re friends,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to mess that up.”

Shaye gave him a halfhearted smile, hoping the fact that she wanted to cry didn’t show on her face. Because she could tell he was lying.

“Shaye—”

“Good night, Cole.”

* * *

HE WAS AN IDIOT.

It was something Luke had been all too quick to tell him when he’d joined his partner in the living room after Shaye had headed to bed. As if he didn’t already know.

He’d had Shaye Mallory in his arms, and he’d pushed her away. That was about as stupid as a person could get.

Except while everything about that kiss had felt right, he’d known it was all wrong, for a laundry list of reasons. He was here to protect her. She was injured. They were friends. But most of all, she wasn’t the kind of woman you messed around with.

And there could never be anything long-term between them because they came from different worlds. She was smart and educated, with the kind of earning potential he’d never have. She might have picked law enforcement for now, but Cole knew that if they weren’t already, private-sector companies would be seeking her out soon, with huge salaries and perks. And she deserved that sort of life, one far from the bullets and crooks he dealt with on a daily basis. She deserved a man who was just as smart and educated as she was, someone who could give her things Cole never could. And he wouldn’t pretend otherwise.

He cared about her too much to lead her on.

But was that exactly what he’d been doing for the past year? He’d known she had a crush on him when they met, and instead of staying away, he’d sought her out. He’d hover by the door each day before work, waiting for her arrive to start his day off right by chatting with her. He’d let her wait for him each day after work, let her beautiful smile and soft voice soothe away some of the crap of his shift.

He needed to take a step back, try to treat her like any other civilian who might need police protection. But no matter how many times he told himself that, he couldn’t get that kiss out of his head. Hours later he could still taste the mint of her toothpaste, still feel the imprint of her lips on his. For someone who was normally shy and reserved, she’d been a firecracker in his arms. And he wanted more.

Luke had claimed the couch after Shaye had disappeared, leaving Cole with the big recliner in the corner. He’d slept in far worse, but as the sun seeped through the curtains, he realized he hadn’t slept at all.

“Get over it, or do something about it.”

Luke’s voice startled him, and Cole glanced over, seeing his partner had one eye open. Luke’s ability to sense movement even with his eyes closed was an asset in stakeouts, and the way he seemed to read people’s minds was great for interrogations. But right now it was pissing Cole off.

“What am I supposed to do?”

When Luke raised an eyebrow, Cole snapped, “Don’t be crude. This is Shaye we’re talking about. I can’t...”

“What?” Luke prompted. “Sleep with her? Date her? Tell her you’ve been obsessed with her since the day she walked through those station doors? Why not?”

Cole shot a glance down the hallway that led to Shaye’s bedroom. Her door was closed, and he hoped she was still out cold. “We’re friends. Let it go.”

Luke shrugged. “I will if you will.”

Grumbling under his breath, Cole gave up on sleep and trudged into Shaye’s cheery red-and-blue kitchen. He dug around until he found the coffee, then started up a large pot. Before he’d made it back into the living room with his first cup, he heard Shaye come into the room and prayed she hadn’t overheard his conversation.

But one look at her face, her chin up high, her cheeks tinged with red, her gaze daring him to bring up any of it, and he knew she had. A thousand curse words lodged in his throat, and he held them in, instead handing her the cup of coffee as a peace offering.

She cradled it between her palms and drank half the cup before she lowered it again, but he wasn’t surprised. He’d heard her tossing and turning last night, probably the result of the painkillers not keeping up with the sting of her bullet wound. Or maybe the events of the night playing over and over again, all the possible outcomes racing through her mind the way they had in his. They were lucky she was alive.

“I’m going to get myself a cup of coffee—”

“And me,” Luke interrupted, popping to his feet as though he’d slept ten hours.

“And then we’re going to go through yesterday’s timeline, make sure we’re covering all of our bases,” Cole finished.

Shaye nodded, but her hands shook around the coffee cup. “If this is going to turn into an interrogation, I need some breakfast first.” She started to limp toward the kitchen, and Cole put a hand on her arm to stop her. She pulled it away fast, like his touch burned her.

Trying to pretend he hadn’t noticed, Cole said, “I’ll make breakfast. Just relax a little.”

“There’s nothing to make,” she replied, pushing past him. “It’s cereal and coffee. All my groceries are in Roy’s parking lot. Unless you want frozen burritos for breakfast, that’s what I’ve got.”

He followed her into the kitchen more slowly, while Luke disappeared in the other direction, toward the bathroom.

She slowly set a few boxes of cereal on the counter, keeping her back turned to him, like she was waiting until her embarrassment fled. But when she finally turned, her cheeks were still flushed.

Shaye had never been good at hiding her emotions. After dealing with criminals day in and day out, he found it one of her most charming attributes, but he knew she hated it.

“About last night—”

“Don’t.” Her cheeks went from rose pink to fire-engine red.

“Shaye—”

“Just let it go.”

Luke rejoined them at that moment, so Cole did. Instead of apologizing yet again—which probably wouldn’t get him anywhere—he focused on her safety, and not the fact that he might have ruined their friendship. A ball of dread settled in his stomach, but he kept his mind on what he could do something about: eliminating the nagging feeling that this had been a hit.

“Let’s go through your day yesterday, from the moment you woke up.” Cole set down his spoon in cereal he’d barely touched. “Did you drive straight to work?”

“Yes.”

“Your car was in the garage overnight, right? Did you step outside to get a paper, anything like that?”

“Yes, my car was in the garage, and, no, when I got in it to head to the lab it was the first time I’d left my house. And let me save you some time, because I’ve heard you talk to witnesses before. I didn’t see anyone following me. Not yesterday, not in the past few weeks, not ever. And as far as I know, there’s no one who has a reason to come after me, not with the Jannis Crew shut down.”

“What about at work?” Luke asked. “Anything unusual there?”

Shaye frowned. “Like what?”

“Like anything. Coworkers acting strange around you, someone who’s shown an interest in you even though you’ve turned him down or made it clear you’re not interested?”

Shaye shook her head slowly. “No. There’s been a little turnover since I left a year ago, but most of my colleagues are the same. And the ones who are new all seem fine. It’s business as usual at the lab.”

Cole stared at her, wondering what that meant. He’d visited her in the lab a few times, and his presence had always surprised her. Not just because it was him and he didn’t tend to come over to the lab, but because she’d been so focused on whatever digital device she’d been analyzing that she hadn’t even noticed he was there until he’d told her.

Was she that oblivious all the time? Would she even realize if someone had been stalking her, waiting for the right moment to get her alone?

He wished he knew. But the truth was even though they talked in the course of their jobs, and they had an unofficial agreement to meet up before and after work each day, he’d rarely seen her outside investigations. Even last month, when he’d asked for her help, it had been an off-the-books case. The realization momentarily surprised him, because she’d become such an important part of his life. And yet she was almost totally separate from it.

He wasn’t sure if that said something about the strength of their friendship or just about his willingness to let people get close to him. Except he had plenty of friends, and to this day, he still tried to help kids coming out of the foster system because he knew how hard that transition was. So why? He wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling if he probed that too deeply, he wouldn’t like the answer.

“What about your job?” Cole asked when he realized the silence had dragged on a little too long. “What devices do you have right now?”

“I’m looking at computers from that corporate espionage case. And the girl who’s being stalked, to see if her computer was hacked. I’ve only been back for a week.” She shrugged. “That’s all I’ve got right now.”

Neither were likely connections to today’s shootings, but he gave Luke a meaningful look, and his partner nodded. They’d check both out. The corporate espionage involved two local competing businesses, and both sides had been repeatedly fined for violating various laws, but he doubted they’d resort to violence. And the stalker was young; that kind of behavior always made him look twice, because it was often a gateway crime, but usually the ultimate target was the person being stalked, not someone connected to the investigation. Still, he planned to check every possibility.

“How about cases from last year?” Cole asked. “Anything you dealt with that’s still in the courts?”

“Yeah, probably. I know there are a few that haven’t gone to trial yet, but they’re cases I worked peripherally. Nothing where I’m a witness. At least not yet. I guess I could still get subpoenaed.”

Luke shook his head. “Probably not those. But let’s make a list of all these cases—especially where you took the stand or your name would appear in the court documents—where someone went to jail.”

Shaye glanced from him back to Cole. “Isn’t this a waste of time? Shouldn’t you be focused on witness statements or trying to track down this guy some other way?”

“We will,” Cole assured her. “But no reason not to attack it from both directions.”

She scooted her half-eaten bowl of cereal away from her and leaned on the counter. “But I’m not a direction at all, right? I’m just unlucky enough to have been shot at twice?”

Her words hung in the air. Cole wanted to nod, like he’d done last night, and tell her this had nothing to do with her. But the more he thought about it, the more he worried that Shaye was at the center of something dangerous. And he had no idea what it was.

Chapter Five

“Let’s go.” Shaye unlocked the door to the lab and held the door for Cole and Luke, trying to calm her nerves. There had been hardly any cars outside the lab, but they didn’t work weekends unless a big case required a rush analysis. But across the parking lot, cops’ vehicles were lined up in what should have been a reminder of her safety.

She’d come so close this past week to feeling normal again. But maybe it wasn’t ever going to happen now. Maybe her parents and her four brothers and sisters were right. She wasn’t cut out for a job where bullets were involved.

Luke was gazing around curiously, but Cole stared back at her, like he could read her mind, and she ducked her head. If she wasn’t cut out for a lab job, she definitely wasn’t cut out for dating a detective. Not that a detective had asked her out. Just given her the best kiss of her life.

Pulling the door until it clicked shut behind her, she led the way through the sterile hallways. Past locked doors with the labels Biology/DNA, Firearms/Toolmarks, Latent Prints and Toxicology. Down to the end, where a shiny new label marked “Digital Forensics,” the most recent addition to the Jannis County Forensics Laboratory. Her territory.

Before she’d started—and last year when she’d taken the other job—digital devices had been sent off to the state lab. But it was one of the fastest-growing areas of forensics in Jannis, and Shaye was still surprised the job had been open a year later for her.

She used her key card to get into the room as Luke remarked, “Good security.”

“Yeah, well, we take chain of command pretty seriously. And that includes making sure no one can access anything they shouldn’t while it’s in our possession. Everything gets logged. Even what I’m going to pull up for you will have a digital log that I accessed it, at what time and for how long.” She’d helped set up some of those extra precautions last year as one of her first assignments on the job.

She glanced around her tiny space, jammed full of equipment—mostly computers. Her office was in the back with no windows, which often made her feel penned in, but today she appreciated it. And she was happy to have something to do besides sit around her house while Cole and Luke drove her crazy. They’d installed new locks on all her doors, exercised in her living room and called the station repeatedly for updates and to assign leads. And that had all been before 10:00 a.m. So when they’d wanted to go through suspects, she’d suggested they come here.

“Let’s get started,” Cole said, dragging her empty whiteboard to the center of the room.

He was wearing the same jeans and button-down from yesterday, just a little more rumpled. The short beard he always had was a tiny bit longer, too, and she fixated on it, remembering it scraping against her chin. She could almost feel his arms going around her again, the breadth of his chest pressed against her, big enough to make her feel surrounded by him. She shook off the memories, hoping her thoughts weren’t broadcast across her face. But Cole was focused, his detective face on.

He jotted the words Possible Suspects, Unlikely and Ruled Out, then carefully underlined each one. “Any case you testified in or were involved in, now or last year. Pull them up, and let’s get to work.”

He sounded determined, almost enthusiastic, and she supposed that was the kind of attitude you needed to be a detective, to slog through hours and hours of clues until you found the right answer.

She understood it because she could do the same with a digital device, dig and dig until it revealed all of its secrets. But hers was a totally different kind of quest, one fueled by years of shyness and feeling overlooked in her big, noisy family. Being the middle child in a family of seven meant you either had to demand attention or be content without it.

She loved her family. She missed her family, living so far away, when the rest of them had stayed in Michigan. But she’d needed to break out, make something of herself as Shaye, not just one of the Mallory siblings.

She settled into her well-worn chair. Time to see if the skill that had moved her past her sheltered, invisible life was threatening to destroy it, too.

“Let’s start with the most obvious first,” Luke suggested, snagging the only other chair in the room while Cole stood in the center of the small space, marker raised and ready.

“The Jannis Crew.” Just saying the name made her feel a little ill. Shaye nodded and opened a file. Because she’d been in the line of fire, her boss had sent the digital devices they’d recovered after the shooting—computers, phones and tablets—to the state lab, so there’d be no conflict of interest. But she’d been on the stand, because she’d found the original trail to the leadership. And she was the only living witness able to identify the shooter.

The three officers who might have seen him had died on the scene. Cole and Luke had run out the station doors as the car was driving past. Forensics later discovered that their bullets had killed the two men in the backseat, but not the shooter. So Shaye had gotten on the stand, ignored her thundering heart and pointed directly at him, sending him to prison for the rest of his life.

“Well, we know it’s not Ed Bukowski,” Cole said, writing his name under “Ruled Out.” “He was killed in prison last week.”

Shaye jerked, spinning her chair to face him as an instant picture of the driver, one tattoo-covered hand draped over the wheel and the other aiming a gold-plated pistol out the window, formed in her head. “He was?”

“Crazy Ed found someone who wasn’t impressed with his crazy,” Luke said, using his gang name. “But put relatives on the Suspect list. The timing could fit. Maybe someone wants revenge for Ed’s death. They can’t go after the drug lord who shanked him, so they’re going after the woman who fingered him, put him behind bars in the first place.”

A violent shudder passed through her, and Shaye knew they’d both seen it. She spun to face her computer, sensing Luke and Cole sharing a look behind her back.

“Maybe we should do this part at the station,” Cole said. “You provide us with the list, and we’ll go through it.”

“No. I want to help.”

“There’s no reason for you to relive—”

“I said I want to help.” Shaye turned back, staring hard at Cole. “You don’t need to protect me from this.”

“That’s my job, Shaye.”

His job. Of course it was. It wasn’t personal to him. But it was personal to her. “It’s my job, too. So let’s do this.” She didn’t give him more time to argue, just looked at her screen again and read off the next case.

Three hours later, the whiteboard was full. Most of the names were listed under “Unlikely” or “Ruled Out,” but they had a handful of possible suspects that Cole and Luke were going to check out.

She stared at the list of names under “Possible Suspects,” and the knot that had taken up residence in her rib cage eased for the first time since she’d walked out to Roy’s parking lot. The only name that worried her was Crazy Ed, the man who’d been at the center of her nightmares over the past year. He may have been dead, but someone like that was bound to have attracted like-minded friends. Were there any left?

More important, were there any left who were willing to risk their own freedom for revenge? Because they couldn’t have missed the massive cleanup Cole and his team had done after the station shooting. They’d have to expect any attempt to go after someone connected to that case would result in the same intense scrutiny.

Shaye let out a breath. “I don’t think this had anything to do with me.”

Cole and Luke looked from the board to her and back again, and then Luke was nodding. “I agree. We’re just being thorough.”

When Cole was silent too long, Shaye asked, “Cole? What do you think?”

“Chances were always slim that this was a targeted attack,” he replied, but there was an edge to his voice that told her he was holding something back.

“But...” she prompted.

“But nothing. Luke’s right.”

She frowned, but before she could argue, the door to her lab burst open, smacking the wall and almost hitting Luke on the way.

He scowled at the petite woman with the pixie cut and wrinkled pantsuit who stood on the other side, and she fidgeted. “Sorry. Shaye, I’m glad you’re here.”

“What’s up?” Shaye asked, hoping no one had noticed the way she’d jumped in her seat at the unexpected noise.

The woman in the doorway, Jenna Dresden, was one of the lab’s best firearms experts, and one of Shaye’s closest friends here. Or at least she had been, until Shaye had left last year. Since she’d returned, things had been a little strained. Maybe because Shaye hadn’t stayed in touch over the past year.

“I looked at the bullets we recovered at the scene yesterday.”

Cole and Luke gave Jenna their full attention. “What did you find?” Cole asked.

“Well, I can tell you the bullet was a nine millimeter. And I can tell you that it doesn’t match up to anything shot from another gun we have on file.”

Cole didn’t have to say a word for Shaye to know exactly what that meant. Someone connected to Crazy Ed being involved just sank down to unlikely. Working other cases had taught her that gang members sold one another weapons, so they often ended up with guns that had been used in previous crimes.

“The gun’s a virgin,” Luke said. “So we won’t know anything until we match the bullet to the gun it came from.”

At that point, Jenna could compare the striations from the bullets they’d retrieved from the scene with those in the weapon’s chamber and see if they lined up. If they did, they had their weapon. And whoever it belonged to was probably their shooter.

“Afraid not,” Jenna agreed. “I wish I had better news. And now I’m going home, because I’ve been here since last night.”

“Thanks,” Shaye called as the brunette headed back the way she’d come. She looked questioningly at Cole.

“Back to square one.”

* * *

“SO, SOMEONE CONNECTED to Crazy Ed is out,” Luke said.

Cole frowned. “I guess so.”

After Jenna had given them the news about the bullet, that was practically a foregone conclusion anyway, but Cole wasn’t leaving anything to chance. So he’d bribed a couple of his fellow officers coming off duty with a pair of basketball tickets to go home with Shaye and watch her until he and Cole were finished.

After hours in the stifling heat of the station—the air conditioner was on the fritz—they’d tracked down anyone even remotely connected to Crazy Ed, which wasn’t a lot. It made Cole sad for the little boy Crazy Ed had once been: parents both killed in a drive-by when he was ten. He’d gone to live with an aunt, who’d overdosed a few years later, and then he’d ended up in the system.

Unlike Cole, who’d managed to form a brotherly bond with Andre and Marcos inside what felt like his fifteenth foster home in eight years, Crazy Ed had found gangs. The rest of his gang was now dead or in prison, and if he had any family left, Luke and Cole couldn’t find it. So no one left to avenge his death.

“He shot up a police station,” Luke reminded him, clearly able to read the direction of Cole’s thoughts. “He chose his path. Nothing we can do about it now.”

“Yeah.” Cole shook off his thoughts about whether Crazy Ed had ever really had a chance before he started dwelling on all the other kids he’d seen in homes over the years, kids he hadn’t kept track of. Kids he hadn’t taken on two jobs to provide them with a real home and ease their transition out of the system, like he had for Andre and Marcos. Because it sure hadn’t been easy for him, suddenly totally on his own, not even a roof over his head when he hit eighteen.

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