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„Poor Marc,“ Mia said sympathetically. „The press and IA.“

„I prefer the damn press,“ Spinnelli muttered. „Anyway, take a look at this list and see if you can find any ties to your florists, hunters, and tombstone makers.“

Abe scanned the list and let out a low whistle. „Check this out, Mia.“

Mia’s eyes widened. „John Alden.“

„Kristen’s boss was in the military, qualifying as a marksman.“ Abe looked up at Spinnelli. „You want us to check this out, or do you want to?“

Spinnelli shrugged. „Get whereabouts for everyone just as a matter of course. I’ll talk to Alden myself.“

„We’ll start first thing Monday,“ Mia said.

Spinnelli frowned. „What’s wrong with now?“

Mia threw a pointed gaze at the clock. „It’s Friday. I have a date.“

„So?“ Spinnelli retorted. „I haven’t even seen my wife and kids for a week.“

„Then you should go home, too,“ Mia snapped. „Just because – “

Abe’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket and one look at the caller ID had him waving his hand for silence. „What’s wrong?“ He listened as Spinnelli and Mia abruptly quieted. „Just stay there with the windows rolled up and the doors locked. I’ll be there in ten minutes.“ He snapped his cell phone closed. „Kristen just got attacked. Somebody ran her car off the road into a pole. Two guys with knives wanted to know the identity of her humble servant.“

Mia paled. „Shit. Sounds like Blades. Damn that Richardson.“

Spinnelli jumped to his feet. „Is she hurt?“

„Where are they now?“ Mia demanded.

„I don’t think she’s hurt,“ Abe said grimly, „but she’s scared.“ And for that some punk would pay. „She pepper-sprayed their faces and locked herself in her car, then leaned on the horn until other drivers started slowing down and the assholes ran away.“ He grabbed his coat. „I’ll take care of it and call you.“

Friday, February 20,

7:10 p.m.

Now that it was over Kristen wanted to scream.

Her shoulder burned from where they’d grabbed her out of the car. Her whole face throbbed from the impact of the deployed airbag and she knew she was lucky not to have a broken nose. The rest of her body ached from holding herself rigid since she’d gotten away and locked herself in the car, but she knew if she let go, she’d start to cry, and that wasn’t an option. Not with Richardson perched outside with her toady cameraman. Rage simmered. If she ever found out Richardson had seen the whole thing and just let the camera roll as she screamed for help… There wouldn’t be a pit deep enough for that bitch to climb out of.

Someone tapped at the window and she muffled a yelp. A uniformed officer stood by her locked door. „Are you all right, Miss Mayhew?“ he said loud enough to be heard through the glass. He was the response to her 9-1-1. The call she’d made after the one to Reagan. She refused to consider the significance of the order of her phone calls for help, instead jerking a nod that made her want to whimper in pain. She kept it in, still in control. „Yes.“

„Do you need me to call an ambulance?“

Wouldn’t that look just great on the ten o’clock news? „No. Did you find them?“

He shook his head. „We’ll keep looking, but I think they took off on foot through the business park across the street.“ He straightened abruptly and Kristen knew without looking that Reagan had arrived. Seven and a half minutes. He must have run a few stop signs along the way. She couldn’t help but be grateful.

His face appeared in her window, anxious and worried. „Open the door, Kristen.“

She did, willing her hand not to shake, biting back the wince at the burning pain in her shoulder. He pulled open the door, frowning at the loud creak it made.

„They hit me on this side,“ she murmured. „I think they bent the frame.“

He crouched down, his face level with hers, his expression grim. „Your airbag deployed.“ He bit out the words, as if somehow that made it worse.

„That normally happens when you hit a telephone pole going forty.“ She lifted a brow, still in control. „I pepper-sprayed them, right in the eyes.“

His mouth curved, and she was suddenly so glad he was there. „Good for you.“

„They ran away.“ She pointed to a spread of bright lights and concrete. „Through the business park. I guess the car they used was stolen.“ They’d abandoned it, its front fender still hooked with hers. „They were Blades. They wanted to know who killed their brothers. When I said I didn’t know, they said it didn’t matter, that they’d keep me until he came for me.“

Reagan’s eyes searched her face. „They didn’t hurt you.“

She shook her head. „Just a little soreness in my shoulder and knee. A few ibuprofen and a hot bath and I’ll be fine in the morning. Please…“ Her voice started to wobble and she swallowed hard. „Please, just take me home.“

He offered his hand and let her pull herself out of the car. For a split second she teetered, held by his eyes, then it was out of her hands. She gave in to a need she couldn’t admit and leaned into him, into the hard strength of his body. She felt him stiffen, then a half beat later his arms were around her, pulling her in, holding her. She shuddered at the sensation of it, of feeling so utterly safe before allowing the sharp pain in her shoulder to intrude. She couldn’t hold back the small moan and his body tightened.

„You are hurt. You’re going to the ER.“

„No. Please.“ She dragged in a breath and pulled away, the brief respite over. He reached for her face, but she shook her head. „Not here. She’s here.“

His eyes took on an unholy light, and she saw no further explanation was necessary. „Where?“

Kristen gestured to a small unmarked minivan. „Her minion has us in his sights.“

„Her minion will turn over that goddamned tape,“ Reagan snarled. „Can you stand on your own for a minute?“

„Do I get to see you rough up Richardson?“ Kristen asked with a quirk of her lips, and as Reagan bared his teeth in response Kristen couldn’t help but think of him on the beach. Somehow, he looked a great deal more appealing right now than in her daydream.

„Only if she makes me mad.“

„Then I can stand on my own.“ She watched Reagan take the distance between her car and Richardson’s van in great, ground-eating strides. He threw open the sliding side door and blocked the camera’s shot with his big body. Richardson scrambled out, her hands on her hips, but Reagan didn’t move, and a minute later Kristen saw a black cassette in his hand.

Then he was back, helping Kristen up into his SUV.

„I need a statement, sir.“

Reagan drew a deep breath, visibly restraining himself before he turned to the hapless young uniform who had responded to her 9-1-1.

„Do you know who this is?“

The officer met her eyes over Reagan’s shoulder. „Yes, I do.“

„Then can you meet us at her house in half an hour? She’ll give you her statement then. And, Officer? Can you keep that viper from following us?“

The young man looked over at Richardson’s van with contempt. „It’ll be a pleasure, Detective. Miss Mayhew, are you sure you don’t need medical attention?“

She smiled down at him, relief sinking in. „I’m sure. But thank you.“

He walked away and Reagan looked up and Kristen’s heart caught in her throat at the raw caring she saw in his face. It was so difficult to resist. „My brother Sean’s wife is a pediatrician. You’re bigger than her normal patient, but I bet she’d make a house call.“

„No, but thank you, really. Please, just take me home.“

He slammed her door and swung up into the seat next to her, and for a long moment neither said anything. Then, very gently, „Why didn’t you call me before you left the office? I would have kept you safe.“