“Maybe,” Rochelle conceded before scrunching her face in laughter. “You be good to her, ya hear?” she directed over Cassidy's shoulder.
“Always,” came Dylan's answer and she hated that her heart clutched with wanting to believe him.
Chapter Six
Dylan was grateful Cassie was finally compiling this list, but awed by the sheer number of people she came up with who might have it out for her. “Fifty-seven people, Cassie?”
She shrugged. “I'm good. I've only lost two cases.”
“Out of those fifty-seven, how many were in Judge Simmons' courtroom?”
She took a highlighter to the list of names for a moment and he held his breath. She kept highlighting and he felt himself slump. “How many is that?”
She counted. “Twenty-three.”
Still a lot, but not fifty-seven. “Okay. Any of those twenty-three have family members who threatened you?”
She tapped the highlighter against her lips. “I don't remember anything big.” She turned to Rochelle. “Am I forgetting something?”
Rochelle's big brown eyes stared into space for a few beats until she slammed a hand on her desk when something came to mind. “Didn't one of your defendants die at Lee last year?”
Cassidy's breath caught before she made an affirmative noise.
He knew the US Penitentiary, Lee was a high security federal prison. “Tell me about that case.”
“Nicholas Rossi was a drug dealer and human trafficker,” Cassidy answered succinctly.
“His father swore up and down he was innocent, that someone was setting him up,” Rochelle added.
He thought about that. “How could someone be framed for heading up a cartel?”
“They can't,” Cassidy answered, her tone brittle. “There was a mountain of evidence from Tyler PD. I never did figure out why he was running his cartel out of Tyler, but maybe it was easier to stay close to home, or maybe he didn't want to deal with someone else's turf.” She sucked on her teeth. “He was far from innocent, that's for sure.”
“Tell me about his father.”
“Vincent Rossi is a blow hard,” Rochelle stated. “He came in here ranting and raving about his son being a good boy caught up in a bad situation, but I wouldn't let him near Cassidy. A good boy my ass.”
“He was convicted and sentenced to life two years ago, and was killed in a riot less than a year after that.”
“Anyone else you can remember, Rochelle?” he asked. “Otherwise, this Vincent Rossi is number one on my list,” he said, getting nods of agreement from both women. If it was Rossi, though, why wait for so long? Why toy with her the way he had? There was more to this story, and he really wished he still had his laptop.
“Why now? That trial was more than two years ago, the riot over a year,” Cassidy verbalized his thoughts.
“We need to figure out all we can about this guy, and we need to talk to the police.” As much as he hated to admit it, this was something he couldn't do alone. He pulled his phone from his pocket, noticing he was much better with his left hand than he'd expected to be as he thumbed through his contacts and placed the call.
Chris Delmonico answered after one ring. “Finally come up for air?”
“Fuck you.”
“Not my type,” came the chuckling answer. “Why'd you call?”
“Vincent Rossi made threats to Cassie a couple years ago, and his son was killed in a riot at Lee. I think he's your guy.”
“Been working, have you? Thought you were too busy being all heroic.”
Chris Delmonico was a good detective, a loyal friend, and a real smartass. Right now, he didn't have the patience for the last of that list. “Look, Chris, Cassie is in danger and it's possible this guy is the one behind it. I'm givin' you a lead and you're givin' me shit?”
“Whoa. I should've known when you almost clocked me after the explosion.” He stopped talking to laugh in Dylan's ear. “Damn, man, never thought you'd fall in love again.”
“Shut-up,” he barked into the phone. He needed Chris to work, to find this Rossi asshole. He didn't need him to tell him he was in love. “Check out Rossi.”
“Will do,” came the expected reply. He was about to thank his friend and hang up when Chris went on, “Watch your back, amico.”
“You too.”
“No, really, you're in deep with this woman.”
“Sure am,” he acknowledged.
“You're okay with that?”
“Better than okay,” he paused. “Help me keep her safe.”
“You got it.”
“Thanks.”
He knew Cassidy had listened in on his side of the conversation and read surprise on her beautiful face. Maybe she didn't know he and Chris were tight. Instead of asking him anything, she asked, “He on board?”
“Of course he is. I'm sure he'll talk to Monroe and they'll round up Rossi. Until then, I'm not leavin' your side.”
She frowned. “You weren't leaving my side anyway.”
“You're right. I wasn't, and I won't. You're stuck with me.”
“Promise?” she whispered.
“Always.”
~*~
Days later Cassidy sat at her desk with shaking hands, the manila envelope she held waving wildly. “How did this get on my desk?” she asked Rochelle.
“Inter-office mail,” her friend and assistant answered, her tone nonchalant.
“When?”
The other woman's eyes bounced between Cassidy and Dylan. “You two were, ah, out to lunch. It came with the briefs.”
She stared at the envelope in her hand, remembering the much needed lunch. They hadn't eaten much, just devoured each other in an empty office. When had she turned into a teenager, and why was she still shaking like a leaf? This could be anything, from any of the cases currently on her plate. Why was she so sure she wouldn't like what she'd find? Willing her hands to stop shaking, she opened the clasp to look inside and found two small pieces of newsprint. She turned the envelope on end, sending them fluttering to the shiny surface of her desk, the headlines causing her to lose her breath.
Dylan rose from his chair then, concern etched in his handsome face. “What did he send you?”
She pointed to the headlines, clipped from a local paper. Emily Black Loses Life and Regina Black Found Dead. “Why are woman with the last name Black dead, Dylan?” she asked, afraid of the answer.
“Emily was my sister,” he explained, pointing the first headline. “She had a brain tumor, and even after surgery she remained epileptic. She had a seizure behind the wheel.”
She thought about that. Hadn't they passed the learning about the family stage of their relationship? Shit. When had she started thinking about their relationship as a, well, relationship? Ignoring the emotions roiling through her, she asked, “What about the second one?”
“Regina and I were married. She wasn't cut out to be a military wife.”
That did not answer the question, and caused a cascade of more. “She died?”
“Suicide,” he answered sharply.
He'd said she couldn't handle being a military wife. There were a million things she wanted, needed, to ask, but all that came out of her mouth was, “Oh.”
He leaned closer, his deep voice harsh when he asked, “He accomplish his goal? Scare you away from me? Make you want to run?”
She pulled away from him, startled by his tone. Forcing steel into her own voice, she replied, “I asked, you answered. Simple.”
“Not simple. He's tryin' to make you scared of me, paintin' me as the bad guy. He wants you to turn tail, make yourself vulnerable.”
“I'm not that easily shaken.”
“You sure?” he asked, his golden eyes seeing more than she wanted to admit.
“Are there more to those stories? Something I should be afraid of?” She swallowed. “Are you not the badass Army Ranger who wants to protect me at all costs and take me to bed?”
His face softened, just a bit. “I am
exactly that man.”
“Then I am not shaken,” she promised and hoped it was true.
~*~
Dylan kept quiet for the remainder of the day. After their lunch together, when he thought he was getting closer to being deemed something other than a fling, Cassidy received his past mistakes conveniently located in an envelope on her desk. He had given Emily his bone marrow—the very essence of himself—but it hadn't been able to save her, not from the seizures she'd promised were under control. He had been in Afghanistan when she'd run her car off the road and rolled down an embankment, losing her life in a fiery crash. He closed his eyes against the pain. He and Emmie had always been a team, but one day she was just gone. He'd gone to war expecting he may not come back, but he never imagined Emmie would be the one to die, not after everything they'd been through, how hard she had fought her disease. He'd been granted leave to bury her, and met the biggest mistake of his life, Regina McAllister.
Gina had been beautiful and obsessed with the uniform. It wasn't until he returned to Afghanistan that he realized she wasn't able to deal with deployment. His next leave they broke up, only to end up together again after he'd had too many drinks when he was home for a few months. They'd ended up married before he got orders for Iraq, and she was dead not three months later.
He felt his breath go ragged, the painful memories tearing the oxygen from his lungs. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and if he thought about it, it had been quite a few years. Ten years ago he'd lost Emmie, six years ago Gina had succumbed to her depression, taking his unborn child with her. His gut twisted at the thought of what he'd lost. Gina hadn't told him, and instead of seeking help, she had killed both herself and the baby. He was no hero, but he wasn't about to lose another woman he loved. His heart lurched. Loved? He scrubbed his hand down his face. He would protect Cassidy with everything he had.
~*~
Besides everything going on, I'm scared, Dylan,” Cassidy admitted over dinner.
He made a face. “What are you scared of if it isn't Rossi, or whoever is stalkin' you?”
“You.” She speared a cherry tomato, looking into her salad plate to avoid his perceptive gaze. “Us.”
He chuckled. “I'm not so scary.”
Oh, but he was. He made her want things she'd long resigned herself to not having, he made her feel things she had no business feeling. “I can't be what you want.”
“You are what I want. What do you think you have to be?”
Better, more attentive, less of a workaholic, a mothering person. She was none of those things. She didn't even know if she wanted to have children. She almost choked on the tomato she was chewing. “What if?” she couldn't finish the sentence.
“Marry me,” he answered calmly.
She managed not to kill herself with hastily chewed salad and met his eyes. “Marriage is for love.”
“Yes, it is.” His gaze was unwavering, and her stomach flip-flopped.
“We... We're not in love.”
“You sure about that?” he countered. “Because I'm not.”
She couldn't have this conversation. She stood up from the table, nearly upending her water glass and knocking over her chair. She knew she was running, but she did it anyway, managing to say, “I'll see you in the morning,” over her shoulder.
~*~
He watched her retreat, literally running down the hallway and into the guest room. Today's revelations and his none too subtle declarations of love had thrown her, but instead of standing and fighting, she had fled. He knew that was against her nature, and decided to count that as a win. If she was off her game, that meant she was feeling something. What, he wasn't sure, but he'd take it.
What if she was pregnant? He'd dealt with a woman unhappy about carrying his child before, ending as badly as a story could. Gina hadn't wanted to be married to him, hadn't wanted to be a mother, hadn't wanted to be pregnant, hadn't wanted to live. For the millionth time he wished he'd been home to talk to her, wished Emmie had been around to help Gina through her depression, wished things were different. He rested his head in his hand. If things had worked out differently, where would he be? He certainly wouldn't be sitting in his own kitchen contemplating what to do about a feisty prosecutor with a stalker on her tail, who he had just discovered he loved. He heaved a sigh. He loved her. He didn't know when it happened, but there it was. Now he just had to keep her safe until she could accept it, and love him back.
~*~
Chris Delmonico tucked his pistol back into its holster. Vincent Rossi wasn't bothering anybody, and hadn't been for a while. He held his nose and looked to his right. “I'm thinking he's been here for what, a week or more?”
Jason's eyes were watering, a handkerchief held over his mouth and nose. “At least,” he agreed, his voice muffled. “Adrienne will know more.”
He almost laughed at his partner. Hopelessly in love with the ME Adrienne Marquette, Jason was trying to appear professional, but the smile in his eyes when he said the doctor's name was telling. First Jason, now Dylan. He shuddered. Women were trouble. Besides, they had a dead body to clean up, and a stalker to find. This guy wasn't terrorizing the pretty prosecutor, no matter what Dylan thought he knew.
He turned at a sound behind them to find Brandon Davis and an incredible-looking blonde entering the house. “Been dead at least a week,” Chris said instead of greeting the pair. He and Davis were not friends, and although he knew he should be cordial and work with the prick, he had a hard time doing so, even for Dylan's lady love.
“Not the guy stalking Ms. Everett, then?” the blonde officer asked, her face turning an odd shade of green.
“Sure doesn't look like it,” Jason answered, ushering everyone out of the house. “Dr. Marquette will be here any minute.”
Chris caught the sneer that ran across Davis's face at Jason's mention of the ME. So, Davis didn't approve of the relationship? Funny, that. Turning his attention to Davis's Barbie doll compatriot, he asked, “It seems we came to the same conclusion, albeit a wrong one. Any ideas who we should be looking at next?”
She rolled her shoulders, pushing her assets against her uniform shirt. Damn, he needed to pay attention to her face, not her chest. She stuck out her hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Detective Delmonico. I'm Officer Tiffany Morgan.”
He took the offered hand, finding her handshake firm. What kind of things had she been told? “Finally meet me?”
“I've heard stories about you. Working out in Chicago for a few years before coming home to Aylesford. Undercover work.” She winked and he held back a laugh. “Surely more interesting than what you find in Ayles County, that's for sure.”
That was the truth, but there were reasons he left Chicago behind, and he wasn't about to talk about them now. “It wasn't all that. I'm hoping you might have another lead for us on this string of crimes happening both here in Aylesford and Tyler as well. ACA Everett is being targeted, and although it seems we all thought it was the guy in there,” he gestured over his shoulder, “it's not.”
“I've been cross-referencing, but I'm not coming up with anything promising,” she answered. “Brandon seems to think it's a family member, or perhaps a partner, maybe waiting for someone to be paroled. It's hard to tell.” She bobbed her head at the house. “That guy had a grievance against the good ACA, and had threatened her before. The only thing that didn't make sense was the time frame.” She kicked a rock in the yard. “We need to look for someone with a strong motive, something more recent.”
The woman was a looker, but she wasn't dumb. “You're right, Morgan,” he agreed. “We've done similar work with the list provided by Ms. Everett; we should share.”
“Yes, we should,” she said, cut off by a loud bark from Davis. She jogged away and Chris found himself watching her ass. He ran a hand over his neck. He had crimes to solve, yet he was standing here ogling a fellow cop.
Jason appeared then behind his left shoulder. “Adrienne says it's very likely natural causes. So, not
only is he not our guy, there's no reason for us to hang around here.”
Great. They were no closer to finding the stalker than they were this morning, and they'd wasted time and energy on a dead man. “I'll tell Dylan.”
Jason's blue eyes flashed with pity. “Have fun with that.”
Chapter Seven
“What?” Dylan barked at his friend.
“Rossi's dead—has been for probably ten days,” Chris said again.
“So, he could've blown up Blue, but he didn't send the headlines,” Cassidy said from the hallway. After fleeing from dinner she was feeling stupid and shaky, and this latest development wasn't helping at all.
The men turned to face her, the look on both handsome faces telegraphing their shock at finding her standing there. Dylan recovered first. “It's lookin' that way,” he answered.
She choked back a groan. She knew now she was the target considering her recent mail, but they were no closer to figuring out who it was, nor to stopping him. “Well, shit,” she finally said, unable to come up with anything more eloquent.
“Our thoughts exactly,” Chris agreed. “We're going back through your cases, Cassidy. We'll find who this is, I promise.”
Dylan shook his head. “Don't make promises you can't keep, Delmonico.”
“I didn't,” Chris insisted. “We will find him.”
“Until then, though? He's got to know my address. He knows where she is, who she's with. I can't risk her like that.”
“No!” she screamed before she could stop herself. She swallowed, collected her thoughts. “I mean, I'm not leaving you, Dylan. I can't.” Again, she'd said more than she'd meant to, and without thinking. What the hell was going on with her? Instead of dwelling on her out of character outburst, she said, “I can take time off work, give J.D. my cases, but I can't leave you, here or otherwise.”
“I'd go anywhere with you, Cassie,” Dylan promised quietly. “As long as you're safe.”
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