For a bit, everyone dispersed into different rooms and conversation. Galen had joined a couple of Vance’s brothers-in-law to walk off some of the meal in the backyard.
But now work called. After retrieving Sally’s laptop, Galen went searching for her.
In the Buchanan-filled family room, Galen located Sally and Vance. Cross-legged on the rug, she was playing patty-cake with a toddler and giving the child her complete attention as if no one else existed in the room.
Galen’s chest tightened. She would be an incredible mother, wouldn’t she? From across the room, Vance met his gaze. They shared the same vision.
After watching for a bit, Galen pulled Sally away, smiling at the complaints. She was a hit with Vance’s family, both old and young alike. He tucked an arm around her as they left the crowd behind.
“What’s up?” she asked as they crossed into the quiet of the formal living room.
Before he could answer, he heard footsteps behind them. He turned.
Bonnie was hurrying after them with Vance’s father, William, right behind her. She stopped.
“Bonnie, is there a problem?” Galen asked.
“Galen, my dear, I do love you dearly,” Bonnie said. She dropped her gaze to his arm, which was around Sally’s waist. “But I thought Sally was with Vance.”
He felt Sally stiffen. “She is,” he said quietly.
Entering the room, Vance obviously heard the question. He stopped on Sally’s other side and said, “She’s also with Galen. And that’s how it’s going to stay.”
“Hmm.” William studied Galen and Vance before turning his attention to Sally. “I’m not surprised, but I know how pushy these two can be, especially if they gang up on a person. Are you all right with this, sweetheart?”
By God, he liked Vance’s father, and even more when Sally’s eyes filled with tears. Yes, pet, this is what a father should be.
She gave William a radiant smile that wavered slightly as she said, “Thank you for worrying about me.” Before he could answer, she said with the courage and honesty that had won their hearts, “But I’m sure. I love them both.”
“Oh my.” Bonnie shook her head. “Well, you two have been stepping outside the box since you met; why stop now?” With an easy laugh, she and William returned to the rest of the family. And her voice drifted back in response to a question. “Yes, both of them. Brave girl, isn’t she?”
Sally looked at Vance with wide eyes. “I love your family.”
“Told you there wouldn’t be a problem.” Vance kissed her forehead. “Let’s commandeer Dad’s man cave.”
Galen grinned as they entered the room. Each time he visited, the place looked cozier. A few summers ago, William kept complaining about his daughters’ chick flicks, so Galen and Vance had converted a spare bedroom into a “den.” Everyone had helped furnish it.
The wide-screen TV was a Father’s Day present from him and Vance. The leather “guy” furniture came from William’s daughters. His wife had added pillows and quilts and a wall of shelves for his books.
Taking a seat on the couch, Galen patted the cushion beside him. “Sit here, Sally. Let’s see those files.”
She sat with Vance on her other side. After booting up her computer, she set the laptop on the coffee table where they could all see the screen. “This is what I’ve got.
“I think of it as being a geeky Robin Hood,” she said. “Taking information from rich criminals and giving to the poor cops.” She clicked on a file.
A spreadsheet. Rows and columns. Names and URLs of the senders. Dates of the e-mails were linked to files with the contents. More e-mails were documented each time someone responded.
“Jesus,” Vance muttered.
The imp’s gaze dropped. “I just wanted to help. To save people.”
She hadn’t saved her mother. Her father didn’t value her. “I think of it as being a geeky Robin Hood.” Galen turned to look at her downcast face. Despite her aversion to violence and blood in the police station, she kept insisting on working in law enforcement of some kind.
Someone wanted to be a hero.
Galen put an arm around her and pulled her close. “You’ve done a magnificent job, pet. Illegal or not, I’m proud of you.”
“Really?” Her face brightened.
Vance noticed. After giving Galen a nod, he smiled down at her. “Really. You’ve saved a lot of women.”
Leaning against Galen, she opened another set of files. And another. A series of notes showed her efforts at…tracing locations and personal data.
He and Vance both frowned at her.
“Now that’s going way too far,” Vance said.
“Hey, I was one of the targets, remember?” She gave them an indignant look. “This is sheer self-defense. I’m protecting myself from being kidnapped.”
Galen felt a laugh rising. “There’s a unique justification.”
“Even more effective than the Robin Hood one.” Vance tugged a lock of her hair and grinned at Galen. “If she used that self-defense line and added in those puppy-dog eyes, no jury in the world would convict her.”
“Hell, don’t encourage her.”
Too late. She was smirking as she pulled up the next set of files.
Not fair that any one woman should be both adorable and brilliant. “Let’s see the actual e-mails, little brat.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Galen skimmed through the documents and stopped at one. He pulled up the notes where she’d traced the sender back to the originating provider. Then checked a list containing the user’s name and address obtained from the service provider. His mouth flattened. “Vance, take a look at this.”
Vance leaned forward. “You have fucking got to be kidding me.”
“What?” Sally asked.
“Well, pet, looks like you moved a rock, and an assistant district attorney crawled out.” Galen scrubbed his hands over his face. They’d have to play the rest of this by the book, but just knowing where to start…
He pulled Sally onto his lap and kissed her, long and well. So wicked smart. She just might have broken the back of the Harvest Association. However, along with the elation came a more sobering thought.
She’s going to be impossible to control after this.
Chapter Nineteen
Wearing his most conservative gray suit, Drew stood at the black granite-topped island in his kitchen and drank his coffee. Since the maid had been in yesterday, the chrome and stainless steel appliances and fixtures gleamed. Black and white ruled his decor—he found it amusing since the law tended to hover around a dark gray.
He glanced at a metal sculpture that displayed the time. He needed to leave soon. Get in early.
Something was going on, and whatever it was, he wasn’t privy to the information. Even worse—at the weekly general meeting yesterday, he’d felt a chill. The district attorney had looked past him as if he weren’t at the table.
But why? He did good work, hadn’t screwed up any cases that would put him on the shit list.
“Don’t you look like a fancy attorney?” Yawning, Ellis wandered out of the guest bedroom, his raspy tenor more grating than normal. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Up to you. I have to get to work.” Drew poured another half cup of coffee. “Thanks for coming in.”
“Yeah. But I’m going back this morning. The two sluts are chained to the wall in the cabin. The food and drink will run out soon.” Ellis glanced out the window at the other brownstones on the narrow street. “I hate this place.”
“I know.” A week was about Ellis’s limit for being off the mountain. After that, he’d lose control. Drew didn’t mind a few slaughtered women, but cleaning up was a nightmare. Better to give him a slave and keep him isolated until his skills were needed.
“It was fun to play with your fancy computer. Sorry I couldn’t figure out the informant.”
“You got further than I did.” Nice to have a brilliant, twisted brother, although he’d undoubtedly
left behind snuff films on the drive, which Drew would have to delete. “Fuck. If he keeps outing my people, I’ll have to start from scratch.” And that had been fucking tricky.
He took his last sip, grabbed his briefcase, and slapped his brother on the arm. “Lock up when you leave.”
“Yeah. Will do.” Ellis took a cup out of the cupboard. “Come up for a fuck break if you get needy. I’ll try to keep at least one of them alive for you.”
Grinning, Drew left, taking the stairs rather than the elevator. He’d noticed Ellis was in better shape—uglier but leaner. Time to join the gym again. Maybe pick out a female personal trainer. Preferably a blonde with big tits.
Where the wooden steps curved around and opened onto a landing, Drew glanced out the tall window. Rain was over. Should be a nice day. He frowned at the unusually high number of cars parked on the narrow street.
One was a taxicab with two men in the front seat. Drew narrowed his eyes. Passengers didn’t sit in the front seat…and yellow cabs were often police cars.
Two men emerged from a nondescript car. Fuck, even a schoolchild would make them as cops, if only from the looser hang of their suit coats to conceal a weapon. They walked into the building. More men followed.
Drew sucked in a breath as he went cold. He heard low-voiced orders drifting up the stairwell. They were posting men on the exits. Fuck.
Drew ran back up the stairs.
ELLIS LOOKED UP at the sound of the dead bolt turning. Had his twin returned?
Drew burst into the apartment, his face white. “I think I’ve been made. We’ve got to get out of here.” He ran into the bedroom where the window overlooked the backyard.
Ellis joined him.
The back area held a small concrete patio with four heavy wooden Adirondack chairs and a narrow strip of lawn. A six-foot privacy fence divided it from the towering apartment building on the other side.
As they watched, two men emerged from the back of the building and stationed themselves where they could guard the rear door.
“Fuck.” Drew ran back to the kitchen and opened a thick metal safe built into the island. He pulled out cash and two revolvers, and handed one weapon to Ellis.
Ellis checked the cylinder. Already loaded.
“Once the cops are down, you jump first,” Drew ordered, closing the safe. “I’ll take your back. After you get to the top of the fence, guard me while I cross the yard. Split up once we’re in the apartment complex, and we’ll meet at the cabin.”
“Got it.” Ellis gave his brother a grin, knowing his scars would twist his mouth into something hideous. “Been a while since we went hunting together.”
“Yeah. We’ll start with the two-legged ones.” Drew kicked the screen out of the window.
Ellis aimed, shot one dead center. The cop’s arms went up, his pistol went flying, and he fell back. No blood? Fuck, the bastards wore body armor.
Ellis’s next shot took off the top of the second cop’s head. His third blew a hole in the first man’s leg. He wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. And the screaming wasn’t bad either.
Fuck, but he loved that sound. Oh yeah, indeedy yeah.
Stuffing his revolver into the back of his jeans, Ellis dropped out of the window, hit hard, staggered a few steps, and scrambled toward the fence.
AT THE SOUND of gunfire—three shots—from the back of the old brownstone, Vance pulled his weapon and ran toward the side of the building, quickly outdistancing his slower partner.
Welcome to New York City. NYPD was already inside the brownstone, heading for Drew Somerfeld’s condo on the second floor. They were taking point. Their city. Their territory.
He rounded the back corner into the yard. Jesus.
A man dashed across the yard jumping over the body of a uniformed cop to get to the six-foot wooden fence. Another police officer lay nearby groaning.
The running man leaped, caught the top of the fence, and tried to pull himself up, feet scrambling on the wood slats. A pistol stuck in the back of his jeans fell, hitting the ground.
“Halt. FBI,” Vance shouted as he aimed and— Something hit his back like the kick of a mule, followed by a blast of pain. Fuck. He retained his weapon as he fell forward. His head smashed against the concrete patio as he rolled off the edge, ending half on his side.
His lungs couldn’t pull in a breath through the agony that was his torso. Above him was an open upstairs window. A man’s face. Somerfeld. And the bore of a pistol pointed toward him.
Jesus. He tried to bring his pistol around. Couldn’t move.
A barrage of shots split the air. A bullet struck the concrete patio in an explosion of fragments. Missed, thank you, God.
No one remained in the window. Vance managed to pull in a breath. Under the bulletproof vest, he was going to have a hell of a bruise for a while.
He turned his head and saw Galen lower his GLOCK. Eyes dark with fury, he looked toward Vance.
Vance gave him a painful nod—thanks, bro—and saw the tightness ease from his face.
With a low groan—it felt as if one shoulder blade had been pushed a foot forward—Vance rolled over.
The man who’d been climbing the fence was gone.
Goddamn it.
“Hey.” Two officers appeared in the window, both holding their weapons. A ruddy-faced one yelled to Galen, “Somerfeld’s dead. Where—”
From the other side of the fence came a man’s scream, shrill with rage and anguish. “Noooo. You bastards. No!”
As orders and shouting filled the air, Vance lurched to his feet. Tried to breathe through the pain. Felt warm blood trickle down his scalp to his neck. Remembered hitting his head.
He staggered toward the downed officers.
One stared up at the sky with blind eyes. The other—he knelt beside him to put pressure on the leg wound. There was too fucking much blood. “Get an ambulance here. Now.”
* * * *
Goddamn fucking knee. As the hospital elevator dinged out the different floors, guilt was like lead in Galen’s blood and bones, weighing him down. If he’d only been a few seconds faster, Vance wouldn’t have been shot.
Thank God for body armor, but fuck. His partner could have died, could’ve ended up with his head blown off like one of those two cops.
The elevator doors slid open.
Sally tried to push past him, but Galen snagged her with an arm around her waist. “Walk, pet. Or they’ll toss us out.” He knew just how she felt—he wanted to run as well.
“I need to see him.” She shoved at his restraining arm.
“You will. He’s going to be fine.” Vance is alive. Galen had to keep repeating the reassurance as they hurried down the hospital hall.
Against his side, Sally glowed like sunlight, a comfort against the coldness inside him. “I’m so…so angry,” she growled. “I want them all to pay.”
“Somerfeld is dead,” he reminded her. Galen’s bullet had taken him in the skull, and the two officers who’d broken into the flat had put two rounds in his back.
“There are others. One got away,” Sally muttered. As they dodged an orderly pushing past with a food cart, Galen saw her face. Mouth pressed into a determined line, eyes glittering with resolve. A vengeful female—one who knew computers. Not good.
Galen frowned down at her. “I did have a promise from you about no more hacking, correct?”
She glared before reluctantly nodding. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” He relaxed. She might evade questions, but she had a personal honesty that was damned refreshing. She wouldn’t break her promise.
In the hospital room by the window, Vance was in a bed. The back had been raised so he was half sitting. Pale, but awake. Alive.
With a relieved breath, Galen released Sally.
She darted over and halted, obviously afraid to touch him.
Vance smiled. “C’mere, sweetheart. You look like you feel worse than I do.” He painfully held an arm out to her and smiled as Sally snuggle
d closer. He asked Galen, “How’s the cop?”
“Still in surgery, but he has a chance.” Galen stopped to clear his throat. The X-rays reported Vance hadn’t even suffered any broken bones from the bullet’s impact, although he wouldn’t be moving quickly for a while. He’d hit his head. And he was alive. The knot in Galen’s gut loosened with visual confirmation. “The shooter got away.”
“Fuck,” Vance said under his breath. “If I’d only—”
“No,” Sally said. She shook her head. “You told me that. ‘If onlys’ will drive you mad.”
Galen met his partner’s rueful gaze. They’d managed to get the lesson through to Sally; now they needed to take their own advice. “At least we got the head of the Association. In case no one told you, Somerfeld is dead. The cyber team resurrected enough deleted files on his computer to know he ran the organization. And we’ve got addresses for the rest of the managers. They should be picked up later today.”
“Maybe one of them will be the shooter.”
God, he hoped so. Galen had an itch in the back of his skull. That scream the man had let out…hadn’t sounded normal. Hadn’t sounded sane. “Yeah.”
Despite the lines of pain in his face, Vance actually smiled. “We’re done, partner. Somerfeld and his managers were the last of the bastards.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Galen’s spirits started to rise. “Thanks to the imp, who won’t ever get any of the credit.”
“No problem,” Sally said. “I like my handcuffs for fun, not for real.” With a hand on Vance’s cheek, Sally gently turned his head. “You’re a mess, Sir.” She frowned at the blood in his hair and touched a spot near the back of his head.
“Fuck!” He jerked his head away and gave her a dark look. “You keep poking at me, subbie, and I’ll wallop your behind.”
Despite her obvious relief at the threat, she smirked. “This time—for a change—that might hurt you more than me.”
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