Marcus’s mother had explained everything to her sons when she and Jeremy had filed for divorce, because they’d been so angry and hurt with Jeremy for leaving. But Della hadn’t been angry or hurt. Jeremy had been honest with her, telling her that he was gay when they’d first met. She’d only asked that he be discreet and not cheat with other women. She’d had enough of that with Marcus and Stone’s biological father. Della and Jeremy had nearly a decade of happiness and had produced Audrey together. But then Jeremy had met Sammy.

He’d asked for a divorce, and Della had given her blessing. She’d been so truly happy for them that Marcus and Stone couldn’t help but be happy too. They’d all loved Sammy, and when he had been killed in a car accident, they’d all grieved along with Jeremy.

Jeremy’s new partner, Keith . . . Well, he was intense. Not a bad guy, but not a super-friendly type. Marcus suspected that he was threatened by the family bonds that Jeremy had been unwilling to sever. Especially Jeremy’s bond with Della. Whenever she’d needed him, Jeremy had dropped everything to go to her side.

‘I’m worried too,’ Marcus said. ‘I tried to get her to therapy. I thought Faith might actually have managed it, but Mom backed out at the last minute.’

Jeremy’s chuckle was watery. ‘That Faith. She’s got a big heart too. Promise me you’ll be careful, son. Please.’

‘I promise. How’s Keith?’

‘Grumpy, but he’s walking again.’ Jeremy’s husband had had to undergo knee replacements on both legs because his kneecaps had been shot by the same psychopath who’d shot Marcus and stalked and tried to kill his cousin Faith on multiple occasions.

The man had murdered Mikhail in cold blood when he’d found him in the family’s cabin in the Kentucky forest. The murderer had been using the cabin to hide the two young women he’d taken hostage, and Mikhail had simply been there at the wrong time. Stone had been the one to find Mikhail’s body, sending him spiraling into the dark place where he retreated when his memories became too intense to bear.

Mikhail had been shot in the head. Marcus swallowed hard. Just like Tala.

He cleared his throat roughly. Pushed the memory of the hole in Tala’s head to the side so that he could focus. ‘I’m glad he’s doing better. Tell him that we’ve been missing him at third base.’ Keith had been one of the best players on the Ledger’s softball team. ‘We’re six games behind the guys at the country radio station.’

‘I’ll tell him. I have class this afternoon, so I’ll drop BB back at your place around noon. Will you be home by then?’

‘God, I hope so,’ Marcus muttered. ‘If not, it won’t be much after that. I’ll make sure I walk her this afternoon. Thanks, Jeremy. And if Detective Bishop calls back, tell her I’m fine.’

‘That’s all you want me to tell her?’ Jeremy asked. ‘I’m not stupid, son. I heard what she didn’t say. She was pretty scared for you this morning too.’

The warmth returned to curl around Marcus’s heart. ‘That’s all I want you to tell her, Dad. And don’t tell Audrey. She’s a pest about stuff like this.’

‘I won’t,’ Jeremy said, a smile finally in his voice. ‘But thank you for confirming it for me. I think Detective Bishop was a little afraid of me. Tell her we’re solid. That’s a thing, right?’

Marcus chuckled. ‘Yes, Dad, it’s a thing. Why was she afraid of you?’ Jeremy was one of the most non-threatening men on the planet.

‘I think she didn’t want to make me sad. I like her, Marcus. And she’s very pretty.’

‘Jeremy, leave him alone,’ Keith said in the background. ‘Stop playing Cupid.’

‘Gotta go, Dad,’ Marcus said firmly. ‘Later.’

He hung up, hearing Jeremy chuckling as his own lips curved. Until he looked at his computer screen again. It was a mess of cut and pasted names, all from the two threat lists. He had been trying to choose which names he’d give Scarlett for too many hours.

Of course, he could always print it out when it was finished. Then he could take it by the police station and give it to her himself. First things first, boy, he told himself. He had to get the damn thing done first.

Nine

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 8.50 A.M.

Ken Sweeney drummed his fingers on the table in his conference room, waiting impatiently for Demetrius to join them. Ken had called the emergency meeting of his leadership team seconds after Demetrius had informed him that Jason Jackson was not at home.

‘Where the hell is Demetrius?’ Joel asked, rubbing his eyes. He’d been up all night balancing the real books. What Joel had given Decker was just the tip of their corporate iceberg. ‘I’m going to fall asleep here at this table if he doesn’t get here soon.’

‘You used to be able to pull a week of all-nighters,’ Ken said with little sympathy.

‘You used to be able to run a six-minute mile,’ Joel shot back irritably. ‘But neither of us is in college anymore, so shut it.’

Ken calmly lifted his chin and leveled Joel a silent warning. Joel paled slightly, gulped audibly and slid down in his chair. Ken relaxed, satisfied that he’d made his point.

They’d gone to college together – Ken and Joel and Demetrius – becoming three very unlikely friends. Joel had been the nerd, Ken the jock born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and Demetrius the inner-city kid on a football scholarship who’d had more street smarts than actual book learning. Ken and Demetrius had met through the team, Joel joining their group after he’d been assigned to be Demetrius’s tutor. Demetrius had been no dummy, though. Of all of them, he might even be the smartest. Ken, of course, was the leader. He always had been. Joel just needed to be reminded of that sometimes.

‘Demetrius is on his way in,’ Ken said calmly. ‘He just texted me from the lobby. But if you’re that impatient to sleep, you may leave, of course.’

‘No.’ Joel’s voice was quiet, with the smallest of quivers. ‘I’m good.’

‘I’m so glad,’ Ken said, still calm. ‘It’s not like we have an urgent issue or anything.’

Nervous looks were exchanged between his son, Sean, and Dave Burton, Reuben’s second-in-command in Security. Both Sean and Dave were younger than the rest of them by more than a decade. They knew their place in the pecking order and wisely kept silent.

The door opened, then closed quietly behind Demetrius. The man was built like a goddamn tank but still moved with the fluid stealth that had made him a hard man to catch on the football field. He took his seat and cocked a curious brow at Ken. ‘Any word from Reuben?’

‘None,’ Ken said, torn between being furious and worried. ‘You?’

Demetrius shook his head. ‘Me neither. You planning on making Decker stand outside in the hall for the whole meeting?’

‘No,’ Ken replied. ‘Just until we hash out the full plan. I’m not ready for him to know everything yet. Sean, tell them what you told me.’

Sean cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the tension in the room. ‘The tracker,’ he began, ‘transmitted a tamper alert at 5.45 this morning, while in the vicinity of the morgue. It was moved from the morgue, but the battery died a little later, at the corner of Fourteenth and Race. I’m assuming it was en route to CPD.’

‘Shit,’ Demetrius muttered. ‘Who got killed?’

‘The tracker was assigned to Charles Anders,’ Ken said, ‘one of five workers that we sourced on March fourth, three years ago.’

Demetrius turned on his iPad and, after inputting several passwords, unlocked the spreadsheet where he kept his contracts and sales information. Ken had been averse to Demetrius using the electronic tablet at first, but since it wasn’t hooked up to the Internet and couldn’t be hacked, he’d finally agreed to it. It could be physically stolen, but then again, Demetrius had pointed out, so could Ken’s notebooks, and Demetrius’s tablet would be a helluva lot harder for the thief to break into and read.