The squad graces me with their usual morning greetings before I push the door to my office shut. Sinking into the chair at my desk, I close my eyes and embrace the moment of silence I know won’t last, because any moment now, Roamyn will barge in like he does every morning.

The silence is short-lived. Thirty seconds later, the door is thrown open and an overly cheerful Roamyn waltzes in. “Well, you sure look happy this morning.” He falls into the leather couch just on the inside of the office. “You look hungover as fuck, just so you know.” Making himself at home, he lies across the couch folding his arms behind his head, much like he does every morning.

“Well, I’m not. Just have a badass headache. What’s up?”

“Might wanna check the note and case file I left on your desk this morning,” he adds.

I turn around. “And?” I drag out, waiting for an answer.

He shifts, looking uncomfortable, and shakes his head at me sullenly. “You’re not going to like it, man. The DA called. They want both Alison and Lindsey Jenkins to agree to take the stand on the Marino Case. DA thinks if the girls verify everything they saw and Alison rolls on the boss there’s a chance the drug and weapons charges against him might actually stick.”

Cassidy and Elias appear at the door but I take no notice, the mention of Lindsey and taking the stand my only concern. After the bust at Sweet Tarts, Elias and Cassidy cracked one of Giuseppe’s associates. He gave his boss up because he and his family are living here illegally and we threatened them with deportation.

“If they don’t, there won’t be much hope for Giuseppe or Lucio Marino doing any prison time. As it is, Giuseppe’s charges are hanging on by a thread. And the help we had from Misery’s Angels, those gun charges on Lucio aren’t what they should be. Someone in the Angels had to have tipped them off we’ve been onto them. The shipment wasn’t even half the size it was supposed to be. If the girls can’t verify what they saw for the jury, those deep pockets Marino’s got hands in, they’ll get him and Lucio off the charges. I’d bet on it.”

“Not a chance, plus Lindsey barely saw a thing, she said she’d only walked in a minute before we busted in,” I growl back, snatching the small Post-It note off my desk while Roamyn sinks his hands into his pockets of his black slacks. My pulse quickens at the thought of the harm Lindsey and Alison will suffer if they testify.

“Hate to go against you on this, boss, but I’m with Roamyn on this one.” Elias, the other detective of our four-man squad, chimes in. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the irrational voice in my head screaming what a disaster this will probably turn into.

“I know it’s a shitty situation. I don’t like the idea any more than you do. If they do testify, it’ll bring them into the limelight. But you know without those testimonies they’ll never do serious time. With their connections, they’ll be in and out of Riker’s within a goddamn month.” Roam’s frustrated tone fills the thickening air with tension as each second passes. “And just to put it out there, I worked my ass off undercover for three horrible fucking months to catch these guys. It might not have been long, Mase. But it was brutal. The shit I saw and did.  My cover’s still intact in case I need to go back under but right now, this is all we’ve got to go on. I won’t exactly be thrilled if they walk out of a courtroom as free men. Not if I can help it.”

He’s right. How he pulled off even three months and made it out alive shocks the shit out of me. They’re ruthless bastards and no one’s ever managed to get on the inside without winding up dead. Not until Roamyn volunteered his suicidal ass.

I scrub a hand over my chin, my mind searching for another answer, something, anything. “Yeah, I get it. I do. I don’t want to see those assholes walk free either. But making Lindsey and Alison testify in court? We’re slapping targets on their backs. They’ll both end up as floating corpses in the Hudson River next week.”

The truth ached against my throbbing heart.

“DA is willing to offer Alison immunity,” Roamyn adds.

“What?”

“The footage from the strip club came in showing Alison Jenkins being pimped out by Lucio. And we saw her pulling out the ICE we found in her locker and shoving it back in. She lied about knowing it was there. We’ve got to bring her in and now we have to tell them about this.” Roamyn points to the file.

I nod, acknowledging him, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes and accept the truth.

“It will end badly.” I grimace as the words leave my mouth. It was an inevitable tragic ending, one I didn’t want for Lindsey or Alison.

A second later, I feel a nudge on my arm. “Hey,” Roamyn says, seeking out my attention. “It doesn’t have to.”

But his pained expression says it all. It will.

Lindsey

Padding my sock-covered feet along the wooden floors, I yawn loudly as I wipe away the sleep still slick in the corner of my eyes. My twirled hair is a knotted mess hanging low down my back, hiding some of the oversized pajama shirt that’s seen better days. The distinct aroma of coffee wafts through the air, becoming stronger the closer I get to the kitchen.

“Mmm, Alison, please tell me you made enough coffee–” My mouth falls open in surprise as I round the corner.

“Shit,” mutters the bare-assed male awkwardly shifting on his feet to cover his junk.

“Who are you and why are you in my kitchen?” I ask, crossing my arms under my chest, my patience growing thin.

“Umm.” Naked Guy stills at my voice. “Making breakfast?” It comes out as a question rather than a statement and along with it, a grimace he tries to pull off as a smile.

“Oh, Jesus. Put some clothes on.” I move out of the way so he can pass and as he does, he drops his hands, letting all his naked glory shine. I roll my eyes and yell in the direction of the guest bedroom, “Alison you better drag your ass out here or find somewhere else to stay!”

Emerging from the deep, Ali mumbles something incoherent until her eyes widen at the sight of Naked Guy, rendering her momentarily speechless. “Oh. You.” She has the audacity to look shocked at his presence. Her eyes flicker my way before she quickly lowers them, hiding them behind the hair loose around her face. “Oops, forgot about him. Sorry, sis,” she says a little too quickly before pivoting around and making a quick exit.

My hand rushes out and I grab her elbow, spinning her back around to face me. My stomach drops and another piece of my heart chips away as the bloodshot eyes of my sister fill me with disappointment. Again.

“You’re high, aren’t you?” I let her go, averting my eyes to hide the hurt. It shouldn’t still shock me to see her this way, but it does. Growing up with a drug addict for a mother curbed any curiosity I had of drugs. They were evil, soul sucking, life ruining. I’d never wish to relive any one of the times I had to clean her, redress her, all because she’d passed out, drowning in her own vomit. Nor did I want to endure another physical beating as a result of moving one of her syringes so Ali wouldn’t pick one up or step on them.

In a warped way, her cruelty was a gift. Every hand she laid on me was a reminder of the kind of mother I promised myself I’ll never be, should the day ever come that I have a child of my own. Ali was too young to remember, never on the front line ready to battle a continuous war with a woman who refused to stop wallowing in the man she’d lost and fight for the children she still had.

Ali hides behind her hands, shaking her head at the same time. “I’m sorry, Linds. Adriana and I went out last night. We had a huge fight and it hit me hard. She refused to even talk to me after it.” Her voice cracks as the words leave her mouth. “I just needed a little something to take the edge off, is all.”