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“See? I’m not really baiting Vaynes as much as living my normal life, with some carefully selected bodyguards watching over me.” He still didn’t look convinced. “And we’ll still have one cop on protective detail.”

Penny set her coffee down and leaned closer. “And then maybe that person looks distracted, and we create an ideal situation for Vaynes to make a move.”

“I think you guys are nuts.” Anthony’s slight shake of his head didn’t bode well.

Bryce clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s okay, Pretty Boy. We can handle this without you.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s come up with a schedule and plan.”

“I’m not going to sit back and not help,” Anthony grumbled as he switched his chair around and scooched it up to the table. “If there’s a rotation, I better be in it.”

That was more like it. Despite Anthony’s objections, she did feel better with him watching her back and being a part of her security detail.

But she needed to remind herself he was only doing his job and to keep her heart out of it. Because if she let herself think there was anything more to this protective vibe she was reading, she’d be as delusional as a grown adult still believing in Santa Claus.

Eleven

Anthony woke early the next morning. Not that he was at all rested. How could he be? His friends were crazy. Taunting a serial killer? It was asking for trouble. But clearly, he was outnumbered. Still, if they thought he was going to sit by and watch, they were wrong. He wasn’t going to leave Della’s side until Vaynes was back in prison.

In a straitjacket.

Or better yet, secure in some black site detention center built to withstand terrorist attacks and earthquakes.

At least Della looked like she’d gotten some decent sleep after they’d talked. Even at the firehouse, with plenty of others around to watch over her, he couldn’t relax his brain enough for some REM.

Della sat on the other side of his squad car, her presence adding to the ultra-alert vibe running through him. He was on the clock already, but Della’s shift didn’t start until this afternoon, so they headed to the gym. And he might go mad if he thought about the risk they were taking, so he better find something else to talk about.

“Do you work out every morning?” he asked her.

She set her pre-workout drink in the cupholder. “Yeah. I know I can use the gym at the firehouse, but it’s easier for me to stay focused when I’m not on call. I know I won’t be interrupted this way.”

“That takes a lot of dedication.” His admiration for her continued to climb.

“I don’t have a choice. I have to stay in shape. It’s a job requirement. The second I go lax, I let my team down. And I fought too hard to be a firefighter to lose it by slacking off.”

“Did you always know you wanted to be one?”

“No. As a kid I had a very different plan. After my parents died, I decided I was going to become rich and open up orphanages back in India, where my grandmother is from.”

Anthony pictured young Della Nixon ready to take on the world. “And how were you going to do that?”

“Fashion design. I actually went to college for it.”

“Really?”

She chuckled. “Should I be offended that you find it so surprising?”

“No. It’s just such a drastic change from fashion designer to firefighter–foster mom that I didn’t see it.”

“Yeah.” Her voice grew soft. “Well, a lot changed after…everything with Vaynes.”

Of course. “What made you decide on firefighting, then?”

“It was one of the firefighters that found me. The woman stayed with me until paramedics arrived. She was the first sign of hope after days and weeks of torture. The first sign that I was going to be okay. I want to do that for others. On their worst days, I want to be a sign of hope that they’re going to make it.”

“Now that, I can definitely see. It’s a pretty hardcore job too.”

She smiled at him. “Yeah, it is. I never felt prouder of myself than when I passed that qualifier test. It was the hardest thing, physically, I’ve ever done.”

“It makes?—”