Page 102 of Mine to Share

“We’re both at his house. What the fuck is going on, Charlie?”

A heavy breath blew across the mouthpiece. “I set up an alert to let me know if her ex’s face appeared in video. Well, I got a hit this morning, about thirty minutes ago, and I just now looked to see where he’d popped up.”

Dread sat heavy in my gut, churning the earlier sips of coffee. “Where, Charlie?”

“At the fucking Santa Coasta police station. He walked right in, bypassed the person working the desk, and I lost him when he turned down the hall that I suspect leads to the morgue. I can hack into their system, but—”

“It’ll take time.” I looked up. Slade was nowhere to be seen, but I overheard his raised voice echoing down the hall, ordering people around. “We’re leaving in less than thirty seconds. Thanks, Charlie. We’ll handle it from here.”

“Report back,” he demanded. “I want to know that she’s okay.”

With a nod he couldn’t see, I ended the call and hurried to the room with my clothes. Pulling on a T-shirt, I swiped my credentials and sidearm off the table. Then I hurried back into the living room, almost getting run over by Slade as he stormed past me while yelling at whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Just fucking get someone down there to monitor the situation. Call me before making a move. We treat this like a volatile domestic hostage situation. We have no idea what he’ll do if he feels trapped.”

At the front door, he launched a pair of shoes at my head before grabbing a pair for himself. Racing after him, I skidded to a stop, changing direction from the turd mobile to his matte black G-Wagon. I climbed in, barely having time to shut the door before he took off, tires screeching.

A couple minutes into the silent drive, a sharp shrill poured through the speakers, cutting the rising tension.

“What do we know?” Slade answered after pressing a button on his steering wheel to accept the call. If I weren’t almost about to puke from worry, I’d admire the interior and all the fancy buttons of the cool-as-hell SUV.

“One man holding a gun, Dr. Evans, and a man we think is a crime scene tech are in the morgue. The man and Dr. Evans are arguing, but the tech is down. I repeat, the tech is down.”

“What the fuck did he do? Shoot some innocent guy trying to intervene?” I hissed. The officers outside the doors needed to know exactly who they were dealing with, understand that barging in without us could result in the standoff ending in a way that would rip me in two. “This man is delusional and armed. He’s a pissed-off narcissist who’s lost control of the one person he needs and will do anything—and I repeat,anything—to gain that control back.”

“And he thinks that’s Dr. Evans?” the man on the phone asked.

“Precisely. His life probably fell apart after she filed for divorce and left, so he blames her for everything that’s wrong now.” This wasn’t good at all. “Do not go inside that room unless you feel like Dr. Evans’s life is in immediate danger. If they’re arguing, then Rain is doing her job—stalling. Once we get there, I’ll go in alone, so I’ll need a vest—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Slade said, flicking his angry glare my way. “You’re not going in there alone.”

“Trust me,” I snapped and hit the End Call button. “I know what I’m doing. If we want to get her out of this unharmed, then you’ll send me in alone. He’ll feel cornered and ganged up on if we both go in there. I’ll talk to him, and hopefully Rain remembers what I coached her on last night.”

“What’s that?” His hands tightened around the wheel.

“Before you came back and she fell asleep, we talked about what to do if she found herself alone with him. That she knows him better than any of us, which we could use to our advantage. She’ll either need to give in to what he wants, which I’m assuming is her”—Slade’s curse vibrated through the SUV—“or figure out a distraction that will break his focus and give us an opportunity to move in.”

“You thought this might happen,” he mused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I hoped it wouldn’t, but I’ve profiled this guy, and I figured it was a strong possibility. I just wasn’t sure when or where. She knew the risks of going out alone, but she’s Rain. No one can keep her sheltered or caged when she has her mind set on something. I wanted to cover her in bubble wrap and keep her locked in your house until we caught this fucker, but that’s not Rain.”

“Now what?” Slade said after a minute. The station was now within sight.

“Now—” I blew out a steadying breath. “—I put my training to work and get our girl out of this unharmed.”

The moment we stepped into the station, a flurry of movement and shouts greeted us. By the time we made it downstairs, I was wearing a borrowed vest, since mine was back at the house, and a Santa Coasta PD jacket over it. Not only did the light jacket cover the vest, but it also hid the gun tucked into the back of my sweats.

“If you sense shit is going south, you give the word and we’re there.”

I nodded at Slade as I secured an earpiece that would allow them to hear everything I did. “You know I won’t put her safety at risk. This is our best chance to get everyone out of there unharmed. I’ve got this.”

“I know you do,” he said confidently. “It’s that crazy-ass fucker in there I don’t trust.”

I huffed a laugh, unable to force a real one with the tension thrumming through my veins. Taking a step toward the doors, I sucked down a deep breath to calm my nerves. Slade’s massive hand slapped between my shoulder blades, jerking me forward a single step. I turned to glare at him over my shoulder, but the worry and concern in his green eyes chased away any irritation.

“Josh Evans,” I called, projecting my voice. “I’m coming in, unarmed.”

“Who the hell are you?” he asked from the other side of the doors. “What do you want?”

---