Page 72 of Nicole's Shelter

There were several emails from Eva. None of them very helpful or encouraging. He skimmed the photo arrays of gang bangers, but he didn’t recognize anyone. She was furious with him for shutting down his phone—which interrupted the GPS trace she kept on investigators in the field—and there was a lively tirade about Bart being on the payroll that made him laugh.

“Good news at last?” Nicole walked in wearing a thin, short robe that hugged her body, still damp from the shower. The view made him want to forget everything else and take her back to bed.

He cleared his throat. “Not if you’re Eva. Apparently, Bart’s officially on the payroll.”

“Don’t they get along?” She poured a cup of coffee and leaned back against the counter. When she raised the cup to her lips, the hem of her robe crept up her long, lovely thighs. He looked away in self-preservation.

“They do. They just love to hassle each other.” He was about to say more when the email about the second fire Nicole supposedly set seized his attention. “Come here.”

He opened it and when she pulled a chair around to sit beside him, they read it together. Eva had been busy. She listed dates and places of arson events with a delete signature, most of which coincided with Clifton’s various assignments going back to that fateful summer that changed Nicole’s life.

She’d also copied and pasted an official report of the gang house fire, stating Nicole was a person of interest based on symbols found at the fire and the items she’d escaped with: two kilos of cocaine and several firearms.

Rick seethed, recognizing the gang name and reputation. “Clifton wasn’t screwing around. He painted a nasty target on your back. We’re lucky we got out of the immediate area when we did.”

“But I wasn’t there,” she whispered. “The gang has to know I wasn’t there.”

“Let’s just see what symbols they found.” He opened the attachment and experienced a rush of instant gratification. “Is that the signature?”

She nodded, her fingers pressed to lips gone white with fear old and new. “What’s going to happen now?”

“Now, we spring the trap.” But she was frozen in place, staring at the screen. Rick returned the screen to a view of the email. “Nicole. Do you really think the gang filed a police report or were even there when the fire department showed up?”

“Pardon me?”

“This is a hard-core group known for running guns through Maryland and Virginia. They aren’t the sort to document a robbery or voluntarily testify about anything.”

She stared at him, her brown eyes full of worry. “You’re about to tell me they’re the sort to take matters into their own hands.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re not making it better.”

He gathered her icy hands in his, rubbing them lightly. “Clifton tipped his hand by blaming you and falsifying this report. Look at the weapons listed.”

She peered at the screen. “What’s an M-10?”

“The guns the bikers used when they attacked us on the road.” He stood up, eager to shout the facts to every three-lettered agency in the country. Maybe the world. “Clifton couldn’t know you’d have me. His plan might have worked, but I’m your rock-solid alibi for the time of the fire.” He cradled her face and dropped a kiss on her nose. “And no one anticipated Bart riding in to help us with the bikers.” Picking up the iPad, he started to draft an email.

“I’m trying to get excited, but I’m still confused.”

“The signature is one more connection. Clifton arranged that fire—or set it himself—and stole the drugs and guns. Most likely, he gave those guns to his biker pals to take you out and plant with your corpse. The drugs were just gravy. You wind up dead from gang violence and no one connects it to him.”

He was pleased to see that put some color in her cheeks. “On top of all that, Bart knows all the local law enforcement. Whoever responded after we left, he would have made sure the evidence was handled properly.”

“That report I heard at the gas station mentioned a drug bust gone bad.”

“But Eva’s rant about Bart doesn’t mention the cocaine. Trust me, those bikers weren’t toting anything but ammunition. I’m betting Clifton meant to add the cocaine to the scene when the bikers were done with us.”

“Then Clifton still has the drugs.”

“Yup.”

“Who do we call? Can I watch the bust?”

He nearly declared his love for her right there, seeing the gorgeous battle-gleam in her eyes. There wasn’t a scenario that he didn’t find her beautiful, but with her temper high and ready to make a stand, she rivaled any goddess.

The risks were still all too real. There was a very good chance he could wind up sacrificing the woman he loved in the name of justice. But it was her justice. Somehow it didn’t make him feel better.

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