Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
I'm almost positive she's locked her door every night since, but I haven't had the nerve to check. If it is locked, I might actually follow through on my threat, effectively shattering whatever trust she has in me. If it's not locked, I'll drag her back to my bed…and simply holding her won't be enough this time.
I'll fuck her, lock her in a cage stronger than the one Nikolai had her in. And she'll never have the freedom she wants. She'll go from his cage to mine, from cartel slave to overprotected wife. She's never even experienced the world outside of his territory, for fuck's sake.
¡Mierda! It's taking everything I have to stay out of her room when she cries out at night. Knowing she's scared breaks my heart. The fact that she'd rather relive her worst memories than accept comfort from me has me ready to snap.
I don't know how much longer I can take it.
"You need me?" I ask Captain Franklin, stepping into his office. Unlike me, he finds order in chaos. Paperwork and case files litter his desk. One entire wall of the large office is a whiteboard, which lists the cases everyone under his command is currently working and the status of each. Family photos and mementoes are scattered around the bookshelves.
Franklin's head is bent over his desk, his eyes skimming over a case file. "Took you long enough," he mutters, glancing up at me. His bushy brows make an almost unbroken, disapproving line above his dark eyes. He purses his lips, studying me like he isn't sure what to make of me.
I stand in the doorway, not flinching. Whatever has him in a bad mood isn't my fault, and I don't intimidate easily. I've never been one to back down and dealing with murder suspects day in and day out only cemented that trait. Guys who are easily cowed don't make it long in this field.
"What do you know about Agent Michael Kincaid?" Franklin asks after a moment.
"Not much. He flew in to help Gregory and the ATF out after Remi Pledger kidnapped Tristan Riley's wife. I met him the night we went in to get her back, but I don't know him personally. Everyone knows of Kincaid though." He's a legend all up and down the West Coast. He's dismantled more gangs on his own than anyone else ever has before. They've tried to kill him more than once but haven't succeeded. All they ever manage to do is piss him off. They don't try often anymore. But Franklin knows that as well as I do. "Why do you ask?"
"Got a tip this morning," he says, still frowning. "Did you know his girlfriend's mother and brother were murdered six ago?"
"Heard about it," I mutter, leaning up against the doorjamb.
"The primary suspects were three members of the Diablos, a local motorcycle gang that's scattered in the years since. Nasty guys. They all had long rap sheets and were suspects in several other homicides." He taps the case file on his desk with one thick finger. "They were shot to death a few days later. The list of suspects was lengthy. No one ever took credit, and no one was ever charged."
"What's this have to do with Kincaid?" I ask, suddenly leery. Kincaid is helping Roman find Remi Pledger and scare our gangs into ending the war. Roman thinks the man might be the answer to a lot of prayers. I'm starting to think he might be right.
Since Kincaid blew into town, gang-on-gang violence has slowed to a trickle. Tarasova and the Bratva even seem to be falling in line for the most part. They've yet to seek revenge on the Amato family for the bar shooting.
"Our tipster claims Kincaid is the one who took them out," Franklin says.
"You believe it?"
"Not sure." He flips the case file closed and holds it out to me. "He skipped town around the same time they were shot to death. Why don't you look into it? See what you think?"
"You're kidding."
One bushy brow goes up.
Mierda. He's not kidding.
"Captain, I've already got a stack of open cases, not including the bar shooting. I've also got Faith Donovan to deal with. And Kincaid is helping Gregory, who is my neighbor and friend. Looking into this case is a bad idea if not an outright conflict of interest."
"You're the best investigator I've got, Hernandez. If there's a chance he's guilty, we both know you're more prepared to do what needs to be done than anyone else."
"What does that mean?" I growl, taking the file from his hands.
"It means that half of these guys might be tempted to half-ass the case because he wears a badge too. Most of the others won't hesitate to go for him regardless of whether he's guilty or not. You've never flinched from following the clues, regardless of where they lead. And right now, that analytical, no-bullshit mind of yours is what I need." He shoots me a look, daring me to deny that, but I can't, and he knows it. When I clench my jaw and nod, he continues, "If Kincaid did kill these cats, we need to know it sooner rather than later. We've already got one federal agent running amok in the city. The last thing we need is for someone to leak that another might be responsible for three murders years ago."