Chapter One

Jace Malley stayed pressed against the wall and waited for the killer to come after him.

He could hear him. Or rather hear his slow, calculated footsteps coming up the hall of the courthouse straight toward him. It wasn't the only sound that Jace could hear though.

Nope.

There was a nasty stew of other noises coming from all around him. The howl of sirens outside. First responders and his team members, who weren't rushing in, maybe because there was an active shooter but more likely because the doors to the Bandera Bluff's courthouse had been blocked by the killer.

Either way, Jace wasn't hearing anyone barging in, and his phone had been jammed so he couldn't even call for backup or a status update.

Other noises blended in with the sirens. Shouts—from both inside and outside the courthouse. Rasps of breath. Moans of pain. People scrambling to take cover in the converted Victorian mansion with its jumble of rooms and halls. All of that was happening both here on the second floor and on the one beneath.

Those weren't the worst of the sounds though. Nearby, in one of the rooms just up the hall from him, someone was crying, long wailing sobs.

A woman.

And Jace had to push aside the possibility that the woman was her .

If so, it meant she was alive. That was something at least. If she was capable of crying, she wasn't dead.

Not like the woman on the bottom floor by the entry who was now face down in a pool of her own blood. Jace had been on the mezzanine, landing about twenty feet above her, and had seen her take a shot to the back of the head from the gunman wearing a ski mask. He'd seen her fall.

And he'd known there was nothing he could do to save her.

So, he'd focused instead on stopping another death, and he homed in on those approaching footsteps, pushing aside the fact he wasn't armed.

As a civilian, he'd had to surrender his weapon before coming inside to go to the witness waiting area. His Sig-Sauer was locked away somewhere downstairs in the building, and to get it, he'd have to make it past the killer or risk serious injury or death by jumping over the mezzanine railing to the floor below. Jace had opted to stay put and make his stand unarmed.

More footsteps came.

The angle or the light wasn't right for Jace to see the shadow of the approaching killer, but he figured the guy was only about ten feet away. Soon, it would be time to fight.

And without a gun, Jace would have to rely on his training.

Thankfully, there'd been a hell of a lot of it. Four years in the military as a combat controller, followed by six years as a San Antonio homicide detective. Now, he'd just finished six grueling months of yet more training to become an operative for the elite private security firm Maverick Ops.

He could do this.

He could stop this sonofabitch from shooting anyone else. Jace just had to stay put and wait for the SOB to come to him. Later, he'd deal with the why this was happening.

Later, he'd deal with a lot of things.

The footsteps stopped, and Jace imagined that the guy was listening to try to hear if there was a potential threat to him at this end of the hall or on the side of the mezzanine wall. There was a threat all right.

From Jace.

Maybe the asshole wouldn't figure that out until it was too late.

Jace held his breath. Waited. And hoped the asshole didn't turn around and go back downstairs to search for another target.

He didn't.

The footsteps started again, and Jace counted each and every one of them. Until the wait was over. The killer finally moved into his line of sight, and Jace made his move. He dived at the guy, tackling him and sending them both to the floor.

They hit hard.

So hard that it damn near knocked the breath out of him. What the fall didn't do was cause the killer to let go of that gun. No. He held on and swung the barrel of it at Jace. It slammed into his jaw.

The pain shot through him.

But that didn't stop Jace. Not with the stakes sky high and with lives on the line. He went on the offensive. No more waiting around to get his ass kicked. He intended to turn the ass-kicking onto the killer.

He punched the ski-mask-wearing SOB, going for his throat. The guy turned at the last second, and Jace's blow landed on the guy's nose. Jace heard the satisfying sound of cartilage snapping, which meant he'd broken the asshole's nose.

Good.

But he wanted to do a lot more damage than that. First though, he had to get the gun away from him.

Jace landed another blow on that already broken, bleeding nose, and the guy jerked back his head, trying to move out of the way of Jace's fist. He succeeded for the most part. He jerked back just as Jace caught onto the ski mask and stripped it off.

Then, the killer pulled the trigger.