Chapter Six

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"Hell," Jace growled, automatically drawing his gun. So did Angel and Kit as she bolted from the SUV.

But none of them could return fire. Not with the possibility of injuring or killing an innocent bystander.

Or even killing Brandon.

Jace had no idea where the young man's location was in the apartment, but the gunshot had gone through the glass, which meant it wasn't bullet-resistant. The door and even the exterior walls likely weren't either.

"Stop," Jace shouted at the gunman.

He took aim, hoping to get the shooter's attention and prevent the SOB from firing another shot into Brandon's apartment.

It worked.

The shooter whirled around, and while the motion seemed to be a genuine response of surprise, there was something off about it. But Jace couldn't say what exactly. The thought flew right out of his head anyway when the shooter adjusted his stance and brought up his gun.

No longer aimed at Brandon's window.

But at Angel, Kit, and him.

"Kit, get down," Jace shouted.

He did the same, and through the window of the SUV, he caught a glimpse of Angel pulling Kit to the ground.

Just as the bullet slammed into the SUV.

Unlike the apartment, Jace's windows and the body of the SUV were bullet-resistant, and the shot went into the hood, embedding itself but not doing any real damage. Ditto for the second shot.

On the third shot, the gunman adjusted, and the bullet went into the SUV door just above Jace's head.

Cursing, Jace dropped down even further, and from the other side of the SUV, he heard Angel calling 911 to report an active shooter. Jace figured the response time for that would be damn fast, maybe under three minutes, since the nearest cruiser would proceed to the scene. But in those three minutes, people could die.

And a trap could be sprung.

Because it occurred to him that this attack could have been designed so that someone could move in and try to kidnap Kit or him. That could have been what felt off about the shooter's movements in front of the apartment.

From his position, which was practically flat out on the ground, Jace couldn't see squat, and he couldn't hear any footsteps. But everything in his gut told him to get to Kit fast.

So that's what he did.

Staying down, he scrambled to the back of the SUV. The shooter must have been able to see him because the shots came that way. Again, just above his head. So, either the shooter's aim was off or else these weren't meant to be kill shots. That only reinforced his need to get to Kit.

He crawled beneath the SUV, bellying his way to the passenger's side where he could see Kit. She was on the ground, with Angel hovering over her. He had his gun ready and was talking to someone on the communicator he wore clipped to the neckline of his tee.

Jace's gaze met Kit's, and while he saw an ample amount of fear there, she wasn't panicking. In fact, he thought she was considering running out to try to save her nephew.

"Stay put," Jace warned her, and he made sure it sounded like the order that it was.

Angel glanced at Jace, giving him a quick once over, probably checking for injuries. Jace did the same to both Kit and him, but thankfully neither appeared to be hurt.

"ETA for backup is under a minute," Angel said, just as there was the wail of sirens in the distance.

The shots continued, a more frantic pace now, and Jace wasn't even sure they were hitting the SUV. Or anything else other than the surface of the parking lot. The shooter seemed to be just firing.

And then Jace heard something else he didn't want to hear.

A scream.

Jace crawled out from beneath the SUV and levered himself up so he could see what the hell was going on.

"Shit," he growled.

The shooter had grabbed a young woman and had her in a chokehold while moving toward the stairs.

"The gunman's taken a hostage," Jace relayed.

"Is it Brandon?" Kit asked on a rise of breath.

"No, it's a woman. Wait here," Jace added, and he took off running, darting toward the vehicle just ahead of them and dropping down.

"Jace," Kit blurted, and he heard the emotion coating her voice. She wanted him to stay down. But he couldn't.

He had to try to stop the gunman from escaping with a hostage.

"Backup is nearly here," Angel called out, clearly wanting Jace to stay down as well.

He didn't. Dragging in the breath he needed for this burst of speed, he raced forward, but no shots came. However, he did hear those footsteps that he'd been listening for. And they were coming from the metal stairs on the right of the apartment unit.

The shooter was getting away.

Jace bolted forward, and the gunman must have seen him, because he put the gun to the woman's head. A silent warning. Come closer and she dies . Jace silently cursed as many words of profanity that came to his mind.

What he couldn't do was charge forward and try to save her.

He waited, hearing the cruiser squeal to a stop in the parking lot. Waited and watched, and when the gunman had reached the bottom of the stairs, Jace began to inch forward.

Behind him, he could hear Angel explaining the situation to the responding officers, but Jace kept his focus on the shooter. The shooter was doing the same to Jace.

At first anyway.

Then, the shooter shoved the woman. Hard, and she began to fall forward. The shooter didn't stay around to watch that happen. He bolted away, running in the opposite direction to the other side of the apartment units.

"Officer in pursuit of suspect," Jace heard one of the cops call out as the cop raced past Jace.

He had to fight his instincts and training to run with the cop, to catch this asshole gunman. The cop nor his partner, who was right behind him, would appreciate a civilian interceding. Also, Jace heard something else, something behind him, that had him glancing over his shoulder.

Kit.

She was no longer on the ground. She was on her feet and heading toward the apartments.

"I need to check on Brandon," she insisted.

He couldn't fault her for wanting to do that, but he sure as hell didn't want her out in the open like this. Jace hurried to her, hooking his arm around her waist to maneuver her behind him, and Angel got in place so that he was behind her.

Jace saw the second cop stop to check on the woman who'd been the gunman's hostage, and she must have been okay enough because the cop took off running after his partner. In pursuit of the gunman.

Maybe they'd catch the SOB.

And while he was hoping, Jace added that maybe Brandon was all right.

Two women came out of one of the bottom-level apartments, hurrying toward the former hostage and rushing her back inside. Good move. Jace wanted to do the same for Kit.

To minimize the time out in the open, Jace led them into the elevator, and while they were going up the one floor, he did another visual check of Kit. She was shaken but unharmed.

They'd gotten damn lucky.

Now, he needed their luck to hold and the shooter to be caught. If it wasn't one of their suspects but rather a hired gun, perhaps the guy would be willing to rat out his boss.

When the elevator doors opened, they assumed the same stance as they had moving across the parking lot with Kit in the center of Angel and him. They went fast, but before they even reached apartment 211, the door opened.

Shit.

It was Brandon. Jace recognized him from his photos. But instead of a smiling picture for his college ID, his face was grim, and there was blood running down the side of his head.

Kit bolted ahead of Jace, pulling Brandon into her arms. Jace got them both inside, and the moment Angel was in, he shut the door. Then, he called for an ambulance.

There was glass all over the floor, and it crunched beneath their boots as Jace continued to get them away from the window and into the kitchen.

"Were you shot?" Kit blurted.

Brandon dabbed at his head with his fingers, which were already coated with blood. "No. The glass cut me when it flew out." His eyes were wide, and his breath was coming out in short juts. "Did someone just try to kill me?"

"I think so," Kit admitted, and she had him sit on a stool at the kitchen counter while she hurried to the sink to wet some paper towels.

"And then the person tried to kill you," Brandon concluded. "I heard the shots." He glanced at Jace and then did sort of double take. "Detective Malley. I've heard about you."

Jace didn't ask how. He'd had some high-profile cases at SAPD, and the attention had given him far more media coverage than he'd wanted. Then again, he'd never wanted any press. Still, someone majoring in criminal justice would have likely known who he was.

"You work for Maverick Ops now," Brandon added, and then he glanced at Angel. "He does, too?"

No press coverage for Angel so it was no surprise that Brandon didn't know who he was. Angel's name had thankfully never made it to the press. As a deep-cover detective, that would have blown his cover.

"Yes, that's Angel DeLuca, and he works for Maverick Ops," Kit verified, and she came back to Brandon to clean the cut on his head.

Once she'd wiped away the blood, Jace could see that the cut wasn't that big or that deep. But it was damn close to his eye.

"Did you see the person who fired the shot?" Brandon asked, aiming the question at Jace. "Who was it?"

"He was wearing a ski mask. Have you gotten any threats or seen someone suspicion around the building?"

"No." Brandon winced when Kit pressed on the wound, prompting her to murmur an apology. "Nothing out of the ordinary until today." He looked straight at Jace. "Is this about those phones I found?"

"Possibly," he settled for saying. But it was more than a possibility. Jace just didn't know if the shot had been meant to kill Brandon.

Or scare him.

"The cops are back, and the shooter isn't with them," Angel relayed, grumbling out a few curse words under his breath. "Stay put and I'll go down and see what I can find out."

Angel stepped out and Jace hurried over to lock the door behind him. Yes, the window had a fist-sized hole in it, but he didn't want anyone, especially the shooter, waltzing in for another round of gunfire.

"You'll need to talk to the cops," Kit said to her nephew. "But after that, you should be some place safe." She glanced at Jace. "Can Ruby arrange that?"

"I'm sure she can," Jace said, immediately firing off a text to his boss. "And then maybe Brandon can show us those phones."

Of course, the cops were going to want to see them. And take them into custody. After that, the phones and the texts would be swept up into an investigation, and Jace might not be privy to the details. He very much needed those details so he'd know what Kit, Brandon, and he were up against.

"Yes, the phones," Brandon said, getting off the stool. "They're in my bedroom. Let me get them."

Both Kit and Jace followed him in there, and Jace was glad Brandon didn't go anywhere near the single window in the room. Instead, he went to the nightstand and came back with a clear plastic bag containing the three phones.

"The screens aren't locked on any of them," Brandon explained, handing over the bag to Jace.

Jace hadn't even managed to open the bag when someone knocked at the door. Correction, someone banged on it. And not just once either. Someone was pounding on the door with their fists.

"Wait here," Jace told Kit and Brandon. He handed the bag to Kit, and she tucked it underneath her jacket. With his gun still drawn, he went back into the living room to peer out the window.

He cursed.

Not the ski-masked-wearing shooter.

But rather two men in suits. Expensive ones. And Jace instantly recognized them both.

Ramsey and Trevor.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ramsey snarled the moment he saw Jace through the glass.

Jace didn't answer. Instead, he checked to see if either man was holding a gun. They weren't. But that didn't mean they weren't carrying.

"Why are you here?" Jace demanded.

Trevor started to answer, but Ramsey moved in front of him. "To see my grandson. Now, open this damn door."

Jace didn't, but he wanted to do more cursing when he heard the footsteps behind him and realized that Brandon was rushing into the living room. Kit was trying to hold him back, but she was no physical match for her nephew, who outsized her by a good fifty pounds.

"I want to talk to him," Brandon insisted.

Yeah, so did Jace, but he wasn't sure it was safe. That's why he moved in front of Brandon, and he was a physical match for the younger man. Jace got Brandon behind him before he opened the door.

Ramsey attempted to barge his way in, but Jace stopped that, too. Oh, that lit an angry fire in the man's eyes that narrowed to slits. If looks could have killed, Ramsey would have sent Jace straight to hell.

Jace aimed the same look right back at this rich asshole.

The anger came, rolling through Jace and dragging up old memories. The old mixed with new. With what Kit had told him on the drive over. That this asshole had bullied his nineteen-year-old daughter.

And by doing so, had changed the course of Jace's life.

Kit's too.

Jace didn't get into a mental what might have been . He just focused on the two men who were glaring daggers at him.

Both father and son had, of course, changed physically over the years, but Jace was betting they'd each put some money into some cosmetic tweaks to smooth out the worst of the wrinkles and keep the gray out of their hair that was nearly an identical auburn color as Kit's. The pair had obviously put in some time with a trainer as well since they both looked strong and fit. In fact, they looked more like former military than rich guys who worked behind desks.

"Why are you here?" Jace repeated. "And trust me, it's a question those cops will be asking you."

"And I want to know the answer," Brandon spoke up. He stepped to Jace's left side. Kit stepped to his right. Moves that earned them some glares, too, from Ramsey and Trevor.

Ramsey's jaw turned to iron. "Your dad's assistant texted us and said you were upset, that you ran out of his office when you went there to get your birth certificate for some college paperwork."

"I was upset," Brandon verified.

Jace waited for the young man to mention the phones. Surprisingly, and thankfully, he didn't.

"Just being around my dad's stuff reminded me of how little I have in common with him," Brandon said, "and I wanted to grab the birth certificate and get out of there as fast."

That wasn't the smoothest of lies, but neither Trevor nor Ramsey outwardly questioned it.

"I intended to be there to personally give you the birth certificate since I didn't want you to have to look for it," Trevor said, "but I was home resting. You heard that someone tried to poison me."

" Me ," Kit corrected. "The poison was meant for me."

Trevor gave her a flat look, but there was hatred in his eyes. "That's what happens when you buck up against a man like Marvin Shoemaker. You put your whole family at risk. Did you think of that when you agreed to testify—"

"Dad," Brandon said, stepping between Kit and his father. "Aunt Kit is doing what she feels is right."

Jace noticed the looks, just quick glances that Ramsey and Trevor gave each other, and he wondered if they were going to ask about the phones. If so, neither got the chance because there were more footsteps and a moment later, Angel appeared in the doorway. He wasn't alone.

Brandon's mother, Deanna, was with him.

"The gang's all here," Angel muttered, not bothering to hold back his disdain.

"Brandon," Deanna blurted. She would have raced forward, too, but Jace blocked her. Now, Jace had three members of the Barclay family giving him seriously nasty looks.

"Is she armed?" Jace asked Angel.

Angel shook his head. "The cops frisked her before they'd let her come up."

With that info, Jace stepped to the side to let Deanna rush to her son. She dragged him into her arms and let out a loud sob.

"You're hurt," Deanna said, and she whipped her attention back to Jace. "He needs an ambulance."

"I'm fine," Brandon insisted, untangling himself from his mother's embrace. He gave her a kiss on her cheek. "Really. It's just a little cut."

"You'll still need to have the EMTs check it out," Jace told him. "The cops will need that for the police reports."

Brandon nodded. "I'll have to give a statement, too."

"You will," Jace verified. "All of us will," he added, making sure Deanna, Trevor, and Ramsey knew that included them.

"I don't have anything to tell the cops," Deanna grumbled. "And I want to take my son to the hospital."

"It's not safe," Angel and Jace said in unison.

Jace continued with the explanation. "The shooter could still be in the area so when the EMTs arrives, they can treat Brandon here in his apartment until they're certain it's safe for him to leave."

"That makes sense," Brandon agreed, and he looked at his parents and grandfather. "Why don't the three of you go ahead back downstairs and talk to the police, and then when the EMTs get here, you can tell them where I am."

"I want to stay with you," Deanna was quick to insist just as Trevor snarled, "I'm not going anywhere."

Brandon patted her arm. "All right." He shifted his attention to Kit. "Why don't Jace and you go down and talk to them?"

Even though Brandon didn't come out and say it, Jace thought he was giving them permission to leave so they could take a look at those phones that Kit had tucked under her arm. Angel picked up on it, too.

"Go," Angel insisted. "I'll wait here with Brandon to make sure he stays safe." There was a threat in his tone. A threat followed up with a menacing stare he aimed at Ramsey and Trevor.

Since Angel had spent so much in deep cover with the worst that society had to offer, he was extremely good at looking as if he would kick your ass. And he was even better at the actual ass-kicking himself. That expression he was sporting wasn't a fa?ade. It was all Angel.

Kit gave Brandon a quick hug and moved fast to get out of the apartment. So did Jace, and he positioned himself so that she was by the wall while they took the railing side. That way, she wasn't out in the open. The moment they were in the elevator, Jace closed the door and held the button so that it stayed put.

"Keep the phones in the plastic bag," Jace instructed. "That way, our prints won't be on them." That would at least preserve one aspect of evidence once the burners were taken into custody.

She nodded and maneuvered one of the phones so she could press the power button. As Brandon had told them, there was no pin needed. The screen flared on. And there it was.

A single text.

Of how Kit and he were supposed to die.

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