4. Jared

FOUR

"Why dowe have to do this on a Sunday?" I ask. My thumb twists the fake wedding band around and around my finger as Victoria drives us to the impromptu undercover mission. Traffic on Sunday in the middle of New York isn't bad, and we make good progress toward the apartment building on the Upper East Side.

"Crime doesn't rest, so neither do we," Victoria chirps.

I roll my eyes. I don't consider myself to have a very active social life, but compared to Victoria, I might as well be the city's busiest socialite. She lives and breathes and dreams work. I wouldn't be surprised if she called the office to ask about ongoing operations she could help with.

I, on the other hand, had been looking forward to a lazy day in bed with Logan. But someone phoned in sick at the last minute, and generous as he is, he agreed to cover for them at the gym. So it was either squat at his place all day like a weirdo or go home to my very empty, very lonely apartment. Getting dragged into work is just as well, I suppose.

"Fine." I sigh before taking another gulp of coffee. "What's the mission brief then?"

Victoria rattles it off. "Rumor is there's something shady going on at this restaurant."

"Something shady?" I scoff. "This is New York. There's something shady happening around every street corner."

She shoots me a withering look. "Some of Wall Street"s more notorious movers and shakers have been seen meeting here. The combination of meeting attendees is suspicious, as is the frequency of the meetings. We've been tasked to ‘become regulars' and Sunday brunch was the first booking I could get us."

"Which restaurant is this, exactly?" I ask with an inkling of the answer already.

"Pacifica."

I snort and shake my head. "Right, only one of the hottest new restaurants in town. Now I know why you put your hand up for this case."

Victoria doesn't respond, but her smile inches toward conniving and smug.

"Okay, fine." I finish my coffee and set the empty cup into the cup holder. "We're going in as Tori and Jerry?"

"That's the plan."

This isn't the first time Victoria and I have gone undercover as a couple. Far from it. In fact, it would surprise most civilians to know that single folks raise a lot more suspicion than couples. Especially in scenarios like a high-end restaurant, a table for one would garner too much attention, whereas staff and other patrons wouldn't blink an eye at a man and woman having a romantic meal together.

Victoria pulls into an empty parking spot on a side street and we both climb out. It's a short walk to the building where the restaurant is on the top floor. I hold out my arm for her and she slips her hand into the crook of my elbow.

"I hope you're hungry," she says. "I hear they've got a killer eggs Benedict."

I quirk a smile. "It better not be too lethal. Kind of hard to arrest an egg on an English muffin."

Three hours later, I pull the fake wedding band off my finger and drop it into the drawer of my desk in the office. On a Sunday afternoon, it's mostly deserted, with only a skeleton staff monitoring incoming chatter.

"So, is that considered a success or a bust?" I ask.

At her own desk across from mine, Victoria takes off her fake wedding rings too. She's wearing a shit-eating grin. "A success. Our objective is to ‘become regulars', which we made good headway on."

"The foie gras eggs Benedict helped."

Her grin grows wider. "It certainly didn't hurt."

"Hey, how'd it go?"

I turn at the deep voice I'm more accustomed to hearing in my ear.

Isaac is the lead agent on our team, the one who orchestrates the show from the operations center while the rest of us are in the field.

I point to Victoria. "She wants to try the filet mignon next time."

"Hmm." Isaac nods but doesn't immediately shoot back with a smart-ass comment. Weird.

I exchange a look with Victoria who shrugs. "They dragged you in on the weekend too?" I ask Isaac.

Isaac leans his hip on the edge of my desk. There's zero humor in his expression and both Victoria and I sit up a little straighter.

"Actually, I was hoping to catch you here," Isaac says to me—and only me.

"Yeah?" I frown and do a quick mental check of all our ongoing cases. There isn't anything that requires immediate action. Certainly nothing that would explain why Isaac's so serious. "What's up?"

"Alonzo Adams."

My blood runs cold at the mention of that name.

Alonzo Adams was—is—an arms dealer who stole weapons from the US military and sold them to overseas buyers. He didn't care who ended up with the weapons or what they were used for. As long as they had cash, he would sell.

I spent two years of my life infiltrating his criminal enterprise. I worked my way up the food chain, earning the trust of some of the most despicable people I've ever met. The case culminated in a disastrous raid on his heavily fortified compound. People died—innocent people—but we got our guy at the end of the day.

To call Alonzo Adams my arch-nemesis gives him too much credit. But he is the biggest arrest of my career. He's spending the rest of his pathetic life in a maximum-security penitentiary… and I carry the weight of those innocent deaths on my conscience every day.

I force myself to take slow, steady breaths. It's important to stay in control when you're undercover and to always be ready to act. You can't let surprises catch you unprepared.

"What about him?" I ask, my voice unaffected despite the sliver of fear slicing through me.

Isaac doesn't sugarcoat anything. He stares me straight in the eyes and says, "He was being transported to another facility."

Breathe.Oxygen is an essential component to maintaining readiness.

"And?"

"And the transport van was intercepted."

Breathe.

"A guard managed to radio it in, but by the time backup arrived, they were dead and Adams was gone."

Despite my efforts, my heart rate skyrockets and fear lodges itself firmly in the middle of my chest.

"When?"

"Two days ago."

"Two days ago?" I shoot to my feet, unable to stop myself. My hands are curled into fists and my heart feels like it's trying to hammer its way past my ribs. "Why the fuck am I only hearing about it now?"

Isaac tilts his head, acknowledging my indignation. "I only heard about it a couple hours ago myself."

Breathe, goddamn it.

I spin away from him and Victoria to stalk down the row of desks.

Alonzo Adams is a dangerous man. Dangerous and powerful. The world was a lot safer with him behind bars. With him free, there's no telling what kind of destruction he'll inflict.

I reach the end of the row and spin around to stalk back.

"Who's leading the hunt?" Victoria asks as I come within earshot of the discussion again.

Isaac's response is to stare pointedly at me.

"Me? Seriously?" I'm shouting now, but I don't care. It's the only way I can hear myself above the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.

"Not you—not officially. The Marshals have jurisdiction here, but since you have intimate knowledge of Adams' MO, they've requested your assistance."

Breathe.

"You mean, they fucked up and now they want me to fix it for them."

Isaac doesn't respond. He knows I'm right.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. You said it's been two days. He could be on the other side of the planet by now!"

"They're reasonably confident he's still state-side," Isaac says. "All airports have been notified. Same with crossings along the Canadian and Mexican borders."

"Great! That just leaves the thousands of miles of coastline where he can launch a boat and sail away," I spit out with a bitter laugh. It rings hollow through the mostly empty office space.

Several minutes pass in silence before Isaac speaks again. "The Marshal in charge will be here tomorrow morning. He wants to speak to you in person."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, sensing an oncoming migraine. It's been a while since I've had an attack. They tapered off after I switched teams and started working with Victoria. But they were bad—and frequent—when I was still working in deep cover. The constant threat of danger had me popping painkillers like they were candy.

"Do I have a choice?"

Isaac at least has the courtesy to grimace.

I shake my head in disbelief. That chapter of my life was supposed to be closed. I've come to terms with it, worked through the trauma, and moved on with my life. The absolute last thing I need is to dredge it all up again.

"Fuck."

Isaac straightens with a sigh. "Why don't you go home? Get some rest tonight and we'll regroup in the morning."

Home. To that empty apartment. Where I've got nothing to distract me from the fact that one of the world's most dangerous men is out there somewhere and we might never be able to find him again.

When I don't respond right away, Victoria does it for me. "Yeah, good idea. Thanks, Isaac."

She waits until he's out of the room before continuing. "Want a drink?"

I answer her by grabbing my coat and starting for the exit. Victoria's two steps behind me. I don't stop until we're at a bar and waiting for the bartender to pour our beers.

"You okay?" Victoria asks after we've both had a chance to make a dent in our drinks.

Victoria and I only started working together after my Alonzo Adams case closed, but she's well aware of the impact it had on me. Early on in our partnership, when my migraines were still a common occurrence, she had to coach me through some pretty severe attacks. She demanded a full account of the case as compensation.

"Yes—no," I mutter a curse under my breath. "I don't know."

"It won't be like last time. They won't ask you to go undercover again. He knows who you are now."

"Small mercies."

"This is the Marshal's case. You're just assisting. You won't have to carry the entire case on your own."

It's all true, but it doesn't make this any easier. Alonzo is smart and ruthless. He has no limits, no line he won't cross. He'll do whatever it takes to get what he wants, no matter how many bodies he leaves in his wake.

Breathe.

"Besides, I'll be there," Victoria shrugs and takes another swig of her beer. "I've got your back."

I know she does, and I'm grateful. But Victoria doesn't know Alonzo like I do—no one does. If he's out and roaming the streets, then we all need to be afraid.