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“What a fucking idiot. I never did like working with him. We brought big brother in, Jensen and me. But his crazy-ass younger brother was in the wind. And there wasn’t enough evidence to go after him at the time. We all knew Alonso was involved, but Aldo kept him off the books. Now I’m wondering if Jensen had something to do with that too.”
“I agree. Jensen always has been a cocky bastard. Alonso’s going down this time, no fucking mercy.”
There wasn’t time to make a plan—taking more time meant lives. He refused to let himself think that they’d already wasted too much of it.
André gave up trying to radio the station. Instead, he put a belated officer-down call into the Grays County Sheriff’s Office, then pulled the car over about half a block before the station. He’d already broken so many rules that he didn’t think another few were going to matter.
“He knows we’re coming,” André said through clenched teeth. “We might as well try and surprise him. With Woods and Jensen out of the picture, there’s two of us and one of him.”
“We hope there’s only one,” Dante said over the top of the car after they got out.
André nodded. One would be much better odds.
“We’ll cut around the auto shop and come in behind the station. I’ll take the back door and you go around the side to take the front entrance. As far as I know, there aren’t any convenient air-conditioning vents to climb in through. We’re just going to have to get inside without getting dead.”
“I don’t feel great about splitting up.”
“It’s all we’ve got. When we get there, stick to the side of the building.”
“You think I was born yesterday?”
“Just... no.”
Grabbing Dante by the collar of his jacket, André pulled him close.
“Don’t you dare die on me.”
Fleetingly, he pressed his lips against Dante’s before stepping away and disappearing around the side of the auto shop without looking back. Once a marshal, always a marshal.
TWENTY
Dante
André vanished through the bushes into the parking lot before Dante could tell him he loved him and to be careful. Neither one of them were going to be careful. It wasn’t in their natures. And by this point Dante hoped André knew he was damn serious about him.
Swiftly, he adjusted his ballistic vest and made sure his holster was unsnapped. Then Dante made his way along the front of the auto shop, hoping he was staying away from any fucking cameras. The last thing they needed was the owner calling the cops. As soon as he had the thought, he snorted.
There were no cops to call.
When he reached the corner, Dante halted. He took in the quiet, serene-appearing police building and the area around it. With the storm raging, no pedestrians were making their way along the sidewalk. Thank fuck. No beachcombers were coming in or heading out to the mile-long stretch of sandy beach across the way. It felt desolate. Deserted. Almost a ghost town.
Steeling himself for what he might find, Dante started toward the front door of the station. This exposed him to anyone who might happen to be driving down the street, but it was the only choice. As he stepped closer, staying as close to the wall as possible, his cell phone vibrated. Only three people knew this number and one of them was Dani. Had the text been trapped in cellular purgatory until now? Or was she texting at this moment? Was it Chris Hatch? He knew it wasn’t André.
He paused again, his back pressed against the cement wall of the station, and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket.
Dani: There’s someone here.
He swore violently under his breath.
When the message had been sent, Dani had been alive. Dante was going to hold on to the hope she still was, that the text had been from seconds, not minutes, ago. He didn’t reply. There was no reason to alert The Motherfucker that one of them had a phone. Instead, he jammed it back into his pocket and continued toward the front entrance.
I’ll be right there, little mouse. I’ll be right there.
The front door was ajar, moving ever so slightly back and forth every time the wind found its way into the alcove. Dante tried to see inside, but the lobby lights appeared to have been turned off. Over the wind and rain, Dante could hear nothing but the beating of his heart.
Grabbing his weapon, he held it up and out loosely with both hands, something he’d practiced so often he could do it sleepwalking.
“Now or never,” he murmured. “We’re coming for you, Alonso.”
