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He was alone, his partner Deon nowhere in sight. Good. Ruby seemed to like Deon, had said he was the only one on the force that ever asked if she was okay during her abusive marriage to Adam. Roman had no desire to rope Deon into Adam’s mess.
Adam checked his phone, then turned left at the bottom of the stairs without so much as a look around. The bastard was walking around like he didn’t have a care in the world while Ruby cowered in Roman’s loft, unable to leave or even talk to Olivia.
Hale had been living with the built-in immunity of a white cop, still on the streets even though he’d gotten several citations for excessive force, plus he’d seized custody of Olivia in Ruby’s absence because who would deny a father — a cop — custody of his daughter when his ex-wife had gone missing? And who would ever suspect he had something to do with it?
The injustice of it made Roman want to take Adam apart piece by piece.
“Let’s go.” Roman pushed off the wall and followed Adam across the street, dodging cars to cross the intersection only after Adam had turned down a smaller side street.
Max was with him, but Max wasn’t watching Adam. His gaze was wary, sweeping the area, looking for signs they were being tailed by Igor’s men.
Fifty feet ahead, Adam headed for O’Toole’s, the bar where he stopped for beers every afternoon on his way to pick Olivia up from school. Thanks to Georgiy, Roman knew everything Adam did when he was away from his apartment — every bar he visited, every food truck he frequented, every bodega where he bought beer, lottery tickets, sandwiches.
“Stay on him,” Roman told Max. “I’m going to cut him off from the alley.”
“Negative,” Max said. “I’m not—”
Roman ignored him, heard Max curse behind him.
They’d only be separated for a few minutes, and if they were being followed, Roman or Max would have already spotted the tail.
Roman cut down a narrow alley lined with dumpsters and trash. He jogged, wanting to get to the intersection of the alley and the street before Adam reached it.
The smell of cooking meat wafted through the air, combining with urine and cold asphalt to create a uniquely New York City smell. One of the doors in the alley banged open and a moment later a dark-haired man wearing a stained apron stepped out and threw a bag into the dumpster next to the door.
His gaze passed blandly over Roman. Seeing someone hurry down an alley in the city wasn’t exactly breaking news.
Roman reached the end of the alley, made a hard right onto the next busy street, then another right into an alley running parallel to the first one.
He dialed Max and picked up his pace, sprinting toward the street where Adam walked, pedestrians passing both ways in front of the opening.
“Where is he?” Roman asked. They’d scoped out the route beforehand, although Roman had left out the part about leaving Max to tail Adam while Roman cut through the alleys.
He wasn’t taking chances on losing the bastard.
“Just passed the first alley,” Max said. “Where are you?”
“Second alley.”
“He’ll be to you in three… two… one.”
Roman stepped out of the alley almost nose to nose with Adam.
Anger washed over Adam’s face — how dare someone step in front of him — right before he realized he was looking at Roman.
His eyes widened and he reached for his weapon, still in its holster.
Roman grabbed him by the shirt and tossed him into the alley like a bag of trash. Adam was tall, with the wiry muscle of someone who jogged on the treadmill while watching the game.
Roman pulverized men for sport. He wasn’t concerned.
Hale went sprawling and Max stepped into the alley behind Roman.
“You!” Hale glared at him and scrambled to his feet. “I guess you didn’t learn your lesson last time.”
Roman was only dimly aware that Adam was referring to Ruby, to the fact that he’d set Ruby to be kidnapped after Roman got involved in her life.
He was beyond goading now, in the still quiet place that welcomed him like an embrace. Here there were no feelings for Hale to play on. Even his fury subsided, replaced by the quiet resolve to do what must be done.
