Chapter 29
Alex
The forensics lab got to work right away on what I’d gotten out of the warehouse. Captain Grant, who’d been opposed to my plan to infiltrate the warehouse, seems even more irked because it worked.
But it left Mason and I pacing the bullpen most of the next day until we both became too stir crazy and decided to pursue another possible lead. Coincidentally, it’s on Liv’s block.
Now I’m stuck in an unmarked car with Mason and his seemingly never-ending bag of chips with another unmarked car and two plainclothes officers down the block while I watch Liv get home from her shift and head inside.
“I’m just saying, you’re too uptight lately. You need to get laid,” Mason prattles beside me.
What he doesn’t know is that I was just with Liv three nights ago. But he’s partially right because I’m already craving her again. I just got a taste that night, now I need it all. Though I wouldn’t mind using my cuffs on her again.
My silence seems to tell him far too much because he tosses the bag of chips out of his hands suddenly to turn and stare me down.
“Wait a minute…”
Don’t you fucking dare start profiling me, Mason.
“Holy crap!”
Fuck.
“You slept with her, didn’t you?”
I’m gonna kill him.
“You slut, you fucked the cute medic!”
And hide the body.
“But wait, you’re still a grumpy asshole lately, wasn’t it good?”
My hand is already fisted into his jacket lapel before I realize that I’ve moved. “Shut your damn mouth, Mace, or I’ll grab a can of your damn namesake and douse you with it.”
Both of his hands raise, palms out defensively. “Okay, sorry. I’ll drop it.”
His cheeky grin tells me otherwise. But I let him go anyway. Inside a car isn’t exactly the place for this, especially not during a stake out.
We’re just here to monitor the abandoned office building across the street from Liv’s apartment building for possibly suspicious foot traffic going in and out. Not start fights.
But the problem with stakeouts is that they’re boring as hell. They’re supposed to be boring, but it still sucks. A boring stake out is how you know that it’s working. You sit. You watch. You wait for something that usually doesn’t come.
“It was spotted here as recently as two hours ago, that SUV,” Mason says beside me, no longer a teasing lilt to his voice. “They were cycling through here for a few hours earlier.”
“Too consistent to be random,” I mutter.
“Could be another holding spot.”
“Or a transfer point.”
“Units three and four are in position,” crackles over the radio. “Perimeter’s covered.”
“Copy,” I reply. Good, our backup is here.
We’re doing everything by the book. Unmarked vehicles staggered across the block with eyes on all entry points. There won’t be any movement from us until we know what we’re dealing with.
It’s basic, typical, and fully planned out. A classic stakeout. So why does it feel wrong?
I shift slightly in my seat, scanning the street again. And I spot it. The SUV, black with tinted windows and rolling slowly down the street.
“Got movement,” I advise, my voice low.
Mason straightens immediately. “Where?”
“Coming in from the east,” I reply.
The vehicle glides past us too slowly. It’s not scouting; it’s watching.
My grip tightens slightly on the wheel.
“Why aren’t they stopping?” Mason mutters.
Good question. Because this clearly isn’t a drop; it’s surveillance.
The SUV continues down the block, not pulling up to the building or signaling. Just keeps going.
My stomach drops. “They’re not here for the building.”
Mason turns to me sharply. “What?”
“They’re not here for the building,” I repeat. “They’re watching the street.”
“For her?” Mason grits out.
It clicks immediately. This isn’t about the warehouse, the office building, or a transfer point. It’s about the neighborhood.
It’s about Liv.
My chest squeezes. “They’re not staking the location,” I say, already reaching for the radio. “They’re staking the area.”
Mason’s eyes narrow. “She better be good about locking her door.”
Another vehicle passes, a similar SUV. It slows but keeps going. The same pattern and intent.
My pulse spikes. “Shit,” I mutter.
I press the radio’s button, alerting the other unmarked vehicles in the area. “They’re not watching the office building; they’re watching the apartment building across the street, and a woman inside it who fits the same description as the victims and missing women.”
“They’ve turned their focus on her,” Mason grits out beside me. “She might be their next grab.”
It’s too coincidental, after a vial of their medicine goes missing a few nights ago and now they’re focusing on a paramedic who lives in the area, fits their target demographic, and has been seen at the gala and around the area with a detective working the trafficking ring’s case.
My stomach drops. “They know.”
Mason’s head snaps toward me again. “Know what?”
“That someone got inside the warehouse the other night,” I reply. “That something was taken.”
This is my fault.
“They’re looking for the leak,” I continue. “And they think the paramedic is involved. She’s-”
“-exposed,” Mason finishes.
Yeah, she is.
My jaw clenches.
“Units, adjust positions,” I say into the radio. “We’ve got a possible surveillance shift. Eyes on all vehicles passing through-”
The words die in my throat because headlights flare at the far end of the street. Going fast… too fast.
“Vehicle approaching,” Mason says, already reaching for the door.
The first SUV swings back around the block. And this time, it doesn’t slow. It accelerates…
Straight toward one of our unmarked units.
“Move!” Mason shouts.
Too late. The impact is violent, metal screaming and glass shattering as the unmarked car slams sideways into the curb, spinning half a rotation before going still.
For half a second, everything freezes.
Then gunfire erupts, sharply and controlled. It’s not a panic shooting; it’s directed right at the front seats of the car.
It’s an execution.
“Shots fired!” Mason yells, already out of the vehicle.
I’m moving just as quickly, door flying open, and adrenaline slamming through my system as I draw my weapon.
“Take cover!” Mason yells into his handheld radio.
The street erupts into chaos with officers scrambling, shouting, and returning fire.
The SUV peels off just as fast as it came, disappearing down the block before we can pin it.
Cowards. No, not cowards. It’s strategic, they made their point. They just weren’t expecting three more cars of officers.
I move toward the hit unit, heart pounding hard enough to drown out everything else. “Mason, with me!” I bark.
He makes it there at the same time I do. Looking inside, my stomach drops. The windshield is spiderwebbed with bullet holes.
Inside- “Jesus…”
One of the officers is slumped over the wheel. The other… isn’t moving. There’s blood, too much blood.
I force it down. Mason’s already calling it in, getting medics en route. But it’s too late. They’re gone. We’ve lost them both. Between the crash and the bullet spray…
This wasn’t random, it wasn’t a mistake. This was a message. They know they were infiltrated, and they want Liv next.