None of which was important right now. Finding Tala's baby was critical. She crossed her fingers that the Anderses were the people they were looking for. 'I didn't know the contract manufacturing business was so lucrative.'

'Depends on what they were manufacturing, and for whom. Now this is the interesting part. His business is listed as going from five hundred employees to under a hundred about seven years ago. Seems like it took a downward turn.'

'Lots of businesses did. That's when everything crashed. And poor Chip and Marlene with that new mortgage. Hard times.'

'Exactly. And then,' he said, 'a year later, Chip opened three new facilities, in different parts of the state. None of the locations have more than a hundred employees.'

'But he's churning out enough of whatever it is he's making with a few hundred employees to expand even bigger than he was when he had five hundred. You're thinking he had a little labor help?'

'Yeah.'

Scarlett nodded, considering the picture. 'Me too. But now I've got a few holes to fill.'

Marcus put his phone down, giving her his undivided attention. 'Hit me.'

Her lips curved briefly, but then she was frowning again as the thoughts swirled in her brain. 'Deacon and I wondered how Tala got to the alley. If she lived near the park, which now seems more than likely, it's four and a half miles to the alley. She didn't look hot and sweaty enough in the video to have walked that far in the heat.'

'I wondered the same thing.' His voice hardened. 'I didn't have a chance to ask her.'

'I know,' she said gently, not taking his tone personally. 'At first I thought maybe she lived closer to the alley. That she was transported to the park by a handler. That maybe he or she was watching as she walked the dog. I was thinking that was why her owners felt comfortable enough to allow her the freedom to walk the dog all by herself, because even at night she might meet someone. And then we found out about the tracker. And the baby.'

'The baby was reason enough for her to obey them,' Marcus said. 'Knowing that they could hear her through the tracker was just another layer of intimidation. They didn't need to be watching her so closely. Yeah, I've been thinking the same thing. Now that it's more likely that she lived right near the park, we have to ask the question again how did she get to the alley? And why did she choose that alley?'

Because she was there to buy drugs, Scarlett thought, considering the wisdom of sharing that opinion with him. But she'd told him nearly everything else. 'CSU found a bag of cocaine in her pocket.'

She felt his shock. 'Tala was an addict?' he asked. 'She didn't have any of the signs.'

She wondered how he knew what the signs were, but kept the question to herself. 'The ME found no cocaine in her system and no signs of drug use. No thinning nasal membranes and no track marks.'

'Then maybe she was buying it for someone else. Maybe she was on an errand. Wait a second.' He did another search on his phone. 'Stephanie Anders has an arrest record. One misdemeanor possession of pot, one for coke. No convictions.'

'Money talks.' She glanced at him. 'No offense.'

'None taken. So Miss Stephanie wants some snow, and she sends Tala into the neighborhood with cash. Tala scores, and then ducks into an alley to wait for me.'

'Maybe she used Stephanie Anders's cell phone to text you.' She put her own phone on speaker again and called Deacon. 'Hey, it's me.'

'Hey, you. Lynda doesn't have a warrant yet and nobody's answering the door. The house is fucking huge, so saying we don't hear anything inside is virtually meaningless. At least we haven't attracted too much of a crowd so far, but the SWAT team hasn't arrived yet.'

'Small mercies,' Scarlett murmured. 'Listen, when you do get in, check the daughter's room for drug paraphernalia. Stephanie is . . . Wait. Marcus, how old is she?'

'Twenty. Goes to Brown University.'

'I heard him,' Deacon said. 'So you think the cocaine in Tala's pocket belonged to Stephanie?'

'It's possible.' She told Deacon the rest of the details that Marcus had uncovered. 'I'm about ten minutes out from you. We should get Lynda to use what I just gave you to sweeten the warrant pot.'

'I'll call her,' Deacon said. 'See you soon.'

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 1.25 P.M.

'Dammit,' Scarlett muttered as she turned the car on to the Anderses' street.

Marcus sighed. It seemed like half of CPD had gathered there ahead of them. At the head of the line of cars stood Deacon Novak, arms folded across his chest, jaw taut, his eyes covered by the wraparound shades that had become his trademark. 'Doesn't look like Deacon got the warrant from your boss.'

'He would have called if he had,' she said, stopping the car at the tail end of the line. 'But I was still hoping.' She turned to him, her expression severe. 'Please don't do anything that'll force me to call in favors to bail you out of jail.'

He blinked at her innocently. 'I am a law-abiding citizen, Detective.'

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. She didn't disbelieve him, he could see. But she wasn't entirely sure of him either. 'Keep it that way,' she murmured. 'Please.'

She hadn't told him to stay in the car. Just not to get caught. So he nodded. 'I'd prefer to call in a few of your favors for something much more pleasurable than bailing me out of jail,' he said quietly. And very, very seriously.

She sucked in a sharp breath, the uncertainty in her eyes flashing to an arousal she immediately shuttered away. 'I'll be back as soon as I can.'

He took a few moments to admire the movement of her long, lean body as she jogged up the line of cars toward her partner. She was . . .

Mine. She's mine.

And she had been from the moment he'd opened his eyes to see her leaning over him as he lay bleeding . . . and dying. He'd been ready to die that day, hadn't truly minded the idea not until he'd seen her staring down at him. What he'd seen in her dark, dark eyes, which he now knew were the deepest blue he'd ever seen, had called him back. Had filled him with a sudden craving to fight for another day.

It still did. Enough that he should keep his damn ass in her department car and let her do her job. But that wasn't who he was. He owed it to Tala to find her child. He owed it to himself, too, knowing he wouldn't be able to look in the mirror if he sat here and did nothing when he might have an entree that the cops didn't have.

Sitting here was not the right thing to do, plain and simple.

Taking a plain black ball cap out of his computer bag, he settled it on his head and activated the camera in the bill. He then got out of Scarlett's car quietly, walking in the direction opposite from the Anders house until he reached the line of trees that bordered their property, shielding the house from the road. He made his way through the trees, staying in the shadows.

The basement wall was fully visible at the back of the house, which was built into the valley between two hills. Perfectly centered was a solid, non-windowed door covered by a storm door. Both doors opened level with the ground. There was no cover along the back of the house. No trees or bushes to hide behind. The back yard ran flat for the first hundred feet, before the property sloped back up toward the main road.

He glanced up the hill and saw the unmarked car parked on the other side of the treeline. Of course Deacon would have someone watching the back to prevent the Anderses from making a break for it. Or to aid any of Tala's surviving family who managed to escape. Marcus knew that as soon as he showed himself, the cop in that unmarked would be on his ass, keeping him from trying to gain entry.

Sending up a little prayer, he darted along the basement wall, reaching the back door without interruption, which made him frown and glance over his shoulder at the unmarked car. Nothing. No shouts, no demands for him to stop. Nothing.

Pulling the storm door open, he raised his fist to knock on the entry door, then froze when the storm door literally fell away from the frame. Shit. It was now precariously balanced, one corner dug into the dirt, the opposite corner resting against the house, most of its weight supported by Marcus's hold on the handle.

The frame itself was splintered, with both sets of hinges those of the storm door and the entry door no longer attached. This was no accident. Someone had broken in and then put the doors back in place so that their forced entry wouldn't be immediately visible.

One little shove and the entry door would be on the floor. Marcus had reached for his phone to text Scarlett to come and see when the detective in question rounded the corner, her annoyance evident in the look on her face and the stiffness of her stride. She was wearing a tactical vest, her service weapon tucked into the built-in holster.

She stopped inches from where he stood. 'What the hell are you doing?' she hissed.

'I was about to knock on the back door,' he said calmly. 'You knew I would.'

'Yeah, but I thought you'd be more discreet about how you did it. Every cop up there saw you come back here.' She narrowed her eyes at the storm door, her attitude abruptly changing as she took in the damage. 'Shit. I need CSU.' She pulled out her phone and dialed. 'Deacon, send Vince down here. The back door's been-'

The door frame exploded, sharp shards of wood showering down on their heads, and Marcus's military training kicked into gear.

Sniper. On the hill behind us. Suddenly the lack of activity from the unmarked car made grim sense. Shit. No cover here. They were sitting ducks, standing in the open. Not a single tree they could hide behind. The only cover was inside the house.

He grabbed Scarlett around the waist, hunkered down and shoved his shoulder into the basement door a split second after a second bullet hit the door, inches from where his head had just been.

The hingeless door gave way, and he and Scarlett followed it down, their bodies slamming against it hard as it hit the floor. Marcus rolled them out of the now open doorway as a third bullet hit the floor directly behind them. Concrete shattered, sharp debris pelting his head and back like mini-daggers.

Breathing hard, his body hovering over hers in a protective shell, Marcus lifted his head. The light coming in through the open door had illuminated a section of the basement floor and inner wall. The concrete was a mess, the bullet having hit the floor an inch beyond where the door had come to rest. The shooter had changed his aim as they'd fallen, following their trajectory.

Had Marcus not rolled them out of the way, the bullet would have hit one of them for sure. He looked down at Scarlett's face, relieved to see her alert and aware, her pistol firmly gripped in her right hand. She must have drawn her weapon while they were falling. While a small part of his ego wished she'd trembled and clutched at him just a little, the larger part of him was relieved that she remained cool under fire. She needed that cool to stay alive on a day-to-day basis.

'Are you all right?' he asked quietly.

'Yeah. Just knocked the wind out of me. Are you?'

He nodded once. His head hurt, but it was nothing worse than he'd had before. She twisted in his arms, craning back to study the concrete, then following the trajectory with her eyes. She swallowed hard.

'Damn. We'd have been toast.' She looked up at him, her expression grim even as her eyes filled with approval. 'Fast moves, O'Bannion. Army training?'

'Yeah.' He knew he should get up, but now that they were safe, his adrenaline had plunged, his muscles turning to jelly. His body sagged against her, his hips settling between her thighs. He braced himself on his forearms and lowered his forehead to hers. 'Give me a second.'

She brushed the backs of her fingers against his cheek, a gentle caress. 'We're both okay,' she said softly, making him shudder at the thought of what might have been. 'You did good, Marcus. We're alive.'

He nodded, realizing that he was finally holding her the way he'd been longing to for months, her lips only a breath away. Except he hadn't wanted it like this. Hadn't wanted her in danger. 'You could have been killed.'

She pressed her fingertips to his lips. 'You could have been killed,' she whispered fiercely. 'He was aiming high. For you, Marcus.' Her eyes roved his face in the semi-darkness, her lips bending in a frown as her fingers lifted to his temple. 'You're bleeding.'

His gaze dropped to her mouth. He wanted nothing more than to kiss the frown off her lips, but knew that once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. And he didn't want to have to stop, but this was utterly the wrong time and place. 'A chip of concrete, I think. I'm fine.'

'We need to get you checked out,' she said stubbornly, but then her lips trembled. 'I need to get you checked out. Please,' she added in a whisper.

He wanted to outright refuse, because he hated hospitals, but that slight tremble had gone straight to his gut and the whispered please had stripped his defenses bare. 'Later, okay?'

Her throat worked as she tried to swallow. 'Promise me.'

He nodded, not trusting his voice. He no longer trusted his body either, as it had gotten over its scare and was no longer jelly. Far from it. He was growing harder with every second he lay cradled between her thighs. He cleared his throat. 'I need to get up. See if he's still there.'

She shook her head. 'Let me call Deacon first. Get him to check while we both stay clear of the door.' She looked around her, frowning again. 'I dropped my phone when we went through the door. Do you see it?'

'No. Use mine.' He forced his body to stand, ignoring the stiffness in his knees and back. And in his groin. Because this was neither the time nor the place to make all those fantasies reality. That would have to happen later. But not too much later.

He offered her a hand, gripping hers harder than he needed to as he tugged her to her feet. Releasing her was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. He gave her his phone. 'Tell him to check out the unmarked car at the top of the hill. The cop inside was too quiet.'

Understanding filled her eyes. 'Shit,' she murmured as she dialed. 'We're okay. We're in the house,' she said without preamble, then proceeded to tell Deacon what had happened.

Marcus blocked out her conversation with Deacon, instead listening intently for the sound of anyone approaching. The shooter had almost gotten them three times. The guy wasn't likely to give up so easily.

His ears pricked at a faint noise. But it hadn't come from outside. It had come from the basement, to his right. He caught Scarlett's eye and tilted his head in the direction of the sound.

'Gotta go,' she murmured. 'Hurry, Deacon.' She handed Marcus his phone and took a small penlight from the pocket of her vest. 'Where?' she asked, almost soundlessly.

Marcus activated the flashlight app on his phone and pointed it toward the sound. 'There.' He drew the Glock from his pocket holster and crept forward, his head cocked, listening.

There. There it was again. So soft he nearly missed it.

It was a moan. He glanced at Scarlett, saw she'd heard it too.

'Hello?' he called softly. 'We won't hurt you. Please come out.'

Another moan, even fainter than the last one, seconds before all hell broke loose upstairs.

The front door banged twice before he heard it slam open, followed by the thunder of running feet and shouts of 'Police! Hands where we can see them!'

Marcus stopped short when his foot landed on something hard. Aiming his light at his feet, he realized he'd stepped on a cell phone. The phone lay on a carpet, about eight inches from the edge of a twin bed, positioned with its headboard up against the wall. He went down on one knee to examine it.

'Holy shit!' he yelped when bony fingers came into view, appearing disembodied at first glance. Then he realized the hand was connected to an arm, which was attached to a body lying on the floor under the bed.

'Oh God,' he murmured. The phone he'd stepped on was unharmed. But the frail, bony hand that reached for it was not. Bruised, with open wounds, it was covered in dried caked blood.

The hand reached and strained, trying to get the phone. Marcus met Scarlett's eyes, saw that she was as horrified as he was.

'Deacon!' Scarlett shouted into a pocket of quiet. 'We found someone down here. She's hurt but still alive.'

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 1.25 P.M.

Furious, Ken leaned into Stephanie's face, grabbing the back of her head when she would have pulled away. 'Who took the goddamn baby?' he hissed. He didn't give a damn about the baby, but by God, she'd tell him who else had been there when his men had arrived. He left no witnesses. Ever. 'I am tired of your games, Stephanie. Who else was in your house?'

She met his eyes squarely. 'Ask him. She's his too.'

'Shut up, bitch!' Chip snarled. 'You don't know anything. Just shut up.'

Ken spared him a cold glance. 'She seems to know enough, Chip.' Keeping one hand on the back of her head, Ken gripped her chin with the other, digging his fingers into her cheeks so hard he'd definitely leave bruises. Stephanie's eyes flared wide, flickered with shock.