“Well I …” she began to argue.

“And you say I don’t admit when I’m licked?”

Shoot. He had a point. And she was far more tired than she was hungry. “Okay. There’s only one bedroom here. It’s the darkest room in the house. I’ll sleep out here on the pullout.” She gestured to the living room on the other side of the openly designed kitchen. “As you see it’s impossible to get all the light blocked out here but the bedroom is dark as night.”

“The pullout is fine for me. It’s dark enough.”

Marissa made an exasperated sound and dropped into the chair nearest him. “God what a pair we make.” She huffed in frustration. “Neither one of us wants to admit to our shortcomings and neither of us wants the other to think they’re weak or fragile in even the slightest way. I swear the only one with any sense around here is the dog.”

She gestured to Sargent who, upon seeing them safely into the house, had found the nearest rug and flopped down onto it. He was already half asleep.

“Then how about we both take the bedroom. I assume it’s at least a full-size bed? I take one side, you take the other, and everyone’s happy.” And before she could even gear up to argue he vowed, “I promise not to jump your bones while you’re sleeping.”

Honestly, she was too tired to argue anymore. Too tired to be the strong one. She nodded and moved to help him up. She was grateful to realize he was able to take even more of his own weight than before. It comforted her that he was getting better and it kept her from collapsing under him. She guided him onto the bed, helping him take off his shoes and socks. He pulled his belt free and took off his shirt while she kicked off her wedges.

“Do you need another pillow? I can get one from the—” She broke off with a surprised cry when his arm, suddenly full of all his usual strength, enfolded her about the waist as he dragged her down onto the bed. He drew her completely over his body, dumping her onto the other side of the bed next to him.

“Go to sleep Marissa,” he ordered her. “Now.”

He didn’t have to command her twice. She closed her eyes with a sigh, trying to clear her mind of all that she had been through that day.

She didn’t even make it to her fifth deeply indrawn breath before she was asleep.

Chapter Six

Leo Alvarez was sitting at Jackson’s desk, his feet propped up on the file cabinet right next to it, his eyes half closed as he relaxed and waited for Jackson to show up for his shift. His friend was a little late, which was highly unusual. Also unusual was the distinct lack of activity in the precinct in spite of the fact that it was shift change. He checked his watch to be sure, but of course he was right. He had an impeccable internal clock.

Yep. Something wasn’t right in cop land. Avery Landon, known for coming in early just so he could catch anyone so much as a millisecond late, because the man lived to bitch about something, wasn’t in his office. He waited until he spied the nearest mid-level officer … not a rookie who didn’t know what was going on and not an old salt who knew better than to discuss police business out of school … and he stood up with a stretch.

“Hey,” he said to the cop, “what’s going on here? It’s like a ghost town.”

“Missing kid,” the cop said. “They’ve got all available manpower on it. Don’t you watch the news?”

Not from the bottom of a bottle of tequila he didn’t.

“Oh yeah. Must have slipped my mind. So I take it Jackson took his dog out?”

“They were out all night last night. I heard that Sargent came up lame round about dawn so he had to take him out of the field.”

“Well that blows,” Leo said with a scowling frown. “Guess I’ll catch up with him later. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Leo strolled out to the parking lot, scratching his head. He’d already been to Jackson’s house and there was no sign of him or Sargent. Jackson wouldn’t be running around doing errands if Sargent was injured and he sure as hell wouldn’t put him back in the field with only a few hours rest, either. So where the hell was he?

He was a big boy and could take care of himself, it was just that …

Leo couldn’t explain it but, ever since they’d found Docia after she had gone missing, something had been a little bit off about Jackson. Actually, not even a little bit. A lot of bit, as Docia would say. The most notable part being that Jackson had been avoiding him as if he were a plague carrier. Granted, he’d been in Honduras and a couple of other places these past few weeks, but usually Jackson would be the one picking him up at the airport or be game for a few beers the minute he rolled into town.

“See Bud? Leave me alone long enough and I’m nearly two bottles of Cuervo into bleached-blonde trouble. I blame you, my friend,” he said as he dialed Jackson’s number. “Hey, jackass this is the fourth message since I got back. You’re starting to hurt my feelings. If you don’t—”

He broke off when a man loped across his path. Or rather, skipped across it. Like a child. And while he was big enough to be a short adult, he—

“Hi! I’m Andy. I know you.”

The minute Andy turned to face him Leo put the pieces together. The distinctive shape of his face and eyes and that always definable innocence proved him to have Down syndrome. And Andy was right. He did know him. He’d been involved in some parallel crime, as an innocent witness, the day Docia had “disappeared.” He had seen him briefly before someone had come to pick him up.

“That’s right, Andy. How are you, kiddo?” Leo looked around, trying to see if there was someone with Andy this time. “What are you doing here, Andy?”

“Looking for Officer Jackson. I’m his deputy.”

That made Leo grin. Andy mispronounced deputy, but far be it for him to correct him. Jackson had clearly taken a special interest in Andy if he was coming here to see him with any regularity.

“I’m sorry to tell you, Andy, but Jackson isn’t working today. He had to work late last night so he took the day off.”

“Oh.” He looked absolutely crestfallen. “He said I could turn on his siren. It’s very loud, but I’m not afraid.”

“That’s a very good thing. Nothing you need to be afraid of as long as you’re a deputy and on the right side of the law.”

Of course Leo wasn’t exactly choirboy material, but Jackson liked to carry on their friendship in an “ignorance is bliss” fashion. Back when Leo had been an army ranger and on the side of the white hats, he and Jackson had never had a difference of opinion on anything. They had raised Docia by themselves, Leo paying the majority of the bills while Jackson went to college and the academy. But by the time Jackson had graduated from the Academy Leo had seen two tours in Afghanistan and was looking at a third if he didn’t ring out while he had a chance. It wasn’t that he couldn’t hack humping around seventy pounds of gear in the scorching desert heat, watching a man being blow up right next to him after he was unlucky enough to step on a land mine. No. What had chapped his ass had been something else entirely.

The things they weren’t allowed to do. Protect villagers from gunrunners or other such bullies. Keep the local children from being forced to walk a field in order to test for landmines before the enemy moved forward. Or bomb-detecting dogs who were treated as “equipment” in the army, ferried onto planes not properly pressurized, heated or cooled, and not given the rights of the true soldiers that they were, including contented retirement with a loving family who would be given the funds for the animal’s room and board. Perhaps it was Jackson who had made him more sensitive to that. But more likely it was from his own eyewitness accounts of those dogs’ infinite bravery and devotion that saved lives. Outside of their handler’s praise and some food, they didn’t ask for much of anything else.

But the clincher had been the women. Whether it was coming into a village and seeing the remnants of a raid of killers and rapists and hearing those unforgettable wailing cries, or the frustration of female soldiers being mishandled and maltreated by a bunch of arrogant sadistic motherfuckers, he simply couldn’t abide being part of an army that let those things happen … and then let it slide by, neatly swept under a red-tape rug and a code of silence that, basically, victimized the woman all over again because she couldn’t bring her ra**st to justice. Now granted, it didn’t happen on a constant basis, it all depended on who was investigating and just how important the solder accused was to the unit. It had been the final straw for him. He’d gotten out of the army. From then on he’d set his own moral compass, a code of honor really, and gone from there. For a guy like him, mercenary just seemed the way to go. He’d just pick an underdog that appealed to that code and hired himself out. He wasn’t Superman of course; he looked for compensation in order to pay the mortgage, buy some beer with a good dose of pay-per-view, and the occasional .44-caliber hollow-point bullet. But sometimes some jobs compensated for the lack of funds of others.

Now, because of the sometimes polar sides of the law each of them operated on, he and Jackson had agreed that, for the sake of their friendship, Leo wouldn’t talk about doing anything overtly illegal, and he wouldn’t do anything construed as misbehaving in Jackson’s jurisdiction.

He could live with that. He knew Jackson would be there when he needed him most, no matter what the circumstances. It was just his job to see that those circumstances never arose.

Since Jackson was the closest thing he had to a brother, Leo’s actual blood brother being a contemptible douche, he was inclined to do anything that might make life easier for him.

“Hey, since Jackson is AWOL at the moment, what do you say I take you to my place for breakfast? I’m pretty hungry and I’m just around the corner.” He hadn’t even been home yet since landing, so he’d have to hit the Price Chopper on the way.

“That sounds great!” Andy said eagerly. He followed Leo to his truck and they both got in. Leo stopped at the store and then went to his house. Actually, it was Docia’s house. Or used to be. She’d left it vacant in order to abandon all her loved ones and run off with some golden boy. The man could do no wrong in Docia’s estimation and Leo could swear he saw stars twinkling in her eyes when she looked at him. But after she’d moved out she’d let him move in and take over the mortgage. It was a nice little historical bungalow on a nice little historic street. She’d been slowly improving it with Leo’s and Jackson’s help and he figured he’d probably pick up where they had left off. It wasn’t very big, but it was a damn sight better than his old apartment and it felt a little homier to boot. And it was nice to feel Docia’s whimsical touch to the place. It reminded him of her constant attempts to bring a feminine touch into their house as she was growing up. It was like having her there, even though she wasn’t.

Well, he was still miffed at her for that. I mean, who does that? he asked himself. Where’s the logic in running off to live with some guy she’d just met? Leaving all her family and friends?

Leo was frowning as he let himself into the house. The keychain had a bright pink rabbit’s foot on it, the exact way that they had been handed off to him. She’d said, “Here, you can take it for luck. I’ve already had the best luck I could ever hope for.”

So after letting them in he found himself touching the soft fur, the silly thing chasing his frown away and making him smile. Damn her anyway, she’d always known just how to get her way with him. Growing up, she’d had him and Jackson wrapped around her little fingers. It was a wonder she wasn’t spoiled rotten to the core.

No. They’d done a good job with her. She’d always been a little bit shy, a little less ambitious than he’d liked, but almost overnight she had seemed to grow out of it and come into her own.

And perhaps if he hadn’t been so deep in all of his thoughts, he would have seen Andy’s innocence drop away, the sudden malevolent avarice that filled his eyes.

Leo felt something hit his back hard, the strike astoundingly painful. He jerked around with sharp reflex, reaching to strike out at whatever had hit him. But for some reason his arm and hand on the left side would not obey his command, would not lift and move with the practiced strength that had become second nature to him. He saw Andy, saw the wide-eyed glee in his eyes and for an instant thought the kid had been horsing around. But then why wouldn’t his arm move? And why did he still …

Then he tried to take a breath to scold Andy for his actions and nothing came. Nothing more significant than a gurgling wheeze that, at first, didn’t even sound like it came from his own throat. He didn’t understand. Couldn’t comprehend. Then he looked over his own shoulder at the burning spot on his back that still hurt from Andy’s strike and that was when he saw the knife. A huge hunting-style knife, just like the one in his boot that very second, wicked sharp on one side and serrated on the other, its black grip touching his jacket and telling him the blade was buried straight to the hilt.