“What’s this fucker’s last name?” I asked Tyler.

“Dodd.”

“Charles Dodd, you’re under arrest for the murder of Emily Bennett and the attempted murder of Amy Dawson. You have the right to remain silent,” I began, then finished Mirandizing him. I wasn’t Chicago PD. But right then, I figured I’d do.

“You ain’t gonna arrest me,” Charley said.

“Seems to me I already did.”

“Not if you’re with him. Because I’ve got a lot of paperwork on him and his buddies. Lots of documentation. I’m careful that way. Careful to keep records. Make notes. I write down everything. And I’m a very sharing kind of guy.”

My stomach turned over, and I felt bile rise in my throat. I knew how this would go down. Charley was a murderer, but he’d cut a deal. Because the knights were a much bigger and flashier feather in the cap of the local PD and FBI office. Charley would maybe get sentenced to a dime, get out in three. And the knights would end up in a minimum security facility for the rest of their lives.

Shit. Shit, fuck, damn.

“Oh, yeah. The lady knows what I’m saying,” Charley sang.

There was, however, one way out.

I lifted the Glock. I’d done it with Grier, and this guy was at least as bad. I could do it. Take him out, and save Tyler the way I couldn’t save my mother.

I started to depress the trigger, stopping only when Tyler very firmly said, “No.”

“It’s the only option. He’s right. You’ll do time. All of you.”

“We’ve always known that was a risk,” Tyler said. “I don’t like to lose, but the possibility is inherent in the game. That’s part of the thrill.”

I felt the tears streak my cheeks. “Let me do this. Let me do this so you can stay with me.”

“And destroy you in the process? Do you think I don’t know how much Grier cost you? I’m not letting you add to that. Sloane,” he said gently. “Put the gun down. Call the cops. Whatever happens, happens.”

Slowly, I lowered the gun. And I knew in that moment that I would never love anyone more than I loved this incredibly brave man.

“Oh yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” Big Charley said. “This way’s good, isn’t it, Amy-doll. She’s one of my favorites, and I’ve had so many. So pretty, and then they get thin and they’re just for me. I let them eat off my boots. Lick them clean. Let them suck me off if they’re really good. I don’t fuck them—don’t do that. But I’ve got to keep them under control. Make them supple. Make them touch themselves for me. And if they don’t come, well, they don’t get food. They just get thinner and thinner.”

He droned on, and I wasn’t sure if it was blood loss or if he believed so firmly that he’d get off easy or if he was just plain crazy. All I knew was that I couldn’t take it. All those girls. All that torture.

Amy.

And the thought that he might be out on the street again in thirty-six months. Maybe even less.

My finger twitched on the trigger. I met Tyler’s eyes, then looked at Charley.

I have to. This time, it really will be justice.

I didn’t wait to see if he understood. I just lifted my gun and then, knowing that I was perfectly justified, I blew the devil back to hell.

The paramedics assured us that Amy would be fine, then whisked her off to the hospital. Tyler and I were separated, each giving a statement to a different detective. I didn’t know how this would shake down, but I wasn’t too worried. Tyler had found another gun in Charley’s office, and after firing off a round in the vault, he’d given it to the dead man, making what happened look remarkably like self-defense.

When the cops were finished with us, I went to Tyler, who was waiting for me in the warehouse. I fell into his arms, and we sank to the floor, leaning against a Coke machine. “I love you,” I said, then kissed him.

He rose, and held out a hand for me. “Come on, Detective. Let’s go home.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Stay.”

We were in Grant Park, walking among the Agora, and I felt as lost as they were.

Tyler tugged me to a stop. “Stay,” he said again. “I love you, Sloane Watson. I don’t want to lose you.” He cupped my face with his hand. “I told you once that I always get what I want. That’s you. Don’t make a liar out of me.”

I managed the tiniest of smiles. “I want you, too,” I said. “But I love my job. And maybe you’re even right. Maybe I went into it in part to punish myself. To use the rules and the laws and all the strict procedure as a cage of sorts to punish myself for what I did. I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he said, but I shook my head.

“No, because however I came into it, I really do believe in what I do. In finding justice for people who’ve been wronged.”

I drew in a breath, then laid out the horrible truth. “You’re right. I can push the envelope. I can bend the rules. And, yeah, I can break a few. God knows I proved that. But I can’t say that I’m sworn as an officer of the law when the man in my bed is breaking it at every turn. And not to save girls, but for profit.”

“Sloane—”

I pressed a finger to his lips. I heard the anguish in his voice, but I had to keep going, because if I didn’t finish this, I was afraid that I would back away from the decision. And I couldn’t do that. So long as he and I did what we did, this was the right decision. It was the only decision.

In the end, I think we both knew it.

“Please,” I said. “Let me finish. I love you. Dear god, I love you with a length and breadth I never even thought possible. And I will keep your secrets until the day I die. But if we’re together—if it’s the cop and the criminal—and I’m living that lie, it will chip away and chip away at me until I am no longer the woman you love.”

“Then don’t live it,” he said. “Quit.”

“You know better than that. It’s who I am. You say you love me, and I know it’s true. But, Tyler, you see me better than anyone, so you know I’m right. You know this is who I am.”

I managed a smile, thin and a little sad.

“That’s why I can’t ask you to quit, either. You are the man you are—I’m not in love with some polished version of you. And I am in love with you. Desperately. Hopelessly.”

“You’re breaking my heart, Sloane. Before you, I never thought it was possible.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, as a tear traced down my cheek. “But I have to leave. I have to go home.”

Before I could stop him, he drew me close and pressed his lips to mine, soft yet firm. Possessive, yet tender.

When he drew back, I saw the familiar fire in those ice blue eyes. “I won’t try to change your mind. Not right now, anyway. But I want to say something, and I want you to listen. To really hear me. Okay?”

I nodded.

“You’re right,” he said. “I do see you. I see everything about you. The good, the bad, the courageous, the bold. I see a woman who fights for what’s right. And, sweetheart you don’t need a badge to do that.”