THE BRUISE HE COULDN'T IGNORE

My blood turned to ice.

Gabriel stepped entirely in front of me, shielding my body with his own. He raised his hands slowly, his dark eyes fixed on Captain Miller.

“Miller,” Gabriel said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “You’re off your jurisdiction. You’re working as a cartel hit squad right now.”

“Shut up, Rossi,” Captain Miller spat. He kept his assault rifle pointed directly at Gabriel’s chest. “Mitchell told me you broke into our precinct. Assaulted an officer. Kidnapped a child. You’re going down for life.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Gabriel replied.

Mitchell stepped around the Captain, keeping his shotgun leveled at us. He looked at me, his eyes full of that familiar, sick pleasure he got from my terror.

“I told you, Harper,” Mitchell mocked. “You can’t run from me. Toss the recorder on the floor. Now.”

I clutched the small black device tightly in my hand.

If I gave it to him, Gabriel and I were dead. He would kill us and take Leo.

If I didn’t give it to him, he would kill us anyway.

“Don’t give it to him,” Gabriel whispered to me without moving his lips.

“Are you deaf, you stupid bitch?” Mitchell yelled, stepping closer. He raised the stock of the shotgun to strike me.

“Mitchell, wait!” Captain Miller suddenly barked.

Mitchell stopped, looking back at his boss in annoyance. “What?”

Captain Miller’s radio, clipped to his tactical vest, suddenly crackled to life.

“Captain Miller. This is Dispatch. Do you copy?”

Miller frowned. He reached down and pressed the button. “Go ahead, Dispatch. I’m in the middle of a raid.”

“Captain, be advised. The Mayor’s office just called. Alderman Raymond Brooks has called an emergency press conference at City Hall. He’s live on the local news right now.”

Mitchell scoffed. “Who cares about the Alderman?”

“Captain,” the dispatcher’s voice was shaking. “He’s reading from a ledger. He’s naming names. He just named you, Captain. He just admitted to funneling cartel bribe money into your offshore accounts.”

Captain Miller’s face went completely pale.

Mitchell froze.

Gabriel smiled. It was a cold, predatory smile.

“I told you Mitchell was an idiot,” Gabriel said softly.

“What did you do, Rossi?!” Captain Miller roared, leveling his rifle at Gabriel’s head.

“I used the ten minutes Mitchell was unconscious to make a phone call,” Gabriel said smoothly. “I told Alderman Brooks that if he didn’t confess everything on live television and hand over the ledgers, I would release his Vegas photos. He chose prison over public ruin.”

Mitchell looked frantically between Gabriel and the Captain.

“He’s bluffing, Cap! Shoot him! Let’s get the recorder and get out of here!”

“Shut up!” Miller screamed at Mitchell. “The feds are probably tearing my house apart right now! My career is over! I’m going to federal prison because of your petty vendetta against your girlfriend!”

“We can still fix this!” Mitchell argued.

While they were arguing, Gabriel’s hand slipped subtly behind his back.

He was reaching for a small hunting knife tucked into his waistband.

He met my eyes. He gave me a tiny, imperceptible nod toward the hallway.

Run to Leo.

Captain Miller suddenly lowered his rifle. He looked at Mitchell with pure hatred.

“I’m not dying for you, Vance,” Miller said. He backed toward the shattered doorway. “I’m gone.”

“Miller, wait!” Mitchell yelled, turning toward his captain.

It was the distraction Gabriel needed.

Gabriel lunged. He drove his shoulder directly into Mitchell’s chest, tackling the corrupt detective to the floor. The shotgun fired into the ceiling, raining plaster down on us.

“Harper, go!” Gabriel shouted, wrestling Mitchell for control of the weapon.

I didn’t hesitate. I sprinted down the hallway toward the guest room.

My ribs were screaming, tearing with every step, but I burst into the bedroom.

Leo was sitting up in bed, crying, terrified by the gunshot.

I scooped him into my arms, wrapping his blanket around him.

“Mommy’s here,” I cried. “We have to go out the window, Leo. Hold on tight.”

I struggled to unlock the heavy window latch. My fingers were slick with sweat.

Behind me, the bedroom door suddenly slammed open.

I spun around.

Mitchell stood in the doorway. His face was covered in blood. He had a hunting knife in his hand—Gabriel’s knife.