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But scummy Brian didn’t wipe his hard drive, and it was easy enough to get it released from evidence. It was a treasure trove of sneaky dealings, and his phone was even better. Breadcrumbsand pinged locations gave me a long list of Deviant enemies and allies.

What it doesn’t give me is any actual information about who The Deviant is. But I guess that would make my job too easy.

So I’m splitting my time between tracking all his allies, and one guy stands out. His name is Crash and, predictably, he’s a bomb expert. I’m watching him on CCTV footage as he fucks around with some guy’s car. Running the plates, my heart drops. It's Thiago Ramos—one of the Four Families’ third generation.

“Shit!” I yell at my desk.

Jen, one of the data analysts for my team, spins around in her chair. “What’s wrong?”

“The Deviant’s making a move on the Four Families.”

Jen chews her gum and slowly blinks at me. “I fucking hate criminals with stupid nicknames.” She pushes her gum between her teeth to form a bubble. “What’s the big deal? Bad guys killing bad guys.”

I zoom in on the car. “See that? There’s a sticker on the inside window.”

“And?”

I fixate on the monitor “Look closer.”

“Oh, fuck, is that a car seat?”

“Thiago has a three-year-old daughter,” I say and watch the color drain from Jen’s face. She curses under her breath and spins around in her chair, typing away.

“Bad news. Crash is known for planting bombs that are triggered by GPS. His last three bombs exploded at the victims’ homes, typically in the garage so there’s no time to escape.”

The Four Families have been watching out for Dimitri and Ian, but how do I contact them? “Look into his family and get me any information you can on Thiago.”

Jen types away. “He makes sizable donations to his church.” Maybe I could reach out to the clergy or something. “Oh shit…what was the name of your neighbor you gave your cat to, which I would’ve taken if you had asked me?”

“You have three cats already. You’re pushing the crazy cat lady line as it is. Her name is Alana King.”

“Well, she’s listed as Maria Ramos’s godmother.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. I jump out of my seat, jot the number Jen pulled up onto a sticky note, and rush outside. We’re located at a skiff, no cell phones allowed, but people either lock them up at the front desk or keep them in their cars. Maintenance can’t go onto the property with phones either, but they’re rarely far from their cars. There’s a team of guys working on the parking lot. They’ve been here for a week, repainting the lines and rerunning the lights.

“Hi guys, can I borrow a phone? I locked my keys and phone in my car, and it’s going to be a whole thing if I can’t get Triple A out here.”

One of the men in a bright yellow vest leers at me. “Sure thing, sweetie.”

Gross. Not a fan of being called “sweetie,” but I take the phone and dash off to the other side of the parking lot.

I dial the number, and a voice on the other side of the phone says, “No, I will not be renewing my car’s limited warranty. May you walk over Legos in the middle of the night, you sick fuck,” Alana snaps.

“There’s a GPS-trigger bomb in Thiago Ramos’s car.”

Silence.

“Damn it, I’ve never wished so much for a robocall before.” Alana sighs. “Say it again, Katie.” I’m impressed she recognized my voice.

“Thiago Ramos’s life is in danger.”

“Because of the bomb? Or because he’s a giant pain in my ass who is really pushing the limits of our friendship?”

I kinda love how completely unfazed she is about everything. “I’m pretty sure it’s the bomb. What you do to him afterward isn’t my business.”

There’s a long sigh. “Dammit, Katie, it’s a good thing I like you, because every time you call, my blood pressure spikes.” The line goes dead and I scrub the number from the phone. I’ll flush the sticky note the minute I get a chance.

I walk back to the maintenance workers and pull out my keys. “I feel so dumb, they were in my pocket the whole time.” I smack myself on the head and toss the phone back to the yellow vest.