Page 27

My cop instincts kick in. I set down my drink and move to the window, staying hidden behind the curtain. Too dark to make out the plates.

Five minutes pass. Ten. The car doesn’t move.

A chill runs down my spine as I remember Gio’s face from the undercover op where he thought I was a hooker. He looked at me like he was ready to eat me alive then toss my remains to the hounds.

And then there are Zeke’s words. “They’ll kill you, Evelyn. Slowly. Painfully.”

My hand instinctively reaches for my service weapon, but it’s upstairs. Sweat breaks out across my palms as I watch the car, my heart hammering against my ribs.

This is how it starts. They watch you first, learn your patterns, figure out when you’re most vulnerable. I’ve worked enough cases to know the drill. But knowing doesn’t make it any less terrifying when you’re the target.

I grab my phone, thumb hovering over Zeke’s number. Pride wars with practicality. I don’t want to need his help, don’t want to prove him right about marriage being my only option. But if the mafia really is watching my house—where my nephew sleeps—can I afford to let pride win?

The headlights suddenly vanish as the car drives away, plunging down the street into darkness. I strain my eyes, trying to make out movement in the shadows, needing to confirm the threat is gone.

My fingers tighten around my phone as adrenaline floods my system. I rush to the front door and check the locks.

Then I lean against the door and slide to the floor. “Fuck.”

How did this become my life?

I stareat the case files spread across my desk, the weight of the world pressing down on my chest. Months of careful investigation, painstakingly pieced together, are about to go up in smoke. The thought sours my stomach.

The office buzzes with its usual morning activity—phones ringing, keyboards clicking, the tired shuffle of feet heading toward the break room for another desperate hit of caffeine.

But I barely register any of it. Lost in my own spiraling thoughts, the noise fades into a dull hum.

Each file represents a life, a story. Meanwhile, potential failure looms.

“Earth to Eve.” Rissa waves her hand in front of my face. “You’ve been staring at that same page for ten minutes. What’s going on?”

I take a deep breath, my fingers drumming against the worn edge of my desk. “My cover’s blown.”

“What?” She wheels her chair closer, lowering her voice. “How?”

“Giovanni Costa recognized me at Club Velvet Petal Saturday night.” The words taste bitter in my mouth. “He recognized me as the hooker and Marcus Barone knew I was a cop.”

“Shit.” Rissa leans back, running a hand through her dark hair. “What the fuck were you doing there?”

“Out with some friends. They dragged me there. Twice.”

She curses again under her breath before she pins me with a stare. “Did he threaten you?”

“Not directly.” I leave out the part about Gio wanting me dead, Zeke’s desperate solution, and my connection to him. Some secrets need to stay just that. Secret. “I’m sure he wants me taken out but he’s not foolish enough to murder a cop.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Rissa agrees. “But be careful. If you notice anything unusual we can put a car at your house.”

I dismiss her, not wanting to dwell on what I witnessed last night. I spent the majority of the night restless, attempting to persuade myself it wasn’t what I feared. I’m not being watched. It was merely my mind playing tricks on me.

“This puts us back to square one.” Rissa grabs the case file, flipping through the pages with growing frustration. “Six women raped, and we’re no closer to proving the Costa family’s involvement.”

“I know.” Guilt eats at my insides. We’d been so close to gathering enough evidence. Now those women might never see justice.

“We need to tell Captain Reynolds,” Rissa says, already standing up.

I nod, my stomach churning. Another failure to add to my growing list. First, I couldn’t protect my sister’s family. I should have at least been able to give my sister peace by finding her husband James’s killer after his senseless murder. Now, I can’t even do my job right.

“Hey.” Rissa’s voice softens. “This isn’t your fault. These guys are professionals at staying under the radar.”