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“Toni seems to think he’s after you.”

Silence fills the car. My eyes flick to my partner’s. “What the hell?”

His face is dead serious. “Her last letter referenced ‘the big guy.’ Her idea is you’re the biggest guy connected to the case in every way—physically, financially, professionally...”

“Then fucking come get me,” I growl. “Why go through her?”

“Safety. Insurance.” Patrick releases a long exhale. “Our man’s smart, which is not good. Going directly to you will only get him killed.”

“Damn straight it will.” Tightening my grip on the steering wheel, my thoughts go immediately to the ones I’ve left behind. “You should’ve told me this before we left today. Melissa and Dex are home, unprotected—”

“I think they’re okay for now. I told Elaine to be aware of their surroundings, take precautions if she notices anything suspicious.”

“You told Elaine?”

“Of course.” His hazel eyes narrow at me. “You need to tell Melissa more than you do. She’s a tough chick.”

“She’s a beautiful, smart woman.”

“But you didn’t tell her about Toni.”

“I’ll tell her when we have answers. I’d rather tell her our solution than our problem.” My promise to her yesterday lurks in the corner of my mind. “What makes you think they’re not in danger?”

“Toni said the letter is very specific. She was too afraid to fax it. Doesn’t want it out of her possession in case he goes after Cammie.”

“That’s not going to happen. This asshole’s not going after anyone.”

Soon we’re pulling into the parking lot of the Skinniflute, the biker bar where Star works and where we’ve met on several occasions in the past.

“I can’t believe she’s still at this dump,” I grumble as I lock my car.

“Working her way through college.” Patrick’s dressed in his usual Skinniflute attire—faded blue jeans, a black tee, and combat boots. I’m in slacks and a thin navy sweater. I’m no fucking biker, and I don’t have to dress like one.

“She could get a job in an office. Be a secretary or something respectable for a change.”

He heads inside the all-wood establishment with neon beer ads shining in the windows, but I take a moment to text Mel.

You okay?

It only takes a moment for her to respond. The boys are hilarious. Just like little men. Wish you could see them.

Me, too.

Everything okay?

I pause a moment, considering. So far nothing new.

Working on the Nikki problem?

Shit. I made this trip without telling her. And other things.

Tell Patrick to call her. She loves him.

I will.

Check this out. A picture of Mel kneeling beside my little boy in a tiny tux appears on my phone, and my chest warms.

I love you both.