Broken. Rebecca Zanetti

and he leaned against the counter, forcing his heart rate to stay normal. “Who dis?” He drawled, nearly choking on the words.

      Gary laughed, the sound slightly off. “Cute. For old time’s sake, I’m gonna give you one chance to fuck off and stop the hunt.”

      “Never.” He’d wondered if Gary Rockcliff would call the phone, the one from their time in the unit, so he’d kept it charged.

      Gary sighed. “We both know I could find you before you find me. I’m better at this.”

      “I’m motivated, Rock,” Wolfe said, listening for any background clues that would tell him where Gary had holed up. Had he been paid from the sale of his stolen drugs yet? If so, shouldn’t he be on an island somewhere drinking rum?

      “Move on, Wolfe.” Gary’s voice turned serious. Deadly. “You keep this up, and I’ll tear through everything and everyone you love before you get a bead on me, and then it’ll be too late. I trained you. You’re not that good. Don’t lose everything I haven’t already taken.”

      Rage burned through Wolfe’s throat. “Do you have any regrets? Those men trusted you. I trusted you.” Sometimes fury could be colder than ice.

      “No. They, and you, made the mistake of getting involved with something you shouldn’t have. If they hadn’t pursued me, they’d be alive. Take a lesson from that, or I’ll take it all.”

      “Well now, there’s the rub.” Wolfe straightened. “I don’t have anything else to lose. Don’t love anybody or anything.”

      Gary’s chuckle scraped Wolfe’s nerves raw. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

      Wolfe blew out air to keep calm. “Why don’t you stop being a coward and just meet me? The two of us? Get it over with.”

      “You and me to the death? You want to beat me until I stop breathing?” Gary almost sounded amused.

      “Yeah.”

      “What if we kill each other?”

      Wolfe rolled his neck. “Okay.” He’d figured that would be the result, anyway.

      “I guess I haven’t taught you everything, then.” For a moment, there was a heavy silence on the line. “Death is easy. Living can be hell. The game is on.” He disengaged the call.

      Wolfe inhaled and lifted his head. “Finally,” he muttered, sliding the phone back into the drawer. He glanced toward the closed bedroom door. If Gary didn’t know where he was, Gary couldn’t have been the one who’d killed Clarke Wellson/Albert Nelson, unless Gary was just messing with his head. Wolfe should just think about the dead guy as Albert from now on. Wolfe had been involved in other missions that might have made him enemies, so he wasn’t positive yet that the guys in that black truck were involved in the Albert Nelson case. It was more likely that Dana’s story had prompted the bullets, so he needed to take care of the threat to her and then get her safely out of his life.

      Gary was coming. Finally.

      Now what? It wasn’t as if Wolfe could sleep, especially now. He moved to the fridge again and then caught sight of Mal out on his back porch through the window. Wolfe instantly pivoted and headed out his glass sliding door, punching in the alarm code as he went. The two homes shared a fenced backyard, and that suited him just fine. He strode across the grass and dropped into a cushioned chair next to Mal, who flipped on the fire in a new patio table.

      “Nice,” Wolfe murmured, kicking his feet out.

      “Pippa bought it yesterday,” Mal said, handing over a glass of whiskey and keeping one for himself. It was summer in Cottage Grove, but nighttime got chilly once in a while, which made for good sleeping if one slept.

      Wolfe took the heavy crystal and inhaled deeply. Ah. The good stuff. “Is Pippa asleep?”

      “Yep. It’s three in the morning. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

      “Why aren’t you?” Wolfe returned. Neither one of them slept much, so why dick around about it?

      Mal silently contemplated the flames for several moments. “You seemed more jazzed than usual. What’s up?” When Wolfe didn’t answer, he grinned. “Ah. Pretty girl in your bed and you’re here with me. No wonder.”

      Wolfe let him think what he wanted. No way was he telling Mal about Gary Rockcliff. “I need a favor.”

      “Okay.”

      It was that easy, and that was the reason Wolfe had to keep this new team safe. “Can you reach out to any of your old contacts on the force who might have a line on the heroin drug trade out of Afghanistan? My guess would be southern route.” It was the only way Gary could’ve gotten the stolen drugs transported across the world.

      Mal stared at the fire. “Off the books?”

      “Yeah. For now.” Wolfe lowered his chin. “Keep it under the radar. No ties.”

      Malcolm nodded. “I can do that. How much heroin and when?”

      “A shit ton and it would’ve been transported between two and six months ago.” They sat in silence for a while, but tension still emanated from Mal. “What’s on your mind?” Wolfe asked.

      Malcolm twirled his drink in his hand. “You think it’s odd that Force wants to hire a journalist to assist you with busywork?”

      Wolfe rubbed his chin, scratching his palms. When had he last shaved? “Not really. Dana has worked with us before and is great at research, and with Brigid gone for the week, we need the help.” Brigid, their computer expert, could hack any system. “Why?”

      “I don’t know.” Mal took another sip. “I think we’re all chess pieces and Force is moving us around. The guy almost seems like a matchmaker sometimes, you know? Deep down, the grumpy drunk is a romantic.”

      Huh. “He didn’t want you with Pippa in the beginning. Well, until we figured out she was a good guy and not a bad one.” Wolfe took a deep drink, letting the expensive Scotch heat his stomach. He didn’t have the words to express himself, but these times drinking with Mal, just the two of them late at night, or rather early in the morning, made him feel human again. Like he was part of something and not a damaged leftover. He tried to communicate as best he could. “Dana and I are just friends.”

      “I know, but you’ll be working with your friend a lot, and now she’s sleeping in your house.” Mal grinned, settling his muscled bulk farther into the chair. “Temptation.”

      Not something Wolfe could give in to at this point. “She’s a nice girl, and she takes too many chances. If anything happens to me, promise you’ll look out for her.”

      “I promise. What’s going to happen to you? Level with me.”

      Now that was temptation. Wolfe had already lost too many friends in this fight, and he wasn’t putting this one in danger. “When I need help, I’ll ask.” Yeah, he was using Dana’s words. Hopefully they wouldn’t piss off Malcolm like they had Wolfe when she’d said them.

      Mal reached over and poured them each more whiskey. “Doing any job without backup is a mistake. Keep that in mind.”

      Letting his team get killed—again—would be a bigger mistake. “What else?” Wolfe asked. Mal only poured a second glass when something was on his mind.

      “Angus Force. He’s getting more and more obsessed with his search for Lassiter.” Mal swirled his liquor in the tumbler, watching the liquid catch the firelight.

      “Are you worried he won’t find him?” Wolfe took another drink and grinned.

      Mal jerked in a laugh. “No. I’m worried he will. So far, there hasn’t been any real evidence that Lassiter is alive. If we get even one lead, I’m not sure what Force will do.”

      Wolfe sighed as the whiskey hit his belly. Force had shot and killed a serial killer