Protection Detail. Julie Miller

he was the senior officer on the scene, he was also a witness to the drive-by shooting. He and the scene commander had agreed that a third party would be able to process his account more objectively than if he started listening to witness statements from the other patrons and restaurant staff who were still milling about the scene. So Thomas stood off to the side with the onlookers and flashing lights while other detectives conducted interviews, criminologists processed the parking lot and patio and uniformed officers directed traffic.

      It didn’t stop his favorites of Kansas City’s finest from reporting to him, though.

      His youngest son, Keir, was waiting to speak to him and hurried over as soon as the scene commander had left. “How’s the arm, Dad?” He nodded toward the white gauze bandages on his forearm and elbow. “Other than a panic attack leading to hyperventilation, you’re the only casualty.” Keir glanced over at the ambulance parked beyond the crime-scene tape to the hazel-eyed woman sitting on the back bumper, stoically turning her head away from the medic cutting off part of her sleeve to inspect the scrape on her elbow. “Well, you and Jane.”

      “Is she okay?”

      “Okay enough, I suppose. Superficial injuries. Main concern is infection.”

      “That’s what she told me.”

      “That’s what she told the medic, too.” Keir grinned. “I think she’s struggling to sit back and allow someone else to take care of her.”

      She’d made that abundantly clear to him. Thomas must have been staring too hard at the woman in question, because she suddenly turned her head. Their gazes met across the parking lot before Jane visibly straightened and shifted her attention back to the EMT. She couldn’t avoid him and his questions forever, not when whatever the answers were had stamped that look of terror on her face. Jane was his responsibility. She’d become one of his own the moment he’d realized how much his father needed her—and Thomas Watson protected his own. If there was anything more to this concern for her that made his belly ache, he chose to ignore it and focus on someone who was willing to talk to him. He and Keir stood by the hood of his truck while a pair of criminologists documented the bullet lodged in the left rear tire. “What about Dad and Millie? I haven’t had a chance to check in with them.”

      “They’re good. They’ve already given their statements and have been dismissed.” Keir must have just come off his shift before responding to the all-points call of shots fired. He’d unbuttoned his collar and loosened his tie, but still wore the tailored gray suit that would have allowed him to pass as an executive in the financial district if it hadn’t been for the badge and Glock holstered to his belt. “Grandpa’s still got blue running through his veins. He got a partial on the license plate and the scene commander will run it. I’ll give them a ride home. Millie’s keeping it together, but she’s scared. And Grandpa seems pretty tired.”

      Thomas appreciated being able to trust his father’s care to someone else. “It’s been a long day for him.”

      “You, too, I imagine.” With blue eyes like his mother’s, and that same driving intensity that had guided Mary Watson throughout their marriage until her death, Keir commanded authority, even though Thomas outranked him in both age and chevrons on his badge. “I was analyzing the shot pattern. Either that driver was nearsighted and couldn’t hit the side of a barn, or he was intentionally missing.”

      Didn’t that sound eerily familiar. He glanced over at Seamus, now chatting amicably with Millie and a young uniformed officer. Probably regaling him with some story about how they did police work back in his day. Out of all the people at Olivia’s wedding, with all that gunfire, only one person had been hit. There had to be a reason Seamus had been targeted specifically that day. Or maybe the shooter had been targeting him, and his dad seated beside him had been collateral damage. If whoever had hired the hit man that day wanted to hurt Thomas, he’d inflicted far more pain by attacking his family than by putting the bullet in him. Maybe that had been the plan all along. But who hated him enough to want to come after his family like that? Had that man made a second attempt to hurt the people he cared about tonight?

      “I noticed the same thing. The driver swerved at the last second when he could have hit us. And his shots were aimed down at my tires, not up into the crowd.” He lifted the sleeve the paramedic had cut up to the elbow. “In fact, I think the bullet that caught me was a ricochet. Janie could have been hit someplace a lot more vital if it hadn’t deflected off me first.”

      “Janie?” Keir’s eyes narrowed as he geared up to ask another question.

      But Thomas’s oldest son, Duff, walked up, stuffing his detective’s notebook into the pocket of his jeans. He grinned at his brother. “Hey, Pipsqueak.”

      “Muscle-head,” Keir deadpanned. The two had been teasing each other from the time Keir was old enough to toddle after his older siblings. And he’d never once let his bigger, brawnier brother intimidate him. The normalcy of the exchange elicited a smile Thomas hadn’t felt all evening. Keir answered with a grin of his own. “Call me as soon as you know anything, Dad. Kenna and I will stay at the house with Grandpa and Millie until you get home.”

      If Thomas didn’t know better, he’d think Seamus was a little sweet on Keir’s fiancée. Certainly, the high-powered attorney Keir had rescued from a stalker was sweet on Keir’s grandpa. “He’ll like that. Thanks, son.”

      Keir nodded to the older man walking beside Duff before turning away to escort Seamus and Millie to his car.

      Duff patted the shoulder of the old family friend Thomas recognized, and pulled him into the conversation. “Look who I ran into while I was canvassing.”

      “Al.” Thomas reached out to shake the man’s hand and was immediately pulled in for a backslapping hug.

      “Long time, no see, Tommy boy.”

      That had been Al Junkert’s nickname for him since the two had been young hotshots fresh out of the academy. He and Al had started in patrol together, made detective the same year and were well on their way to running their own precinct when the tragic end of a high-speed chase had put Thomas in the hospital, fighting to keep his leg, and scared Al into leaving the investigations bureau of the department and going back to school to earn his business degree. He’d been a fixture in the KCPD administrative offices for years now, working in public relations. Al had been there when Mary died. He was Olivia’s godfather and a Dutch uncle to all his children. His graying hair looked white against the deeply tanned skin at his receding hairline, earned from too many hours out on the golf course.

      When Al pulled away, he was frowning. “Sorry to reconnect under these circumstances, though. I thought you were safe teaching seminars at the academy. The bad guys are still taking shots at you, huh?”

      Thomas propped his hands at his waist, shaking his head at the clear lack of a motive here. “I’ve made a few enemies over the years, but I can’t explain this one yet. Were you at the restaurant? I didn’t see you. Shirley with you?”

      “Yes and no. I was in the mood for Kansas City barbecue. But unfortunately, Shirley and I didn’t work out. I’m on date number two with a gal I met at one of those charity fund-raisers.” Al nodded toward the black-and-whites and flashing lights beyond the yellow crime-scene tape. “I may not make it to date number three. Hearing all the gunshots rattled her. When I told her my old partner was the target, she visibly scooted her chair away from mine, like she thought whatever happened to you was catching.”

      Thomas laughed along with Duff, but his gaze slid over to the ambulance again. The medic was bandaging Jane’s arm now. He couldn’t forget the frantic insistence in her voice when they’d argued about who was saving whom. He was after me. Maybe his injuries were the collateral damage instead of the other way around.

      That woman was afraid of something. He could feel it in his bones. And he intended to find out what or who could make a strong, independent woman like Jane shut down and pretend she hadn’t blurted out that fear.

      He reached out to shake Al’s hand and thank his buddy for checking