“What boundaries?”

  Fiona's anger gave Morgan what she needed to retreat into her kitchen again. She grabbed her glass of water and took a very long sip of it before facing down the beautifully angry woman standing near her front door.

  “Not tonight, please. I am exhausted after today, and I just need...I need some good sleep and a few days to get my head on straight.”

  “That's rich.” Fiona snorted. “Are you going to even call me in if something goes down with the case?”

  Morgan pressed her lips together. “I have shared all the information I can with you, every single piece of it, and I have called you in to work with me more than any other agent would have, so do not think I would hesitate to call you in or rely on your judgement for the rest of the case.”

  Fiona visibly relaxed, her shoulders dropping and the tension in her face easing. “I’m sorry. You're right. I don't...I don't know why this is so hard.”

  “Because we happened to shove a bunch of complications into life. Well, we didn't, but there have been, and we have to navigate those. Hence, why we need to talk and set some boundaries.”

  “Hmm.” Fiona cocked her head to the side. “Sure, I'll agree to that, just one thing.”

  “What?” Morgan turned to stand up straight just as Fiona took three long and quick steps right up to her, cupping both her cheeks and bringing their mouths together.

  Morgan gasped, her fingers curling into the soft material of Fiona’s blouse just at the tops of her hips as Fiona’s tongue pressed against hers. Fiona’s body tightly held her to the counter, her back pressing into the edge of it sharply, but most of Morgan’s focus was on the woman stealing her breath, shattering her resolve, arousing her body.

  Whatever they had done before when drunk—this was so much better. It was worth it. Digging her nails into the soft flesh at Fiona’s sides, Morgan dared herself to take the kiss as far as she could without moving beyond a kiss. She pressed a palm flat against the small of Fiona's back and tugged her in closer, their hips grinding together from their closeness.

  When Fiona’s hand moved from her cheek to her neck, tightening lightly and then loosening as she trailed her fingers down, her thumb brushing Morgan’s nipple through the fabric of her shirt and bra. Morgan moaned and jerked away, breaking the kiss.

  “Stop.” She breathed out the word. “Stop, Fiona.”

  “I thought you wanted this.”

  “I do. I do want this.” Morgan put her forehead onto Fiona’s shoulder and closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “I do want this, trust me, more than you probably know, but not right now, not when you’re upset, not before we've talked about things, not when we’re still working this case together.”

  Fiona’s chest rose as she drew in a deep breath. “Okay. So what now?”

  “Now, you go home. I go to sleep—maybe, if I can after that. Tomorrow, we solve this fucking case.”

  Chuckling, Fiona drew Morgan’s chin up and kissed her hard but brief. “I don’t think we’re going to solve it tomorrow.”

  “A girl can hope.”

  Grinning, Fiona stepped away, giving Morgan the much needed space she wanted and desperately didn't at the same time. Fiona raked her gaze up and down Morgan's body and then laughed lightly. “You’re much better at that when you're sober.”

  “Shut up.” Morgan couldn’t stop the snort from leaving her nose. “Get out. I'll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  As soon as the door was shut, Morgan let out a rush of breath. Stepping to the door, she flicked the deadbolt into place. She was going to need an ice bath after that. With thoughts and fantasies rampaging around her brain, Morgan stripped the rest of her clothes and left them in a pile on the floor of her bathroom while she hopped in the shower she refuse to turn on hot. It was going to be a long night.

  ###

  The next morning, Morgan had barely stepped into the office when she noticed Adena sitting at her desk. The woman, while not the prettiest one out there, certainly knew how to flaunt what she had. She sat on the edge of Morgan’s desk, her legs crossed and the pencil skirt above her knee.

  Morgan had slept but with dreams of Fiona accompanying every moment of it. Cocking her head to the side, Morgan dropped her bag next to the bottom of her desk and raised an eyebrow at Adena.

  “You’re late,” Adena stated.

  “Not really. It’s one minute past eight. What’s up?”

  “There’s chatter.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “Nope.” Adena handed over a file she’d kept behind her. Morgan flipped it open without hesitation as she read the report. Something had gotten out. “Who?”

  “Girlfriend.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Interview.”

  “Who’s in there?”

  “Waiting on you.”

  Morgan’s broad grin was perfect. If they weren’t standing in an office full of other officers, she may have kissed Adena. Instead, Adena slipped off Morgan’s desk and headed for the elevator without another word as was her norm. Without hesitation, Morgan called Fiona and told her to skip going to the police department and head straight for the bureau.

  It took Fiona ten minutes to get there, but as soon as she arrived, Morgan was waiting with the file in her hand, the file she had read over at least ten times in that ten minutes. “What’s got you so happy?”

  “You said we weren't going to solve this case today, and we may very well might.”

  “What break did you get?”

  Morgan handed the file over. “Girlfriend of some guy who said he’s been acting funny and asking a lot of really odd questions. Want to go interview?”

  “Yes.” Fiona’s eyes light up with excitement, the same excitement she’d had right before they went to arrest Nicolas Schohl.

  As soon as they entered the room, Morgan took lead. This was her place of work, and this was her case. She sat down next to the woman, who clearly looked like she’d been on a binge of some kind of drugs or alcohol. Morgan gave her a small smile.

  “I’m Special Agent Stone. You're Cassidy, right?"

  “Yeah.” Her voice was strong, without a slur, so perhaps she wasn’t as intoxicated as Morgan had initially assumed.

  “You called into the police early this morning talking about your boyfriend. You want to tell me a little about that?”

  Cassidy looked at Wexford. “Who's she?”

  “She is Detective Wexford. She works with the Chicago Police Department.”

  “Why’s she here?”

  “We’re working this case together.” Morgan tried to bring as much patience forward as she could. These interviews were all about waiting for the answers they needed and waiting for someone to say something that would click with the case. “Why don’t you tell me what you called in about this morning?”

  Cassidy sneered. “I don’t want to talk to her.”

  “You’re not talking to her. You’re talking to me.”

  “I want immunity.”

  Morgan slowed her movements at that. “Cassidy, in order to have immunity you need to have done something wrong. Did you do anything wrong?”

  Cassidy shook her head.

  “Okay, so why don’t you tell me what you called in about this morning so we can help you?”

  “Nothing to help.” Cassidy’s voice was low, deep, and without hope. “My boyfriend has been hanging out with these new guys. I don’t like them much, but whatever, he’s just my bae, right. I don’t have much say in that. These guys...they’re older than him.”

  “How much older?”

  Cassidy gave Morgan a scathing look but didn’t look at Wexford again. “One’s as old as you. The other as old as her.”

  “And he knows these men, how?”

  “Don't know. Don't care. But...Spence has been asking a whole lot of questions about the building I work at, weird questions.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like where the cameras are and what doors are locked, that kind of shit.”

  Morgan swallowed. “And why do you think he’s asking that?”

  Cassidy’s lips thinned, and she slid a look over at Wexford. “These guys he hangs out with, they say some shit I don’t agree with.”

  “Like what?”

  “That there’s an immigrant problem, that they’re taking over this country. Racist shit like that.”

  Every nerve in Morgan’s body was geared to every word Cassidy said. “Do you know these men’s names?”

  Cassidy shook her head. “Not their last names.”

  “First names will be enough.” Morgan held her breath.

  “Tim and Ian.”

  Morgan wrote the names down and glanced at Wexford. She needed someone to start doing some research quick, but Wexford wouldn't know who to even get hold of. Holding a finger out to pause Cassidy, Morgan nodded her head toward Fiona and handed her the sheet of paper. “Give this to Pax, would you? He'll know what to do.”

  Fiona’s face paled, but she took it and started out of the room. Morgan didn’t want to wait until Wexford got back, so she turned to Cassidy again.

  “Your boyfriend was asking questions about where you work. What was it that seemed so odd about the question?”

  “Look, I’m just housekeeping. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, but I’ve mentioned to him before how frustrated I get when I find doors unlocked when they shouldn’t be. Anyway, he seemed to take a sudden interest in which doors, asking multiple times which ones they were.”

  “And where do you work?”

  “Community Center, the one off Irving Park.”

  “I know the one,” Morgan answered just as Wexford slid back into the room. “What is it that makes you so worried that you would bring it to us? Asking more about his girlfriend’s job seems like a thing a good boyfriend would do.”

  Cassidy shifted her gaze from Morgan to Wexford and back. “It’s the things he’s been saying.”

  “What things?”

  “Look, Spence is a good guy. I really like him. He’s got shit to figure out, but he’s not a bad guy.”

  “We’re not saying he is,” Morgan reiterated. “But what is it that’s got you so worried?”

  “These guys he’s been hanging out with. They worry me. They do things Spence doesn’t normally do.”

  “Like what?”

  “They don’t like people who aren’t like them.”

  Morgan narrowed her gaze. “You’re going to have to spell this out for me, Cassidy, otherwise I can’t do anything about it.”

  Cassidy leaned forward on the table. “Spence has been talking about bombs, about fixing up things so it’s better. I don’t know what he means by that. I don’t think he knows what he means by that.”

  Morgan's heart raced. “Bombs, what about bombs?”

  “He was freaking out over the bombing at the pier the other week. Like really freaking out. He was saying Ian was so mad at him, but he wouldn’t tell me why. As soon as I asked, he clammed up and got so wasted and high he passed out for the night.”

  “Cassidy, where is Spence now?”

  “Work.”

  “Where does he work?”

  “Battery shop.”

  “Okay, I’m going to be right back. Wexford?” Morgan stood up and dragged Fiona out of the room with her. She nodded at the officer who would watch Cassidy while Morgan made a direct line to Pax and Taylor. She didn’t wait as she shoved open Taylor’s office door with Fiona hot on her tail. “We've got something.”

  “What?”

  “The holy grail.” Morgan grinned as she laid everything out for Taylor. In the span of twenty minutes, they had people going to pick up Spence and others researching who the hell Ian and Tim were, but they would definitely know more as soon as they got Spence into the room with them. Morgan could barely wait for that interview to begin. Fiona had been wrong the night before. They had gotten the break in the case they needed, Morgan knew it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  They went to the mosque first, wanting to wait until the middle of the night before going to the housing complex, when there would be least likely people to catch them. That was going to be the most dangerous of the three to set up. Ian had all the bombs in the trunk of his car. He’d dressed in all black so that he would less likely to be seen as they set them.

  Tim had everything planned. Ian pulled up a few blocks away. They would grab the bombs from the back of the car, and then they would walk the rest of the way, separately. Spencer would stay in the car and let them know if anyone was coming or showed up, but it was just going to be Tim and Ian on this one.

  As Ian swung the bag over his shoulder, he let out a grunt. It was a chill evening, but they had chosen this day for a reason. There would be more people in the mosque on a Friday than on any other day of the week. They wanted to make the biggest impact that they could, scare them out of their wits so they’d leave his city alone.

  Ian lit up a cigarette as they walked. The security that they had found at the mosque was rudimentary at best, but they also weren’t planning on going inside. They just needed to manage to steer clear of the cameras in the parking lot and by the doors, which should be easy enough.

  Ian’s cigarette was gone by the time he got to the parking lot. Tim had taken the other route, but he could see Tim’s slender figure also dressed in dark clothes with a ball cap covering his head standing across the way. They could do this.

  Ian placed his two bombs, making sure they were set and the timer was perfect to go off right in the middle of morning prayers. The impact they were going to make over the next two days was going to be so much better than what they’d attempted at the pier. This time, they would succeed. Ian knew it in his gut. They had planned for this as best they could, and he knew they would see some fallout from it, some type of reaction from the Muslim community. There was no more playing around.

  Ian held his breath when the lights of a car shone in his direction. His heart raced as the lights on the top of the white cruiser told him exactly his worst fear. The cops were there, no doubt because of the pier, no doubt doing extra checks just to be sure there was nothing else going on. He stayed as still as possible after shuffling behind a large trashcan and trying to shrink himself into nothing. He could only hope Tim did the same.

  Waiting was the worst. The officer shown the spot light against the wall of the building, moving it all around. Ian froze his entire body, making his breaths shallow so as not to move him more than necessary. It took probably only a minute, but it felt like an hour, for the cruiser’s spot light to go off and the cruiser to leave the parking lot.

  Ian let out a breath of relief and counted to sixty before he dared to move. They had to hurry up. He’d been getting far too cocky in thinking they wouldn't run into any issues, and God had just reminded him he wasn’t invincible, and this wasn't without risk. The risk was worth it, but so would be finishing out their plans for the night. Spencer would flip out if they didn't show back up in the forty-five minutes they’d said they’d be gone.

  When Ian felt safe enough, he stepped away from the trashcan, his knees groaning at the ache from sitting still and tense for so long. He didn’t hesitate as he finished setting the two bombs that were designated his and booked it back toward the car. He met up with Tim a block away and let out a rush of relief.

  “You see that cop?” Tim asked.

  “Yeah. Don't mention it to Spence, he’ll freak out.”

  “Right. I was about ready to run.”

  “Glad you didn’t. You get it all set up?”

  Tim nodded. “I was halfway through the first one when the cop showed up and I had to stop.”

  Ian’s jaw clenched. “Community center next. We need to get this done. They’re starting to get suspicious, which means we don’t have much time to get our work done.”

  “You’re right.”

  Ian slid into the driver’s seat of the vehicle and rolled his shoulders before lighting up another cigarette. His hand shook as he brought the cig down to the steering wheel to go to their next location. He hoped Tim and Spencer didn’t see it.

  They stopped, and Spencer and Ian go out of the car. It was Tim’s turn to sit and watch the rest of the bombs. It didn’t take them too long to get everything set and ready, this time without any interruptions. When they got back to the car, Tim was already in the driver's seat, waiting to go to the housing complex.

  Three in the morning had come very quickly. It had taken them less time to set the bombs than Ian anticipated. Waiting by circling the neighborhood until thirty passed the hour, Ian directed Tim to park the car. All three of them were going to get out for this one. Ian carried two bombs while the others carried one.

  They stuck to the shadows and hoped they wouldn’t be seen. Most of the lights in the building were off, but Ian could see lights here and there that indicated someone was awake, whether it was in a bedroom or living room. The hall lights were on so people who were coming and going could see their way in.

  Ian’s heart beat rapidly. This may very well be their last chance to make an impact, and he knew he wanted it to be a good one. He had no doubts their voices would be heard, perhaps for the first time ever, truly heard in the sea of what those snowflakes kept forcing everyone to believe and say.

  He knew not everyone could agree with them but that the majority of the people actually did, but their voices were quieted by the raging voice of the oppressor. Pushing down his anger, Ian focused on the task at hand. He was the one going inside. The other two would stay outside, setting their bombs on the edge of the building, but Tim had said if they wanted to take it down, they had to do something inside. It was easy enough to get into the building, but walking in the full light of the hallway made Ian's skin crawl.

  He stepped as quietly as he could down the hallway toward the stairs, where he went down instead of up and into the basement. From there, he walked to the far end of the laundry area, setting the backpack against the far wall. When he stood back up, he cocked his head at the dryers.