He made it the four blocks to where Tim was to pick him up and slid into the back of the vehicle next to Spencer. They drove off then headed for Ian’s brother’s house and the basement where he was staying. As much as he wanted to stay close by and see if his bomb actually worked, if it actually worked this time, he knew it was a risk they couldn’t afford. Not if this was only the first step in their plan to take back Chicago.

  The beer came out early, although, Ian had never truly stopped drinking it until an hour before they’d gone out to the factory. Spencer was wasted by the time dawn hit. Tim was sipping at his, but he had to go to work and earn to provide for his family. Ian sat on the couch, glued to the news stream, needing to know when it would hit.

  Six in the morning came and went. Tim’s knee bounced annoyingly, but Ian tried his best to ignore him. He knew they were all on edge, all waiting to see what would happen, how it would happen, what would break first. He flipped through different news stations, all talking about the weather and this or that. He hated the morning news. It was nothing but a bunch of fluff. Chugging another half a beer, he settled on his normal station and waited.

  Seven in the morning. Still nothing. Tim begged off to go home and shower and get ready for work. Ian clapped him on the shoulder as he left. Spencer dove into another beer, but he was halfway passed out in his chair. Ian thought about asking Tim to drive Spencer home, but he preferred to keep an eye on him.

  By ten in the morning, he’d wondered if the bomb had gone off at all. Spencer was down for the count. Ian stood and walked back and forth in the basement, his energy bubbling like it had the time before. He had to know. He was damn sure it had happened, that it had gone off, that their plan had worked.

  He knew he shouldn’t have, but Ian grabbed the keys to his car and left the house. He slipped behind the wheel and turned the engine. He had to see for himself. Driving along the way Tim had driven earlier that day, he took it slow. He didn’t want to come off as suspicious, but he also needed to come off as sober. It wouldn’t do him good to end up in jail.

  Brushing hand through the back of his hair, clipped short against his head, he made sure to follow every road sign. When he got closer to the factory, he knew they had succeeded. Police vehicles lined the streets and they were barricaded with firetrucks. He swallowed and pulled to the side, straining his neck to try and see what he could, but he was still at least a block down.

  Lights on the tops of the vehicles flashed. That excitement bubbling in his stomach rejuvenated. They had done it. They had managed to take their first stand against the insurrection of immigrants into their country, against them taking jobs from him and people like him. He watched for at least twenty minutes before someone from the fire engine started to come over to his vehicle. Waving them off, Ian turned his car around and headed home.

  As soon as he got into the door, he let out a breath of relief. Spencer was still passed out on his couch. Ian grabbed his phone and sent Tim a quick text, telling him all was well and that they’d talk that night. Now all they had to do was wait and see what the fallout would be. How big of an impact did they make?

  Chapter Eight

  The scene seemed chaotic from the outside, no doubt, but everything was working just as it should be. She'd slipped her warm jacket on, sending Pax a sidelong look as they stared at the wreckage that was no doubt a bomb.

  She'd heard about the explosion within minutes of it happening, but when the Chicago Police Department had called the FBI for assistance, she had landed herself the case. It was the calm before the storm. It ached in her bones. Tents were erected to try and bring in some of the shrapnel that was around, another one for injured who were able to stay on scene. They'd sent five to the hospital already. She kept a running tally in her head, but she knew she was going to have to write it down sooner rather than later so she didn't forget it. Pax gave her a bewildered stare.

  "What?"

  "A bomb? At a factory? What do you think? Disgruntled former employee?"

  "No idea, Pax. You can stop guessing and start asking questions if you want." She raised a brow at him as she sipped from her bio-friendly travel mug she'd insisted on getting herself for Christmas. "Which reminds me, let's start with the managers, see what they have to say. The owner is still out, apparently out of town for whatever reason."

  "Who is it?" Pax pulled out his notebook.

  Morgan grimaced. She had about a hundred names running through her head and was trying to draw on just one to get her brain moving. "Kelly Roberts."

  Pax nodded. "Is she coming back soon?"

  "He," Morgan answered pointedly, "had already booked a flight for this afternoon. We can talk to him tomorrow."

  "Good."

  Morgan took another sip from her drink. "Into the fray?"

  "Sure."

  She didn't wait as she took her coffee with her. She might get chided over it later, and it might be stupid because writing with one hand while standing and having a coffee in the other was going to be difficult, but she would get it done, somehow.

  Morgan started with some of those who were close enough to the explosion to get hit from the burst but not severely injured. The first was a tall, lanky Black man, who sat on the curb of the parking lot. Morgan bent down so she was on even footing with him.

  "Hi, I'm Special Agent Stone, I'd like to ask you some questions about this morning."

  He shrugged, his dark eyes not moving up to meet her face. She really wished he would, but Morgan could imagine after a morning like he'd had that it would be difficult to focus on anything. "You were outside when the explosion happened, right?"

  He nodded.

  "Did you see anything? Anyone?"

  He shook his head.

  She wasn’t going to get a great amount of information from him this way. "Would you mind telling me your name?"

  "Diric."

  "Okay, Diric, what do you do here for work?"

  He shrugged. "I'm on the parts line."

  Morgan had to draw on what little patience she had. Diric was not super talkative, and she had no doubt that she was going to have some issues with getting him to open up. If everyone was like that, this was going to be a long investigation. "How long have you worked here?"

  "Two months."

  Morgan wasn't writing anything down after his name. He wasn't telling her pertinent information as of yet. "What time does your shift start?"

  "Six."

  "So what time do you get to work every morning?"

  He did look at her then, his dark, near black eyes boring into her. “Before six."

  "All right." Morgan wrote the time down in her notebook. It was what they had already known. The explosion had happened right during the start of a new shift, right when the most people would be injured or even potentially killed. "What days of the week is the factory open?"

  "All week."

  Morgan sent a glance to Pax, hoping he was having better luck than she was. "Did you see anything odd this morning when you came in to work? Anything out of the ordinary?"

  "No."

  Morgan took a sip from her coffee. "Would you tell me what happened? What you remember?"

  "I got here, like I do every day. I got up to the gate, got inside after being let through, and then I don't remember anything until someone helped me stand up. My ears hurt."

  Cocking her head to the side, Morgan checked on his head. She could see some blood on his skin, but he didn't look too injured. "Have the paramedics checked you out yet?"

  He nodded.

  "Okay, good. It's probably just from a concussion or from the blast of the sound. You'll want to see a doctor for sure." Morgan handed him her card and stood up, her back and thighs aching as she moved. Pax was finishing up whatever interview he was doing. They had so many people to talk to, Morgan had no doubt they'd be there all day if not longer. They'd still be doing interviews the next day.

  Taylor had promised to send over some more officers as they freed up schedules, but thus far it was six of them working the scene itself. When she turned to start in on the next interview, she stopped short. The car pulling up to the scene looked very familiar. Her heart raced.

  Detective Fiona Wexford stepped out, her shoulder-length brown hair moving in the breeze. Wexford pocketed her keys and rounded her car, nodding at those around her. Then she stopped short. Their gazes locked.

  "Fuck," Morgan muttered.

  "Fuck what?" Pax asked.

  "Shove it." Morgan rolled her eyes at him. "Nothing you need to worry about."

  "What's Homicide doing here?"

  "I'm betting they're investigating the murders, and we're investigating the explosion."

  "You mean bomb."

  "Shhh, don't say that too loud, Pax. There are media people everywhere."

  "Whatever, Stone." He knocked his much larger shoulder into hers and went on to a new interview while Wexford stepped right up to her.

  "Special Agent Stone."

  "Detective Wexford." Morgan could barely keep the smile from tugging at her lips. She loved to hear Fiona say her name like that, in that slightly-annoyed but oh-so-superior tone that she did just about every time they met for whatever case or professional function they found themselves at.

  "You investigating some murders?"

  "One."

  "Oh? So the others?”

  "Still hanging in there."

  Morgan nodded. "You got here late."

  "I had a...thing to take care of. Want to fill me in?"

  Morgan made sure to trail her gaze up and down the full length of Wexford's body, from her lips, to her chest, to her hips, her toes clad in those ugly brown boots, and then back up. Heat rose in her cheeks, but she wasn't going to give in to it this time, not with being surrounded by all the other officers in the area.

  "No. I think you have your own people for that." With a cold shoulder, Morgan walked back to the line of injured employees.

  Wexford's lips parted but that was the only sign she was perturbed by Morgan's attitude. Morgan went through three more people to interview before she was out of coffee. She'd have to find a way to get more soon if she had a chance. She was just checking in with Pax when the tap on her shoulder distracted her. Turning, she found Wexford standing stiffly in front of her.

  "I think we should talk about media."

  "Yeah, that we should. Pax?"

  "You're on for that one. You're much better with the media than I am."

  Morgan wrinkled her nose. "Not true, and frankly, I think given the nature of where we are and where the attack happened you would be the better option."

  Pax narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

  "You know why." Morgan put her hand on her hip. "Don't you even dare try to pull this one over on me."

  Wexford cleared her throat. "That's all fine. What are we going to tell them?"

  "We tell them there was an explosion, nothing more. We don't know anything else until tests come back anyway." Morgan stared directly into Fiona's eyes, wondering what was going through her brain. She did not want to work this case with Fiona if she could avoid it. They had done well finding a balance of friendship, but adding in working together was going to be too much for her feeble brain to keep up with.

  Wexford glanced from Morgan to Pax then back to Morgan. "Can we just cut the crap already?"

  "What crap?" Morgan shot back.

  "That crap." Fiona sent her a daring look. "Whatever that is. I'm here to investigate two murders."

  "Two?"

  Fiona shrugged. "The second one didn't make it through surgery."

  "Damn." Morgan raised her eyes to the sky. She'd had hopes casualties would be few and far between. "Fine. But remember, you called us in for help."

  Putting her hands out to her sides, Fiona shook her head. "I didn't."

  "Someone did," Morgan shot right back.

  "Why the attitude, seriously?"

  Pax snorted, and Morgan spun on him. "Want to weigh in?"

  "Uh...no. I'll let you two sort this out." Pax's jaw tightened before it went lax.

  Morgan knew she was being pissy, but outside of her initial reaction to Wexford when she'd shown up, she couldn't figure out why. There was something else going on, something she couldn't put her finger on, but it had bugged her any time she, Pax, and Fiona where in the same vicinity.

  "All right. Pax will do the press release. Pax, call Taylor, let him know what's going on."

  "Yeah, on it." He stepped away, a phone pressed to his ear.

  Morgan raised a brow at Fiona. "I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm out of coffee."

  The smile that tugged at the edge of Fiona's lips was a warm welcome. Morgan had been a jerk. She seemed to always be making an ass of herself wherever Fiona and work were concerned.

  "We don't want mass hysteria, but we are thinking this was intentional. We found evidence of it being a bomb, but until our guys look at it, we're not going to know for sure."

  "Do you think there's more?"

  Morgan shook her head. "We've had people scouring and looking, and they haven't come up with anything. Based on where it was placed..." Morgan spun in her shoes and turned toward what was the gate and the entrance into the building "...over there, we're betting they couldn't figure out how to get access inside so they just set it outside."

  When she glanced back at Wexford, her stomach twisted. All she had to do was keep to business, keep to the work. They could work together again and not end up in a pissing war over who had the case or not. Surely they could manage that at least.

  Pax came over. "Taylor says it's a go."

  "Good." Morgan stared him in the face. "And he agreed you're doing it."

  Pax rolled his eyes. "Yes, but he'll take over from here on out. Just because I'm here today."

  Morgan stepped in closer to the two of them. "Plan of action?"

  "No b-word," Pax said.

  "That can mean multiple things, all of which should be avoided, but do go on." Morgan smirked at him, glad she was finally feeling a little more on her feet.

  Pax sighed and shot a nervous look at Wexford. "You know what I meant. Just an explosion that's being investigated to make sure it doesn't happen again. Emphasize safety concerns for the factory workers, don't create panic."

  "Good." Morgan punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You've got this. It's almost like you've done it before."

  "Shut up," he muttered.

  Fiona grinned at the both of them. "Either of you have any luck with talking to the witnesses?"

  "They're pretty tight-lipped. Hard to get anything out of them."

  "I'm having the same issues," Pax said. "So far they haven't seen much, though. They were coming to work, explosion happened, that's about it. No one they didn't recognize, but they don't know everyone they work with, so that's not too much help. They'll pulling off footage for us so we can check that out."

  "I'd like a copy of that," Fiona interjected.

  "Of course," Pax answered. "I don't think we're going to get much from witnesses this time around. It'll mostly be our investigation that'll get us the answers we’re looking for."

  "Right." Morgan's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at it, sending the call to voicemail and shoving it away. "Pax, let's set up the press release, and then we can be done with media for the day."

  Wexford walked with them toward the barrage of media vans. She let out a grunt when her phone buzzed again. Grabbing her phone, she answered the call. "Mom, now is really not the time. I'll call you back tonight."

  "Morgan, don't you talk to me that way."

  "I really can't talk right now. I promise, I'll call tonight."

  "I'll hold you to that."

  Sighing, Morgan hung up without even saying goodbye and put her phone away again. When Wexford gave her an odd look, she shrugged. "What? I don't have time."

  "She's your mom."

  "You'd talk to her that way too if you knew her. Trust me." Morgan muttered the last two words and stepped closer to the media fray. They all started to come over to them. Pax took the lead and stood up in front of the two of them, Wexford and Morgan flanking him on either side.

  "I'm only going to do this once, so let's all gather around," Pax stated.

  They waited a few minutes for the cameras and reports to be in place. Pax let out a breath when he was ready. "We are investigating an explosion that happened here today at about six this morning. We have nothing significant to report at this time. The FBI was called in to assist CPD in this investigation, and we are investigating this together. It has our top priority. For right now, there is nothing to be worried about. We'll have another release for you later tonight."

  Bowing out of the release, Pax walked away. Morgan smiled as she followed, glad he hadn't allowed an opportunity for questions to be asked. Some of them still tried, but by the time they'd caught up with the abrupt end to Pax's release, they were already ten feet away and heading back toward the crime scene.

  Morgan turned to Wexford. "We've got people taking down names and contact information, so we can follow up with those we miss tomorrow."

  Wexford nodded. "Good. You'll also give me a copy of that, yes?"

  "Absolutely, Fiona. Whatever we have is yours just as I hope whatever you have is ours."

  Fiona gave her an odd look, and when Morgan raised a singular eyebrow in reaction, she finally got a response. "I don't think that's how it works when you liaison with the FBI. I'm pretty sure you are the ones who don't share information."

  "Guilty as charged," Morgan smirked. "I will give you all that you have requested thus far, how’s that?"

  "Better for honesty." Wexford caught sight of something, and when Morgan saw what it was, she noticed another detective beckoning Wexford. "My partner's got something for me."

  "Don't forget, Fiona, sharing goes both ways."

  "It does." Fiona reached out, her hand touching and then squeezing Morgan's forearm.