Oh, man, she was a mess.

  Thankfully, Ian strode across the room, taking her full attention. He wore dark jeans and a pressed button-down shirt. His expression was tight, his eyes narrowed.

  Uh-oh. Not good. “Something wrong?”

  “No. The lineup is ready. Since you’ve witnessed lineups before, you know the procedure.”

  “I do, and I know you can’t be there so you can’t potentially transmit which man is the suspect.” She stood. “Let’s get to it.”

  He spun and led her across the room. She felt the inquisitive gazes of detectives following her. As an attorney, she’d interacted with many of them, and maybe they were making up stories in their heads about why she was there. She’d be doing that, anyway, and detectives were naturally curious and observant.

  Ian took her down a long hallway to the end and opened the door. Inside stood attorney Renaldo Peoples, who was known for representing career criminals. He was high priced and Snipes likely couldn’t afford Peoples. Olivo was probably footing the bill to get his guy out.

  A black opaque window filled one wall. She knew after Ian left the room, the officer would turn out the lights on her side of the window, and another officer would turn on lights in the room where the suspects would appear. Though she knew that Snipes might not be in this lineup, in her gut she knew she would likely come face-to-face with the man who’d shot Junior.

  “Ms. Rice.” Peoples held out his hand. “Good to see you again.”

  She shook his hand that was warm and plump, and for some reason, she thought it fit the man who did things in excess in court, often receiving the judge’s censure.

  Ian read her the rules of the lineup, and she signed the statement, as did Ian, the officer, and Peoples.

  “I’ll see you after the lineup is complete.” Ian stepped to the door and closed it behind him.

  The officer looked at her. “This will be a visual and voice lineup. Each person will enter one at a time and be wearing a black ski mask. Each one will also say, ‘You messed with the wrong person.’ Each person will also be holding a number.” His gaze slid to Peoples, and he asked them both, “Any questions?”

  He got shakes of heads in response, and he flicked off the light.

  The room on the other side lit up on the far side of the glass, and she heard another officer say, “Number one, step into the room. Turn and face the glass and say, ‘You messed with the wrong person.”

  He did so, and she watched for the swagger as he walked in. Listened for the tone of voice. Looked for a birthmark. Not him. She was sure. The officer had the next two guys do the same, and neither of them were right either. Number four was called into the room, and he strutted over to the mirror. Yes! That was the swagger she’d seen. A cocky self-importance in his walk. He uttered the words.

  She gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth as she stepped back. She didn’t mean to react, but with his voice and walk, she was instantly transported back to that ballroom. The gunshots going off. Junior collapsing. Death. Sudden death beside her. The man held up his number, and she caught a glimpse of a heart-shaped birthmark on his hand.

  “All right, number four, you’re all set,” the officer in the suspect room said. The man walked out.

  Number four. Snipes. She knew it was him. Malone wanted to look at the officer and share her assessment, but she shouldn’t. Not with Peoples watching her every move. He would interpret her look all wrong. He’d think the officer somehow led her to know that number four was Snipes. She wouldn’t botch the line-up.

  Numbers five and six went through the same drill. She watched, but they weren’t the shooter.

  After all the men had filed through the room, Malone turned to the officer. “It’s number four.”

  His expression was blank. He had no idea which guy was the actual suspect. “Without using a numerical scale, how certain are you?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  “Do you need to see any of the men again?” he asked.

  “I’m absolutely positive it’s number four,” she said firmly.

  The officer flicked on the light switch, and the window went black.

  Peoples’s only reaction was a twitch of his jaw. “I’d like to speak with my client now.”

  “I’ll see you out,” the officer said to Peoples, who muttered something under his breath.

  Peoples flashed Malone an irritated glare. Looks like she’d been right.

  When Peoples was gone, Ian stepped into the room. “Ready to go?”

  “I know you can’t tell me if I was right, but I know I was.” She smiled at him.

  He held her gaze, transmitting the same deep emotions that had filled his eyes the night before when he’d kissed her. She wanted to rush over to him and repeat the kiss—never let it end. But this wasn’t the time.

  “If that’s all, the guys are waiting to take me home,” she said.

  “I got the files from the gangland shooting and Junior’s phone records from Londyn. I thought we could go through them together.”

  “Sure, but not here, okay? I feel like all your fellow detectives are staring at me.”

  “I would be if I were them.” He grinned.

  “It’s not that.” She chuckled, the laugh out of place, all things considered. “Honestly, I think they’re mentally measuring me for prison garb.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m serious. I feel like they’re trying to figure out if I committed murder.”

  “Detectives can imagine all kinds of things.” He rested a hand on the doorknob. “We can work at your place or mine, if that’s better.”

  “Mine. That way the Byrds don’t have to do another risk assessment.”

  Ian opened the door and stepped back so she could exit. “I am most impressed with their thoroughness.”

  She passed him and had to force her feet to keep going. “I’ve always recommended the Nighthawk agency, but now that I’ve experienced their services, I can really personally attest to their abilities.”

  “As an observer, I can too,” he said as he caught up to her from behind. “By the way, if your jail appearance says anything, you could pull off that prison garb quite well. The pale blue looks striking with your coloring.”

  He grinned, and the smile warmed the cold places in her heart left after seeing Snipes in person.

  Ian picked up the files on his desk and directed her to the exit. He stayed close to her side, much closer than he needed to while in the secure building.

  The elevator doors opened, and Londyn stepped out.

  Ian held up his stack of folders. “We’ll be reviewing the phone logs you highlighted. I’ll get back to you.”

  “You got it,” she said. “And I’ll keep working on finding contact info for Detective Wisniewski. His driver’s license address isn’t valid anymore. Looks like he dropped off the radar.”

  Ian’s forehead wrinkled. “Let me know what you find the minute you do.”

  “Will do.” Londyn headed back to the bullpen.

  “I sure hope she can find him,” Malone said as she boarded the elevator.

  “She will.” Two words, but they held certainty.

  The doors closed, and she faced Ian. “Sounds like you really respect her.”

  “This’s the first time I’ve worked with her, but she has a great reputation in the department. The way you can now vouch for the Nighthawk guys, I can vouch for her.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence. Malone really wanted to ask what he was thinking about, but if his mind traveled in the same direction as hers, he was thinking about how private this space was and wondering if they could experience a quick kiss before hitting the ground floor. She couldn’t keep thinking this way. Her best bet was to not be alone with him in confined spaces.

  The moment the doors opened, she bolted out and almost raced past Clay at the front door.

  “Hold up.” Clay stepped in front of her. “I need to notify my brothers that you’re ready to go.”

  He leaned into his mic and shared the information, then listened for a moment. “Okay. We’re clear. Straight—”

  “Into the SUV,” she interrupted. “No stopping or distractions.”

  “You got it.” Clay took her elbow and walked her out.

  Brendan waited midway to the vehicle, and Aiden sat in the driver’s seat. Exactly like she expected, and she slid into the back seat with no issues.

  Ian leaned into the vehicle. “I’ll see you there.”

  She’d been looking forward to the drive to sit near him. Inhale his unique scent. Sneak glances at his strong profile. Maybe press her leg against his, making it seem accidental, of course.

  Ah, no. No. She’d gone and fallen for him. Or was she still remembering the guy she’d had a crush on? Was she focusing on the past with him like she was doing with her parents? If so, how could she know?

  She leaned back and pondered their time together. She was much more mature now. Not experienced with guys, though. Could she know her feelings? She’d gone beyond his physical appearance to get to know the man inside. The kind and companionate man. The man who put others first and worked tirelessly for the weak. A man who knew himself well, even if she didn’t like the conclusion he’d come to about his potential for a relationship.

  When they reached her house, she was surprised that Ian was parked on the street already. He slipped out of his vehicle and came around the back of the SUV to open her door.

  “Please keep the door closed while the guys check the house out,” Aiden said.

  Ian slid in and closed the door behind him. He could’ve stayed outside, but she was thrilled that he chose to sit next to her. She felt like a giddy schoolgirl all over again.

  Clay and Brendan got out of the vehicle. Brendan stood by the SUV and continuously scanned the area while Clay headed up the sidewalk. Near the front door, he came to a sudden stop and halted his approach to the door. He dug his phone from his pocket, and it looked like he took a picture of something then raced back to the SUV, signaling for Brendan to join him inside the vehicle.

  “Package on the doorstep.” Clay’s expression, when he looked her way, kicked her pulse into high gear. “Your first name only, written in marker, and the word urgent scrawled below it.”

  He held out his phone and let everyone look at his photo of the package.

  “Only one thing to do,” Ian said, his eyes narrowing. “Evacuate the area and call the bomb squad.”

  Malone was stunned into silence and could only stare out her window at the house.

  “We’re going to fall back.” Aiden revved the engine. “This vehicle might be reinforced, but it can’t withstand a bomb.”

  “Make it, at least, a hundred feet,” Ian said, moving closer to her. “I’ll call it in while you guys go door to door and warn the neighbors.”

  Aiden floored the gas, and the SUV catapulted out of the drive and onto the street. He kicked it into drive, and they roared up the road.

  Malone’s heart rate ratcheted up even more, and she clenched her hands, wishing she could do something besides just stay put and remain calm. And if she couldn’t maintain her calm, fake it so she didn’t distract the guys from doing what they’d obviously been trained to do.

  “We’ll evacuate your neighbors.” Aiden and Brendan bolted from the vehicle.

  Ian spoke into his phone. “This is Detective Ian Blair.” He gave his badge number. “A suspicious package was left at the home of a person we’re protecting in a murder investigation. I need MEDU to check it out.”

  Metro Explosives Disposal Unit. She’d worked with them when she’d had to report a husband who’d sent a suspicious package to his estranged wife.

  Ian listened, his gaze focused outside, glancing around to take in the neighborhood. He suddenly launched into recounting the situation to dispatch and sharing Malone’s name and address.

  Her address. Really? Being said in conjunction with a potential bomb. Unbelievable.

  “Thank you,” Ian said. “I won’t be holding while you make the arrangements. I need to notify my department.”

  He glanced at Malone. “Squad will be on the way as soon as they can muster.”

  “Good,” she said, the one word holding all of her stress. She didn’t want to give Ian more to worry about, so she blew out a breath. “Thank you for remaining so calm and managing the situation.”

  Ian gave a sharp nod and looked over the neighborhood with the eyes of a professional law enforcement officer. She was seeing people she was just getting to know exit their homes. On one side of her home, the Toulanes’s Jeep sat in their driveway. On the other side, Sandy and Mike’s minivan was parked on the street, as usual, so their preschoolers could ride their trikes in the driveway. Across the street, it looked like Beatrice and Hank weren’t home.

  Brendan and Aiden were approaching the front doors while Ian phoned his lieutenant. She watched the brothers talk to the people she was causing to fear and panic. Maybe needlessly.

  When Ian ended his call, she looked at him.

  “What if this is nothing?” she asked. “We’ll have scared everyone for no reason.”

  “Not no reason.” He shoved his phone into his pocket. “The package has to be checked out.”

  “Do you really think someone sent me a bomb?”

  He lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “We always have to look at worst-case scenarios.”

  “So the squad will come out for nothing.”

  “They all understand that’s a possibility, and even if they don’t find anything, it’ll be a good training exercise for them.”

  “I suppose.” She watched her neighbors get in their cars and drive off. She wished she could talk to them. Reassure them. But the Byrds and Ian would never let her out of the vehicle. And even if they did, what could she say to calm their fears when there might be a bomb sitting on her stoop.

  She sat quietly, Ian at her side, watching the commotion until Aiden and Brendan slid back into the SUV, their expressions guarded. No one spoke.

  She couldn’t stand the silence. “What happens now?”

  Ian met her gaze and held it. “Now we wait.”

  Which they did. For nearly thirty minutes. During that time, patrol cars arrived and cordoned off the street. Ian got out to meet the patrol officers, and he remained with them until the bomb squad arrived in a van. Soon, two MEDU officers scrambled around to the back of their vehicle and flung open the doors.

  They stepped into huge ugly green suits that reminded her of Teletubbies. “They have such a dangerous job.”

  Brendan turned from his spot in the passenger seat. “The suits have rigid ballistic panels covered in flame-resistant Nomex. Plus body-protecting Kevlar. They’re well-protected.”

  “How do you know the details?” she asked.

  “I planned to try out for the squad,” he said, longing in his voice.

  Aiden looked at his brother. “But I botched that for you.”

  “Nah. It was Dad’s transplant that changed my career path, but I get to do far more in my current position than I ever would’ve on patrol.”

  “And you get to work with your brothers.” From beside her, Clay cast a wry smile at his brother.

  “I thought we were talking about positives.” Brendan laughed, and his brothers joined in.

  Malone loved how they could joke with each other, even in such a situation. Could she work with Reed and be this fun-loving? They were both pretty serious type-A people. Wouldn’t likely work. Better to remain brother and sister only.

  A guy dressed in black tactical pants and a black polo shirt with the squad logo on the chest jumped out of the driver’s seat of MEDU’s van and started shouting so loudly that she could hear his commands through the SUV’s thick glass.

  “That’s the team leader, Sergeant Charlie Zamsky, yelling out orders,” Brendan said. “He served on an explosive ordnance disposal team in the army, and of course he graduated from the FBI’s Hazardous Devices School.”

  “Of course?” Malone asked.

  “All certified bomb techs are required to graduate from the school.”

  She hadn’t known. When she’d seen the squad in action the last time, she didn’t have Brendan or anyone else to give her play-by-play information.

  Ian joined Zamsky, and they had a quick conversation before Zamsky took out what looked like a nearly indestructible laptop and placed it on the hood of his vehicle. A large silver robot came rolling down a ramp from the back of the van and rolled toward her front door. Two arms protruded out front with long pincers acting as hands ready to seek out the package.

  “Zamsky uses that computer to maneuver the robot,” Brendan said. “He’ll start by taking an initial X-ray of the suspicious package. If the X-ray proves the item isn’t explosive, he’ll give us an all clear.”

  The robot slowly approached the brown box.

  “He’s taking that X-ray now,” Brendan said.

  Zamsky looked at his computer screen then looked up to Ian and said something. Ian’s shoulders relaxed.

  “Looks like it’s not a bomb,” Aiden said. “Hope Ian can get the X-ray forwarded to his phone so we can see what the box does contain.”

  Zamsky brought the package back with the robot and took if from the arms. He put it in a large plastic bag and tapped the corner of the package on the hood of his vehicle.

  “What’s he doing?” Malone asked.

  “By tapping the box, he’s gathering any suspicious powder inside into a quantity that will show up on an X-ray.”

  “Suspicious powder, like anthrax,” Clay added.

  “Glad they’re checking,” she said. “I once got a letter from an irate husband that we worried was something bad, but it turned out to be baking soda.”

  Zamsky took the package, set it on the ground, and adjusted the robot.

  “He’s taking another X-ray,” Brendan said. “The machine they use can give amazing detail on the box’s contents.”