“You’re kidding!” Oliver’s eyes sparkled. Tess knew that he’d been worried about the Coopers’ finances. Twenty-five thousand dollars would go a long way to help.

“Yeah, he wrote up a memo that just about made Janie sound like Superwoman, helping end a prolific poaching career. They should get the check soon.”

“That will truly be a blessing to that family.”

“You know, I would have said they didn’t have a chance.”

“I know.”

“And . . . I’ve kinda thought that about us from time to time. My friend Jeannie doesn’t think we’re a good match.”

“Yeah? Well, according to Don Cherry, we’re oil and water.”

“Really? Both sides of the spectrum count us out?”

Oliver nodded, then pulled Tess close. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“No, what?”

“We’re just going to have to prove them wrong.”

She stood on her tiptoes, and he bent over and pressed his lips to hers.

When the kiss ended and he released Tess just a bit, she smiled, holding his warm, stormy-gray eyes, and said, “Piece of cake.”

1

LONG BEACH, CALIFORNIA

FEBRUARY

“999! 999—” Click. The voice cut off.

Commander Tess O’Rourke was halfway to the station when the emergency call exploded from the radio. The frantic transmission punched like a physical blow. A triple 9—officer needs help—was only used when an officer was in the direst emergency.

Adrenaline blasted all the cobwebs from Tess’s brain. Dispatch identified the unit as 2-Adam-9, JT Barnes, but had no luck getting the officer back on the air.

She was early, hadn’t been able to sleep. Seven months since Paul left and she still wasn’t used to sleeping alone. After a fitful four-hour nap on the recliner in the living room, she’d given up, showered, and decided to head into work early in predawn darkness, at the same time all hell broke loose.

Tess tried to get on the radio to advise that she was practically on top of the call and would assist, but the click and static of too many units vying for airtime kept her from it. Pressing the accelerator, Tess steered toward Barnes’s last known location.

A flashing police light bar illuminating the darkness just off Stearns caught her eye. She turned toward the lights onto a side street, and a jolt of fear bit hard at the sight of a black-and-white stopped in the middle of the street, driver’s door open and no officer beside it. It was an area near the college, dense with apartment buildings and condos, cars lining both sides of the street.

She screeched to a stop and jammed her car into park as the dispatcher wrestled to get order back on the air.

Tess keyed her mike. Voice tight, eyes scanning. “Edward-7 is on scene, will advise” was her terse remark to the dispatcher.