Diesel finally looked away from the crowd of people. He glanced at Stone, who appeared to be studying the blackjack table, but whose eyes were constantly roving. Looking. Watching. The man was a skilled journalist, having gone undercover for several dangerous assignments even before being embedded with troops in the Gulf. If it happened in a room, Stone O’Bannion saw it.

“You’re right,” Diesel murmured. He was too tense. Too angry. Too grim. If Brewer had been up to something, no one would tell him. “Hope I didn’t blow it.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Stone wriggled, sliding down in the seat, making himself comfortable. Seemed that he planned to stay awhile. “But never fear,” he added with overly bright sarcasm. “I’m here to help you. First thing, loosen that grip your jaws have on your teeth before they crumble into dust.”

Diesel glared, wanting to tell Stone to leave him alone. But Stone’s staying was probably not a bad idea, because Diesel hadn’t been aware that he was broadcasting rage. “I’m not good company,” he admitted, realizing now that he’d been in a state of furious agitation ever since leaving Dani’s house. Working his jaw back and forth to loosen it, he sighed. “Sorry in advance for anything I say or do that’s shitty.”

Stone shrugged shoulders nearly as wide as Diesel’s. “You sat with me when I was detoxing. I think you’ve seen me worse.”

That had been bad, Diesel had to agree. Stone had been trying to kick the heroin habit he’d developed once he’d returned from serving in the Gulf.

They all had their demons, he supposed, wondering if Stone, like Marcus, knew that Diesel’s zeal in catching pedophiles was personal. “Did Marcus tell you to come?”

“Yep. Said you made him promise to stay with Scarlett at Dani’s house, to help her keep them safe.” Stone snorted. “Like Scarlett needs any help with that. That lady cop is the baddest badass of us all, even preg—” Biting off the word, he gave Diesel a cautious side-eye. “Did Marcus mention anything special today?”

“That Scarlett is pregnant? Yeah. And she is the baddest of us all, even pregnant. But . . .” Diesel sighed. “What did Marcus tell you?”

“What you told him when he got to Dani’s house.” Stone glanced around them meaningfully. “And based on the dead pediatrician and all those bodies they’ve pulled from the river, I’d say you have a right to want all hands on deck over there.”

Diesel raised a brow. “How many hands were on deck?”

Stone shuddered. “Too many cops. Too many people, period. Kate and Decker, Scar and Marcus—that’s a cop and two Feds. Poor Marcus.”