“I’ll say that he’s with my mother.”

“And where will I be?”

“In the box.”

“Now tell me what will happen if you say a word that makes the cops suspicious.”

“My . . . baby . . .” She faltered.

“Say it.”

She closed her eyes. “Dies.”

“Very good, Evelyn. Now go.”

He waved her toward the door to the house and climbed behind the hollow box, taking care not to topple the stack he’d so artfully arranged. Grimacing, he lowered himself to the floor and slid into the hollow box from its open back. For his part, Junior remained quiet, and Cade held his breath that the baby would continue to cooperate.

He didn’t like this. He didn’t like having no way out. But it could work. He really hoped it did work. He really hoped Evelyn was a good actress, because he really didn’t want to kill the baby.

Cincinnati, Ohio
Monday, March 18, 6:20 a.m.

Dani paced the length of the safe house’s living room with its tall windows that would provide the most amazing views of the river when the sun came up. Which was going to be soon. She’d visited this luxurious penthouse condo several times in the past when she’d cared for her friends who’d hidden here. With one entrance and a dedicated elevator that now had a twenty-four-hour Cincinnati PD guard, its security was top-notch. As amenities went, it offered everything anyone could want.

If one had to hide, it didn’t hurt to have to do it here.

But the boys weren’t here yet and she became more worried with every minute that ticked by.

“Dani, honey, relax,” Diesel rumbled from behind her.

His big hands lifted to rest on her shoulders and it felt like the only thing keeping her contained within her own skin. “I can’t. What’s taking Deacon so long getting them here?”

“He’s being careful. They have standard operating procedures for transporting witnesses so that they’re not followed. You told me this yourself.”

“That was before he was more than two hours late without calling us.”

He leaned in to kiss the side of her neck. “You were so calm when you were saving Stone’s life. What’s all this about?”

She turned into his arms, exhaling when they wrapped around her, holding her tight. “I think it’s all finally hitting me. Scott King tried to burn down my house. Stone’s in ICU, Decker needed thirty-two stitches for shrapnel wounds because King blew up his own SUV . . . And the boys are out there somewhere and I don’t know where.”

He stroked her hair. “You want me to say something to make you feel better or just listen to you decompress?”

The chuckle that bubbled from her throat shouldn’t have surprised her. This man was adept at making her laugh when everything looked bleak. “You did just make me feel better, so thank you.”