“The boys are with Troy.” Diesel clenched his teeth because it hurt, dammit. “Tell them that we’re okay and we’ll be home soon.”

Adam grabbed his hand and held it tight, absorbing the pain when Diesel crushed his fingers. “I will. Don’t worry.”

Diesel wasn’t worried. Not about his little family. But they weren’t done yet. Kaiser still had hostages. “How’s Dani doing over there?”

Adam looked grim. “She’s saving the bastard’s life.”

Diesel knew it was necessary. Still . . . “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “That about sums it up.”

Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday, March 19, 7:55 p.m.

“Thank you,” Grant said, accepting the mortician’s card. “I appreciate you staying open late to help me with my brother’s . . . arrangements.”

Wesley’s cremation.

“We’re happy to be of service,” the mortician said. “And we are very sorry for your family’s loss.”

Grant jerked a nod. He’d heard that phrase several times today. Everyone from the Cincinnati PD to the medical examiner to Wesley’s boss in Cleveland. Of course, the Cleveland commander over the narcotics division had a lot more to say than that.

There were lots of questions about Wesley’s possession of a brick of heroin and five hundred grand in cash. So many questions that Grant’s head ached. He supposed he was lucky that he wasn’t being arrested for conspiracy or aiding and abetting a felony.

“We’ll call you when his remains are prepared for pickup,” the mortician was saying, and Grant realized he’d been standing there staring into space.

“I’m sorry. My mind wandered.”

The mortician smiled kindly. “Perfectly normal. Please take care.”

Nodding numbly, Grant left the mortician’s office and made his way to the front of the funeral home. Then paused when a lively conversation between two employees stopped the moment he saw them.

He frowned. “What?” he asked, because the two men were staring at him.

“Um . . . nothing,” one of them said.

The other shot his coworker a disapproving look. “We just saw that Cade Kaiser has been apprehended. We thought that seeing as he was responsible for your loss, maybe you’d like to know.”

Grant grabbed onto a support column, feeling light-headed. “They caught him? When? Where?”

“An hour ago. He’d taken some hostages in the free clinic in Over-the-Rhine.”

Grant’s blood went cold. “The free clinic?” That was Dani Novak’s clinic. He’d read up on her when he’d woken this morning, wanting to know about the woman who’d been so kind when she hadn’t had to be.

He’d read up on Diesel, too. They were good people. “Was anyone hurt?”

Both men hesitated. “There are reports of several injuries,” the second man said. “They’re keeping pretty quiet on the details.”

“Thank you,” Grant said and hurried out, dialing Dani Novak’s cell phone number as he ran to his car.

“Hello?” Dani answered. “Grant?”