“But it wasn’t.” She knew that as surely as she knew it was a miracle Zeke had survived the ambush.

“We agree—and so does the DEA. But we’re both going to pretend we think it could have been. Because the pieces don’t quite fit.”

Cate forced herself to think through that comment—and came to the same conclusion.

If the local distribution organization knew who Zeke was, the smart response would have been to find a new location for deliveries. Killing him served no purpose—and could put the ring under more intense scrutiny.

“You’re thinking someone knows his real identity, but this hit may not have been ordered by the organization under investigation.”

“It’s possible.”

“Who else would want him dead?”

“Lots of people, according to Sloan. They’re working hard to get an ID on the subject—starting with the security footage at the garage.”

“Even if the organization under investigation wasn’t involved, they’ll hear about this. It could spook them.”

“Also possible. For the immediate future, though, he’ll continue to play his role while they assess strategy. Try to keep the other side off-balance, wondering how much we know. But he wanted you in the loop sooner rather than later.”

“I appreciate that. Are we still on for the weekend?”

“Yes. See you tomorrow night.”

They said their goodbyes, and Cate exhaled. Tried to stop shaking.

This game was becoming deadlier by the day.

First an attack on her, now an attempt on Zeke’s life.

Were the two connected?

And if they were, did that mean her cover had also been blown?

Her head began to pound as she reentered the hall.

Man, she could use a long vacation to recuperate and get back in fighting form.

But she’d have to make do with the weekend break.

One thing for certain—they had to get their arms around all the moving parts in the two cases ASAP.

Because if the investigations dragged on much longer, someone could die.

Either Razor or Fischer was calling.

His money was on his number two man. Fischer never initiated conversations.

Wolf skimmed the screen, verified his assumption, and put the phone to his ear.

“We’ve got more trouble.”

At Razor’s greeting, he squeezed the phone. “These kinds of conversations are getting old.”

“I hear you. I’m not happy about this either.”

Silence.

Wolf’s stomach began to churn. If Razor was hesitant to spill the news, it must be bad.

Worse than discovering they had a Fed on their tail.

“Just spit it out. Badness only festers unless it’s dealt with.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“I already figured that out.” He braced. “Tell me.”

Razor complied, in a few brief but world-rocking sentences.