“What the hell are you doing?” Hawkins demanded of his partner.

Crispin shoved the guard. “You did that deliberately. You grabbed my gun.”

“I didn’t,” the guard shouted back.

Brice shoved both of them to the side and dropped down beside the body to check for a pulse. It seemed silly, given the bullet holes in him, but it was ingrained in the man and he did it automatically.

“I want more guards on Mitya,” Alonzo snapped. “Get it done.” His gaze moved over Crispin and the guard and then went to Timur’s face in a silent command. One or all of the cops were involved in the conspiracy to kill Alonzo. They’d put Evangeline in the line of fire twice now. He was done playing nice. He was done abiding by Elijah and Drake’s rules. He wasn’t waiting for them to figure out who was behind the hit, he was going to fall back on his training—and he had a lot of training.

Timur handed his weapon over to Brice, as did Alonzo. Neither said a word. That was what attorneys were for. The doctor gave her rendition of what had happened while she bent protectively over Evangeline and checked her carefully. She spoke calmly and concisely, an eyewitness, clearing both Timur and Alonzo of anything but self-defense and saving Evangeline.

“He wasn’t able to get the shot into the IV. We walked in on him just in time,” she pronounced. She pointed to the syringe on the floor.

Brice was careful when he picked it up, marking where it lay before lifting it to his nose. He jerked it away from his face fast. “Smells like almonds.” He looked from Alonzo to the body on the floor. “That’s twice now you’ve nearly gotten her killed.”

Alonzo pinned him with a cold stare. “You want to tell me why the police response was so slow getting to the bakery? The helicopter got there before the cops did. You have that place on your radar. The minute shots were fired the police should have been all over it.”

Brice opened his mouth, closed it and shook his head.

“I’m having my patient moved,” the doctor declared. “And I want tight security around her at all times.”

“I’ll provide the security for her,” Alonzo said. “She’s my fiancée. My responsibility. I don’t trust anyone at this point.” Deliberately he swept his cold gaze to include the guard involved in the collision with Crispin.

Crispin flushed. “What the hell are you implying?”

“Crispin.” Brice’s tone was warning. Every time a police officer fired a weapon, there was a review. No doubt because this shooting involved suspected mobsters, it would require an extensive internal investigation. Brice was warning his fellow cop not to say a word.