“Two years.” And from his expression, those had been very difficult years.

“And you met someone from the Chicos?”

He nodded again. “They didn’t call themselves that then. They were still Yanjingshe. Going by ‘Chicos’ was a smart move on the new leadership’s part. They were a supplier to the organization where I was embedded. This was before the big raids.”

“Agent Croft told me about them. She also said the management had changed.”

“True. Many of the lower-level guys moved up to take over when the bosses were hauled in by the Feds. The lower-level guys would have been the guys we worked with, so . . .”

Tom felt a small spurt of hope. “Excellent. Croft is checking with tattoo artists. If she can track the one who did their tats and they point us to DJ’s fellow gang members, maybe you can do an ID from a photo array.”

Rafe’s expression went wry. “I get to be a civilian witness. Oh goody.”

Tom winced. Rafe was on DB from the police force because of an injury he’d sustained months before. Last he’d heard, Rafe’s return to the force wasn’t a given. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” Rafe interrupted firmly. “I didn’t take offense. Seriously. It’ll just be weird, being on the other side of the process.”

Tom thought about Tory. He hadn’t been interviewed by the cops when she’d been killed, because no one knew they were a thing. He hadn’t come forward, either. He’d tracked down her killer on his own. And . . . well, he wasn’t proud of the outcome, but the asshole was dead, and that was what was really important. The monster would never hurt another innocent woman.

“Yo. Hunter.”

Tom blinked, suddenly aware that Rafe was snapping his fingers. “Sorry.”

“Where did you go?”

“Somewhere I don’t like to talk about.”

Rafe lifted his brows. “Fair enough. Anyway, I’m happy to help you take down some of those Chicos bastards if I can. Full disclosure—it’s personal for me.”

Tom sat on a stool, leaning an elbow on the counter. “How so?”

Rafe’s expression was a combination of grim determination and banked sadness. “You once told me that you left the NBA for the FBI because you lost someone. That you’d always planned to make the change, but that the loss spurred you.”

Tom remembered the conversation. It was the first time he’d met the Sokolov clan, the first time Irina had sent him home with cake and a motherly hug, making him miss his own mother so much that he’d called her as soon as he’d gotten to his car. “You said you’d also lost someone, that that was why you moved from Gangs to Homicide.”

Rafe’s nod was sober. “You told me not to do anything that would get me into trouble with Molina, but then you said that you’d have done anything to protect your fiancée. I figured that’s who you lost. Am I right?”

Tom’s throat tightened, making it hard to force the words out. “Yeah.”