“I have to see if forensics could pull prints from that envelope I found under Missy’s closet.” Stella couldn’t imagine the money was Missy’s. So who was she hiding it for?

“Then what?”

“I’m not sure.” She checked the time. Seven-thirty. “I’m supposed to catch up with Brody and Lance at lunchtime. We have to review tips that come in on the hotline. I also have to pick up Gianna from dialysis and take her to the station to sign a statement. What about you?”

“I have an old contact that is very in tune with the local criminal scene,” Mac said.

“And?”

Mac shrugged. “I could take pictures of your suspects and see if anyone in his gang recognizes them. Plus, Freddie knows things.”

“A gang? That doesn’t sound safe.”

He lifted a palm. “Safe is relative. He already knows I’m in town.”

“These are those dangerous associates you talked about before.” Stella poked a finger in his chest. “Don’t think I’m letting you go there alone.”

“I can’t take Grant. He’s too important to the kids. They already lost one father. I won’t put him at risk.”

Discomfort stirred in Stella. “You aren’t any more expendable than your brother.”

“Maybe.”

Did he really think he was less valuable than his siblings?

She propped a hand on her hip. Under her irritation, fear slithered. She felt more for this man than she’d planned, knowing he was likely not going to stick around Scarlet Falls. Mac spent more time in South America than the US. If—when—he left, she would be heartbroken. But she couldn’t bear losing him to a drug dealer’s bullet. He’d gotten lucky in Brazil. How long could his good fortune hold out? “There’s no maybe about it. Your family needs you.”

I need you.

The words in her head stayed there. She wouldn’t guilt him into staying. It had to be his decision, but she wanted him to choose Scarlet Falls.

To choose her.

He stepped back, out of reach. “I’m used to working alone.”

“Get unused to it.” Stella headed for the car. “I’m going with you.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Like hell.” Mac grabbed Stella’s shoulder and spun her around. He would not put her at risk. “Freddie will smell cop on you in a second.”

Her chin went up and her eyes blazed. “I’m dressed down.”

He skimmed her jeans, T-shirt, and running shoes. Her black hair fell in waves past her shoulders. She didn’t need the pistol, badge, or handcuffs. She wore cop like a uniform. “It’s not the clothes.” It was her eyes. They were flat and sharp, not missing a thing. “It’s too dangerous.”

“You’re kidding, right.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“No.” Mac swallowed. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”