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  Keep Violet alive.

  Violet locked the door behind Clay, feeling relieved to have him out of her home. But when she looked at the spot where the intruder had stood, she wished she hadn’t been so hasty sending Clay away. He offered security and a voice of reason. She regretted her outburst. Of course, she wasn’t thinking clearly.

  Having her home broken into had thrown her usual levelheaded composure into a tailspin. Clay’s insistence on turning her misfortune into a teaching moment had rubbed her already stretched nerves to the point of breaking.

  Peeved as she was at Clay, she knew he was right. Her inquiries about the mob could be her downfall if the Martino family found out. She needed to be careful.

  Violet rechecked her front and back doors to ensure they were locked. As an added precaution, she wedged a straight-back kitchen chair under each doorknob to provide another obstacle should tonight’s mystery guest return or Clay’s warning about the mob prove true.

  What had brought him to Missoula? Something more than her phone call the other night. The big guns in Chicago wouldn’t have sent Clay on a wild goose chase to Missoula if she hadn’t ruffled a few feathers in Illinois or stepped on someone’s toes.

  Her dark mood brightened. A knowing smile slipped across her lips. Score one for the home team.

  Not bad, Vi. Not bad at all.

  Officer O’Reilly had assured her tonight’s intruder wouldn’t be back, which was a relief. In addition, Clay’s warnings wouldn’t change her mind.

  The undercover cop from Chicago hadn’t scared her off. In fact, he’d made her more convinced than ever to continue the course she was on. She must have uncovered something that the cops and the Feds didn’t want exposed. This story about the mob could be bigger than even she had expected.

  Kicking off her heels, Violet settled into her desk chair and booted up her computer. She pulled up her e-mail and started a new message.

  Her cursor followed each keystroke as she typed in Gwyn’s address and Need more info as the subject line. In the message box, she typed, Tell me everything you know about Clay West.

  “Thank you, Clay,” she mumbled. “If it hadn’t been for you, I might have given up on this story about women killed by the mob.”

  But nothing, not even a handsome cop, would stop her now.

  Clay hustled down the dark street to where he’d parked his car. Sliding behind the wheel, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called Chicago.

  FBI Special Agent-in-Charge Jackson McGraw answered on the second ring.

  “Someone broke into the reporter’s home. I chased the guy a couple blocks but lost him.”

  “One of Martino’s guys?”

  “The cops suspect locals. They’ve had a number of recent petty crimes in the area.” Clay told Jackson about following the perpetrator, and the note Clay found when he left Violet’s house later that night. “Doubtful the mob would have left a warning message.

  But they may have alerted someone local to keep her under watch. If the guy’s being strong-armed to do the mob’s bidding, he may have thought scaring Violet off would work to his advantage.”

  “Which is exactly what we’re trying to do, as well.”

  “I drove home the point about her security issues. In fact, I conducted a little training exercise within the home as you requested.”

  Jackson chuckled. “Let me guess. Violet wasn’t impressed.”

  “Irritated would be a better word to use.”

  “You pushed hard, eh?”

  “Which seems to be my modus operandi.” Clay thought of the hot water he’d landed in recently. “I’m not convinced she’s willing to back off.”

  “Ms. Kramer has a history of charging headlong into situations without weighing the consequences. At least that’s what I picked up from a friend on the Chicago Gazette.”

  “I got the same story before I left town. Someone who works with the internship program filled me in. The woman knows no fear.”

  Clay thought of Violet standing in her living room. His presence had startled her, yet she’d recovered faster than most. Later, after the danger had passed and the cop had left, she’d pulled an extra layer of attitude around her slender shoulders. When that hadn’t worked, she’d let her temper get the best of her. Through it all, she’d put up a tough defense.

  “I’ve got a motel room for the night located near the highway coming into town. I’ll spend tonight watching her house in case the guy decides to come back.”

  Clay glanced at the modest but comfortable homes lining the street. “Tomorrow, I’ll look for a place closer in. If I stay a few days, I can keep an eye on her and find out what she knows. Remember the old adage about never underestimate the enemy?”

  “From the sound of your voice, I take it the woman got under your skin.”

  Clay straightened and squared his shoulders. “Absolutely not.”

  “Just make sure she understands the mob plays for keeps.”

  “Anything new on your end?” Clay asked.

  “We’ve had additional confirmation the two women’s deaths were tied with the Martino family. No news about Eloise. If we can’t trace her, I’m praying the mob can’t, either.”

  “I’d feel better if you knew she was safe,” Clay said.

  “Micah’s helping us.”

  “Convenient to have a brother who’s a Deputy U.S. Marshal in Montana.”

  Jackson chuckled again. “Unless sibling rivalry gets in the way.”

  Clay wouldn’t know. No siblings, no parents, no wife or ex-wife, for that matter. Family reunions were a one-man show.

  “Remember the baby Eloise gave up for adoption?” the agent asked.

  “Of course, I remember Kristin. You arranged for her to be adopted by a family named Perry. He was a lawyer from Billings.”

  Jackson was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was cold. “How do you know that information?”

  Clay let out a lungful of air. “Look, Jackson. Eloise was important to me. Like family. I wanted to ensure the child’s life wouldn’t be tainted by the mob. You did everything by the book.”

  “Hopefully the mob wasn’t as determined as you were to track her down.”

  “Hasn’t Kristin been safe all these years?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. But her adoptive parents died recently, and she’s trying to find her birth mother. Kristin paid Micah a visit not long ago.”

  Clay thought of Violet. “So another woman’s sticking her nose where she shouldn’t?”

  “Exactly. Micah told Kristin to go home and let the Marshals find Eloise.”

  “I hope Kristin’s not as headstrong as our friend the reporter.”

  “There’s another complication. The Billings newspaper ran an article on Mr. and Mrs. Perry, including a color photo of the family. Kristin looks like her mom, green eyes and all.”

  “You think the Martino family might see the article?”

  “Anything’s possible.”

  “What’s your brother say?”

  “Micah’s convinced the Marshals can find Eloise. Although his main interest recently has been another woman. Seems my dear brother’s fallen in love. You heard about Ruby Summers Maxwell?”

  “The woman in Witness Protection murdered last month?”

  “That’s right. Micah met her twin sister, Jade, while he was investigating the crime. One thing led to another. Now they’re talking marriage.”

  “Which should be good news. How come I hear frustration in your voice, Jackson?”

  When the FBI agent failed to respond, Clay filled in the blanks. “Has to do with Eloise, doesn’t it?”

  Jackson inhaled sharply. “She was long ago, Clay. A man has to move on.”

  “But you haven’t.”

  “I still think about her.”

  “Doubtful I could have survived the Southside Foster Home without Eloise. You would have thought I was her long-lost kid brother the way she showed me the ropes and made me feel include
d.”

  Not that Eloise hadn’t made her own mistakes. She’d given her heart to the wrong guy, gotten pregnant and ended up witnessing Salvatore Martino shoot two men in cold blood. One of the victims had been the father of her child. Jackson had been the rookie agent assigned to her case.

  Although he rarely talked about his feelings, Jackson had fallen in love with Eloise. His job demanded he place her in the Witness Protection Program, which meant he’d never see her again.

  “Keep me updated on your progress with Ms. Kramer,” Jackson said. “And watch your back. After what happened to Cameron Trimble, I’m sure you’re not on the Martino family’s list of favorite people. I wouldn’t want a supposed get-away trip to Missoula, Montana, to cost Chicago P.D. one of their finest officers.”

  Clay appreciated Jackson’s support. Especially when his future on the force still hung in the balance.

  “Thanks for going to bat for me.”

  “Cameron was a brazen punk who deserved what he got.”

  “Unfortunately, the inquiry board may not see it the way you do.”

  “They know you’ve been under a lot of pressure working undercover, Clay. Coming face-to-face with Trimble put you over the edge.”

  “A mistake I shouldn’t have made.”

  “The chief said a road trip would do you good. ‘Blow off steam’ were his exact words. That was after I explained the inquisitive Violet Kramer needed to be stopped. Since she called you the other night demanding information on the mob, you’re our go-to guy. Plus, you’ve got a history with her.”

  “We had a couple run-ins in Chicago, nothing more.”

  “Okay, but she knows you. That helps. Call me if you find out anything new. When people push hard there’s usually a reason.”

  Clay thought of Eloise, who had been forced into Witness Protection, and Sylvia, who had turned her back on their marriage. He had lost both of them, but that was the past, and he needed to focus on the present.

  Currently, his number-one priority was ensuring Violet Kramer didn’t get hurt. Maybe he needed to change tactics. If he worked with her, she might let down her guard and tell him what she knew about the Martino family and the Montana murders.

  Some duties were easier than others. Hopefully, getting close to the feisty Ms. Kramer would be a piece of cake.

  THREE

  Clay wasn’t as convinced as Officer O’Reilly had been about tonight’s perpetrator running scared. If the guy took orders from the mob, he’d be back. This time, Clay would be waiting.

  He parked down the street from Violet’s house where he had a full view of her property, including the garage in back of the house and a portion of the surrounding yard.

  Violet turned on the rear flood lighting before the house lights flipped off.

  “Sleep well, honey,” he whispered.

  The backyard was swathed in brightness, which should deter anyone approaching from the alley. The night was still, and the sound of a car engine would travel in the frigid air. Clay’s mind wandered as the hours passed. He thought back to the foster home and Eloise who had tried to talk him into accepting Christ into his life.

  He’d taken the first steps and had become somewhat comfortable dialoguing with the Man upstairs until Eloise’s situation had taken a negative spin. Didn’t take long for Clay to reconsider his opinion of the Lord.

  A few bad choices only compounded Clay’s feeling of alienation. Married too young and divorced before he knew what being a husband was all about added to his hesitancy to depend on anyone, even God.

  Now he faced at least two more weeks of probation until the board of inquiry made their decision. “Slam dunk,” most of the guys on the force had said, slapping his back and praising him for the way he’d handled Cameron.

  Not what they would have done, of course. But then none of them had an ex-wife who had been pimped and mainlined with heroin until she didn’t know the difference between right or wrong.

  Clay let out a frustrated breath.

  After all that had happened, Jackson’s request had surprised Clay almost as much as hearing Violet’s voice the other night. Hard to imagine the FBI would want him to pay the sassy reporter a visit and that Chicago P.D. would let Clay go. Of course, every law-enforcement officer in the Windy City knew Special Agent-in-Charge Jackson McGraw usually got what he wanted.

  Clay’s cell phone chirped. He flipped it open, read the caller ID and smiled. “I was just thinking about you.”

  Jackson chuckled.

  “What’s up?”

  “I contacted the local chief of police after your last call. His name’s Walter Howard. Wanted him to know you were in town.”

  “Did you mention Violet?”

  “He knows her. They’re from the same hometown. I told him we were concerned the Mafia might be spreading its muscle into his neck of the woods.”

  “Which probably caught his interest.”

  “He said he didn’t need or want any more trouble. Seems the local P.D. has a retention problem. Slots vacated by older officers who’ve retired haven’t been filled. Younger guys sign on for a few years then transfer to better-paying lines of work. He’s understaffed and worried.”

  “Sounds typical of a lot of areas of the country.”

  “Despite the low recruitment, the chief said to call if you need anything. He sounds competent. Don’t hesitate to contact him, Clay.”

  “What about the Martino family?”

  “More activity at their compound. Change is definitely in the air. Just wish we had a better handle on how it’ll go down.”

  “Might be time to put a task force together.”

  Jackson’s silence was telling.

  “Okay. I get the picture.” Clay smiled. “You’ve already got one in place, right?”

  “Just proves, we think alike. I haven’t mentioned it before, but there’s a safe house in the local area. Worst case scenario, of course. Just keep her safe. I don’t want another woman killed in Montana.”

  Clay flipped his cell closed, the gravity of Jackson’s statement hung heavy on his shoulders. Clay had a job to do no matter how attractive Ms. Kramer happened to be.

  The sound of a car engine caught his attention. Clay trained his eyes on the road ahead. Headlights approached from a distance.

  The car swerved as it rounded the corner. A late-model SUV. The vehicle made a large swath around Clay’s car then pulled to a stop at the far corner. The driver cut the engine.

  The door opened, and a man dropped to the pavement. Illuminated for a moment by the interior lighting, Clay made note of the guy’s jeans, dark sweatshirt zipped over his chest and a beanie pulled low over his hair. He appeared close in height to the man Clay had chased earlier. Could he be the same guy, returning to drive home the point he’d tried to make with Violet?

  The man eased the driver’s door closed then glanced at the row of houses, his gaze lingering longer on Violet’s home than the other modest dwellings on the street.

  Clay’s gut tightened.

  Beanie-man headed for the shadows. The guy was definitely up to no good.

  Clay grabbed his cell and placed a call to police headquarters. The dispatcher said she’d notify a cruiser in the area.

  Silent as a cat, Clay crawled from his car and grabbed the guy from behind.

  “What the—” the punk groaned. He jerked but couldn’t pull free from Clay’s grasp.

  He shoved him toward the street and slammed him against his car. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing, man.” He appeared to be about eighteen or nineteen.

  Clay tugged at his arms. “Don’t lie to me, kid. What’s your name and who are you working for?”

  “Jamie…my name’s Jamie Favor.” He shook his head. “I don’t work for no one.”

  A siren screamed in the distance. The sound grew louder. Flashing lights broke through the darkness as a cruiser turned on to the street and braked to a stop in front of Clay’s car. O’Reilly got out just as a
second police sedan approached from the opposite direction.

  “Hey, man, I didn’t do nothing wrong,” the punk moaned.

  “Did you plan to break into someone’s house?” Clay demanded. “Frighten someone? Steal a few valuables?”

  The kid shook his head. “No way.”

  “Got yourself a live one, eh, Clay?” Officer O’Reilly said as he neared.

  Clay nodded toward the SUV. “The kid parked down the block then headed this way. He hugged the houses, staying in the shadows.”

  “What are you doing, young man, this time of night?” O’Reilly asked.

  “Visiting my girlfriend.”

  “She lives on this street?” The Missoula cop feigned surprise.

  Jamie nodded. “I thought she did.”

  O’Reilly patted him down.

  “Look what I found.” He yanked an automatic from the punk’s waistband.

  “Ah, man,” the punk lowered his head.

  Pulling out handcuffs, the officer rattled off Jamie’s Miranda rights then clicked the cuffs in place. “Let’s get you down to headquarters, Jamie, and see what else you might want to tell us.” O’Reilly passed the kid on to the second officer who herded Jamie into the backseat of the cop car.

  Clay slapped O’Reilly’s shoulder. “Thanks for getting here so fast.”

  “No problem. You think he’s the guy who broke into 518 earlier?”

  Clay followed the cop’s gaze to Violet’s house. “Hard to tell. Instinct tells me that first guy was bigger, but I didn’t get close enough to know for sure. Find out if Jamie has ties with anyone in Chicago. The Mafia’s caused some problems in Montana. The FBI suspects they’re interested in someone in-state.”

  O’Reilly pursed his lips. “And the reporter? How’s she play into the mix?”

  “Ms. Kramer’s a bit more inquisitive than she should be for her own good. The mob doesn’t like anyone on their heels. She’s gotten a little too close.”

  “I’ll have the guys on patrol keep watch on this neighborhood. There’s been rumor of someone dealing drugs a block over. Jamie may have been heading that way. If he talks, we may be able to close down the operation. Appreciate the help you provided tonight.”