Three days had passed since the threat, and Sarah felt like she was living with a target painted on her back. Every shadow seemed to harbor danger, every stranger's glance felt loaded with menace. She'd tripled her usual security measures varied her routes to work, checked her car for tracking devices, even started carrying a backup weapon. But the paranoia was eating at her from the inside.
Agent Chen had predictably dismissed the threat as a standard intimidation tactic, insisting that federal protection wasn't warranted for what he called "routine criminal posturing." He'd also made good on his promise to exclude Alex from the official investigation, citing conflict of interest and civilian safety concerns. What Chen didn't know was that Sarah had no intention of letting Alex walk away not when both their lives were on the line.
The coffee shop on Fifth Street was deliberately public, deliberately normal. Sarah arrived first, choosing a corner table with clear sight lines to all exits. Old habits from her patrol days, reinforced by recent events that had her questioning everyone and everything. She ordered her usual black coffee, no sugar and tried to look like any other professional grabbing caffeine before work.
Alex slid into the seat across from her exactly on time, his dark eyes scanning the room before settling on her face. He looked tired, she noticed the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from sleeping with one eye open and a gun under your pillow.
"You're being followed," he said without preamble, his voice low enough that nearby patrons couldn't overhear.
"I know." Sarah took a sip of her coffee, using the motion to casually survey the room. "Gray sedan, two men. They picked me up three blocks from my apartment."
"Different car than yesterday's black SUV?"
"Different everything. They're rotating teams, vehicles, probably even methods. This isn't some street-level operation, Alex. These people have resources."
Alex's jaw tightened. "Which is exactly why you should let the feds handle it."
Sarah leaned forward, her voice sharp with frustration. "The feds don't give a damn about solving this case. Chen's more interested in building his career than protecting potential victims. He's treating Victoria Ashford like a statistic instead of a person who died because she was trying to do the right thing."
"And you're treating yourself like you're bulletproof instead of someone who's been marked for death." Alex's hand moved across the small table, not quite touching hers but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his skin. "Sarah, I can't lose you. Not when we've barely figured out what this is between us."
The raw honesty in his voice made her chest tighten. They hadn't talked about what happened that night the intensity, the way they'd fit together like two pieces of a puzzle that had been searching for each other. They'd been too busy staying alive to examine the feelings that had been building between them for weeks.
"You're not going to lose me," she said firmly. "But I need you to promise me something. If this goes south, if something happens to me, you don't try to be a hero. You disappear. These people have already shown they'll kill anyone who gets in their way."
"That's not happening."
"Alex"
"No." His voice carried the kind of finality that brooked no argument. "We're partners, Sarah. In this case, in whatever's happening between us, in everything. Partners don't abandon each other when things get dangerous."
She wanted to argue, to protect him the way her instincts demanded, but she could see the steel in his eyes. Alex Russo wasn't the kind of man who ran from a fight, especially not when someone he cared about was in danger. It was one of the things that had drawn her to him that unwavering loyalty, that willingness to stand and face whatever came.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Partners. But we do this smart. No unnecessary risks, no cowboy heroics."
"Agreed." Alex's mouth curved in a ghost of a smile. "Though your definition of unnecessary risks might be different from mine."
Before Sarah could respond, her phone buzzed. The number was blocked, but she recognized the pattern from the previous threats. Her blood chilled as she read the message aloud in a whisper.
"The detective likes her coffee black, no sugar. Her private investigator friend prefers his with cream. Such intimate knowledge requires closer observation than you might think."
Alex went rigid, his gaze snapping to the windows, the other patrons, the baristas behind the counter. "They're watching us right now."
Sarah forced herself to remain calm, to not give away that they'd received the message. "Bathroom," she murmured. "Two minutes."
They stood casually, Alex heading toward the men's room while Sarah made her way to the ladies'. The small hallway that led to the restrooms was empty, providing a moment of relative privacy.
"This is escalating too fast," Alex said in a low voice. "They want us to know they can get to us anywhere, anytime."
"It's psychological warfare," Sarah agreed. "They're trying to make us paranoid, distracted. The question is why. If they wanted us dead, we'd already be dead."
"Unless they need something from us first."
Sarah's phone buzzed again. This time, the message contained an address and a time: "Pier 23, midnight. Come alone, both of you. Bring the Martinez files. This is your only chance to save the next girl."
"They know about the files," Alex said grimly. The Martinez case files contained everything they'd learned about the human trafficking operation names, locations, financial records. Information that could either help them solve the case or get them killed.
"Those files are evidence in a federal investigation now," Sarah pointed out. "Chen has them locked up tighter than Fort Knox."
"Then we'd better figure out how to unlock Fort Knox," Alex replied. "Because if there's another girl out there, another victim waiting to end up like Maria Martinez and Victoria Ashford, we can't let that happen."
Sarah studied his face the determined set of his jaw, the way his hands had unconsciously clenched into fists. Alex had been personally affected by the Martinez case in ways he'd never fully explained. She'd seen the pain in his eyes when they'd found Maria's body, the barely controlled rage when they'd arrested her killer. There was a story there, a reason why this case mattered to him beyond professional obligation.
"What aren't you telling me?" she asked softly.
Alex was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the floor. When he looked up, she saw a vulnerability there that he rarely showed.
"I had a sister," he said finally. "Elena. She was nineteen when she disappeared. Beautiful, trusting, desperate to help our family out of poverty. She answered an ad for modeling work, said she'd be back in a week with enough money to get us out of the neighborhood."
Sarah's heart clenched. She'd suspected there was a personal connection, but hearing it confirmed made everything about Alex's dedication to these cases suddenly clear.
"We never saw her again," Alex continued. "The police said she was probably a runaway, that girls like Elena poor, immigrant, undocumented they disappear all the time and nobody really looks for them. But I looked. I've been looking for fifteen years."
"Alex…" Sarah reached for his hand, not caring if anyone saw them. "I'm sorry."
"When we found Maria Martinez, positioned like that, with the rose…" Alex's voice roughened. "It was exactly how we found Elena. Three months after she disappeared, in a warehouse just like yesterday's crime scene. Same ritual, same signature. The bastard who killed Victoria Ashford? I think he's the same one who killed my sister."
The pieces of Alex's personality suddenly clicked into place his career choice, his intense focus on human trafficking cases, his willingness to bend rules and take risks that other investigators wouldn't. He wasn't just seeking justice; he was seeking answers to questions that had been haunting him for more than a decade.
"We'll get him," Sarah said fiercely. "We'll get all of them."
"Even if it means walking into what's obviously a trap?"
Sarah considered this. The message, the timing, the demand for the files everything about it screamed setup. But if there really was another victim out there, another young woman whose life hung in the balance…
"Especially then," she said. "But we're going to need backup, and not the kind that comes with federal badges and jurisdictional red tape."
Alex's eyebrows rose. "What did you have in mind?"
"You said you've been working this kind of case for fifteen years. That means you've got contacts people who understand how these operations work, who know the players and the patterns."
"Some," Alex admitted. "Ex-cops who went private, journalists who specialize in investigative work, a few former federal agents who got tired of bureaucratic bullshit."
"Can you trust them?"
"With my life," Alex said without hesitation. "The question is whether we can trust them with yours."
Sarah stood, decision made. "Make the calls. We're going to need all the help we can get if we're walking into pier 23 at midnight."
As they prepared to leave the coffee shop, Sarah caught a glimpse of movement in her peripheral vision. A man in a gray jacket, newspaper held a little too high, posture a little too rigid. Their watcher, no doubt reporting every word and movement back to whoever was pulling the strings.
Let them watch, Sarah thought grimly. Let them think they had all the advantages. By the time tonight was over, they'd learn what happened when you threatened a detective who'd finally found something worth fighting for.
But first, they had to survive the next twelve hours. And given the escalating nature of the threats, the sophisticated surveillance, and the obvious planning behind these murders, survival was going to require every skill, every contact, and every ounce of luck they could muster.
As they walked out into the morning sunshine, Sarah felt Alex's hand briefly touch the small of her back a gesture of protection and partnership that sent warmth flooding through her despite the circumstances. Whatever happened at pier 23, they'd face it together.
She just hoped that would be enough.