While doing that, she kissed him.

This meant they skipped the cuddling and whispering parts and got right into groping.

And again, Marcus wasn’t complaining.

* * * *

His phone rang.

Marcus rolled.

Daisy rolled with him.

She snuggled into his back as he looked at the display.

At what he saw, he kept his body loose as he flipped his phone open.

“Yes?”

“Lee got him. We’re at the warehouse,” Darius said.

Nightingale got him.

Finally.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” he told Darius.

“Right,” Darius replied.

He felt Daisy press into his back.

Marcus flipped his phone shut and turned to her.

“Everything okay?” she asked sleepily, but he heard the concern in her voice.

“Everything’s fine. I just need to go see to something.”

She’d clearly looked at his bedside clock because she asked, “At three in the morning?”

“Yes.”

She got up on a forearm. “Does this happen a lot?”

“No.”

They fell silent as he slid a hand up her hip to her back and moved into her.

“Right. Okay. You’re comin’ right back?” she asked.

He grinned.

Fuck, his Daisy.

“Yes,” he said against her mouth.

She let him take it for a brief, deep kiss then she didn’t let him go, brushing soft, light kisses on his lips before she finally stopped.

“Be safe,” she whispered.

“I will, darling. And I won’t be long.”

He watched her hair nod in the dark.

He kissed her nose.

Then he rolled out of bed and made sure the covers were over her before he moved to his walk-in closet.

He called Ronald from there and spoke to him quietly.

That done, he dressed.

* * * *

Marcus walked into the warehouse, Brady at his back, Louie at his, Vince at his. Ronald was standing outside by the car.

The space was large. There was a couch in it, a folding table with two chairs, a deck of cards on it arrested in a game. Hiding a corner, there was some ripped, opaque-with-grime plastic sheeting hanging from the ceiling, a good deal of dust on the floor, and not much else.

However, the room was populated.

Darius Tucker was there, standing next to his aunt, Shirleen Jackson.

Darius was a tall, lean black man with twists in his hair and a face that would be handsome if it wasn’t so cold.

Shirleen was a tall, full-figured black woman with a very large Afro. She was wearing purple and looked like she’d come to that warehouse from choir practice at a church where all the women vied to be best dressed.

Standing opposite them, there was a man built like a linebacker. His dark hair was thick and wavy, his dark-brown eyes were alert and locked on Marcus. He was wearing jeans, brown boots, and a long-sleeved cargo shirt.

Lee Nightingale.

At his side was a man known on the streets as Stark. His last name. His first was Lucas but everyone called him Stark, unless you were someone he’d allow to call him Luke, and there weren’t many of those. He had black hair, dark-blue eyes, a full beard that was trimmed precisely along his jaw, and he was wearing black cargo pants, a tight, black, wicking shirt, and black combat boots.

And last, there was a man on his knees. His hands were not bound. But his head was bent forward and it looked like he was listing.

Shirleen and Darius had been playing.

Perhaps Nightingale and Stark, too.

Though, at a glance, Marcus noted it was only Stark who had cut, bloody knuckles.

Marcus stopped and looked behind him.

Brady jerked up his chin but it was Louie who moved forward.

He went to the man on his knees, grasped him by his hair, and yanked his head back.

The man grunted but nothing else. However, he looked like he’d keel over if Louie didn’t keep hold of him.

Although his face was blooded and very swollen, there was no mistaking he was the man Marcus saw in the video in Smithie’s security room.

The man who’d raped Daisy.

He nodded to Louie, who let him go.

He swayed so Marcus ordered, “Make him keep his knees.”

Louie dropped his eyes to the man.

Marcus looked to Shirleen but he said nothing.

“Figure that’s my invitation to take my leave,” she muttered, shot him a grin, and said louder, “Time’s right, Marcus, Shirleen’ll be wantin’ to meet your girl.”

Shirleen was a resourceful businesswoman.

She was also loyal as they came.

“I’ll be certain that’s arranged.”

Her grin got wide and white, then she looked to Darius.

Eyes to his aunt, he tipped his head to the door.

She nodded to him, looked through everyone in the room, except the man on the floor she walked right up to.

“Aunt Shirleen,” Darius growled in a low, warning tone.

“You’re a pig,” she whispered down at the man on his knees.

His head swung not entirely in his control to the side in order to look away.

Shirleen stood in contemplation over him for several long moments before she turned and walked from the room, her high heels sounding loud in the open space.

When that sound disappeared, Marcus looked to Nightingale.

“Darius tells me this was you.”

Nightingale tilted up his chin. “Got a new tracker. He’s good. So far, no one’s been able to hide from him. When we were getting nothing in Denver, we set him on it. He found this guy in Montana. Persuaded him to share his story. That being, Smithie gave Jimmy Marker the guy’s name from credit card receipts. Marker rolled up to his house with some squads, so he knew your woman pressed charges. He was twitchy, not sure how she’d play it, so he was also on the lookout. Before the boys could get into position, he took off out the back. He waited until the coast was clear, got as much together as he could, and left town.”