Say Goodbye (Sacramento Series, The Book 3)

It has to be DJ,” Graham muttered, leaning in to drag his thumbs down either side of Hayley’s spine.

She barely heard the words, which had been Graham’s intent. He’d been permitted to escort her from the prayer service to the quarters assigned to Joshua’s wives. Right now the room was empty because the wives were off doing whatever jobs they’d been assigned to. There was a schedule among the other three wives dictating who slept with Joshua and on which night. Hayley would be added into the rotation once the baby was born.

For now she was on “light duty” since she was two weeks away from giving birth.

Which scared her to death.

“Hayley?” Graham whispered. “Listen to me. This is important.”

“I know,” Hayley whispered back. “Tell me.” Focusing on Graham would help her keep her growing dread in check.

“DJ’s the only one who leaves the compound. The drugs have to be his.”

“Makes sense. But how does that help us?” She flinched when Graham dug too deep into her sore muscles. “Not quite so hard, please.”

“Sorry,” Graham said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She reached back to pat his arm. “I know, Cookie.” She’d started calling him the nickname when he’d developed a love for graham crackers at age four because he believed they’d been named after him. He’d been such a cute kid. Now he was a serious preteen, saddled with a lot more responsibility than any kid his age should have to bear.

He snorted softly. “I prefer that to Achan.”

Achan was the biblical name given to him when they’d arrived in Eden. “A whore and a thief,” Hayley said softly. “That’s us.”

“That’s me,” Graham corrected. “You are no whore.”

Her heart melted. “Aw. You say the sweetest things.”

He huffed. “Shut up. You’re not paying attention.”

“I am. I just don’t see how finding DJ’s stash is going to help us get out of here.”

“It’s not a stash,” Graham said. “A stash is a baggie or two of weed. This is a shipment. There had to be thirty pounds of coke in that box that was labeled Smithy Tools. It was under a stack of other boxes.”

“DJ’s hiding it if he’s labeled the box as something else,” Hayley murmured. “The others don’t know he’s dealing.”

“I bet Pastor knows.” Graham started massaging her back again.

She nearly moaned because it felt so good. “That’s a sucker bet. Pastor knows everything that happens here. What are you thinking about?”

He leaned in again, whispering in her ear. “Using that coke to buy our way out of here.”

Hayley jerked out of his reach, staring at him. He wasn’t joking. In fact, he looked grimly sober. “What the hell, Graham?” she hissed.

“Shhh,” he admonished. “You’re going to get us both thrown in the box.”

She covered her mouth, but her eyes were filling with tears. “You can’t. You’ll get caught.”

“And if I don’t, that bitch is going to steal your baby.”

Hayley blinked, sending tears down her cheeks. Quickly she wiped at them with the scratchy woolen sleeve of her homespun dress. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“If I do it right, I won’t be.”

“You heard Tamar. People are watching you. They know you’ve been exploring.”

“We need a diversion.” He glanced down at her stomach. “Tonight you’re going to pretend to go into labor. If I get caught, I’ll say I was trying to get blankets or towels or something.”

“No,” she whispered. “I can’t let you take that risk.”

“You can’t tell me what to do. Technically—here in this hellhole—I outrank you.”

He smirked, but Hayley didn’t think it was funny. “You’re going to get killed.”

“We need to get out of here,” Graham said stubbornly. “And we’re running out of time.”

She closed her eyes. “I know.”

“Then you’ll pretend?”

“Yes,” she breathed wearily. “Of course I will.”

He squeezed her shoulders. “Good girl.”

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m scared, Graham.”

“I know.” He slid his arm around her, giving her a quick hug. “I’m going to fix this.”

Hayley’s tears kept falling, because she wasn’t sure if this situation could be fixed. She was trading the safety of her brother for the safety of her baby. Graham thought he was tough stuff, but he’d never be able to defend himself if all the men of Eden decided to teach him a lesson.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, something he hadn’t done in so long that she was momentarily stunned. “You’ll have to name Jellybean ‘Grahamina.’ Like Wilhelmina, but not.”

She laughed, a watery sound. “You’re insane. And I love you.”

His answer was another hug and then he was on his feet. “Lie down and rest. I’ll get you something to eat. What do you want? Jerky, jerky, or jerky?”

Jerky had been a staple for the last week. Luckily, the women had put up canned goods last fall, so they weren’t starving yet, but she was really getting tired of jerky. “Jerky.”

He exaggerated a bow. “Your wish is my—” Then he straightened abruptly at the shout from somewhere toward the front of the cave system. “What the . . . ?”

Hayley struggled to stand, but Graham motioned for her to stay put. Worried, but unable to stand on her own, she complied.

“I’ll see what’s up,” he said, then disappeared around the curtain that provided all the privacy they were allowed.

A minute later he was back. “It’s Pastor. He fell down and he’s not getting up. The healer’s with him now. So’s most of the community.”

Hayley frowned at him. “Graham . . .” she warned.

“This is our diversion.” He grinned. “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.” And then he was gone.

Hayley bit back the swear words that she wanted to shout at him. Don’t get caught. Please.

ROCKLIN, CALIFORNIA

WEDNESDAY, MAY 24, 5:05 P.M.

This is wrong.

Liza sat rigidly on her sofa, Mike at her side. He’d stretched his arm across the back of the sofa and was playing with her hair.

This is wrong. It was the thought that kept circling through her mind, drowning out the movie they’d been watching. She’d been thinking about Tom the entire time. And fighting the urge to run next door because she’d heard the garage door go up when he’d come home.

You’re hopeless. You’re just pathetic.

And then there was Mike. He was chuckling at the movie, having no idea about all the thoughts churning in her mind.

You’re using him. You just want to show yourself that you can walk away from Tom Hunter, but you’re being unfair to Mike. Just like you were to Fritz. Don’t make the same mistake again.

Liza despised herself for making this man think that there could be anything between them. Tell him the truth, then.

She drew a deep breath, turning to face him. “Mike?”

“Hm?”

“Can you pause the movie? I need to talk to you.”

He immediately hit the remote, and the movie stopped. “What’s wrong?”

She huffed a mirthless laugh. “So many things, I’m not sure where to start. But the biggest is that I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship.”

He froze. “Why not?” he asked cautiously.

Because I’m in love with a man who doesn’t want me and you’re second fiddle. She closed her eyes, unwilling to utter the truth aloud. “Um . . . I was married.”

Mike pulled away, his shock evident. “What? When? To who?”

“More than a year ago. He . . . he died.”

Mike sucked in a breath. “Oh my God, Liza. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” I’m sorry, too. Sorry that I’m giving you such a bastardization of the actual truth. Because her inability to be with Mike had nothing to do with Fritz and everything to do with Tom. “He was killed by a sniper outside Kabul.”

“Oh my God,” he said softly. Kindly.

“I was there.”

This time his gasp was completely silent. Then he let out a breath. “Liza, I had no idea,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“So . . .” She waved her hands in a vague gesture. “I’m not ready. I don’t want to hurt you.” That was true. So true. “I don’t want you to think this is more than it’s going to be.”

Mike was quiet for a moment, then pulled her close for a hug. “I’m sorry you lost him. I’m sorry you couldn’t save him.”

Also a nurse, he understood that part, at least. “He bled out before I could,” she said hoarsely.

“Were you hurt?”

“Not really.” The bullet she’d taken in her hip had been so meaningless in comparison.

“Was he the only one who died?”

“No,” she whispered. “Several others.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

He let her go, a crooked smile tilting his lips. “So this is where I exit stage right, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He laid a finger over her lips. “I get it. I don’t like it for a lot of reasons, obviously, because I like you a lot. I think we could have been good together.”

She swallowed hard, saying nothing. What could she say? It’s unlikely we’d ever have been good together, because I can’t seem to get over my seven-year crush on my best friend.

That was too much truth.

He sighed. “Well, if I have to bow out gracefully, at least it’s because of a combat hero and not a basketball star.”

Liza blinked. “What?”

“Your neighbor Tom. I thought it might have been because of him.”

Her eyes burned. “No. We’re just—”

“Just friends,” Mike finished. “I hear you. Not sure he does. He nearly bit my head off when I wouldn’t let him in earlier.”

Liza could only stare. What if Mike was right?

You are stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She’d already gotten her hopes up, and it would hurt worse the next time.

“He knows about your husband?”

She shook her head. “No. It was too painful to tell anyone when I got back, and then . . .” She shrugged. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”

The crooked smile reappeared. “Well, that’s something, I guess.” He leaned in to kiss her forehead. “You call me when you’re ready, okay?”

She somehow found a smile of her own. “Okay. But I hope you’re happily with someone wonderful before then. You’re too nice a guy to be alone.”

“I’d say ditto, but I think we’ve covered that.” He rose and stumbled over Pebbles, who’d been lying at their feet.

Pebbles lifted her head to stare at him, then went back to sleep. Mike reached down to scratch behind her ears. “Walk me out so I know you’ve locked your door.”

Liza did as he asked, then slumped against her front door. She was not going over to see Tom. She was not. She’d keep busy.

Step one was checking the want ads to see if anyone wanted to hire an ex–army medic for a month. The decision to take a break before she started nursing school had been based on dreams anyway. She’d had hopes that things would be different once she and Tom were in the same city. Living next to each other. Tory was gone. Fritz was gone. They were both single and . . . together. Except they weren’t.

She’d hoped this month’s break would be spent with him. That they’d both ended up in Sacramento had seemed like fate was finally smiling her way.

She sighed. “I am so damn stupid.”

Pebbles lifted her head, then tilted it curiously. Tom usually came to get the dog when he got home from work, but after the conversation in her bedroom, either he must have figured she needed Pebbles for comfort or he was giving her a wide berth. Maybe both. Whatever the reason, she was glad for the company.

“But no more,” she told Pebbles firmly. “Plans have changed. I’m going back to work. But first, I’m going to get your dinner.”

Pebbles bounded to her feet excitedly, prancing in place as Liza pushed away from the door. She stopped next to the big dog and planted a kiss on her muzzle. “You love me, don’t you?”

Pebbles licked her face and Liza laughed. “Come on. Kibble first, then playtime in the backyard. And then I’ll take you home.”

She’d slip the dog into Tom’s house through his kitchen door, hopefully avoiding him. Because she wasn’t sure she’d make it through another conversation with the man today.

ROCKLIN, CALIFORNIA

WEDNESDAY, MAY 24, 7:35 P.M.

Tom jumped when something cold and wet burrowed under the hand he had resting on his keyboard. Then settled when he realized it was Pebbles. He’d been so deep in his work that he hadn’t heard Liza bring her over.

Giving her an ear scratch, he got up to look for Liza, then remembered that she had company. Mike the Groper had stayed and he’d heard them watching a movie when he’d come home from the field office.

That he’d had to press his ear to the wall to get that tidbit of information wasn’t anything he’d admit to anyone. Even to Pebbles, although she’d never tell.

He peeked through the blinds, relieved to see his driveway clear. He hadn’t heard the garage door open, so Liza’s car was still in there, parked next to his own. Mike the Groper was gone.

Going to the door, he called for her. “Liza! Where are you?” Because she always came in with Pebbles. They’d have dinner together and settle in to watch some TV.

Tom needed that. He’d been staring at his computer screen for far too long and was becoming frustrated. He’d been unsuccessful in tracking Cameron Cook’s e-mail. He’d traced it through several proxy servers, then hit a wall.

Either their network person was really good, or their server was no longer active. He hoped Croft was having better luck with tracking the Chicos’ tattoo artist.

“Liza!” he called again, then sighed when his phone buzzed with an incoming text.

I just put Pebbles in your house. She’s been fed.

That was all. No See you later or How’s it going or What’s for dinner. He wondered if she and Mike were still going out tomorrow. He wondered if he should have told her not to go.

She’d almost seemed like she’d wanted him to.

He started to call her, then stopped himself. He didn’t know what to say. They’d been friends for years. Liza had been the only person he’d trusted with knowledge of Tory while they’d dated. They’d shared secrets and hopes. He’d even told her when Tory got pregnant.

But not so much after that. Tom had been in love, blind to the rest of the world. And then he’d been in shock, grieving. And then he’d been focused on getting justice for his love and their unborn child.

He’d shut Liza out, albeit unintentionally. He’d never even told her that Tory was dead. She’d found out when she’d arrived home from Afghanistan last Christmas Day. She’d come fully expecting to meet the woman he’d wanted to spend his life with.

He still remembered the shock in her eyes when he’d told her that Tory was dead. Then the hurt that he’d kept it from her.

“But she seemed fine after that,” he told Pebbles, who stared up at him. “She was happy.” Until she wasn’t. And when did that really start? Now he couldn’t seem to remember. Distracted by the danger Mercy and Gideon were in, he hadn’t been paying attention. “I don’t know what to do,” he confided. “What do you think is wrong?”

Pebbles simply wagged her whip of a tail, her tongue lolling to the side.

“You’re no help at all.” He leaned down to rub her ears. “But you’re still a good girl.”

She licked his face and he abruptly straightened, grimacing. He’d nearly broken her of that habit, but Liza let her do it.

He sank back into his chair, glumly staring at his screen. He’d created a project file for Eden a month ago, when Ephraim had been intent on kidnapping Mercy Callahan. It was still pathetically thin.

He heard the car engine a second before Pebbles began to bark. She sounded fierce, even though she’d most likely just lick a burglar’s face.

He shushed her, then checked the window again, frowning when Rafe Sokolov and Mercy Callahan emerged from the Subaru parked in his drive. Leaning on his cane, Rafe escorted Mercy up the front walk, keeping his body between hers and the street every step of the way.

A glance across the street revealed a black SUV with Agent Rodriguez behind the wheel. His shift would be over soon and his replacement would take over guard duty. For now, the man was watchful, giving Tom a slight salute before resuming his surveillance of the street.

Mercy quickly disappeared into Liza’s side of the duplex, as if Liza had been holding the door open. This made him want to march down there and remind her that she’d witnessed an attempted murder only hours before.

He’d be giving her a lecture on proper security when her guests left. For now, Rafe was with them, and that was more than good enough in Tom’s eyes. The homicide detective was savvy and knew his way around firearms. He wasn’t a sharpshooter like Gideon’s girlfriend, Daisy, but he was more than capable of protecting Liza.

Except Rafe didn’t go inside. Blowing a kiss to Mercy, he stepped back from Liza’s doorstep, aiming a look up at Tom’s window before crossing the grassy patch between their two front doors. His knock had Pebbles barking again and Tom went downstairs to open the door.

“Hey,” Rafe said, his eyes taking Tom in. “No offense, dude, but you look like shit.”

Tom smoothed his hair, which had to be standing every which direction. “I’ve been working,” he said stiffly.

“I figured as much.” Rafe pointed inside. “Can I come in or do I need to tell you stuff standing on your front porch?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Cheeks heating, Tom stepped back to allow Rafe to come inside. “My mother would be very upset with me. Can I offer you something to drink? I have beer, water, and pop.”

“How about a beer? Mercy and Liza will be busy for a while, so I don’t need to drive for a few hours. I can have one.”

Tom walked to the kitchen, Rafe following behind him. “Busy doing what?” he asked.

“Talking.” He smiled. “And talking, and talking some more. I’m thankful for Liza. Mercy needed a friend. She misses Farrah.”

Farrah was Mercy’s best friend from New Orleans. Tom liked Farrah. She was funny and smart and had a heart like his mother’s. “I guess she does.”

Rafe perched on a stool at Tom’s kitchen island. “Liza seemed . . . off today. Mercy was worried. I told her it was probably the shock of seeing a sniper, but Mercy had to check for herself to make sure Liza is all right.”

“She seemed fine when I saw her,” Tom said, then winced. He could hear the acid in his own voice and wasn’t foolish enough to think that Rafe hadn’t. Sure enough, when he turned from the fridge with two beers, Rafe’s brows were lifted.

“Do I want to know?” Rafe asked.

Tom shrugged. “Nothing to know.” He rummaged in the drawer for a bottle opener, then flipped the caps off the bottles. “She had company when I got home.”

Rafe looked way too interested. “Company?”

Tom handed Rafe a bottle and drained half of his own in one gulp. It had been a long day and technically he was off the clock, so he wasn’t going to feel guilty about drinking a beer.

He stared at the bottle in his hand, glaring. Yeah, he was going to feel guilty, because he hadn’t yet traced Cameron Cook’s e-mail. He set the bottle aside and pulled some cheese from the refrigerator. “I didn’t have lunch. Want some?”

“It’s dinnertime,” Rafe said mildly. “Who was her company?”

Tom took his annoyance out on the cheese, stabbing at the block with more force than needed. “Mike.” The Groper. “Some nurse she knew at the veterans’ home.”

“Mike,” Rafe said slowly. “Well, he wasn’t there just now.”

“Because he left.” He finished slicing the cheese and put a plate on the kitchen island between them. Time to change the subject. “Today, at your parents’ house? You looked like you wanted to say something before I left, but you didn’t.”

“That’s why I’m here. The gang, the one whose tattoo Belmont has on his back?”

“The Chicos? What about them?”

“I know them.”

Tom went still. “How?”

“I was Narcotics before Homicide. I worked with the Gangs division.”

Tom nodded. “I knew that. You went undercover. Took down a local crime boss.” That was no small feat. Undercover work could be emotionally debilitating, on top of being dangerous. Especially for a man as social as Rafe seemed to be. “How long were you under?”

“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.”

“What was her name?”

“Victoria. I called her Tory.” He swallowed, the movement painful. “She was murdered.” As was the baby she’d carried. Our baby. But it hurt too much to think about their unborn child, much less to talk about them.

Rafe blinked. “I didn’t know that. My fiancée was Bella. She was killed by the mob boss’s men. She was the prosecutor working our case.” He hesitated. “Our relationship wasn’t public.”

Wow. Helluva thing to have in common. “One of you would have had to recuse yourself.”

“Yes. And neither of us wanted the other to have to do it, so we kept our relationship secret. I wouldn’t have been able to make it public anyway, not when I was UC, but I wanted to.”

Tom dropped his gaze to the plate of cheese, absently fiddling with one of the slices. “I get it. Tory was our team’s physical therapist. It probably would have been okay, but she was adamant that we not tell anyone. She was afraid she’d lose her job.”

“I didn’t realize we had so much in common. I’m sorry you lost your Tory.”

“Likewise.” He looked up. “Did you get the guys who killed Bella?”

“I did. Had to kill a few of them. Was able to take a few in alive. I didn’t lose a wink of sleep over the ones who chose to fight me, though. They shot first, but my trigger finger was ready, willing, and able.”

Tom thought about what he’d done to take down Tory’s killer. He wasn’t sorry. Well, maybe about one or two details, but not about the end result. “Does Mercy know?”

“She does. I wasn’t sure what she’d think of me, but she was happy I’d taken them out. Said that I’d made it possible for my partner to go home to his family by having his back. That I’d survived and seen justice done.”

“I’m glad.” Tom’s voice was rough, and he had to clear his throat. He wondered what Liza would think if she knew what he’d done and immediately relaxed, knowing that she’d be happy about the end result as well. His Liza was fierce and unafraid and wired to protect. Tory would have liked her.

Wait. What? His breath stuttered in his chest, making him cough. His Liza? She was not his. And if he wanted her to be? She wouldn’t be happy with that. Especially not given their most recent conversations. And even if she were happy with it . . . Just thinking of her and Tory in the same breath seemed like betrayal.

“You okay?” Rafe asked blandly.

Tom took a gulp of beer. “Yeah. Just swallowed wrong.” He cleared his throat again and waited for his breathing to even out. What were they even talking about? Oh. Right. “Did the Chicos have a hand in Bella’s murder? Is that why it’s personal?”

“Indirectly. They were one of our target’s biggest suppliers. The Chicos had a reason to keep the city’s organized crime alive and well. Supply and demand and all that. I remember a few of the midlevel thugs. DJ wasn’t one of the ones I worked with. I can tell you that.”

“Good to know.” Tom pushed the cheese plate away, no longer hungry. “I hope Croft is more successful with her search than I’ve been with mine.”

“You’ve been trying to track that kid’s e-mail.”

Tom just looked at him. “Jeff Bunker told you?” Because of course he would have.

“Yeah. It all came out over dinner when his mom and mine teamed up to make sure Zoya and Jeff know never to drive to San Francisco alone again. You weren’t able to track it?”

“Not to the source. I think they’ve pulled their server offline. Or maybe they only hook it up when they want to use it.”

“Before this morning, I’d hoped that they’d gone quiet because DJ was dead.”

“Yeah. Asshole,” Tom muttered. The picture of Liza standing in front of that glass door would not vacate his mind. “How are Mercy and Abigail doing?”

“Abigail is okay but Mercy is wrecked. She held it together for Abigail, but once we were alone, she fell apart. After a month of watching her every move she’d grown a little complacent. Her word, not mine. She knew he’d never give up, but, like the rest of us, she hoped he was dead. She was worried about Liza because of the way she left this afternoon.”

Tom felt his cheeks heat at the question in Rafe’s direct gaze, but there was no way he was going there. Especially when he didn’t understand it himself. “She was upset for a while, but I think her friend helped cheer her up.”

“Her friend?”

“Mike.” The groper. Smug bastard.

“Right.” Rafe shook his head again. “If the e-mail trace is a bust, what else do you have?”

Tom opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I can’t talk about those things.”

Rafe pulled a notepad from his pocket. “Good thing that I can talk about it.”

“What?”

Rafe waved the notepad. “A summary of my own Eden project file.”

“You’re not—”

“Supposed to be working on it. Whatever. If you can’t talk to me, you can listen.”

Tom settled on his stool. “I wondered what you’d been doing for the last month. I figured you wouldn’t sit idle when it came to Mercy’s safety. Hit me.”