What the hell? Why would the shooter dig the slug out – and while Phillip was still alive? ‘I guess it did,’ Marcus said grimly.

‘And no, I don’t know why he dug the slug out. I can tell you’re wondering.’ A flicker of a smile, then another grimace of pain. ‘Then BB attacked him. Bit his leg. He kicked her off, but it gave me the second I needed.’ Phillip drew a breath that rattled frighteningly in his lungs. ‘I took his knife and stabbed him. Got him in the bicep. Left side.’ Another rattling breath. ‘Stuck him like a fucker.’

‘Good for you,’ Marcus said fiercely.

‘But then he shot me again. In the gut. Dropped me like a damn rock. He took a bath towel. Wrapped it around his arm. Didn’t even take the knife out.’

‘So he didn’t leave any blood,’ Marcus said grimly.

‘No. But BB bit him hard.’ A desperate smile bent his lips. ‘So get the fucker’s DNA from her teeth. Get him for me, boss.’

‘You have my word. Did you hear him speak? See anything? The color of his eyes, maybe?’ Marcus could hear his own desperation and fought to shove it back.

‘I heard him swear when I stabbed him. Deep voice. Eyes, brown. Lashes, black. Curly. Eyelids, dark, a little lighter than the ski mask.’ He drew a labored breath. ‘He wanted the gut bullet back too. Tried to dig it out.’ A grimace. ‘With a kitchen knife. He took it with him. The knife. Not the bullet.’ Phillip’s eyes slid shut. ‘God, this really hurts.’

‘I know. Hold on a little longer. The ambulance is coming. Stay with me, Phil.’

Another smile, much weaker. ‘You’re a bossy SOB. You know that, right?’

‘Trust me, I know it,’ Marcus murmured, then looked up as footsteps thundered across his apartment floor. Medics and a cop appeared in the doorway, and Marcus stood up and stepped back. ‘Please help him.’

‘We’ll do our best,’ one of the medics said, gently pushing Marcus further out of the way. ‘You need to leave the room, sir. We need space to work.’

Marcus scooped BB up in his arms. She was dead weight, her limbs loose and floppy. ‘I’m Marcus O’Bannion,’ he said to the cop. ‘I’ve called Detective Bishop of the homicide division. No,’ he corrected himself. ‘She’s MCES, the CPD/FBI task force. She’s on her way. This is related to one of her cases. I’ll give my statement when she arrives.’

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 8.55 P.M.

Ken sat at the desk in his home office, staring at the tracking software on his phone screen, dreading what he knew he had to do. Demetrius had still not called in, but he wasn’t dead. His car was in motion, though driving erratically. After being inside O’Bannion’s apartment building for only ten minutes, he’d left and taken a circuitous route to nowhere, it seemed. He hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Had simply driven around in circles.

Which meant he’d missed. Again. If he’d hit O’Bannion, he’d be calling to brag, all cocky and smug. Even if he weren’t embezzling funds, Demetrius had to go.

Like . . . permanently.

The prospect might have made Ken annoyed a few months ago. Hell, maybe even a few weeks ago. But Demetrius had fucked up royally. And if he is stealing money from me, I’ll make him sorry he was ever born.

A cup of tea appeared in front of him and he looked up to see Alice’s concerned face. ‘You didn’t eat any dinner, Dad.’

He switched off his phone before she could ask what he was looking at. He tracked her phone, too. Sean’s as well, but he didn’t want either of them to know it. Ken trusted both of them, but he wasn’t stupid. They were his kids after all. Had his DNA. They’d sell him out if the price was high enough.

‘I’m not very hungry, honey. But this tea will hit the spot.’

‘You’re worrying about Demetrius,’ she said, sitting in the chair across from his desk. She’d already dressed for bed, wearing a modest robe and ridiculous Tweety Bird slippers. Above the neck of the robe he could see the bright blue of her University of Kentucky sleep shirt. His girl had graduated magna cum laude from Vanderbilt with a law degree from Kentucky. She looked like an innocent child, but he knew that beneath that sweet face was the sharp mind of his heir apparent. Sean was too academic and nerdy, and he’d been coddled by that mother of his. Alice, on the other hand, was a damn shark.

‘Of course I’m worried,’ he said. ‘I haven’t heard from him in hours.’

‘So he missed O’Bannion again. Dad, this is getting ridiculous. This is a liability situation. He needs to go.’

‘We’ve been friends since we were younger than you. It won’t be easy killing him.’

She shook her head. ‘Demetrius should have just killed O’Bannion nine months ago when you told him to. Then we wouldn’t be in this situation.’

Ken sighed. ‘Possibly, but to be fair, we’d still have the Anders situation, which wasn’t his fault. Stephanie and her boy toy Drake still would have taken Tala out to play.’

‘But if the girl hadn’t met O’Bannion in the park, she wouldn’t have met him in the alley and gotten herself shot,’ Alice countered.

Ken acknowledged her point. ‘Yeah, you’re right. That was Demetrius’s fault too.’ He wasn’t going to mention the embezzled funds. Not until he knew for sure.

‘Let me at him,’ Alice said. ‘I’ll take care of it for you. Then you won’t worry that you’ll hesitate at the last minute.’

‘I might take you up on that, but not yet.’

‘This isn’t just an inconvenience, Dad,’ she said harshly, surprising him with her intensity. ‘Demetrius has allowed O’Bannion to operate without any boundaries all day long. O’Bannion runs a newspaper. They investigate stuff. I shouldn’t need to draw a diagram here. He nearly brought us down nine months ago when he exposed Woody McCord’s kiddie porn collection. If he’d dug a little deeper, he would have realized that he hadn’t even touched the tip of the iceberg with McCord. I think he’s digging again. He’ll have us all in jail the moment his paper hits the stands, and frankly, I don’t think you’d like prison, Dad. I know I wouldn’t, and I’m not going to allow anyone to put me there. Not even you. So wake up and stop treating this like it’s containable.’ She leaned forward, her eyes flashing fire. ‘It is no longer containable.’

He stared at her, tempted for the first time in a long time to strike her. ‘Do not talk to me that way, Alice.’

She blew out an angry breath. ‘You won’t listen when I talk softly. God knows I’ve tried. Do you think it was a coincidence that O’Bannion met the girl in that alley this morning? He knows what we’re doing and he’s building his story. Once he connects Chip Anders to Woody McCord, we are all toast. He may have already. Let me have O’Bannion.’

‘O’Bannion or Demetrius?’ he asked coolly.

‘Both.’

He shook his head. ‘Even if I agreed with you, Alice, I can’t just let you blow Demetrius away. Not until we get the records of all the business deals he has in place. I need to know his suppliers and existing contracts.’

‘Like?’ she pressed.

‘Like the trackers, for example. We’re down three and I don’t know how many more we have in inventory nor where he gets them.’

‘I do.’

Ken blinked, momentarily distracted. ‘You do?’

She leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea, once again the picture of outer restraint. ‘Well I don’t personally, but DJ knows. He’ll tell me.’

‘What makes you think Demetrius’s son will tell you? He’s loyal to a fault.’

‘Not as loyal as you think. We talk.’ She smiled. ‘Sometimes we do more than talk.’

Ken’s mouth fell open. ‘You and DJ? Since when?’

‘Since he grew up, and how,’ she said bawdily, then sobered. ‘But seriously, Demetrius told you that Reuben was screwing around with the suppliers’ wives and daughters, but I’ll bet he didn’t tell you about the money he himself spends, and what he spends it on.’