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danger. In the far back, next to a dumpster, Lydia was huddled with her back to the wall.

“Lydia, it’s Kid. Pauly’s friend,” I whispered, squatting a few feet away. “Can we talk?”

“Pauly’s not here,” she mumbled to me, pulling her jacket tighter around her with one hand and gripping something else, probably a knife, under her arm with the other.

I moved closer, leaning against the filth-layered stucco wall. Beast moved with me, but turned to watch everyone else. I tossed a brown bag toward Lydia. She flinched, watching the bag.

“What is it?”

“Sandwiches,” I whispered to her so no one else heard.

“For Pauly?” she asked.

“No. They’re for you.”

“Something happened to Pauly, didn’t it? That’s why you’re here slumming it with us. I remember you. You live in that building Pauly goes to all the time. You’re the cop.”

“I’ve got bad news, Lydia. Pauly was killed. I’m trying to find out why.”

She took the brown bag and stuffed it under her blanket. She was quiet as she watched the others.

“Will you help me, Lydia?”

“He was too good for us, you know. If he could’ve kicked the habit, he could’ve had a real life. He was smart. Smart enough to make it.”

“I think he died protecting someone. But there’s a piece that doesn’t make sense.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “What’s that?”

“Morphine.” I watched her expression, and as expected, she twitched when I mentioned it. “Pauly overdosed on morphine.”

“I don’t know nothin’.”

“He was your friend. Help me.”

“Everybody’s always asking for help,” she muttered. “Nobody’s ever offering it back.”

“I’ll rent you an apartment.”

She looked over her shoulder at me, eyes squinted in distrust.

“You said it yourself, you know who I am. I’ll rent you an apartment. I’ll pay six months in advance and you can live there for free.” I leaned forward, and gently touched her arm. “You’ll have a chance. A chance to start over.”

She jerked her arm away. “What do I need an apartment for? Got no furniture.”

“What do you want then?”

She thought for a few minutes before answering. “A favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“My daughter. She lives with a man who beats on her real bad. She’s scared of him. You help her, and I’ll help you.”

“What’s her name?”

“Cassie. Cassie Rickers.” She leaned forward to look around the dumpster to ensure no one was listening. “She lives in the yellow house over on Pearl Street. You get her out, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“What if she won’t leave?”

“You make her leave!” Lydia shouted. Her own volume spooked her as it drew unwanted attention to us. She looked around as multiple faces swiveled our direction. She looked back at me, speaking in a hushed tone. “You get her that apartment you offered me—and you make him stay away from her. I know you. I know the things you’ve done. You make her leave.”

I dipped my head in agreement. “Meet me mid-morning tomorrow by the precinct.” I started walking back toward the street.

“You make her leave,” Lydia muttered behind me.

Chapter Twenty-Five

KELSEY

Tuesday, 2:35 a.m.

I stared at my phone, shaking my head. On one hand, I was glad Charlie had called so I knew she was safe. On the other, I couldn’t believe what she’d just asked me to do.

I walked outside and joined the guys who were still up and sitting around the pool. “I need volunteers.”

Wild Card, Jackson, Grady, Trigger, Bridget, Bones, and Uncle Hank stood, ready for anything.

“I haven’t said the what for yet.”

“It’s two-thirty in the morning,” Trigger said. “Only the really fun shit happens at two-thirty in the morning.”

Everyone laughed.

“Charlie made a deal with a homeless woman. If she gets the woman’s daughter away from her abusive husband, then the homeless woman will share what she knows about Pauly’s death.”

“I’m out,” Uncle Hank said, sitting on a chaise. “I’ve got two more years until retirement.”

“Address?” Wild Card asked.

I handed him my phone. Charlie had texted me the address. Bones and Jackson looked over Wild Card’s shoulder.

“I know how to get there,” Jackson said, leading them out.

Wild Card handed my phone back. “Leave your phone turned on in case we need to be bailed out.”

Grady shook his head.

“You don’t approve?”

“I’m not in the mood to play games,” Grady said. “If the homeless woman knows something, Charlie should’ve gotten it out of her.”

“Charlie’s a homicide detective,” Uncle Hank said. “She relies on street relationships to help her solve cases. She’d lose half her resources if she forced the issue.”

“So what? Her reputation on the street is worth risking my guys being arrested?”

Uncle Hank stood and calmly turned to face Grady, stepping a little too close. “I didn’t see anyone’s arm being twisted. Did you?”

“Enough,” I said, raising my hand between them. “I’m going to bed. Tyler’s on watch. Grady, you just volunteered to replace him and cover security until dawn.”

Grady walked away without speaking.

“I hope that means he’s covering third shift,” I said to myself.

“He’ll cover the security shift,” Uncle Hank said as he steered me toward the house. “He’s just flexing his muscles, trying to gain some control around here. He’s used to being Alpha, and with him being in the doghouse, he’s ranked somewhere near Zeta. It pisses him off.”

“Not my fault. Not my problem.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Uncle Hank asked, raising an eyebrow.

I stepped into the kitchen and turned to face him. “You think I’m being too hard on him? That I should forgive and forget? Take him back?”

“Don’t get carried away, doll,” Uncle Hank said, chuckling. “Whether you take him back or not is up to you. But you ignoring the problem and stringing him along with the silent treatment isn’t helping everyone else figure out

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