“Motherfucker,” Caleb spat. “No way is all of this effort for a chickenshit East Side drug ring. Hooked yourself a bigger fish?”
Eve looked around. The cops had all gone suspiciously blank.
“Tell them,” Dorchester said quietly.
“We’re not just after Murphy for the East Side,” Ian said. “The FBI and the DEA hope he’ll roll on the people above him. If he does, we’ll take out an entire distribution arm for one of the worst gangs in the country.”
“We have a winner,” Caleb said, and pointed at Hawthorn. Eve saw him run through all the shit he could sling at Ian—son of the former chief of police, brother to a Navy SEAL, looking to make his mark in his little corner of the world—then think better of it. Eve breathed a silent sigh of relief. One of these days Caleb’s mouth would get him into trouble his brains and fists couldn’t get him out of. “You didn’t want to run the risk that she’d screw up your precious operation,” Caleb spit. His finger swung to Dorchester. “He’s using any means possible to keep an eye on your best witness. Any means possible, right?”
“We believe one of Murphy’s men saw Eve walk into the East Precinct. That could mean more pressure on you, or you just flat-out disappearing. She needs protection,” Dorchester said, not rising to Caleb’s bait. “Getting shot at only proves that. Eve wasn’t supposed to know who I am. Ever.”
His voice sounded emotionless, as flat and still as a puddle after a rainstorm, but Eve knew better. She took a deep breath to restrain herself from picking up the stapler on her desk and hurling it at him, doing anything to shatter the invisible suit of armor he wore. “What I need,” Eve said precisely, then paused when a knock came at the door.
“Come in,” Eve and Ian said at the same time. She narrowed her eyes at Ian, who shrugged and turned to see who was at the door.
A vaguely familiar uniformed officer with shoulders like a steer and an uncompromisingly hard face peered around the doorframe. Eve mentally swapped the uniform for street clothes and came up with one of the customers from the night she saw Sorenson. “I picked up the car a couple of blocks from here, threw down the tire strips but he took off on foot. I chased him as far as the alleys but he disappeared into one of the warehouses by the river. I could have had him, LT. Let me go back and—”
A muscle jumped in Dorchester’s jaw. “No way were you searching those warehouses by yourself, McCormick. You could have been walking into an ambush.”
McCormick’s flat expression somehow managed to convey exactly what he thought of this valid concern. “The K9 Unit is here.”
“Send them through.”
McCormick stepped back and let a gorgeous dog and his nondescript handler into Eve’s office. The evening just took a left turn into the surreal. Eve took a couple of steps closer to Caleb. For a long, ridiculous moment, everyone in the room silently watched the dog sniff in every nook and cranny, going up on his hind legs to nose at Eve’s laptop and phone, then again at the safe, before turning for the door down the spiral stairs to the club. “Nothing yet,” he said, then shut the door behind him.
In sync, Caleb and Eve turned to look at Ian. “Are you seriously searching my club for drugs?”
“Murphy has had access,” Ian said. “If he’s storing the drugs here without your knowledge, you take the fall in more ways than one. It’s better if we know up front that there’s nothing here.”
A muscle popped in Caleb’s jaw. To forestall the imminent explosion, Eve said, “What I need is for everyone to leave. All of you. It’s been a very long night, and I’m exhausted. Take your crime scene techs and your uniforms and your dog and your undercover detectives and get out of my bar.”
Caleb looked at her if she’d lost her mind. “Evie, you can’t stay here,” he said gently. “Someone tried to kill you here. You don’t have any glass in your windows.”
She’d forgotten. In the adrenaline rush and the argument between Caleb and the cops, she’d actually forgotten what triggered all of this. It would take a while to adjust to the new normal.
“I’m taking you to my house,” he said firmly.
Not an option. “Caleb, I’m not endangering anyone else. Not you, not Mom and Dad. They can’t know anything about this.” She tried to remember the extremely small number in her petty cash account. Eye Candy’s success depending on her living rent-free in the apartment, but given the circumstances, dying in her rent-free apartment was a very real possibility. “I can swing a hotel for a few nights,” she started.
“I’ll pay for the room,” Caleb said impatiently, “but you can’t be alone. I’m in court on Monday. Quinn can stay with you for a while—”
“Quinn’s an intellectual property attorney. I’ve got better streetfighting moves than he does. I’m safer on my own.”
“Come home with me,” Dorchester interrupted.