God, Reed hoped so.
If the insider had taken the bait of the bad information Alexei had sent up to Nicole’s station—and that was a very big “if”—the insider was likely in town looking for an opportunity to get to her. Traipsing the woman he was in love with around town to lure out the villain wasn’t something he wanted to continue to do.
“What the hell is going on?” the guy barked.
“Best to put your hands up, fellow,” Sam said.
The man’s face stormed with shock and fire, but he wasn’t a fool, sending his arms over his head.
“Let me see,” Nicole said, coming out of the booth in a single bound.
“Chicago, you can look but no closer than by my side,” Reed ordered.
When she saw the man, her eyes widened. “Jaris?”
Chapter Seventeen
Nicole couldn’t believe Jaris was in Destiny. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you think this creep came to our town for, Nicole?” Reed snapped. “He’s the rat we’ve trapped.”
“What kind of place is this?” Jaris looked around the room of customers, each pointing their weapons at him. It took her back to the secret he’d kept for her when she had—while high on patrol—almost shot him.
“For you, young man, think of it as your last stop,” Gretchen said, holding a fifty-caliber Smith & Wesson handgun. “Best not to move or you’ll be looking more like Swiss cheese than a person.”
“Can’t you people see I’m a cop?” Jaris kept his hands above his head.
“Everyone stop this. Please,” she said, as her mind went back to that alley where they’d been chasing a mugger.
“Nicole, I’ll go around the building and cut him off,” Jaris said. “You keep going.”
Her mind was fuzzy. Another night without sleep, spent caring for Granddad, had taken so much out of her. She’d popped an additional two pills to try to get some rest. She was still groggy this morning from the effects. She needed coffee.
Nicole headed down the alley, trying hard to focus. A man jumped in front of her. She pointed her gun at his chest. If anyone was going to die today, it wasn’t going to be her.
“Nicole,” a familiar voice said. “It’s me, Nicole. It’s Jaris.”
His face came into view and her hands began to shake. She’d almost killed her partner.
Jaris never told anyone of her mistake.
Entering the restaurant from outside, Dylan, Jason, and Alexei came in behind Jaris, pulling her back from her thoughts.
“Henry, put your hands behind your back,” the sheriff ordered, holding a pair of cuffs in one hand and his revolver in the other.
“He’s not Henry, Sheriff,” Nicole told him. How could Jaris be the insider for the Mitrofanov’s? It just didn’t make any sense. But here he was. In Destiny.
“Who are you?” Dylan asked.
“I’m Jaris Simmons. I’m a cop, for chrissakes. What’s this all about, Nicole?”
“Don’t talk to her, asshole. Don’t even fucking look at her,” Sawyer’s rage clearly was boiling inside him apparently fueled by his desire to protect her. But she didn’t need protecting, at least not from Jaris. Or did she?
“Sawyer, stop. I know him. He’s my old partner. Let us talk.”
“Fine, baby. Talk. But no closer. You stay here and that asshole can stay there.”
“You got a deal. Thanks.” She turned to Jaris, the man who had pulled her out of the proverbial gutter on more than one occasion. “What are you doing here?”