The Intelligence Unit Series

Camila ended the call with her brother and blew out a breath. Her nerves had sprung into action the second Matteo had told her there had been another robbery, and she wasn't even going to lie-the fact that these guys knew the Intelligence Unit was onto them because of information she'd given them wasn't exactly taking her to her happy place. She'd been tempted to panic at the news, especially when Matteo had told her to go to the precinct. But then Roman had been there, steady and strong, cradling her face with his hands and promising her that everything would be okay, and once again, she'd been able to breathe. He had her back. And when he said everything would be okay, despite the potential for danger, Camila believed him.

Sliding her phone into her back pocket, she closed her laptop and looked at Roman. "Well, that's not exactly the date I had in mind."

"I don't normally tend to agree with your brother," Roman said, tilting his head. "But in this case, playing it safe is just smart. Anyway"-his smile sent heat curling down her spine-"we're getting really good at unconventional dates. Why stop now?" Camila's soft laugh lasted for less than a second before her thoughts jumped back to her call with Matteo. "I can't believe these guys robbed another bank," she said, heading to her hall closet to grab her favorite denim jacket and her purse.

Roman's expression shifted, mostly serious, with something-what was that?-underneath that she couldn't quite label. "They're definitely dangerous. But now that they know Intelligence has credible leads, they might just head out of town to avoid the heat." The thought hadn't occurred to her, and even though she was tempted to let it soothe her, it didn't. "But then we might never catch them."

"We?" Roman's dark brows lifted, and Camila grabbed her keys from the hook where she kept them by the door.

"I think it's safe to say that even though you and I aren't officially working this case, we're pretty freaking invested in taking these robbers down. Plus, solidarity, remember? We're a team."

"We are a team," he agreed. Gesturing to the door, he asked, "Are you ready?"

"Rain check on the normal-people date?"

Roman leaned in to press a kiss to her temple, and God, how could one simple gesture make her feel so safe? "Deal."

Opening the door, she let Roman lead the way into the hall before crossing the threshold herself, locking up tight behind her. It didn't escape her notice that Roman was on higher alert than usual, his light brown eyes sharply scanning the corridor in both directions. Camila let out a breath of relief to find it empty, and she shook off her nerves. This was just a precaution. Her brother had said so, and anyway, Roman was right here beside her. She was perfectly fine. They might even make it out of there in time to salvage their date.

She headed toward the elevator, determined to get some answers. It dinged from down the hall, the doors trundling open, and oh, good, if they hurried, maybe they could catch it.

Camila quickened her pace. "Hold the elevator, please," she called out.

But the sight of the man who had stepped around the corner made her jerk to a halt. She didn't recognize him-although a black baseball hat obscured most of his face from direct view, with his shoulder-length brown hair, barbed-wire expression, and hulking, tattooed frame, she'd remember if she'd met him before. But something about the way he carried himself niggled at her subconscious, calling up a primal warning she couldn't explain, and her heart began to race. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers from beneath the brim of his hat, his heavy bootsteps faltering as he saw her and Roman standing there. For a split second, all three of them stood perfectly still, locked in the world's weirdest standoff while Camila's brain screamed that something wasn't right. Then the man took a menacing step forward just as Roman's hand closed around hers to pull her in the opposite direction, and everything became a giant blur of motion, adrenaline, and sound.

"Run," Roman half-yelled, whirling both of them around and pulling her in front of him, using his body to shield her from the man. She didn't hesitate, bolting toward the door to the stairwell with her heart in her windpipe. A loud sound ripped through the air, sending her heart directly into her throat, but she didn't slow. Her survival instinct kicked her feet as fast as they would go, both hands shooting out in front of her to push the door to the stairwell open. It hit the wall behind it with a loud, metallic crash, and only after she'd cleared the threshold did she turn toward Roman.

"Down," he commanded, and again, she didn't hesitate. Whirling toward the staircase leading to the third floor, Camila grabbed the railing for balance, her feet thundering over the stairs so fast, they stung with each rapid step. She didn't have time to do anything other than get one foot in front of the other, but when she and Roman cleared the landing to the third floor, the sound of the door above them smashing open tempted her to freeze.

"Keep going. I've got you," Roman said, right beside her, stride for stride. Another deafening sound ricocheted through the stairwell, sending Camila's already slamming pulse into the stratosphere, and the menacing voice that followed turned her skin to ice. "You can run, but you can't hide. I'm going to find you, you little bitch. And once I do, I'm going to hurt you so bad, you'll f*****g beg me to kill you."

That voice. Oh, God, she knew that voice.

And it wasn't the first time the man that it belonged to had threatened to kill her.

Fear compressed her lungs, turning her footsteps sloppy and making her lightheaded. But then Roman's hand was on hers, grabbing tight and not letting go, and the contact grounded her, making her focus. They ran down the last flight of stairs, bursting out of the stairwell and into the lobby. Roman did a lightning-fast scan of the space, which was thankfully empty, and he turned to the door leading out to the visitor's parking lot.

"We need to get to my car," he said, already in motion. Camila's heart crashed against her rib cage so hard that she could barely hear him past the beat of it against her eardrums. But she followed him without hesitation, through the main door of her building and outside, not stopping until they'd both reached his car. Camila chanced a look back over her shoulder, dread claiming her belly at the sight of the man emerging from the building, gun drawn.

"Roman!" she yelled. The man was already headed toward them, but now they had the advantage. Provided they could get into the car and get gone before the man could get in his car and follow them, anyway.

"Let's go," Roman bit out. The car must have had remote ignition, because it was not only unlocked, but running, and Camila didn't have to be told twice. She jerked the passenger door open and flung herself inside. Roman was already in the driver's seat, putting the car into reverse and peeling out of the parking area as if the building were engulfed in flames.

"Get down," he told her, and although she did, she couldn't just sit there, crouched down low against the passenger seat.

"How can I help?" she asked, trying to catch her breath, but failing.

Roman stared at the rearview mirror for a beat before looking at her, then the windshield. "See that lockbox in the dash? I need you to open it and hand me the weapon inside."

Oh, God, this was entirely f*****g surreal. "O-okay."

She punched in the code he gave her. The red light on the front of the box turned green, a soft beep indicating that the box was unlocked, and Camila opened it with hands she had to will to stop shaking. She'd never held a gun before, and she handed it over to Roman as if it were made of spun glass.

"It's okay. The safety's on," he told her, placing the gun in his lap and swiveling another stare over their surroundings. "I don't see anyone following us."

Camila straightened, chancing a look behind them. "Does that mean we lost him?"

"Not yet." Roman tapped an icon on his dashboard, and a second later, the sound of a phone ringing filled the car speakers. "Keep watching out the back," he told her, driving with one hand and grabbing the gun with the other. "If you see anything that looks suspicious-anything-tell me."

"Okay," she managed, trying to take a deep breath. Having a job to do kept her focused on something other than the fact that they'd just been shot at by a freaking bank robber, and she stared out the back window, scanning for anything that looked out of the ordinary.

A voice filtered over the speakers after the third ring. "Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"

"This is FBI Agent Kai Roman," he said, following with a badge number to confirm his identity. "I've got shots fired at an agent and a civilian, twenty-four sixteen Wellington Street, white male shooter, six-four, brown hair, black T-shirt and jeans. No injuries. Requesting all available units to that location."

"Copy that, requesting available units to twenty-four sixteen Wellington Street," the dispatcher said. "Are you on scene?"

"Negative. I'm securing the witness who was the target of the attack. I need to talk to FBI Special Agent Olivia Calloway and Sergeant Sam Sinclair in RPD's Intelligence Unit. Now."

If the dispatcher took offense to his demand, she hid it well. "Copy that. Hold the line."

Gripping the wheel, Roman looked at her, brows lifted in question, and she shook her head. "Nothing. I don't see anyone following us."

"Good. Keep watching, okay? I'm going to get us somewhere safe."

Roman maneuvered the city streets with as much ease as could be managed at rush hour. They didn't seem to be headed to the Thirty-Third, although he was definitely taking a circuitous path through the city, so she couldn't be entirely sure. After a minute, he turned toward her again, waiting for her to confirm that they still weren't being followed before pulling into a parking garage and backing into a spot on the second level.

"I need you to turn your cell phone off. Chances are low that they're tracking it," he added, likely at the way she'd looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "This attack didn't seem well-coordinated, like the robberies. But we know this crew has some heavy-duty tech with those cell jammers. I'm not taking the risk."

Of course, it made sense. She reached into her back pocket for her phone and turned it off, then replaced it. She must've looked as scared as she felt, because Roman reached out to squeeze her hand.

"This is going to be okay," he said. Camila didn't have time to ask how it could possibly end up okay, though, before a familiar voice came over the speakers.

"Roman," Sergeant Sinclair said. "What the hell is going on?"

"That's funny, I was going to ask you the same thing."

Sinclair's pause told Camila that the answer to that question was both long and involved. "First thing's first. Is Camila with you?"

"I'm here," she said. "I'm safe."

"Good." Sinclair's relief was obvious.

Roman's irritation? More obvious. "She's lucky," he snapped. "One of the robbers came after her at her apartment and just shot at both of us. We lost him-either that or he got smart and stopped pursuit-but either way, you have more to worry about than two bank robberies. Camila is in danger."

Dread made Camila's stomach dip, and the sensation didn't get any better when Sinclair said, "I agree. Look, this case got very complicated today, and it's more than I can go through on this call. Our first priority is keeping you safe, Camila. Let's get you to the precinct so we can come up with a plan to do that."

Roman shook his head. "I don't think so. This guy took potshots at me, too, and I kept Camila safe. I'm not just involved in this case. I'm invested. So, once and for all, can we please cut the jurisdictional crap? I want on this case. Now."

A new voice, one Camila didn't recognize but that commanded instant respect, came over the line. "I'm inclined to agree about jurisdiction, Sergeant. Agent Roman was in the right place at the right time tonight, and that probably saved your witness's life. I think he's earned his way onto this case."

"Special Agent Calloway," Sinclair said. "My unit is perfectly capable of working this case independently of the FBI."

"If I had any doubt that you could, I'd have pulled rank and taken this case from you after the first robbery," Calloway replied. "I'm not questioning your unit's ability. What I am saying is that Agent Roman may be of particular service to you. I'm assuming you'll be putting Ms. Garza into protective custody?"

"Protective custody?" Camila choked out. When had her life become a John Wick movie? "Are you serious? What about my job? My family? What am I supposed to tell them?"

Roman looked at her through the shadows in the front seat of his car. "We'll help you take care of all of that, I promise. But protective custody is the best way to keep you safe, Camila. The robbers know where you live and they clearly want to hurt you. Going home isn't a risk we can take right now."

"Agreed," Sinclair said. "At least until we can sort through the escalation at the bank and this attack."

Wait... "What escalation at the bank?"

The beat of silence that followed weighed conservatively a metric ton. Then, Sinclair said, "There was a fatality at the robbery today. The security guard who told the robbers about you and what we know was shot and killed."

Shock sank its teeth into her, and oh, God. Oh, God. "He died?"

"Yes. We're still piecing together what happened, but it's clear that now that the robbers know you're a potential witness, you're not safe until we can find them and take them down."

"You've got a hell of a full plate, Sergeant," Calloway said.

"We're good for the work," Sinclair said back.

But Calloway surprised Camila-and from his expression, Roman, too-by saying, "As we've already established, I believe that you are. But I also think you could use some help, and the FBI has a few resources that would be of particular use to you on this case." "Such as?" Sinclair asked.

"Witness protection capabilities. Look, you need to keep Camila safe from these assailants. She's currently already with a trained federal agent with resources at his disposal to go way off the grid. And, frankly, at this point, we can't even be sure that after what Roman just did to foil the attempt on Camila's life, the robbers won't target him along with her in an effort to finish what they started."

Camila's chin snapped up, a cold chill sending goose bumps over her arms. "You think they'll try to hurt both of us?"

"Not if they can't find you," Calloway said, and understanding dawned on Roman's face.

"You want me on Camila's protection detail while Intelligence works the case."

"Yes and no," Calloway said. "What I'm proposing is that Intelligence work this case jointly with the FBI. We would provide a protection detail for Camila, and yes, Agent Roman, you would be in charge of that. But if we share jurisdiction, you'd also be privy to regular case updates, and would offer insight and support, as needed."

"And if I say no?" Sinclair asked.

"You won't," Calloway countered, and even though Camila's head was spinning, she could still appreciate the hell out of the woman's tenacity. "I know you, Sam. You're too smart for that. You know we can keep her at least as safe as you can, if not safer. And you also know that if I was feeling less than courteous, I'd pull rank and take the whole damn case."

"I'd need to know what the protection detail looks like," Sinclair said by way of agreement.

Calloway laughed in a soft huff. "It looks like it's funded and run by the FBI."

"I understand, but Camila is still my witness, which means her safety is my responsibility. Not to mention the fact that her brother is one of my detectives, and he's going to want every assurance that his sister is safe."

Roman's spine straightened against the BMW's driver's seat, and Camila felt the look he gave her in about sixteen places all at once.

"He has it. I'll do everything necessary to keep her safe."

"Excellent," Calloway said. "Let's not waste any time starting protocol. Agent Roman, I've heard that the lake is lovely this time of year." With that, she ended the call.