Watch Your Back by Karen Rose

months ago, and the gunman who’d shot her four hours ago. It hadn’t been much more than a graze. But it still hurt.
    But you’re alive. Unlike Elissa Selmon and Angie Thurman. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back. Goddammit .
    The house was dark. Quiet. The minivan was gone from the driveway. Cordelia and Izzy weren’t home yet. Which would be perfect except that Stevie had no idea where they were because Izzy hadn’t answered any of her texts, voicemails, or emails.
    Dammit, Izzy. Where are you? Where is my daughter? Please let her be all right. Please don’t let her be hurt. Don’t let her be—
    Stop this. You’ll be no good to anyone if you panic. Cordelia is all right .
    She had to be all right. Wherever she and Izzy were.
    Which at least wasn’t here. Stevie didn’t want them around her. She didn’t want anyone around her. I have a price on my head . And the collection agency didn’t seem terribly worried about collateral damage.
    ‘Um, Stevie?’ Emma’s calm voice came from just behind her, on her right. ‘You’re still a target, hon. Let’s get you up the stairs and in the house.’
    ‘Or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you up,’ JD added grimly from her left.
    Stevie clenched her teeth, but did as he said, propelling herself up her front steps. ‘I don’t need a bodyguard or a babysitter. If you touch me, JD, you’ll be singing soprano for a week.’
    ‘Yeah, whatever,’ JD muttered. ‘One last time, Stevie. Go to the goddamn safe house.’
    ‘One last time, JD, no . I will not be driven from my home.’ Stevie hissed a curse when her key missed the lock entirely. Her hand was trembling, dammit. Like an old woman’s.
    Or like a person who’d just watched two people die. Because you wouldn’t back off. You had to pursue Silas’s old cases. You had to know. You won’t leave well enough alone .
    The inner voice that taunted her morphed from her own to that of her twin. Sorin had been so upset when he’d called last night to beg her to stop the investigations that were bringing the slime out of the woodwork. Begged her to let the other cops review all of Silas’s old cases.
    She’d heard the love and fear in his voice . . . and then the furious disgust when she’d refused to back down, because BPD was investigating. They’d formed a special task force that had spent the last year reopening dozens of cases thrown by dirty cops working in secret for an even dirtier defense attorney. But there were so many cases and Silas hadn’t been the only dirty cop.
    But he was my partner. My responsibility . She couldn’t, wouldn’t walk away.
    And now? Now that she knew that the dozens of cases BPD knew about might be only the tip of the iceberg? Now that she knew that more dirty cops still walked the street? Still wore a badge, just like Silas had done for all the years they’d been partners?
    She couldn’t walk away.
    But none of this had she been able to share with her brother. Instead, she’d borne his rage in silence, which he’d interpreted as sullen stubbornness.
    If you don’t care about your own life, have the decency to think about the lives of everyone around you. Our sister. Our parents. Your daughter. If the next bullet hits you, we’ll mourn. If the next bullet misses you and hits one of them? What then? His voice had broken, his next words choked with tears. I love you, Stefania, and watching you destroy yourself is killing me .
    A sob was building in her chest. She forced it back down. He’d been right. He’d been so right. Two women were dead. I’m sorry. I really am . But it changed nothing.
    Sorin didn’t understand. Nobody understood. She couldn’t stop investigating. There was this pressure in her mind, in her heart, pressing her forward. So many injustices. So many innocents paying for the crimes of others. And all under her very nose. For all those years . . .
    She had to make it right .
    Tears blurred her eyes and the key missed