Marcy Moretti believes anyone can be redeemed until she witnesses a murder at the hands of her cruel ex-husband and is forced to go on the run in the Big Easy with her young son in tow in order to survive. Her ex has turned so many people against her, she's afraid to trust anyone except Joe Riso, her former brother-in-law, a troubled detective staggered by the loss of his own wife and daughter when a case goes awry.
If Joe is going to protect Marcy and her boy, he must first find a way to unfreeze his icy heart. Part of him died the day Emily and little Amber went down in a hail of bullets, and he has yet to pull himself out of the quagmire of grief he's lived in ever since.
The danger surrounding Marcy brings his cop instincts back to the surface, however, and when he finally gives in and sacrifices his own freedom to keep her and her son safe, he also finds his own redemption.
Joe strapped on his ankle holster containing the backup piece he hadn't used since he'd turned his duty weapon over to Cole, and on impulse loaded his old backup revolver, a snub-nosed .38, and stuck it in his pocket. Then he ushered Marcy and Ryan outside to his black SUV, where he handed Ryan his backpack and climbed wearily into the driver's seat. Marcy clenched her hands around the bag of clothing and toiletries in her lap as he backed from the driveway.
"How far do we have to go?" she asked.
Joe met her worried gaze in the mirror. "Just across town. Shouldn't take long."
Traffic was light, and Joe took his time making his way to the interstate so as not to draw attention to their vehicle. The rain hadn't returned, but a thick, white haze hung in the air like a cloud that had lost its way. As he neared the elevated highway, he noticed a dark car, maybe a Lincoln, lingering four cars back. It stopped when he stopped, sped through yellow lights to keep up, and never got too close. His nerves went on red alert. He kept his eyes on it as they left Metairie and entered the city of New Orleans. If that was Frank...
He tightened his hold on the wheel. He didn't want to scare Marcy, so he decided not to say anything unless the car made a move. It could be anybody.
The exits clicked by, and he soon spotted Louisiana Avenue.
"I really appreciate your doing this," Marcy said, finally gracing him with a look as they rolled down the exit.
Joe met her wary eyes. "No problem. You're family."
She stared at him a long moment but didn't say anything else. So he returned his gaze to the road. Being so close to her ratcheted up his libido, which he'd thought had died along with Emily. Discovering it was alive shocked him.
He headed south on Louisiana and tried not to think about it. Having a fling with Marcy was out of the question. For one thing, she despised him. And for another, he had more important things to worry about, like getting her and Ryan to the safe house in one piece. His eyes drifted back to the mirror just in time to see the dark car fly down the exit behind them.
He cursed inwardly. "Marcy--"
"What is it?" She turned her head.
He flicked another glance at the rearview mirror. The vehicle turned onto Louisiana and raced toward them at high speed. Had to be Frank.
He clenched his jaw. "We've got trouble."
"What do you mean?" She twisted in her seat and peered behind them. Her face went white. "Oh, my God. It's him!"