Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sound of your phone ringing made you turn towards the table with a groan. After you fought yourself out from under you mound of blankets, you grabbed the device and squinted at the name that was on there. 

“Jesus cap, it’s four in the morning,” you complained as you flopped back down on the bed.

“We’ve got another one,” he said in a gruff, tired voice that had nothing to do with the early morning hour.

You sat up as those four words sunk in. Another one. Another one. Shit.

“I’ll be there in thirty. Send me the location.”

You dropped the phone onto the bed and got up. First stop was the bathroom to wash up a bit. Once you were done with that, you went into your closet to grab some clothes. This was supposed to be your day off but you knew your captain wouldn’t call you in unless he was certain. And the tone in his voice told you that he was certain.

Another one.

Dressed and made presentable once more, you grabbed a granola bar and a bottle of water before you ran out the door. It was drizzling as you went from your house to the car parked in the driveway. It was a short drive into the city from where you lived, but you weren’t headed to the precinct. You were heading somewhere else.

The crime scene.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been called into work in the middle of the night and you doubted it’d be the last. Homicide in the city was pretty common, but this was different. This phone call didn’t even sound official. 

At the location your captain had sent you, you parked the car on the street and looked at the house. There was a for sale sign in the yard, the grass had been cut recently by the piles of dead grass spread everywhere. You could see a broken window on the door from where you were parked.

A knock on your window made you jump. Standing on the other side was your captain.

“This isn’t official yet,” he said when you stepped out. He pointed at the house and then shook his head. “This body is just like the others but since it’s your case, I need you to verify before I can give you the tap. Vic’s name is Paul Shaeffer, same background as the others.”

You nodded and followed him up to the house, situating your bag over your shoulder as you did. There were crime scene investigators all over the house, but you knew the body wouldn’t have been disturbed.

When you got in, you pegged the similarities immediately. Ziptied hands, duct tape over the mouth, eyelids removed, multiple blows to the body and face. You knew that they’d find dog tags in the man’s mouth once the duct tape was removed.

“And this,” your captain said as he gestured to the wall across from where the body was splayed.

On the wall was the number twelve written multiple times in blood. It was even written in different languages.

“Same MO. The Jackson Pollock impression was never put in the papers so it isn’t a copycat,” you said as you pulled out your notebook that you’d been keeping on this particular killer.

Captain Lawrence Franks nodded and patted your shoulder.

“It’s your case kid. Let me know if you want one of the bodies from the bullpen with you on this. Half the force is pulling doubles with that Lemar thing coming up, but we’ll do what we can. This is gonna become high profile if word gets out.”

You gave him a nod, but you were focused on the crime scene. After your captain left, you made your way over to the head crime scene investigator and gave him a tight smile.

“What you got Ricardo?”

Ricardo hitched up his pants as he looked around and shook his head.

“Deja vu is what I got,” he said with another shake of his head before he nodded towards the back. “C’mon, I’ll show you point of entry.”

He walked you through the scene and all of the particulars that he had so far. The killer came in through the back door and caught the victim unaware in the bedroom and dragged him into the living room where the torture happened. Shaeffer had fought back but was unable to get the upper hand. There were obvious signs of a struggle.

“If the killer came in the back, why is there a broken window on the front door?”

Ricardo gestured for you to follow him. On the front porch, one of the investigators was photographing a slug that had been embedded into a pillar outside.

“There was a shot fired. Went through the window and ended up here.”

A shot fired? That was a deviation. 

“No gun on scene?”

“No, but Shaeffer was ex-military. I’m sure he has a permit. We’ll have to see if the slug matches the caliber.”

You told Ricardo and the others to let you know if they had anything else for you and you headed out into the street to your car. The autopsy would be done which should give even more similarities to the other kills. You’d need to look and see if the man had any next of kin for you to call. It was going to be a long day.

Another one. As you started your car, you recited the other names to yourself.

James Patrick. Milton Wallace. Harley Hendricks. Victor Harrison. Lucas Bernard. Paul Shaeffer.

Son of a bitch. If you were right—and you had every reason to believe you were—there was a serial killer operating in New York City. 

——

“Motherfucker,” you swore as you dropped your head down onto your desk. 

“That’s a two dollar word,” one of the other detectives said before a hip was placed against your desk. “What’s got you making a donation into the swear jar?”

You sat up and looked over at Mel. 

“I’ve got six bodies that’ve been dropped in the last year, same MO, same backgrounds, but there isn’t anything tying them together.”

All of them were Marines, but none of them served closer than in the same country at the same time. They were all from different platoons and with different specialties. None of them came back at the same time. Hell, Milton Wallace and Victor Harrison were still active, so it wasn’t just retired Marines.

“There’s gotta be something,” you said under your breath as Mel scanned some of the backgrounds. “I’m missing something, I know it.”

“Have you talked to the DOD about this? Surely there’s some General somewhere that will give you some bullshit answers, right?”

You let out a short laugh and leaned back in your seat.

“That’s a dollar,” you said with a jerk of your thumb in the direction of the precinct swear jar.

“I’ll put a five in,” she said with a wink as she fished the money out of her pocket. “You can have the other two words. Looks like you’ll need them more than I will.”

With that Mel wandered back over to her desk. You leaned back as you looked over the files you had open on your desk.

Six men with just the faintest connection. Enough similarities to say that they weren’t targeted on accident, but not enough to tell you what the actual connecting thread was. 

And Mel was right, you had contacted the DOD after the third body was found. It wasn’t a General, but someone told you that there wasn’t any connection, but they’d send you their jackets if it’d help you solve the crimes.

It wasn’t enough. And you had the feeling that whichever haircut you’d talked to at the Pentagon had given you their version of things instead of the truth.

“Fuck it, I’m taking these to a conference room,” you said as you gathered up your stuff. “And I’ll throw a shit in there just to make it five dollars even.”

“Thanks Y/L/N,” Mel called from her desk with a wave in your direction.

In one of the conference rooms, you laid out all of the files side by side. You flipped past their early lives and looked at the military background. Because of the dog tags being taped in their mouths, you thought it had to be a deciding factor in who the killer targeted.

You looked between the dates on the first two pages and then swore. This wasn’t going to work. But there were two whiteboards in the room and you had nothing but time since this case was your only active case.

You went to work.

After three hours, you had both whiteboards decked out in dates for the six men. Some of the dates overlapped, but most of the locations didn’t. And the ones did were separated by platoon. Looking at the information provided, there was nothing in common.

But having it written out like this told you what you should be looking for was what wasn’t there. All six of them had at least a year long gap at the same time. You looked between them again to make sure you hadn’t missed anything, but it was clear as day now.

They were all still active at that time, although a few of them got out not long after. 

What happened in that time frame?

You grabbed your phone and dialed your captain’s number. When he picked up, you took a deep breath.

“Wanna come with me and piss off some guys in uniform?”

——

“Those fucking assholes,” you swore as you slammed down your beer, still seething after your meeting with more members of the military who shut you down in about two minutes. “Six of their own are dead, you’d think they’d give a shit.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Lawrence promised as he clapped you on the shoulder. “There’s gotta be something we can use, some connection. Even the smallest can be worth checking.”

You nodded and leaned back in the stool. You couldn’t believe that these men hadn’t wanted to give over all the information they could to catch a killer.

“What could possibly be worth protecting that’s more important than catching a killer?”

You hadn’t realized that Lawrence had left, but it didn’t matter. The question was rhetorical. 

——

That night you stared at the files on your table. Each of these men had been brutally murdered and no one seemed to know anything. How was it possible that six men’s lives could be ended and nothing was done for it? 

You flipped back to Harley Hendricks and then looked at Paul Shaeffer’s file. There was something the two of them had in common, although the timing didn’t overlap. 

Anvil. Both of them had worked at the private security firm at some point. Hendricks worked there when it was first opened for about a year and Shaeffer worked there more recently, but not for long. 

Your tablet was closest so you snagged that and typed in Anvil in the search. It pulled up a few articles from recent things they’d done but you went past those until you found a link for their website. 

It was a private security firm that solely hired ex-military people. It was a way of giving purpose to the disenfranchised men and women who had been chewed up and spit back out by the government. Of course the website didn’t word it like that, but you could read between the lines.

You looked at the contact information and wrote down the address and phone number. Then you wrote down the name of the owner of the company. William Russo, retired Lieutenant in the Marines. 

In another tab you entered in the name and waited to see what popped up. A few articles that linked back to Anvil, one from about ten years before about something he’d done overseas to deserve a medal. You found a photo of him and clicked on it to enlarge it. The man was probably mid to late thirties. His hair was brushed back, but it didn’t make him look slimy like it did a lot of guys. This was obviously a man who put a lot of care into his looks and appearance.

For a good reason. The longer you stared at the photo, the more you realized he was incredibly attractive. It might have been the beers you’d had, but you couldn’t stop looking at him.

Shit. 

You closed the tab and looked back over at the files on your table. Tomorrow you would go to Anvil and see if either this William Russo or someone else there could tell you about that missing time that all of the men had in common.

It was your best lead at this point.

——

Anvil was exactly what you imagined, only cleaner. Men and women were in workout clothes and going through drills. You looked around the large building but didn’t see anyone that matched what you remembered from Russo’s photo.

A tall man with a gun on his hip and an earpiece came over to where you were standing.

“Can I help you?”

You moved your blazer out of the way to show your badge on your hip.

“Detective Y/N Y/L/N, NYPD Homicide. I’m looking for the owner, William Russo.”

“Billy, please,” a voice said from over your shoulder. You turned around to face the man from the photos the night before. “What can I do for you detective?”

You looked around the space and then back to him.

“Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

The man’s pleasant and polite smile seemed to twitch before he directed you down a hall and into an office. There were windows everywhere, but at least no one would overhear you here. Once the door was shut, Russo turned to look at you.

“How can I help?”

“Does the name Paul Shaeffer mean anything to you, Mr Russo?”

That got some surprise from Russo. He crossed his arms and sat down on the edge of his desk.

“Shaeffer, sure, he joined Anvil a while back.”

You nodded, not looking at him directly. You weren’t sure why you were using your interrogation techniques on him, but you pretended to be interested in something out of the window.

“But he’s not with Anvil anymore, right?”

You heard more than saw him shrug.

“A lot of the people who join Anvil come back as needed, as long as they pass their physical and mental exams before any jobs. Is there…” He trailed off for a moment and then you saw him stand up straight. “You’re a homicide detective. Why are you asking about Shaef?”

With that, you turned to face Russo completely. He had a stern look on his face, one that probably made young Marines snap to attention or cower behind their buddies. But you weren’t about to be cowed.

“I regret to inform you that Paul Shaeffer was found murdered early yesterday morning.”

Billy sagged back to sit down on the desk.

“Fuck. When?”

Obviously he wasn’t asking when he was found, but when it had happened.

“Estimated time of death is Wednesday, between nine and eleven PM. Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt Paul?”

Russo shook his head as he stared off into space. Obviously he was coming to grips with the death of someone he knew.

“Shaef was a good guy. He wasn’t… he wasn’t the kind of guy to have enemies or anything like that.”

You nodded and took a step closer to him.

“When was the last time you talked to Paul?”

Russo shook his head again and then turned to look at you. You saw the calculating look in his dark eyes. Then he rolled his eyes and stood up, moving around his desk.

“I called him about a month ago to ask him about a job, but he said he was working on something else so he couldn’t.” He grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and wrote something down on a notepad next to the computer. “And before you ask, here’s my alibi from Wednesday night. I had cocktails with some potential clients until ten and then I went home with one of the women. She can give you plenty of details of the different positions we were in until well past two AM.”

You accepted the information and skimmed it over. A few names, including the one you assumed was his date from that night. You slid it into your jacket pocket and then crossed your arms over your chest.

“I appreciate that Mr Russo. And I do want to ask you something else, if I can.”

While he obviously hadn’t been happy with your questioning him for the murder, he didn’t tell you to get out. Instead he sat down at his desk and motioned for you to continue.

“Did you know a Harley Hendricks?”

It definitely wasn’t the question he was expecting. Russo’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head, but then he nodded.

“Yeah, I knew Harley. He died almost a year ago though. What does that have to do with Shaef?”

You couldn’t give too much information since it was an active investigation, but you had to give something.

“There’s a chance that the two deaths are related,” you said as you uncrossed your arms. “Harley worked for you back when you first started Anvil, correct? How’d you know him?”

Russo blinked a few times before he cleared his throat, shifting a bit in his chair.

“We’d met when we both got out of the service. I was opening Anvil and offered him a spot. He worked for me for about a year before he got a steady job. His wife was expecting so he wanted something less dangerous.”

You’d heard that from his wife, so you nodded. You didn’t get the feeling that Russo was bullshitting you, but you did feel like he was hiding something. Unable to help it, you tried one more thing.

“What about these names: James Patrick, Milton Wallace, Victor Harrison, or Lucas Bernard. Any of those names ring a bell?”

He didn’t react to any of the names. Once you were done listing them, he shook his head. 

“No, not really,” he said before he motioned to his computer. “I can look to see if any of them worked for Anvil. Maybe they didn’t work long or didn’t make the cut.”

You nodded. With that, you pulled out your card and held it out over the desk to him.

“You do that. Give me a call if you find anything. Anything you might have would be appreciated,” you said as you gestured with the card.

He took it and looked it over before he tucked it into the pocket of his suit.

“Anything to help. And let me know if you have any other questions.”

He pulled out his own card and held it out to you. You thought you noticed him checking you out as you accepted the card, but you told yourself you were just seeing things. Instead you tucked the card in your pocket with his alibi and then started towards the door.

Something about that man unsettled you. And you didn’t think it was just because you were attracted to him.

——

“You want the good news or the bad news?”

You looked away from the vending machine where you were contemplating two equally unhealthy options. Mel was holding onto a piece of paper and you frowned.

“Hit me,” you said as you leaned against the machine.

“Russo’s alibi checked out. The potential clients all said he was there until about ten and then he went home with a Miss Jessica Freeman and she was very… explicit in vouching for his whereabouts. I’m pretty sure I need Plan B just hearing about it frankly.”

You weren’t sure if you were glad or not that the alibi checked out. But you were pretty glad that he wasn’t the killer.

“So what’s the good news?”

Mel raised her eyebrow and shook her head.

“That was the good news. Bad news is that a report just came in from Jersey. There’s been another kill.”

You nearly ripped the paper from her hands and looked it over. Same MO, same background. Gregory Caldwell. His death had been about a week before Paul Shaeffer’s. The detective on the case had apparently seen something about Shaeffer’s death and looked into it.

“He’s gonna give you the files,” Mel explained as she showed you on the paper where his information was. “He wants the son of a bitch caught, but because we’ve had six and he just has the ones, he said you take point.”

You’d have to drive out to Jersey and look around the crime scene unless they got a lot of pictures. You hated trying to work a case without being there from the beginning, but you’d been there from the first death with this.

“If this guy is killing this far out of the city, there could be bodies anywhere. We need to cast a wider net, see if there’s any others.”

Not all of the six were from New York, but all of the deaths had been in the city. This new death put that in a new light. 

Shit. 

——

Gregory Caldwell’s timeline was added to the board and once more there was a huge chunk of time missing, the same chunk as the other guys. You tapped your fingers on the table as you stared at the board. 

Why didn’t you ask Russo about it? Maybe he wouldn’t have known anything, but you could have asked. The only reason you could think that you wouldn’t have asked was just that you were too preoccupied with interrogating him. 

You’d need to call him and ask him about it. If there was anything he could give you, a starting point, you’d take it. He had been your first real lead and that didn’t give you anything except for tingle down your spine when you thought about the look in his eyes.

Billy Russo was an ex-Marine himself. You’d done a little more looking into him while you waited for his alibi to come back. He’d served in Afghanistan and Iraq. He was a scout sniper, part of the recon community, and was a decorated soldier when he left the service. Now he was lauded for his work with Anvil.

And he was apparently a wizard in the sack. You weren’t sure you needed to know that.

You shifted in your chair a bit, feeling a little hot under the collar. A voice that sounded suspiciously like your mom’s told you that you were being inappropriate and it made you want to laugh.

When was the last date you’d been on? It had been a blind date, you remembered that. The guy had been really into it and you until you told him you were a homicide detective. You’d never seen someone’s mood change so quickly.

Was it the gun? The fact that you could probably take him in a fight? Or the fact that you stared at dead bodies for most of your work week.

With frustration and energy to spare, you closed up the conference room and grabbed your bag from your locker before you locked up your desk. You’d go home and work out for a bit and see if that made you feel better.

Maybe it’d help keep your mind off of Billy Russo.

Or it’d just make you want to burn some energy with him. Dammit.

——

The names of the seven men who had been killed went through your head as you chased down a few thin leads. You doubted any of them would turn up anything, but you could at least look. It was all that you had at this point.

You tapped your pen against the file on your desk as you tried to think about it a different way.

Suppose you’re the killer. If you were going to go after ex-Marines, how would you find them?

Anvil was the first thing that popped to mind, but you dismissed that. You had no links for the other victims to Anvil, just Harley and Paul. 

And the only reason it popped into your mind was because you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Billy Russo. You’d called him and left a message to ask him to call you. You wanted to ask him about those missing years for Harley and Paul in hopes that he might know something, but you hadn’t heard from him yet.

As if your mind had summoned him, your phone started to ring with his name on the display. You tried not to look too eager to pick it up.

“Detective,” he greeted once you answered, his voice low. “Are you at the precinct right now?”

You leaned back in your chair.

“Yeah?”

“Can you come out across the street to the parking garage? I need to talk to you and I’d prefer not to do it in the precinct.”

That didn’t sound good. You sat up straighter and looked around as if you were looking for a threat.

“Mr Russo, I–”

“It’s about Harley and Paul. And the others. Please, detective, come outside.”

You told him you’d be out in a few minutes. Once you hung up, you tucked your phone into your pocket. Then you grabbed your gun and put it on your hip. Billy might not be the murderer, but that didn’t mean you trusted him. And him asking you out to the parking garage was like one big warning sign, so you weren’t going unprotected.

He was attractive but you weren’t an idiot.

Across the street, you looked around the parking garage. No one on the first level so you took the stairs up to the second floor. There on the end was Russo. You headed towards him but you kept alert of your surroundings.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on Russo? This isn’t exactly common procedure,” you said as you stopped a few feet away from him.

Russo looked determined. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but instead a pair of dark jeans and a zipped up black leather jacket. It was a good look for him, but it made you even more cautious.

“Those other names you listed? James Patrick, Milton Wallace, Victor Harrison, Lucas Bernard? I lied when I said they didn’t ring a bell. Fact is, I know them very well. We all served overseas together for over a year.”

Your head was spinning. 

“No, I checked the deployments a dozen times. None of the victims ever deployed together.”

Only you weren’t counting the missing chunk of time. The moment it came to you, Russo was already explaining.

“It was an off the books mission. We reported directly to some higher up in the government, no holds barred. It was black ops shit, the kind that doesn’t get written down and documented. There were twelve of us on the roster for it.”

You almost stumbled as that hit you. Twelve members of the black ops group that didn’t exist. Twelve.

The image of the number twelve written dozens of times in blood made your skin crawl. It was all connected. And you’d been right. It was about the missing time.

And if Billy served with them, that meant he had a target on his back as well.

“Someone is killing members of this super secret black ops group. There were twelve of you and seven are already dead. That leaves five suspects.”

He shook his head.

“There were only six. Who else has been killed?”

You were giving the name before you thought better of it.

“Gregory Caldwell was found murdered in Jersey little over a week ago. They just got the information to us. We searched the rest of the country and didn’t find any other murders that fit the MO, so that’s just seven. Who are the others?”

Billy pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and passed it over. It had five names on there.

Gregory Caldwell. Daniel Kline. Gunner Henderson. Charlie Martin. Frank… wait.

“Frank Castle? The Punisher was part of this group?”

He shrugged his shoulders. Or maybe he was rolling them a bit. It kind of looked like he was preparing for a fight.

“Before he was the Punisher, he was my best friend. That man had saved my life more times than I can count.” He looked away from you for a moment. “So I guess we can mark him off the list.”

Yeah, unless zombies were a thing. Everyone knew the Punisher was dead.

“So we’ve got four still alive, including you. We need to get you and them into protective custody until we can figure this out.”

He shook his head and put his hands in his pockets.

“I’m not hiding. Whoever this is wants to try to kill me? He can try.” 

You’d dealt with enough of stubborn men to know that he was digging his heels in. And it wasn’t like you could force him into protective custody. Your choices were limited.

“Do you know where we can find the others?”

He shook his head again and then shrugged a shoulder. 

“Not Charlie or Daniel, but I know where Gunner is. It’s off the grid and not on any map. I can get you there though.”

“Let me talk to my captain about tracking down Charlie and Daniel. You can draw me a map or write down the directions and–”

“I don’t think you understand. I’ll drive you to where Gunner is or you’ll never find him.” 

He had gone past stubborn and right into cocky. It pissed you off. 

“I’m the detective on this case, Russo. I’ll put your ass in lock up and–”

“As much as I would love to hear what you’d do with my ass, I think we should get on the road or it’ll be dark by time we get there. Gunner went a little heavy with the paranoia part of his PTSD and he holed up in the woods with traps. And he’s not letting anyone near his cabin, not even a beautiful woman with a badge. You want to get in there and come out alive with Gunner with you? You need me.”

There was a lot in that spiel that you felt like needed to be rehashed, but you weren’t about to ask him to repeat himself. Instead you rolled your head and turned to look away from him.

“I’ve got to go in there and get my things, tell my captain what I’m doing, and get them to track down the others. You better come with me; we’re taking my car.”

Your heart gave a little tug when you saw the pleased smirk on his lips. Instead you turned around and headed to the stairs. The faster you got this part done with, the faster you could get on the road.

Alone in the car with Billy Russo for god knows how long? It was going to be interesting.

——

The radio was on but it was so low you could barely hear it. Billy had been giving you directions further and further into the woods. Your captain had told you to wear a vest and to make sure that your gun was loaded, but you didn’t need to be told twice. You still weren’t sure if you trusted Billy or not.

“When was the last time you saw Gunner?”

He looked over at you and then back to the road that you were driving. 

“Came up here a year or so ago to check on him, make sure he wasn’t dead. We talked for an hour before he told me to leave. I’m hoping he’ll listen long enough for me to tell him he’s in danger and we can get him out of there.”

You nodded, your hands tightening on the steering wheel. This wasn’t going to be easy with someone that was paranoid. If he lived in the woods for this long, he definitely didn’t trust anyone. He might not trust Billy.

“Is he going to be a danger?”

Billy’s eyes darted to where your gun was and then back to the road.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

That wasn’t an answer, but you didn’t push it. Instead you changed topics.

“What made you tell me the truth? I’m sure I’m not on the list of people who are supposed to know about the super classified black ops team you were part of.”

He shook his head. You watched as he ran his thumb across his bottom lip as he continued to stare through the windshield. Your eyes darted back to the road so that you didn’t swerve as you stared at the man in your passenger seat.

“Six people had already been killed and you seemed to believe it wasn’t going to stop. I figured if I didn’t tell you, more people would die.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

“But you’re not scared if the killer comes for you?”

You watched Billy’s hand tighten on this leg.

“He’s more than willing to try, but I’m not worried. Whoever it is is killing Marines has had the benefit of surprise, but I know he’s out there. He won’t catch me unaware.”

That sounded like such a Marine answer that you found yourself smiling. Then you made yourself stop, but it was too late. Billy had seen it.

“Who served?” At your curious noise, Billy smirked and repeated the question. “Who in your life served? You had a look I’ve seen before.”

Probably the look of someone that thinks the person is insane. You laughed and tightened your fingers on the steering wheel.

“My dad. He was a Marine for about forty years.” You tapped your fingers on the wheel after you forced yourself to release it. “He uh, died of cancer a couple years back.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely.

There was a comfortable silence except for the sound of the car and Billy giving a few directions. As you pulled onto a dirt road, your headlights on in the dying light, Billy told you that you were close.

“Who do you think it is? The killer.”

Billy glanced at you and then back out of the windshield.

“It’s gotta be someone trained. Even with the element of surprise, he isn’t gonna be able to take on a trained Marine without some training himself. The news said they were tortured so he’s gotta incapacitate them somehow. First guess would be another Marine, maybe one of the last ones, but…”

You looked over at Billy and then back to the road. He looked lost in thought.

“But?”

You saw him shake his head from the corner of your eye.

“Whoever it is, he needs to be stopped.”

Something told you he wasn’t talking about being stopped by being arrested. Not for the first time you wondered if bringing him was a bad move.

But your captain had signed off on it so you didn’t have a choice.

“Park over here,” he said with a gesture to a bit of a clearing. “We’ll have to walk it on foot. You got some flashlights? Looks like we’re going to lose light soon.”

You stopped the car and pocketed the keys. You popped the trunk and got out. With your vest already on, you didn’t have to grab anything else except for the flashlights. After a moment’s hesitation, you grabbed a knife and tucked it into the back of your pants. When you looked up, Billy was looking at the small arsenal in the trunk of your car.

“Got everything but a bazooka,” he said as his fingers moved over the shotgun that hung on the bottom of the trunk door.

“Bazookas are more of an undercover weapon,” you said as you looked at where he was staring. “Do you think we’ll need some of this stuff? Or are you gonna be able to talk Gunner down?”

With that, Billy shut the trunk and took one of the flashlights from you.

“Stay behind me and try to put your feet where mine go. Hopefully Gunner hasn’t added anything new.”

You didn’t like the sound of that, but you gave a nod and set off after Billy. 

It was after the first ten minutes of walking that you saw the first trap. It was a tripwire but you didn’t see the mechanism. Next was a hollow spot that was covered with a tarp that had leaves spread over them. And then another tripwire.

It was getting dark fast, but you followed along steadily. Billy kept you apprised of any traps that came up, but he also told you how far there was left. Then you could see the faint outline of a cabin in the distance.

“Almost there,” Billy said as he looked around. Then he pointed at a tree and told you to duck.

Both of you ducked under a tree branch. You weren’t sure what the trap was on that one, but you weren’t going to ask. 

You’d still have to go through this to get back to the car.

As the cabin came closer, the traps seemed to let up. Maybe he didn’t want to accidentally kill himself when he was out walking or something.

Billy held his hand up to you at one point and you thought that he saw another trap, but he just shook his head.

“He would have seen us by now,” he said as he stayed still. “I made sure to pass through where the motion sensor was.”

You looked up at the cabin that was clearer. The windows weren’t covered, so he would have a clear view of you if he was near a window. And he should have heard the sensor go off if Billy had triggered it.

“You think Gunner is paranoid enough to want to kill the Marines that were in the group with him?”

Billy shot you a look, but he wasn’t judging you for the question. It honestly looked like he was considering it.

“Come on,” he said as he started to move again.

At the steps of the cabin, Billy hesitated before he raised his hand and knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again, this time louder. Then he called out Gunner’s name.

“Gunner? It’s me, Billy. Come out, I just wanna talk for a sec.”

Nothing. You looked up through the trees at the darkening sky. At this rate, you’d be walking back through the woods in pitch dark with just your flashlights and a prayer.

He reached out for the doorknob and found it unlocked. You immediately held up your hand to him and pulled out your gun, moving into position.

“Which one of us is the Marine?” he whispered to you even as he let you take lead.

“Which one of us is the detective and which of us is the civilian? I’d like to not get sued after this.”

You led the way into the cabin. Once you were in what must have been the living room, you had to use your free hand to cover your mouth and nose.

“Oh god,” you whispered under your breath. 

A man was in the middle of the floor of the living room, dried blood under him. By the smell alone, you’d say he’d been dead for a long time. His body had decayed pretty badly, but you could still see the familiar aspects. Zipties. Duct tape.

On the wall across from the body was the number twelve written out over and over. Billy was looking it over with an odd look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you turned your head away from the body. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to find.”

He didn’t reply, but then again he didn’t have to. Instead you knelt down next to the body and covered your nose again.

“I’d say he’s been dead for months.”

“I should have come up to see him more often,” Billy said before he turned to leave the cabin.

You needed to call it in and get forensics up here. You’d have to have Billy go through and try to dismantle the traps if he could. There was about to be a lot of people throughout these woods.

Curiously you made your way over towards a door that was half open. You pushed it the rest of the way and shone your flashlight inside. There was a computer in the corner of the small room with a running feed. Maybe the killer had been caught on a camera? Or at the very least you could check to see when the motion detector had last been triggered.

“There’s a camera feed in here. I’m gonna check it out,” you shouted to Billy as you stepped into the room.

Your name was called but it was a second too late. The moment you stepped into the room, there was a resounding boom from a gunshot and you were forced backwards and onto your ass. Pain radiated up from your chest as you laid on the dusty floor.

“Shit, Y/N, you’re hit,” Billy said as he slid onto the floor next to you. 

His hands hovered carefully before he ripped open your jacket. The sight of your vest made him sigh, but that didn’t mean you were out of the woods.

“That’s a big slug. We need to check for internal bleeding.”

You shook your head and forced yourself to sit up. It felt a little like someone had swung a sledgehammer into your chest, but you could still breathe.

“We need to get that feed. It could have the killer on it.”

Billy helped you stand. When you tried to take a step forward, you nearly collapsed.

“Yeah, that isn’t happening. Jesus, come on. I’m getting you back to the car. This cabin will still be here after we make sure you’re not about to keel over.”

Each step seemed to make your chest ache more, but you stayed attached to Billy’s side for it. You shone your flashlight since he was a little busy half carrying you through the forest.

“I swear I’m alright,” you said as he helped you over a fallen tree. “It hit the plate, not me. It’s just painful.”

Billy shot you a look and continued to guide you through the trees in the dark.

“Yeah, I’ve been hit in the vest more times than I can count. I know it hurts like hell. I also know you can still break a rib or puncture an organ if you’re not careful.”

You winced at a particularly bad jostle then let out a long breath.

“I’ve got a lot of pain in my chest right now Billy. And one of the last four of your black ops team is dead. I’m about to ask you a question and I need you to be upfront with me.”

Billy gave you a look as he continued to walk forward, your body tucked against his. The light from the flashlight gave just enough light for you to see the look on his face.

“Who do you think the killer is?”

He didn’t stop walking, but you felt him falter a bit in his steps. The silence lasted for about ten more feet before he finally spoke.

“Remember that government higher up that I said was in charge of the op? The one we answered to? When we were over there, we tortured some people on his demand. And that stuff that was done to the body? That’s stuff we did to them.”

Their hands were ziptied behind them. Their eyelids were removed. Their dog tags were shoved in their mouth and duct taped over while they were still alive. Plus the brutal beating, cuts and stabs all over the body before the victim was finally killed with one bullet to the forehead.

Billy had been part of that stuff? You knew that war was hell, but this was something else.

“Why do you think I left the Marines? Hard to look yourself in the mirror and not hate yourself once you’ve done that shit.”

You looked over at Billy and saw the self hatred on his face.

“That’s why you started Anvil.”

You weren’t sure what made you say it, but you knew it was true. And he gave you a nod to show that you were right.

“We’re almost to the car. Probably have to head out onto the main road to get cell service. I’ll have to come up here and go through it again to try to dismantle some of the traps.”

You nodded because you’d thought about that as well.

“You’re not doing it in the dark. I’ll tell them to get forensics out here at first light. There was a motel down the road from the last exit we took. We can stay there to help them get up here.”

He gave a nod and then both of you fell silent once more. 

——

The captain wasn’t happy, but he told you to hole up in the motel and he’d have a forensics team up at first light. Of course you hadn’t told him you’d been shot or he’d demand you go to the hospital, but you’d deal with that in the morning.

Instead you went in and got two rooms. They were side by side so you just grabbed both keys and went back out to the car. Billy was on his phone with his guys, telling them he wouldn’t be back to the office in the morning. You held up the keys and then pointed to the rooms you had gotten.

He followed you to them as he hung up. You handed over one of the keys and went to the other door. Once you had the door open, you started to shut it but Billy pushed the door open and came in.

“I got two rooms for a reason,” you said as you walked over to the bed to sit down.

“Yeah, but I wanna check that impact. Don’t try to convince me you’re okay. I know you didn’t tell your captain about it, so just let me check the goddamn thing.”

You glared at him before you gave a nod. The jacket was ripped so you just took that off slowly and dropped it on the floor. Next you undid the velcro from the vest, but he had to help you pull it off. Then your hands went to the buttons of your shirt but he reached up and started to undo them for you.

This felt a lot less like he was checking you for injuries and more like something else. No matter how much you tried to focus on the pain, you couldn’t stop focusing on the path of his fingers down your shirt.

When it came open, you were only in your bra under it. His hand went to the area where the bullet had hit your vest. There was a discoloration, but it wasn’t bad. He touched the spot and you hissed out a breath, but it was only partly because of the pain.

His touch was electric. You bit down on your bottom lip and scolded yourself. He had just seen the body of his buddy. He was a civilian that was caught up in some military intrigue and being chased by a serial killer. You were the detective on the case. It was wrong on so many levels.

His fingers brushed out sideways and you realized he was tracing the area under the cup of your bra.

“Billy,” you said hoarsely, your eyes meeting his finally.

“What, not calling me Russo anymore?”

You honestly couldn’t remember saying his name. Instead you licked your lips and tried not to shiver when you noticed his eyes track the movement. His fingers drifted down your ribs and then back up. They went between your breasts and up your chest until his hand could press against the side of your neck.

“Billy.”

It was meant to be said in a warning tone, to make him stop what he was doing. Instead it sounded like you were pleading with him. And he must have heard it too because he leaned in and captured your lips in a gentle kiss.

Your hands went to that leather jacket and tugged him closer. You wrapped your arms around his body and froze when you felt something solid under the back of his jacket. Tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

“Is that a gun?”

Billy grinned against your lips.

“Maybe I’m just happy to see you.”

You raised his jacket and pulled the gun out. It wasn’t one of yours, so he didn’t steal it from the trunk when you were distracted. You’d seen that he’d had a gun registered under his name, plus Anvil had a weapons license as well. He had access to probably more weapons than the entire police force. 

“Why the fuck did you bring this? Did you expect to get into trouble?”

He took the gun from you and placed it on the floor next to his knee. Then he moved to sit on the bed beside you.

“Ask me that again in the morning,” he said before he pulled you to him. 

He kept the kiss slow enough to not hurt you, but it would also give you time to pull away if you wanted to. Only you didn’t want to. Honestly you couldn’t think of something you wanted less than for him to pull away right then. Instead you pulled him closer to you, closer still, until you were on your back and he was hovered over you.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you mumbled against his lips as you reached for the button of his jeans.

His dark eyes were eating you alive and you loved it. You didn’t want him to look away. And while all of that focus was on you, your focus was on him.

This might be a bad idea, but it was going to be the best bad idea you’d ever make.

——

The sound of the phone ringing made you groan. You rolled over and picked up the device. It was the captain, so you answered it as quick as you could.

“Hey, we’re almost at the motel you said you stopped at for the night. We’ll follow you up to the area where Russo will have to show us the traps. Forensics are gonna hang back until we’ve cleared a path.”

You sat up and rubbed your eyes.

“Okay, that sounds good. Yeah, we’ll be ready.”

Billy was on the bed with you, his legs hanging over the edge as he stretched. He was just in his briefs, scratch marks on his back from the night before. You closed your eyes and looked away, tugging the blanket up over your own bare chest.

“Well go make sure Russo is awake. We’ll be there in twenty.”

After you hung up, you looked over to where Billy was grabbing his clothes off of the floor. You winced as you moved to grab your own clothes.

“You’re gonna tell your captain about getting shot?”

You looked at the bulletproof vest on the floor and then your ruined jacket. When you bent down to grab your bra and shirt, you winced again at the pull in your chest.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him. Won’t be able to hide it,” you mumbled as you sat up.

Billy was there at your side. He picked up the rest of your clothes and dropped them on the bed. He hovered near you for a moment and then turned away.

“I’m gonna go make my room look slept in. Let me know when they get here.”

As the door shut behind him, you sat back down on the bed. The sex had been great. Amazing really. And you had to admit that you actually liked Billy, enjoyed spending time with him. It was stupid and insane and honestly you knew better, knew it was going to end badly, but you wouldn’t have changed a thing. 

And him leaving without even acknowledging the night before? It made you feel cheap.

What did you expect? His alibi was literally that he was fucking some potential client for his company. This was his MO. 

You didn’t have time to take a shower, but you made your way into the bathroom to clean up a bit before you got dressed. Hopefully no one would be able to tell how you’d spent the night before.

It wasn’t going to happen again. You wouldn’t let it happen again. 

You’d just have to keep telling yourself that.

——

The whole morning as you and Billy helped the forensics team get through the forest to the cabin and then helped with the investigation, you tried to ignore the fact that Billy was avoiding you. He’d barely said three words to you since the team had gotten there. 

Hopefully no one else noticed because you didn’t have an explanation. Even outside of the fact the two of you had slept together.

Unless that’s what it was. Did he feel as regretful as you did? 

Did you actual regret sleeping with Billy? From a professional standpoint, yes. From an emotional standpoint, hell no.

You tried not to look into it that much. You felt like it would be better in that case. 

At the cabin, your captain had a lot of questions. More than a few of those were about why you didn’t tell him you’d been shot.

Yeah, you were going to be paying for that one.

Once the body had been taken out to the van and the cabin had been packed up to have as much transported as possible, you climbed into your car. You watched as Billy hovered uncertainly next to the passenger door before he turned and spoke to a uniform officer. After a moment, he climbed into the passenger seat of the police car that was parked behind your unmarked.

It was for the best. It didn’t need to matter. You needed to focus on the case, not on Billy.

Easier said than done. 

——

Charlie Martin and Daniel Kline had been located and informed that someone was coming after their twelve person black ops group. If they were scared, they didn’t show it. Like Billy, they were hardened Marines.

Unlike Billy, they let the department put them in safe houses for the time being. Maybe it was because they had their own families and Billy was, as far as you could tell, alone. Maybe it was just because Billy didn’t mind danger.

Either way, you had a uni stay on Billy at all times. You told yourself it was just your job, to protect Billy as he was undoubtedly a target for the killer, but you knew that there was more to it.

Even with as little interaction as you’d had with the man, Billy Russo had gotten under your skin. Irritation and frustration were there with attraction, but there was an even more dangerous emotion that he pulled out of you.

Affection. Shit.

You rolled your neck as you stared at the boards in the conference room where you had all of the names written down. Billy hadn’t been able to give more than a code name for the government official who had been in charge of the team. Agent Orange, whoever he was, was your number one suspect.

And you weren’t sure how to close the case.

After what felt like years of staring at the white boards, you decided to run out and grab something to eat. Maybe with some food in you, you could try again from a new vantage point. 

With a sandwich and soup from your favorite place down the street in hand, you headed back to the precinct with a mental list of things you wanted to check on. Time of death for Gunner Henderson, crime scene photos for Gregory Caldwell, check on Kline and Martin.

A woman stepped into your path and you had to pull up short or else you would have knocked her over.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you tried to sidestep her, but she went with you.

“No need to apologize,” she said quickly, her bright blue eyes boring into yours as she gave you a determined look that you’d seen before. “You’re the detective working the serial killings of Marine soldiers, right?”

Shit. That determined look was what you’d seen on reporter for most of your career. And if she knew there was a serial, that meant she had to have an inside scoop because that hadn’t been released yet.

“No comment,” you said as you started to move around her, adding a new thing to your mental list. Find the leak.

“Please, this isn’t what it looks like,” she promised as she hurried with you, “I’m a reporter for the Bulletin–”

“Then this is exactly what it looks like.”

“–but I’m not asking for a story. I’m asking because I know one of the men that’s still alive.”

You hesitated for a moment before you turned to face her. She looked sincere at least. You were a pretty good judge of character—usually—and something told you that she was telling the truth.

“Who?”

It shouldn’t have surprised you when she said Billy’s name. There was a sour curl of emotion in the pit of your stomach that you tried to ignore. One of his many conquests? Maybe you could ask her if there was a support group.

Or, god, what if she was his girlfriend? The real reason for his love-’em-and-leave-’em lifestyle. 

“I can’t comment on an active investigation,” you reminded her but you didn’t continue on your way yet. 

“You don’t have to, you don’t have to say anything. This isn’t about what you can tell me, it’s about what I can tell you.” She looked around and then stepped closer to you, her blonde hair flowing over her shoulder as she did. “There was a stray bullet from the Shaeffer murder, right? And it doesn’t match the caliber of the gun used on the kill shot.”

The forensics had come back quick enough to prove that, but you didn’t yield a response. If she was guessing, you weren’t going to give her any ammunition. 

“It also won’t match the caliber of Shaeffer’s personal firearm.”

That you knew as well. You’d had that checked after it was proven not to match the murder weapon.

“You might want to compare it to other crimes in the city.”

That wasn’t a question. And that also didn’t seem to be a guess. You shifted your stance, your hand falling to your weapon that was on your hip.

“What makes you suggest that?”

Something flashed behind the woman’s eyes and you knew whatever she was about to say was going to be a lie.

“It’s just a hunch. Compare the slug to crimes in the city, not just homicides but home invasions.”

There was a loud blast of car horns and you turned to make sure nothing was wrong. When you looked back, the reporter was darting into a crowd away from you. You didn’t pursue. Instead you added something new to your mental list.

You’d take whatever help you could get at this point.

——

In the conference room, you pushed your food away from you and stared at the boards once more. With a full belly, you were sure that you’d find something new, but there didn’t seem to be anything jumping out at you. You’d already requested a comparison on the slug to any crimes in the city, but you hadn’t gotten a response yet.

The door opened and you looked up to see your captain in the doorway. His face was grim. You immediately sat up.

“Another one?”

God, Billy was the only one not protected. Your mind was in a whirlwind, but the captain took the air out of you with a few short words.

“Did you sleep with Russo?”

It felt a little like your stomach had relocated to the basement level of the building without you. Your hands shook so you put them in your lap.

“Cap,” you began, but he shook his head and held his hand out to you to cut you off.

“The thing is, I know that something was different when I saw the two of you at the cabin. I thought maybe it was the crime scene or the fact that you’d gotten shot and hadn’t told anyone. Nowhere did I think you’d slept with…”

He trailed off and looked away from you, his eyes going over the boards with all of your information. He sighed and then slowly met your eyes.

“You’re off the case.”

“Captain–”

“You are lucky that you’re not off the force,” he barked back at you, the boards shaking with the force of his voice. “You jeopardized your career to get laid. He is a victim, he’d just seen his buddy’s dead body, he is being hunted by a demented killer, and you slept with him while out investigating. There’s no way in hell I could let you stay on the case.” He pointed to the boards and then back at you. “Mel will take over the case and you’ll give over all of your information. If she has any questions, you will answer them, but you will not lift a finger otherwise. Do you understand me?”

With your back straight and your knees locked, you gave a sharp nod to him. After a long moment, he gestured behind him.

“Get your ass out of my precinct. Come in early tomorrow. We have a stack of cold cases that you can hammer over if nothing comes in.”

He turned and stormed out of the conference room, the door slamming behind him. And you were left alone.

He was right. You knew it the moment it had happened, but you had felt something between you and Billy. It hadn’t just been sexual tension, although there was plenty of that.

It might have been the way he came running in when you’d been shot. Or the way he had helped you out of the forest full of traps. Or the gentle touch as he checked your bruise.

Or maybe it was all in your head.

Nothing else to it. You closed the files on the table and stood up. You’d tell Mel they were there and let her know to call you if she had any questions. This wasn’t your case anymore. 

Fuck. Not only were you off the case, but you’d lost your captain’s respect. 

——

How had the captain found out? You’d been so upset and focused on getting out of the precinct with whatever piece of your dignity that you could, you hadn’t even thought to ask the question. You hadn’t said anything to anyone. There weren’t any witnesses. 

Surely Billy hadn’t—

Your cell ringing had you jumping out of your thoughts. The number was the lab and you answered out of habit.

“Y/L/N.”

“Hey, I got those results back you asked for. I went up to the bullpen but you weren’t at your desk. Do you just want me to email them to you or leave them for you?”

The results? Oh, to the slug. You opened your mouth with the intention of telling the tech to forward the results to Mel, but what came out was “Email them.”

You opened your laptop and signed into your email. After a brief moment, you had a new email waiting for you. When you opened it up, you could feel the adrenaline rushing through you.

It was a home invasion, just like the woman had said. The victim was named William Rawlins. The police report was startlingly empty and it seemed like the case was closed without ever being solved. Guess Rawlins didn’t want to find out who had broken into his home and fired a warning shot into…

Wait. The detective’s notes were there in the file and it said that the shot had come from Rawlins, not the intruder. 

What was the gun of a hedge fund guy doing at the scene of a murder? You started to think that maybe the intruder had stolen it when you read the name of William Rawlins’s office once more.

You’d seen that company name once before in a case that had involved some seriously shady shit and a number of government peons. Including a CIA officer who had worked at that company.

A high level member of the government had been in charge of the black ops group. He was the one that made Billy and the others commit those unspeakable crimes. 

You searched for William Rawlins and found his picture on a fake website for the CIA cover job. He had a glass eye and looked perpetually angry. You grabbed your cell phone and snapped a picture. After a moment of hesitation, you forwarded the picture to Billy.

Is this Agent Orange? 

With that in the air, you tried to force yourself to focus on other things. Anything really. Right as you were about to contemplate cleaning your kitchen, your phone started to ring. Billy’s name showed up on the screen so you grabbed it and answered it without saying hello.

“Is it him?”

“The fuck Y/N, where’d you find that?”

It was. You could hear it in Billy’s voice; a combination of anger and anticipation. You remembered the way he spoke in the car about being ready, his quiet explanation of who he thought was behind this all. Billy didn’t want justice by having the culprit arrested.

He wanted the culprit dead. And you had stupidly almost handed him Rawlins on a platter.

“Sorry Billy, you can’t be involved in this. We’ll question him and find out if he had anything to do with the murders. You’ll have to trust the police on this.”

Not you. He couldn’t trust you, because this wasn’t your case. You shouldn’t have the information you did, shouldn’t have checked your email or looked into the man in question. If your captain found out, he’d take your badge for real.

But this was your case. Even if you weren’t supposed to be working it, it was your case. And if Rawlins was the murderer, you’d look him in the eyes and find the truth. 

You had to.

“You don’t know this man, you can’t just… he’s dangerous. Tell me where he is.”

“Not gonna happen,” you said as you grabbed your sidearm and your badge. “We both know you’re not going to turn him over to the police. This way he gets what he deserves.”

“Shit, this isn’t about that. If you go after him you’ll get yourself killed. He’s dangerous. Just… tell me where you are, okay? Let me come with you. I won’t do anything, but you’re going to get hurt.”

You wrote down the address on a piece of paper and tore it off the pad, slipping it into your pocket. Then you hesitated as you listened to Billy demand you let him come with you. 

“Why’d you avoid me after… after that night? The morning we went back up to the cabin, you didn’t even let me drive you back to the city.”

There was silence on the other end of the call for a long moment and then you heard him sigh.

“If I stayed around you, the other people would have noticed that something happened. All I wanted was to talk to you, to touch you. Hell, I couldn’t stop staring at you when you were focused on other things. If I stayed near you, I knew I’d give it away and get you in trouble.”

You closed your eyes. Apparently that hadn’t mattered. You still didn’t know how the captain had figured it out, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered right now was Rawlins.

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” you said before you pulled the phone away, hanging up even as you heard his protests across the line.

You were going to check out where Rawlins lived and if he was home, you’d call your captain. You’d probably lose your badge at the end of this, but it’d be worth it if you caught the guy.

——

The house that William Rawlins called home was pretty modest sized. You raised the binoculars and looked around. The night vision on the binoculars gave you a pretty good idea of what you were looking at. And you were pretty sure Rawlins was home, but you couldn’t see him.

It wasn’t as if you expected a sign on the wall that said he was your killer, but you felt a sudden deflation in your chest. You needed more than what you had to be able to arrest this man. There were so many dead at his hands.

You wouldn’t let him get away with it.

About an hour after you got there, Rawlins came out of his house with a briefcase. He climbed into his car and backed out of the driveway before he drove off in the opposite direction from where you were parked.

“Where are you going at this late hour, huh?” You tapped your fingers on your steering wheel as you stared up at the house. “Ah, fuck it.”

You were going to hell anyways. Might as well make it useful.

You climbed out of your car and crossed the few yards to get over to the house. You slipped around to the side and peered through a window. The room was dark, but you could tell it was a living room. Nothing to see there. Next window looked into the kitchen. 

You slipped around to the back of the house and stopped. There was a large shed in the far corner of the large yard. You didn’t even hesitate before you headed that direction. The door was padlocked shut and there weren’t any windows.

In for a penny, in for a pound, you thought as you picked up a decorative rock with some weight to it. You hefted it up and slammed it down on the padlock until it snapped open.

With your flashlight and gun ready, you opened the door and peered in. The entire shed was empty. You looked around in confusion. Not even lawn equipment. It looked like it was brand new but you could tell the outside wasn’t.

As you walked around, you stepped on something that creaked under your foot. You shone your light down and could see the outline of a large rectangle cut into the wooden floor. You traced the entirety until you could see what looked like an indention. You bent down to get leverage to pull it up, but you didn’t have a chance. Pain radiated over your body, originating from your back, your muscles seized up painfully.

When you tipped over, you saw the outline of someone in the light of the flashlight you had dropped. When you rolled over, a foot pressed painfully down on your hand as you tried to find your gun. Above you was William Rawlins, a taser raised in his hand.

You didn’t get more than that before his foot was raised and then slammed down into your face, everything going black.

——

Billy stared down at the laptop with a frown on his face. It was password protected but that didn’t really stop him. The issue was the deep encryption on the server. Good to know the NYPD used the best.

If he could get the laptop to Anvil, he could get what he needed, but that might be time he didn’t have. He needed to figure this out now, not in a little while.

He noticed a notepad with some scribbles on it. As he reached for it, there was a distinct sound of a key in the lock before the door opened. Captain Franks stood there with an unimpressed look on his face.

“Didn’t she learn her lesson?” He shook his head before Billy could ask what that meant. “Where is she? I have a bone to pick with that idiot.”

Billy felt a thread of irritation at the captain for that remark, but he didn’t want to cause a scene. Not right now.

“She’s not here.”

Franks turned and glared at Billy. And he put his hand on his weapon on his hip, probably thinking that the move was subtle.

“Then what are you doing in her apartment? That have anything to do with her working on this case even though I told her this afternoon that she was off of it?”

That rocked Billy a bit, but he didn’t show it. Instead he moved so that he was hiding the notepad behind him.

“Why is she off the case? She’s the one who put everything together.”

She’d told Billy that with a certain amount of pride in her voice. He couldn’t imagine what was going through her head to keep investigating after her captain pulled her off. Except he also could imagine in.

She was a lot like Billy in that. He could see her determination with this case. She wanted it solved almost as he wanted to catch the man who was doing it.

“She’s off the case because of your little motel rendezvous. And don’t try to deny it Russo.”

Heat spread through him at that, but it wasn’t the reminder of the amazing night he’d spent with her that did it. It was anger and a little bit of regret. Them being together is what caused her to be pulled from the case?

“How’d you find out?”

No use denying it.

The captain scoffed as he looked around as if he thought Billy had hidden the detective somewhere in her own house.

“I went by the motel to get a copy of the bill that she paid so I could reimburse her. Manager made a comment about sex on the job and how the person in the other room was kept awake all night by you two.” 

Shit. And Billy had heard a note of desperation in her voice when she’d asked him why he had avoided her the day after. Had she thought he was the reason the captain knew?

There were too many questions and not nearly enough answers. Billy turned around and pretended to look over the stuff on the table as he tore off the top sheet on the notepad and discreetly tucked it into his pocket.

“I came to talk to her, but like I said, she wasn’t here.”

The captain’s eyes snapped back to Billy at that.

“And how did you get in if she isn’t here?”

“The door wasn’t locked. I thought maybe something had happened but it doesn’t look like it.” Billy moved away from the table and towards the door, careful to keep some distance between him and the obviously angry captain. “But just so you know? What happened between the two of us? That was between two consenting adults and she shouldn’t be punished for it.”

The captain scoffed again.

“I don’t have to explain shit to you son. You should head out. I’ve got to figure out what the hell she’s up to.”

Billy gave a nod and slipped out of the house in time to watch the captain lean over the computer that was on the table. Billy grabbed the paper from his pocket and looked it over carefully. He could just barely make out the impression of an address.

“Me too,” Billy mumbled under his breath as he headed out to his car.

And he needed to figure it out before she got herself killed.

——

There was a lot of pain radiating from your head. You blinked a few times, squinting around the dark room. You started to move but the sudden burning pain made you stop. Your arms were wrenched behind you, ziptied to a pole or maybe some sort of pipe. Your legs were ziptied together at your knees and ankles. Something was shoved in your mouth, your mouth forced open wide, and duct tape was over your lips. As more and more of your surroundings entered your awareness, you started to realize you were in trouble.

There was a tray nearby of what looked like medical instruments. You doubted it was for an operation though. No, these were the trade of a torturer.

The floor under you was covered in plastic. And no windows. Just a set of stairs in the corner that went up to somewhere you couldn’t see.

The last thing you remembered was sneaking out to check Rawlins’s house. No, there was something else. A shed? You’d gone to a shed, definitely. Had you gotten in?

Your back burned a bit and you suddenly remembered. You’d found a trap door and then you’d been tasered. Rawlins had come back and found you. Now you were locked in some torture chamber.

The trap door. You were in the shed, under the ground.

Shit.

You forced yourself to calm down because your breathing was erratic. With the tape over your mouth, you weren’t able to take the big gulping breaths that you knew you needed. Instead you forced yourself to breathe through your nose as you tried to figure a way out of this.

You hadn’t even called the captain to let him know what you were doing or where. No one was looking for you. 

You were going to die and no one would know what happened. Unless your body ended up somewhere it was discovered.

It was odd that the first person you thought about was Billy. It should have been your mom or your friends, even the captain. No, the first person you thought about was Billy.

Would he even find out that you were killed? Would that fuel his search for Agent Orange? He’d said that he only avoided you that day so that you wouldn’t be found out. Obviously he had some affection for you. If he found out that you were dead and that it was Agent Orange?

It would be another nail in the coffin for Rawlins. As you felt the burn in your back from the taser, you had trouble finding that to be a bad thing.

Something dripped down your nose and you crossed your eyes a bit to try to see what it was. In the dark, grimy room, you could barely make out the color, but it was there. Red. Blood. 

That explained why your face hurt. He’d kicked you in the face to knock you out. Your nose was throbbing so it might be broken. And your cheek hurt but that could just be from your mouth being held open by whatever it was in there.

Not dog tags since you didn’t have any. You moved your tongue as much as you could until you realized what it was.

Your badge. The bastard had shoved your badge in your mouth.

On a table in the corner you saw your gun and your phone. There was no way you could get to your phone while you were tied to the pipe so that was useless.

Shit. And again, because if any situation deserved all of your one dollar words, it was this. Shit.

Something creaked and you looked over at the stairs. A few loud thuds and then you heard someone coming down. After a moment, Rawlins appeared before you. He saw that you were awake but didn’t acknowledge you. Instead he moved over to pick up your phone. 

“Three missed calls from Cap, four from… hm, Billy Russo. Isn’t that handy?” 

He walked over to you. He moved behind you with the phone and you felt him press it against where your hand had mostly gone numb, using your fingerprint to unlock it. 

He sat back and tapped something out on the phone. Then he nodded and started to stand. 

He didn’t get far before the phone buzzed. You watched as he looked at it then he shook his head. His good eye narrowed as he sputtered something out.

“I should have killed him in Iraq.”

You made a sound at that and Rawlins finally looked at your face. He sneered in your direction before he shook the phone at you.

“The only thing he responded with was my address. He’s headed here to look for you. Makes it easier to frame him for the murders though.” 

He moved over to the table and put the phone down. Then he went to the instruments on the silver tray.

You remembered the cuts and bruises on the bodies that you’d found. Some of them had looked almost surgical, obviously torture. And now you were going to know it first hand. You knew everything that was going to be done to you.

Your fingers would be broken if they weren’t already. You’d be beaten and cut up. Your eyelids would be removed. And then a shot to the forehead. That was his MO.

This was how you died. In this dank torture chamber at the hand of a serial killer. And he planned on framing Billy for it.

You weren’t scared. You were angry. You knew then that you wouldn’t make it easy for the man. If he wanted to torture you, he was going to have to work for it. 

He came over but there wasn’t an instrument in his hand. Instead he was pulling on some gloves. They looked padded, but you knew there was probably a metal plate across the knuckles.

This was going to hurt.

“This is going to hurt,” he said as he pulled his hand back.

You expected the blow to land on your face, but it went into your stomach. You doubled over as much as your arms would let you. The pain made you shut your eyes so you didn’t see a second blow headed for your face until it connected.

“At least with Marines, they can take a few punches,” he said as he wiped the blood off the back of one glove onto his pants, a dark smear across the khaki. “I’ll probably have to kill you quicker.”

With as much strength as you could muster, you swept your legs out until they connected with his. He stumbled a bit. You drew your knees to your chest and when he lunged for you, you kicked out with every ounce of strength that you had. Your feet landed in his stomach.

Air knocked out of his lungs and his body tossed a few feet away, you felt a little more energized. The adrenaline pumped and you couldn’t feel any pain in your arms or back anymore. But as he lunged at you again, you knew that you needed to act quickly. 

You swung your legs out like a windmill and caught him on the jaw, throwing him off. But then your legs were off to the side and you didn’t have enough momentum to get back into another position before a hand was wrapped around your throat. The air was squeezed out more and more until you would have been gasping if you could have opened your mouth.

“I’m going to kill you slow. I’m going to make it hurt as much as possible before you die. And then I’m going to put you in Billy’s bed to come home to.”

Your vision started to waver and you went ahead and shut your eyes. In the darkness behind your eyelids, you pictured your mom working in her garden. She missed your dad so much but she had soldiered on. Would she do the same when you were gone?

And Billy. Would… Billy…

Air was back in your lungs. You struggled to inhale, the grip gone from your throat. You looked around and saw that Rawlins had moved over to the table. It was then that the sound of your ringtone made you realize why he had stopped.

He grabbed the device and tapped against it twice. There was a noise in the background and you realized he had answered the phone and put it on speaker.

“You’re too late Russo,” he barked into the phone as he looked over at you. “You’ll never find her until I’m done with her.”

“I’ll find you and I’ll kill you. Then she’ll be safe.”

You shook your head but it was useless since Billy couldn’t see you.

“You don’t get it Russo. All of you are dead. Anyone who can connect me to Iraq will die. That means you and now her.”

You used your legs to scoot you back closer to the pipe, needing to release some of the tension on your shoulders. There weren’t a lot of options in your current situation, but you weren’t giving up. You refused to give up.

“And here’s what you don’t get, William Rawlins,” Billy said, drawing the name out with a certain amount of venom in his words, “you don’t get to live either. I know who you are now. And all that information you gave to us in Iraq that we were supposed to destroy? I never did. If something happens to me, it automatically goes to the police. I’ve added your name to that file.”

Rawlins looked like a cornered animal as he paced around in the little room. His comfy little life was about to tumble around his head and you were here in the rubble. But you were proud of Billy for finding a way to protect himself.

Maybe that’s why he really wasn’t worried about Rawlins.

“I want to hear her voice. Let me talk to her or I’ll have one of my guys drop the file on her captain’s desk in ten minutes.”

Rawlins looked over at you but he didn’t move any closer. He opened his mouth to say something but both of you heard the floor creak above you. He looked up and then tapped on the phone, taking it off speaker. You could tell that Billy was saying something because you could hear the faint voice above you.

Then you heard footsteps on the stairs. Rawlins didn’t waste any time before he fired off his own gun and moved over to where you were. He cut the ties around your wrists and then dragged you forward. Your arms were numb and you barely had any control over them, but you forced yourself to move them a little as you were dragged into view of the stairs.

Billy stood at the bottom, his gun raised. The moment he realized he was pointing it at you, he lowered it to the side just a few inches. Still drawn, still ready.

He was a sniper, but even a sniper would be cautious making that shot with a handgun. 

“Never thought of you as a coward, Agent Orange,” Billy taunted as he looked around the room and then at you. “Using a woman as a body shield?”

“Self preservation, Russo. You do what you have to to survive. You wouldn’t know anything about that, stray dog that you are.”

The smile that Billy gave was feral.

“Funny thing about stray dogs? Sometimes they roam in packs.”

The sound of a gunshot made you wince, expecting the pain from the gun pressed against your spine. Instead you felt the man behind you slump onto the ground, dragging you with him. Billy was there in an instant, tucking his gun into his waistband and pulling out a knife. He cut the ties from your legs and then pulled you away from Rawlins.

He was dead. Holy shit, he was dead. Your weak hands tried to reach for your mouth, but Billy was there before you had a chance. He eased the tape off slowly. When he realized you had something shoved in your mouth, he swore and slowly pulled out the badge.

You gagged and choked in a few lungfuls of air. Then arms were wrapped around you tightly.

“Shit you should’ve just brought me with you,” Billy said into your neck. “I can’t believe you did this shit.”

You wanted to say something to that, maybe even just to thank him for saving you, when you heard footsteps on the stairs. Billy didn’t even tense, just looked over his shoulder.

“Thanks for having my back on this one,” Billy called out to the person who appeared with a rifle in his hands.

“Yeah, well good luck explaining this to the cops.” The man put the gun on the table and then looked between the two of you. “Need help getting her to the car? Or the hospital?”

Billy shook his head and looked back at you. His hands framed your face and gently prodded at the cuts and bruises that were already there.

“Nah, I got this. Thanks again brother. And tell Karen thanks for the idea,” he said over his shoulder. “I owe her dinner and roses for this one.”

The man smirked. His eyes met yours and he gave you a nod before he turned and went back up the stairs.

“Was that…” You stopped to cough a few times before you tried again. “Was that Frank Castle?”

Billy met your eyes and shrugged a shoulder.

“Let’s get you healed up and I’ll explain. But if anyone asks, you gotta say that it was me that pulled that trigger, okay? I need you to do that for me.”

You looked from Billy to the gun on the table and then to the dead body on the floor a few feet away.

Shit.

“Who’d believe me otherwise?”

——

The hospital was one place you hated to spend time. You’d spent enough time in them when your dad had been sick. And in spite of the memories, your mom stuck with you every day of your recovery. She brushed your hair back and held your hand, kept up a steady stream of chatter when you were unable to sleep the first night.

She only left a few times. Once when your captain came in. He looked paler than you’d ever seen him as he told you he was glad you were okay. You gave your statement that Billy had come in with a sniper rifle and saved you. 

You also gave your notice. It saved him from firing you, which you knew was what he needed to do. And he seemed grateful that you knew it too. 

The other times that she left was when Billy came by to check on you. He sat at your bedside with your hand in his. He didn’t speak much, just stared at you while you rested. It reminded you of the night you’d slept together and he had stared at you afterwards.

“You still owe me an explanation. Of a few things,” you added as you remembered the blonde reporter and a comment that Billy had made in that basement.

“I’ll give you every explanation that you need,” he said honestly as he reached up to touch his fingers to your cheek. “Just rest for now. I’m not going anywhere.”

You covered his hand against your cheek and held it there as you started to drift off to sleep once more.

And like he’d said, he was there when you woke up the next time. 

——

“Extra extra, read all about it,” you said as you dropped a newspaper on the table.

Billy picked it up and skimmed the headline with a grin. In large letters, The Punisher; Alive, Exonerated.

“Him and Karen are headed up to some B&B for a long weekend. Figure it’s gonna be hell for a while as they get used to him not being dead anymore. And not being a criminal.”

You laughed and grabbed the newspaper from him. Karen’s name was under the headline. You hadn’t needed to read it to know what it said; you and Billy had already read it half a dozen times before she ever sent it to her editor at the paper.

It’d been a year since the thing with Rawlins. A year in which you decided to become a private detective. A year in which you and Billy had decided to date and build off of the instant chemistry and attraction that had been there from the very first meeting.

You looked over at Billy who was skimming over something on his tablet. He was dressed in casual clothes since it was Sunday and you enjoyed just looking at him. By the smirk on his lips, he could tell that you were staring.

Carefully you got up and moved to stand beside him. He didn’t even hesitate before he pulled you onto his lap, the tablet being discarded onto the table with the newspaper. His arms wrapped around your waist. You leaned in to kiss him, enjoying the feel of him against your lips.

“Thanks,” you said softly against him.

He looked up at you curiously.

“What for?”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him again.

“For not making me regret that night at the motel.”

His smile grew as he gave you another kiss, a little harder and longer this time. You knew it was only a matter of time before the two of you had to pull away and head to the bedroom, but you were just going to enjoy this for a moment longer.

Neither of you had anywhere else you’d rather be.