Chapter 1-1
Chapter 1
Detective Quinn Manning pressed his back against the brick wall and held his breath as he peeked around the corner to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Diamond Dace was having a smoke right there on the street, right in the middle of one of the dirtier parts of Fagerdal. Dale f*****g Diamond Dace.
According to their sources, he was out of the country. No one had seen or heard about him in months and Manning had almost given up hope of ever finding him again.
His heart sped up as he went through his options. He couldn’t run over there and arrest Diamond, they didn’t have enough proof to guarantee they could hold him. The death toll of his operation was growing with each passing day, but they didn’t have anything solid enough, and Diamond had people everywhere, even the lawyers were eating out of his hand.
Curling his fingers into a fist, he took half a step forward. If he only could get him for something, something small, so they could keep him for a few days while they pressed down on his people. Someone had to talk sooner or later. But, he didn’t have any backup, and they’d had to deal with disappearing cops before. Last year they’d lost Pena, an undercover agent, as soon as he’d managed to infiltrate one of Diamond’s crews.
No one expected Manning back at the station so it could be a day before anyone figured out he was missing, should anything happen. By then he’d be decorating a ditch, one small piece at a time.
Jacobs would know something was off, but not in time to save him.
Manning touched his phone through his pocket. He should call Jacobs.
Diamond dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it with one shiny black dress shoe. The clothes might live up to those of a drug lord, but Diamond himself? The ginger hair, pale complexion, and narrow slumping shoulders—none of it mirrored his reputation.
Manning wasn’t underestimating him though. He’d seen firsthand what he was capable of. Dale Dace might look like a British soccer fan who spent his spare time in a sports bar, downing beer and shouting at idiots running after a ball. Diamond Dace, on the other hand, was one of the deadliest men who’d ever appeared in a folder on Manning’s desk. He was the man—the man Manning had been looking for most of his life.
He might have been twenty years younger, and he wasn’t the one calling the shots, but Manning never forgot a face, and he would take Diamond down if he died in the process.
Diamond raised his hand in a wave. Manning froze before he realized Diamond was waving at someone in the building. A car door clicked opened and Diamond climbed into the backseat of a glossy black Mercedes-Benz.
Leaning back against the cool wall, Manning kept in the shadows not to be spotted. Damn it! He couldn’t stay here. He should call for backup, but didn’t dare take the time to do so. What if Diamond disappeared again?
As quietly as he could he jogged back down the street to where he’d parked his bike. Trailing Diamond on a motorcycle might not be the most inconspicuous way, but he didn’t have a choice.
