"Elias," Garrison warned gently. "You're the victim in this incident. Internal guidelines say you should recuse yourself from the active enforcement detail."
I looked up at the towering granite pillars of the federal courthouse, where the words *JUSTICE IS THE FIRM AND CONTINUOUS DESIRE TO RENDER TO EVERYONE WHICH IS HIS DUE* were carved into the stone.
"He threatened my daughter, Marcus," I said, my voice dead and steady. "He brought this into my home. Concincaid wanted to show me who owns the street. Now I’m going to show him who owns the law."
Garrison paused for two beats, then sighed. "Lin will sign off on cross-designating you as the lead federal case agent for the federal warrant execution. Be at 26 Federal Plaza in forty-five minutes. And Elias?"
"Bring your heavy vest. If the Nineteenth’s midnight crew is as dirty as I think they are, they aren't going to roll over for a piece of paper."
"Good," I said, ending the call. "I was hoping they wouldn't."
Thirty minutes later, I walked through the bulletproof glass lobby of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s New York Field Office.
The bullpen on the twenty-sixth floor was already humming with that controlled, terrifying efficiency unique to federal agencies moving in for a coordinated takedown. Twelve agents in blue windbreakers were loading tactical go-bags with zip-ties, evidence bags, and entry tools. Two intelligence analysts were projecting financial spreadsheets onto the wall-mounted monitors at the head of the conference room.
In the corner of the glass briefing room sat Maya, drinking a juice box and laughing at a cartoon on a tablet held by Deputy Marshal Sarah Ramos—one of my most reliable team members from the fugitive task force. The second Maya saw me, she leaped off the couch and ran straight into my arms.
I caught her, lifting her high against my chest, burying my face in her soft hair. The lingering smell of her strawberry shampoo washed away the last traces of the street’s ugliness.
"You okay, baby?" I whispered.
"The nice lady gave me apple juice," she said, wrapping her arms tight around my neck. "And she said you're a superhero who catches bad guys."
I looked over Maya’s shoulder at Ramos, who gave me a solemn, respectful nod.
"Your dad is the best there is," Ramos told her with a warm smile.
"Listen to me, Maya," I said, setting her down gently. "Deputy Ramos is going to take you to Auntie Kendra’s house in Queens for the afternoon. You’re going to bake cookies, play with the dog, and watch movies. Daddy has some business to finish downtown. I’ll be there for dinner. Deal?"
She looked into my eyes, her small face serious. "Is that mean man going to come back?"
"No, bug," I said, smoothing down her collar. "That mean man is never going to see you again. I promise."
I kissed her forehead, watched Ramos escort her out through the secured executive elevator, and turned toward the conference table.
Marcus Garrison was standing at the head of the table, flanked by Assistant United States Attorney Sarah Lin—a sharp-eyed woman in her late thirties who looked like she hadn't slept in twenty-four hours and liked it that way.