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upset about it. He was gonna make her hook again, too, if she didn’t agree to deliver a package into Chinatown for him.”
    Silent rage turned Emma’s blood to ice as she mentallycounted to ten so as not to frighten away the already skittish teen. Mad Johnny, and the men like him, were a cancer that never failed to return if given the slightest invitation. Charlotte had been terrified of her former pimp, but somehow he’d gotten to her and that was what had likely gotten her killed. She smiled at Bella for her courage, hoping the action came off kindly instead of full of the malice she struggled to contain. “You’ve done a good thing in sharing this information with me, Bella. Thank you. Now, I want you to stop worrying. I will take care of this and share the information with Agent McIntyre so you don’t have to.” A look of gratitude flashed her way and Emma gestured toward the door. “Off to bed. It’s late and you have a meeting with your counselor tomorrow. I know how you love those sessions and look forward to them.”
    It was said in a teasing manner as Bella hated talking with the “shrink” as she called the woman. But the therapy was working—if only in fits and starts—and Emma continued to insist that she attend the sessions. Besides, the fact that Emma required Bella to attend counseling created a favorable attitude in the courts, allowing Bella to remain in the house despite the unusual circumstances.
    â€œI ain’t tired and this ain’t late. I’ve stayed up for days at a time without no one to tell me to…” Bella’s grumble trailed as she closed the door behind her but Emma didn’t mind. Somehow the surly teen had become special to her though she knew it was a mistake to allow herself to get so close. Still…it was hard to keep her distance when Bella needed someone in her life who liked her for who she was, not for her body or what they could get from her.
    But as soon as Bella had gone, Emma growled a nasty expletive aimed at Mad Johnny and grabbed her cell phone. Fishing in her purse, she found Agent McIntyre’s business card. The late hour meant nothing in her single-mindedpurpose. Without hesitation she dialed the cell number he’d scribbled on the back, and when he picked up she barely kept her temper in check as she said, “I have information you might find useful in your investigation. It seems Mad Johnny may have been blackmailing Charlotte. The girls have told me you’ll find him at Sixteenth Street and Mission on most days. You’ll know him by the bright purple Mohawk he wears. Feel free to use excessive force if he doesn’t cooperate,” she added with a little more heat than she would usually show to a stranger. Then she added with more calm, “Happy hunting, Agent McIntyre.”

Chapter 4
    A drenaline hummed through his veins as Dillon traversed Mission and immediately spied the man known as Mad Johnny. It was hard to miss his punk purple Mohawk as the sleaze lounged against a light pole, his indolent stare sharp and slack at the same time. He was all seemingly gangly arms and legs but Dillon recognized the malice that rolled off him like a cheap cologne. This was a dirtbag of the first order. A sweep of his person and Dillon had already surmised he was likely packing a gun in his back waistband, hidden beneath the grungy leather jacket, and a switchblade in his faded jeans pocket. Dillon smiled. This ought to be entertaining. He liked to jack around with guys like Mad Johnny because they always underestimated him. Kara said it was the accent. He’d joked that was their mistake. Even guys with accents can kick ass.
    â€œHullo,” he started congenially, walking over to the punk with a grin. “Got a minute?” Dillon cocked his head andwaited to see which route the man would go. Would he tell him to bugger off or size him up for a sale? He hoped it was the