Billy woke with a start. He blinked groggily before scrubbing his face with both hands. The television was blaring static; flickering pale light played over the room giving off the effect of a disco ball gone bad. Cold was the next thing Billy noticed. Before he drifted off, Cate was snuggled into his side providing pleasant warmth no blanket could equal.

He frowned. "Cate?"

No response. The apartment was strangely silent.

Releasing a sigh, Billy began a search. He was perplexed to find Cate hadn't climbed into the guest room bed as he anticipated. His bed was empty. The fact her purse was gone from the console table near the door along with her colorful shoes wasn't a good sign.

Worry began seeping like blood into his gut. He snatched his phone from the coffee table. Speed dial was a beautiful thing as far as Billy was concerned. Pacing in front of the windows, he listened to the near constant ringing.

"What the hell were you thinking, Cate?" Traveling from Greenwich Village to Brooklyn at 2am could be dangerous.

A scream for help reached his ears. The cry was masculine and though faint, filled with horror.

Billy swept aside the curtains and stared down at the street. A crowd was gathering around what appeared to be a body.

Cate's generic voicemail popped on.

He grimaced and allowed the curtains to fall closed. "Call me just as soon as you get this message." His voice was clipped – on the verge of rude even. Shaking his head, Billy shoved his phone in his back pocket before heading downstairs.

The air was surprisingly cool for June in New York.

Billy frowned and headed toward the small group. There was a body surrounded by the throng. "What the hell is going on here?"

A young man with a blue Mohawk and sparkling eye makeup turned toward him. He was dressed in a Boho chic style so popular with the dance club youth. "I dunno… me and my boyfriend just got here. Some poor girl was shot. Another guy called 911 but it's not looking good. There's a lot of blood."

Billy looked through the small gap the kid left and saw a red velvet tapestry shoe on the sidewalk. His heart plunged as bile exploded at the back of his throat. "Out of the way," he shoved his way past a few onlookers. "I know some first aid."

Cate was lying face down in a puddle of blood with her purse spilled beside her. The IPhone she had with its distinctive case featuring cherry blossoms was close to her hip face up; screen badly cracked.

He dropped to his knees beside her and slowly rolled Cate over. She was deathly pale with pin pricks of blood spatter dotting her face but what really concerned him was how cool she was to the touch. 'How many have you watched die in the field with a less serious wound?' The thought popping up in his head infuriated and frightened him. Billy laid his hand just under her nostrils while checking her pulse. Gut shots proved tricky business – if you don't die from the initial shock and blood loss there was always infection.

Relief eased a little of his nausea as he found her still clinging to life.

Without hesitating Billy stripped out of his sweater and pressed it against the gunshot wound. He was shirtless and exposed in front of a group of strangers – some ogling his scars. Never shy, Billy found the sensation troubling. He needed a distraction from the multitude of eyes. "How long ago did you call 911?"

An older man with stooped shoulders and ancient face held a curious pug by the leash. "About a minute before you showed up."

Billy calculated how long it was taking the ambulance versus how much blood Cate was losing. He swore viciously under his breath. 'Buy a fucking car – a fast one.' The warm stickiness of blood, Cate's blood, covering his hands brought tears to his eyes. He blinked them back and turned his face toward her.

"Do you know her?" Mohawk Kid asked quietly.

He cleared his throat. "She's a friend of mine."

The scream of the ambulance siren saved him from making further, awkward conversation. A police car arrived just before the ambulance. Two grim-faced uniform officers approached and quickly took control of the scene.

"Come on." One officer laid a hand on Billy's shoulder and drew him back from Cate as the EMT's took over treating her. "We need to ask you a few questions."

Billy watched as one of the EMT's pulled his sweater away from Cate's belly and discarded it on the sidewalk. His bloody fingers flexed; stickiness making his skin stretch unpleasantly. "I didn't see what happened."

The man looking at him was in his mid-fifties with a beefy build and a no-nonsense aura. Still, his tired eyes radiated kindness and that surprised Billy. "Look," Officer Gianbruno's badge and nametag flashed in the light. "You obviously know her and we need her name. Can you please help us out?"

"Catherine Schoonover," Billy retorted in a dull voice. "She's twenty-four and lives in Brooklyn. We went out earlier and she decided to head home." He felt as though someone sliced him down the middle. Part of him was paying close attention to the care Cate was receiving while the other half was struggling to comprehend what the cop was saying to him.

"Your name?"

"William Russo," Billy answered. "I live in apartment 7A." He jerked his thumb at the elegant building behind him.

"Can you identify her belongings?" Gianbruno asked.

Billy followed him with a nod. "That's her purse and phone." He took a deep breath. "Everything seems intact so I don't believe this was a robbery."

"Cop?" Gianbruno inquired with naked curiosity on his face.

"No," Billy swallowed a lump in his throat. "I'm a former marine."

The older man smiled. "Semper Fi, I served in Desert Storm."

"Iraq and Afghanistan," Billy responded; his mouth spitting out the words numbly.

Gianbruno closed his notebook and shooed Billy toward Cate and the EMT's. "It looks like they're gonna move her – go on. A detective will be in touch with further questions."

Billy slowly approached the stretcher and the two women loading Cate onto their ambulance. "I need to go with her."

"Not if you aren't related," A brusque Latina woman responded with a roll of the eyes.

Billy had enough bullshit to last him a lifetime. "She's my fiancée." The lie didn't even phase him. "Please let me go with her."

The driver shrugged and headed for the front of the vehicle. The older woman stared him down. "Get in and keep your mouth closed, got it? I can't afford to be distracted."

"Got it," Billy answered hoarsely as he climbed inside.


The phone call with Ray Schoonover haunted Billy as he paced in the spacious, antiseptic waiting room. One of the nurse's in the emergency room scored him a scrub shirt and ushered him into a bathroom to wash up. Hours earlier he'd called several people: Ray, Frank Castle, and Curtis Hoyle.

Ray and Debra were still in Florida. Being retired and rich allowed one to vacation endlessly. Ray's job as the Blacksmith could be conducted from anywhere with today's technology. Drug peddling under the cover of strict anonymity allowed surprising freedoms.

The reaction from Schoonover was immediate and predictable: 'Shot?! I told you… I warned you, Russo! If Cate dies you better stick a gun in your mouth, boy. Don't make me do it for you.' The call ending so abruptly proved as jarring as any gunshot Billy ever heard.

Frank was filled with sympathy but was already on a flight back to Afghanistan on another six month deployment. 'Christ sakes… I'm so sorry man. Is there anything I can do?' Billy gave a solemn no and Frank drew a deep breath that translated through the phone lines as pure frustration. 'Don't do anything stupid, Bill. The last thing Catie needs is for you to get your ass thrown in the slammer. Keep me updated.'

An older nurse approached and Billy drew to a stop; the muscles in his legs jumping. The woman carried a chart and looked tired – the bags beneath her eyes speaking volumes of what she'd seen in her time. "Are you William Russo?"

"Yeah," he confirmed in a rushed breath as his stomach muscles clenched. He stood a little straighter. "Is Cate out of surgery?"

"Miss Schoonover is in recovery. I understand you're her fiancé. Is this correct?" The woman was already reading the medical chart.

Billy felt a tiny spike of guilt and quashed the sensation with practicality. Someone needs to make the big decisions for Cate. "Yes."

The nurse nodded and closed the chart. "Please follow me, Mr. Russo. Dr. Ansbach would like to speak to you privately."

For a brief moment, Billy turned cold as a sensation like a thousand ants marched across his skin. He shook off the feeling with difficulty as he fell in line behind the nurse. After traversing several identical corridors, Billy was ushered into a small conference room.

A thin older man with kind dark eyes and stooped shoulders gestured for Billy to sit across from him. Dr. Ansbach was dressed in slate blue scrubs with a white lab coat over the ensemble. "I'm glad Miss Schoonover has someone here with her. I have to be honest Mr. Russo; we almost lost this young woman on the operating table."

Severe wounds were nothing new to Billy – he'd suffered one himself. Still, it was nerve-wracking to know Cate was now in pain. 'Stop thinking like this… you can't do shit about what happened.' He needed to focus on moving forward. "How badly was Cate hurt?"

"Miss Schoonover lost a great deal of blood. We had to remove six inches of her small intestine along with her spleen. The next few hours will be critical for her." The older man focused on Billy's eyes. "Your fiancée is going to recover, but she is at risk. If she moves forward without showing signs of infection, I expect a full and fairly speedy recovery."

Billy kept his lips pressed into a tight line as his mind raced. "What happens if Cate does become infected?"

Dr. Ansbach stood and Billy followed suit. "Let's focus on the positive. I'll have the nurse bring you to Miss Schoonover's room in intensive care."

The two men shook hands briefly before the doctor left Billy.


Another four hours passed with Billy seated beside Cate in her hospital room. He couldn't tear his eyes from her frighteningly pale face. The dark crescents of her lashes lay like ebony fans against ashen cheeks. Cate hadn't stirred once leaving him utterly alone aside from the beeps of the monitors and frequent visits from the nurses.

A knock sounded on the door startling Billy out of his silent vigil.

Curtis Hoyle stood on the threshold wearing a solemn expression. He pointed to the hall and Billy nodded. The expression in Curtis' dark eyes was one of deep anger matching Billy's own suppressed rage. "Are you okay, man?"

"Nah," Billy shook his head and blinked back tears. "Not so much." The admission killed him – Billy despised weakness in both himself and others. He knew intimately weakness led to predation by the unscrupulous. "Some bastard shot her right outside my damn building. I bought an apartment in Greenwich Village and Cate gets shot in one of the safer places in the city."

Curtis reached out and squeezed his shoulder briefly. "This isn't your fault, Billy."

He snorted before rubbing his eyes. "Cate wouldn't have been shot if she wasn't at my place. I feel it's partially my fault."

"Do you have any idea who did this?"

Billy had been turning the same question over in his mind like a Rubik's Cube. He doubted the shooting was random. If it was a robbery why did the perp leave behind her jewelry and purse? There was no evidence of attempted sexual assault – Cate was fully dressed when Billy arrived on the scene. He eased up upon realizing he was grinding his teeth together hard.

"I don't know," Billy answered in a ragged voice. "When I find out…"

A thundering voice filled the corridor. "Where the hell is my daughter? Catherine Schoonover."

"Ray please…" Debra's smaller voice was weepy and soon drowned out by her husband.

"Don't start," Ray Schoonover replied so loudly Billy winced.

Curtis cast a sympathetic look in Billy's direction. "Shit…"

The tall, broad form of Ray Schoonover dressed in rumpled jeans and black Henley appeared marching down the hallway with grim purpose. His sky-blue eyes were fixed on Billy; a hint of madness swimming in the depths of his teary gaze. Near black circles around those eyes only give him a sickly appearance.

Before anyone could stop him, Ray grabbed Billy by the throat and slammed him so hard against the wall a resounding crack echoed. Pain blossomed in Billy's head and he blinked as bright white sparks exploded in his vision.

Even one-handed, Ray Schoonover was not a man to fuck with. The raw strength he exhibited hinted at what he could do if unleashed. "What happened to Catherine, Russo?"

Debra Schoonover appeared at her husband's side; her face streaked with tears. The older woman was tired and harried. She touched her husband's bad arm with aching gentleness. "Please, Ray. You're making a scene."

"Go see to Cate," Ray responded in a dull voice. "Billy and I need to have a chat."

Curtis looked to Billy. Upon receiving the slightest nod, he went to Debra's side and gently took her by the arm. "I'll show you which room Cate is in."

Once his wife was gone, Ray eased up on Billy's throat just enough to allow speech. "Do you know who shot my daughter?"

"No," Billy gurgled out the word.

Ray noticed a gathering throng of nurses at the end of hall near the nurse's station. He released Billy and curled his hand into a fist between them. Hatred burned like indigo fire in the older man's gaze. "I suggest you find out who shot Cate. Tell me you understand my expectations in this matter."

"I understand," Billy whispered in a hoarse voice.

Seemingly satisfied, Ray backed away. He nodded before heading into Cate's room.

Curtis emerged a moment later and winced as he took a look at Billy's neck. "You better get some ice on that throat, Billy. You're going to have a pretty spectacular bruise." He hesitated and fell into step next to Billy as he began walking. "I've heard from Frank that Ray has a temper but that was ridiculous."

Billy didn't stop until he reached the elevator. "I don't blame Ray – his last child was shot in the gut. If she comes down with an infection…"

"Don't think about that," Curtis advised. "Cate's at one of the best hospitals in Manhattan. She'll be fine." He glanced at Billy as they stepped on the elevator. "Please tell me you aren't going to go and do something stupid."

Billy met Curtis' eyes as the elevator doors glided shut.

"Do you need help?" Curtis asked in a voice filled with resignation.

"I need a ride to my local police precinct." Billy knew how Curtis would answer before his friend opened his mouth.

"No problem," Curtis stated. "Just try not to get yourself arrested."

Billy drew in a deep breath. Being arrested was the least of his worries. If Ray refused to carry on as the Blacksmith he had no illusions Bill Rawlins would side with Schoonover. Rawlins needed Ray far more than he needed Billy at this point. Billy took care of Rawlins' dirty business and Anvil laundered their dirty money, but Schoonover was an experienced Special Forces officer with former Special Forces soldiers serving him in civilian life.

Schoonover could get rid of problems just as easily as Billy.

Not only did Billy want to find the person who shot Cate, he needed to find the jackass.


The local precinct in Billy's neighborhood was fairly busy. He made himself unobtrusive as he sat close to the railings on the steps. Multiple people passed by but none of them was the person Billy needed to speak with. He was so exhausted his eyes burned and he was nearly seeing double. A few people gave him disgusted looks so Billy was sure he reeked; so tired the stench of his own flesh didn't register.

Finally Officer Gianbruno began jogging up the steps.

Billy stood.

The man did a double-take before slowly crossing the space between them. The early afternoon light fell like droplets of gold giving everything a surprisingly warm appearance. Gianbruno cocked his head and studied Billy a moment before speaking.

"You're Russo from the shooting scene last night." Officer Gianbruno cleared his throat. "No offense, but you need to go home and take a shower." He pointed at Billy's neck. "What the hell happened to you?"

Billy let the insult flow over him like water. "I had a run in with my fiancée's father. He blames me for her attack because Cate was at my apartment when it happened."

Gianbruno frowned; his eyes narrowing. "You wanna file assault charges?"

"Did you identify the shooter?" Billy asked in a quiet voice.

The police officer's frown only grew. "I can't talk about an ongoing investigation but Detective Holly can if you want to step inside."

Billy hated his next words despite noting the necessity of using them. Normally he preferred charm but there was no time. "I'm sure your department must have pulled the footage from all the security and CCTV cameras on the block. I really need to know who shot my fiancée." He pulled out his phone and pressed a button before holding the camera up discreetly to the cop's face. "Your cooperation will be greatly appreciated."

Gianbruno's eyes went comically wide as he stared down at the image of his wife exiting their home. "What the hell is this?"

Billy gave him a dead stare devoid of pity or compassion. "I want a picture of the suspect in Catherine Schoonover's shooting sent to 205-555-2039. If you fail to act in a timely manner, you'll be a widower before you can warn the lovely Mrs. Gianbruno of 62 15th Street in Brooklyn. Tell me you understand."

"I understand," Gianbruno hissed.

"Good," Billy responded before pocketing the phone. "Please keep in mind that if you choose to inform anyone of our conversation I'll be forced to act. I'd really rather not do something we'll both regret."

A large vein popped in Gianbruno's temple; throbbing so violently it appeared ready to burst. "I could shoot you right now."

Snorting, Billy shook his head and deliberately began to descend the stairs. "Yeah but then my men would kill you and then your wife. I think you like breathing too much for that. I'll be waiting for that information, Officer Gianbruno."


It was nearly seven pm before Billy heard from Gianbruno. He had returned to his apartment, showered, forced himself to eat a little, and took a fitful nap. The chirp of his phone drew Billy's attention as he pulled on a black t-shirt.

He read Gianbruno's message before opening the attachment.

'I did what you wanted. You're gonna leave me and my wife alone, right?'

Billy swiftly typed a response. 'Yes. You keep quiet, you're golden.' The last thing he wanted was to kill a cop and his wife, but Billy wouldn't hesitate if the man proved to be a problem.

The photograph was grainy but sufficient. The shooter was Billy's height but built more broadly. Frustration built inside him seeing the man pointing a gun at Cate. Billy knew she must have been scared shitless. The first time someone shot at him in combat, Billy almost pissed his pants.

His target was wearing a hoodie so the features were obscured.

Billy's eyes narrowed as he stared at the figure of the screen. He wiped a hand roughly across his chin before something in the image caught his eye. Frantically, Billy enlarged the image

A tattoo on the man's wrist was visible. The symbol appeared to be Mandarin.

"Let's hope this means something specific," Billy whispered as he began a text to an old friend.


The constant hum and beep of monitors was the first thing Cate heard. She blinked; cold, bright artificial light jamming into her eyes like white-hot needles. Her lips were dry but Cate was too weak to lick them. Beyond the sound of monitors, Cate heard a distant conversation. More like she heard pieces of a conversation…

'… act like that in public! What has gotten into you, Raymond?'

'He let our daughter get shot! Russo's lucky I didn't…'

Cate blinked and shifted in the bed. Everything hurt, but she forced words between her dry, chapped lips. "Where is Billy?" She rasped.

Footsteps sounded and her mother's face loomed over Cate. Debra looked exhausted and sad. She reached down and ran a hand down the side of Cate's face. "Baby, I'm so happy you're awake."

Ray appeared over her mother's shoulder. To Cate's horror, he had rings of dark bruise-like shadows around his eyes giving him an unholy look. His mouth trembled before he pressed his lips together resolutely. Her father took a deep breath, "How are you feeling?"

Sharp pain radiated from her gut. Cate blinked against the light. "I feel like someone who's been shot."

Her father's lips tilted up into a reluctant smile. "You still have all your faculties. I'm glad you're okay, sweetheart." Ray brushed his good hand over her forehead. "We were worried sick."

"Where is Billy?" Cate asked again.

Debra released a sigh. "He had to leave, but I'm sure Billy will be back later. He needed a shower and some rest. Billy stayed with you until we arrived."

Cate digested the information with care. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"Almost thirty hours," Ray replied. Her father looked like he needed sleep badly. "Do you want some water?"

She nodded and felt like an ass as relief flooded her when her father left the room. The moment she was alone with her mother, Cate rested her gaze on the other woman. "Dad got into a fight with Billy, didn't he?"

Debra sighed and shook her head; sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. "He did. Your father blames Billy for you being shot. I tried to reason with him on the way back to New York but you know how he gets."

The temper her father always possessed was no longer tightly contained as it had been when she was growing up. Ever since losing his hand, Dad was a different man. Cate caught glimpses of malice some days and sheer, unadulterated sadness on other days. Sometimes she couldn't tell which emotion frightened her more.

"Will you let Billy know I'm okay?" Cate was so tired her eyes dropped closed several times. She didn't want to fight the inevitable. "Please."

Debra leaned close and pressed her lips against Cate's temple. All at once, Cate was suffused in a haze of rose perfume. Her nerves settled even as she began to drift off. The hand stroking her hair was gentle and drew a sigh from Cate's throat.

"I promise I'll call him," Debra whispered.

Cate frowned; her eyes still closed. "I saw Justin after I was shot. He was with me…"

"Go to sleep," her mother advised in a voice so soft Cate could barely hear it. "We'll talk about it later."