The blast took Brooke by surprise. One moment she was crossing the street; the next, pain exploded in her side. She fell backward, her head slamming against the ground before the rest of her body caught up. Blackness beckoned, a tempting refuge. But she knew instinctively she couldn't allow herself to float away. If she did, she'd never return.

Saliva flooded her mouth, a telltale sign she was about to throw up. Her nostrils detected a metallic smell that made her nausea worse. She swallowed convulsively, her forehead clammy with sweat.

Get up. Get up.

She tried to move, but the signal from her brain got lost somewhere along the way. She concentrated fiercely. This time one arm managed to separate from her side. Her fingers landed in something wet. Weird. She hadn't realized it was raining.

She lifted her wet hand and saw red. Not rain. Blood. Her blood.

Although the blow to her head had slowed her thought processes, she knew she had to stanch the puncture wounds in her side. Applying pressure to them, she gasped at the sheer agony of the experience.

Yeah, it hurts, but you're tough. You can take it.

What she couldn't take was the feeling of being helpless, vulnerable, weak. Since she'd joined the NYPD, her kick-ass attitude and fast reflexes had protected her. Not this time. This time she had miscalculated, racing from the cruiser without first donning her Kevlar vest. Hadn't thought she'd need it against a suspect who was supposedly armed with only a knife.

The sound of footsteps moved along the street toward her.

Help. Her mind shouted the word, but her vocal cords managed only a hoarse croak. Officer down. She needed that passerby to take notice of her situation and call an ambulance.

More slow, quiet steps.

Goose bumps raced along her skin as she realized a potential rescuer would be calling out to her, not approaching with the stealth of a predator. Craning her neck around, she glimpsed a shotgun cradled in filthy hands. She tried to throw herself out of harm's way, but only succeeded in flopping about. She felt like a fish out of water, caught in a net. Tears of frustration and fear mixed with the sweat on her face.

"Hey, open ya eyes."

Did he expect her to watch him pull the trigger? Sadistic bastard.

The footsteps came closer. At this range, the shot would be fatal. She reached out, and her hand smashed into something hard. A fist-sized rock. Big enough to do some damage. As long as her aim was true -

"Aye! Take it easy. Ya wrapped tighter than the mummy."

Her eyes shot open. A dark figure, unrecognizable in the silver light from the hall, loomed over her, but she knew that voice. Raphael. Despite their earlier argument, she longed to curl up in his arms and bury her face in his neck. Instead she reached down and jerked her legs free from the tangle of sheets.

"Ya were really tossin' and turnin'." He paused. "Bad dream, starring Sidorov and company?"

Of course he'd assume that. Yesterday had been two dangerous encounters with the man's thugs. But it was nothing compared to what had happened to her the last night she'd patrolled the streets of New York as a rookie cop. She'd been reliving that horror for over two years. The recurring nightmares left her tense, shaken... and shamed she'd lost the guts necessary to protect and serve.

"Sorry I woke you," she said, ignoring his question.

"It's cool. Imma light sleepa'. How about we get rid of this dark?" he said, reaching for the bedside lamp.

Her mouth felt like a dust bowl. "No, don't," she croaked. She was humiliated enough without him seeing her tear-streaked face.

"Ya sound off. Want me to stay for a while?" His voice was a deep, comforting rumble.

She should turn him down flat, but the prospect of being alone terrified her. If she drifted off to sleep, the nightmare would resume. The memory of the pain would be so intense, so real she'd jolt awake screaming. God, she hated that sound.

She must have hesitated too long because Raph turned to leave. The words shot out before she could stop them. "Don't go!"

He turned back, his eyes narrowing behind his red bandanna. "Ya must really be spooked."

Her face felt hot from embarrassment, but she tried for a casual tone. "Yeah, well, it's been a rough couple of days."

"I ain't arguin' with that." He approached the bed. "Scoot ya legs up."

She propped herself higher on the pillow and bent her legs to the side. Her ankle protested, but it wasn't the stabbing pain she'd felt in the ravine. A moment later, the bed dipped with his weight as he sat sideways along the bottom and leaned against the wall. The hall light painted a narrow stripe over his bare plastron and muscular legs. Since being at Sidorov's house, Raphael chose not to wear a disguise around Brooke and opted for just his waistband that held his weapons. While he showed nothing, Brooke's face always warmed up when he came around her pretty much naked. The muscles in his chest and arms were clearly defined. Her fingers itched to trace them. Bad idea.

Neither of them spoke, but the silence wasn't awkward. The churning in Brooke's stomach began to settle down. Using the edge of the sheet, she wiped the tears and sweat from her face. That damn nightmare. She hated the queasy, scared feeling it left her with. Why couldn't she stop reliving the past?

Raph shifted on the bed. Although he was being a good sport, he had to be anxious to head back to his own space and get some shut-eye.

"You must think I'm a major wimp," she blurted out.

"'Cause ya had a nightmare?" He turned his head in her direction. "Nobody can control what their mind's dish up."

"I'll bet you've never woken up completely freaked out."

"You'z be wrong, Blondie."

She didn't believe him. He seemed to thrive on dangerous situations. The ninja aspect of his life appeared perfect for him. Maybe that was why he'd took on the vigilante lifestyle.

She punched her pillow. "You're just saying that to be nice."

"I am nice. But I've also had nightmares."

"I'm not talking about when you were a little kid."

"I ain't either."

His tone was so serious she felt the first twinges of doubt. Maybe he was telling the truth. "How about offering up some specifics?"

"Why can't ya just take my word for it?"

"Because I'm curious what would give you nightmares."

He blew out an exasperated breath. "I'm startin' to see why ya boyfriend and you'z split up. Ya as stubborn as a pitbull."

"I take back that 'nice' comment I made earlier."

Her prickly words camouflaged the arousal growing within her. Although most of his body was in shadows, her imagination had no trouble filling in the gaps. She remembered every contour from those long minutes in the tent when he'd lain on top of her. The flat plastron chest and stomach. The leanness. The heat that came from his manhood that she assumed was tucked away to protect himself.

"Okay, Imma tell ya," he said abruptly.

His change of heart surprised her, and his tone of voice implied what he was about to say was deeply personal. She suddenly felt dishonest. She had pressed him to open with no intention of doing the same.

"No, forget I asked," she said.

"We both are wide-awake. We might as well chat."

He folded his arms over his chest, exhaled a breath. "Ten months ago, Don and I went undercova' inside a biker gang. For weeks, we got close to the head honcho. Then things went south and our covers were blown. They killed an innocent woman and decided my death should be slow and painful. So they beat me senseless, drove me away from their hideout and locked me in a shed."

She should have respected his reluctance to talk. Now she owed him the courtesy of listening to an experience that seemed as horrible as her own.

"I came to with my feet and hands bound behind my back. It was dark as shit and hot as hell. I had to squirm around like a fuckin' worm. Eventually I found a rough edge in the metal rim, but the ropes were too thick. The stifling heat made my stomach heave and my head spin. I pretty much threw up and passed out the entire time."

She'd been wrong to assume their experiences were comparable. Unlike her brief, intense stint in terror, he'd had to endure hours of torture. "What happened?" She whispered, hating he went through this.

"It took me most of the time to cut through the ropes. I tried forcin' the door open by throwin' myself at it, but the lock was this industrial-shit steel and wouldn't break." His next words were barely a whisper as his eyes looked off in the distance, looking lost in time and space while he told his story. "No matta' what I did, I couldn't escape."

That was the turtles' worst fear. Getting caught and experimented on by desperate people who wanted to figure out their DNA for their agenda. Fear of being picked and prodded. Fear of being left to die and forgotten.

The sense of helplessness had probably been harder for him to bear than the agony of extreme heatstroke. She swallowed past the lump in her throat."But you survived... how?"

"When I didn't check in with my brothers at Casey's cabin, Don and Mikey went searching for me at the last known location I was in charge to check out. It was sheer luck Mikey knew the area and remembered the shed. By that time, I was passed out and near death I had to recover in Don's lab for three days."

"Do you still dream about it?" she asked.

"Nah."

"So the nightmares just stopped?" Why wouldn't hers? She clenched the sheets in her fist.

"Man... I wish I could say they went away 'cause I made them go, but it ain't that easy." He rubbed his hand over his head, willing his muscles to loosen. This story always wounded him up and brought his anger to the forefront. Years of training his mind to control his fears thrown out the window as he tried to relate to this woman. "Nearly dyin' in that shed really fucked me up. A month afta' I got back on my feet, a thug disappeared into a dark tunnel and I couldn't fuckin' follow him. That's when I knew I needed real help or I couldn't go out and do what I only know - fight."

"You chose the help."

"A virtual therapy session that Don set up," Raph grunted. When his anger and fear consumed him after the incident, Raph finally opened up to Don. Don worked out the specifics and got Raph the help he didn't think would work. It did.

Unlike the psychologist Brooke had talked to in the hospital. "What did that therapist suggest?"

"Exposure therapy is what he said."

"He told you to shut yourself in a dark room?"

Raph chuckled darkly. "Somethin' like that. Don had me repeat and control the exposure. Eventually, the situation that used to trigger memories of the shed stopped botherin' me. The nightmares left afterward."

It sounded so simple - conquering fears through desensitization. Would it work for her?

She didn't realize she'd voiced the thought until Raph spoke. "I think it's already happenin for ya."

"What do you mean?"

"When Sergei pulled a gun on ya at Sidorov's, ya were scared to move, then had a panic attack in my truck. But tonight when those goons showed up, ya kept ya head, even came up with the idea of escapin' into that tent. That's huge in feeling betta'."

He had a point, she realized. Her reaction to danger had shifted a hundred and eighty degrees. Even the details of her nightmares had changed. She'd dreamed she had a weapon and could fight back.

"For the record, I don't think of ya as a wimp," he said. "I believe that you are a woman who can do anythin' she wants."

That was a far cry from how Ronnie had viewed her at the end of their relationship. He had loved having a fearless cop girlfriend with a bikini body. That same girlfriend lost her nerve, gained a bunch of scars and quit her job, he couldn't handle the person she'd become. She'd spent a lot of time regretting she'd disappointed him before she'd realized what his "love" had actually been about: bragging rights and lust.

The other man in her life - her father - had never understood her dreams or encouraged her abilities. He believed being a cop was a man's job. Women shouldn't be packing guns and chasing down criminals. They should be making comfortable homes for their husbands and raising their children to mind their manners. When she'd been injured, his concern had quickly given away to smugness. He'd been proved right. Only those with the Y chromosome belonged in law enforcement.

Objectively, she knew his was an old-fashioned opinion, but her self-respect had still fallen off a cliff - especially when panic attacks had hit her after returning to work. She'd quit rather than risk endangering her colleagues or the public. Now she wished she had tried harder to find the right help like Raph had.

She looked at him, a dark form sitting motionless on her bed. He could have easily bailed on her, but instead he'd stayed. And despite her badgering, he could have avoided admitting he had wrestled with fears, too. Why had he done it? Why had he opened up to her? It was clear Raphael doesn't let people in easily, and the entire time they've been together, he's only tried to protect her. Why?

He must have known his experience would strike a corresponding chord with her. Only survivors of near death experiences could fully appreciate the toll it took, the fear that couldn't be completely excised. His understanding was welcome, but even more important was the sweet sound of his respect.

"I have a question."

His voice jolted her out of her reverie. She tenses instinctively. Here it comes. How did you get those scars.

"Who called it quits? Ya fiance or you?"

Her tension dissolved like jelly powder in boiling water. This was a topic she could talk about. "He dumped me. Neither my new body nor my change in careers met with his approval." Then because she didn't want Raph feeling sorry for her, she added, "We weren't a good match, but I was only able to see that afterward."

"Sounds like he was an asshole and ya were betta off without him."

Oh man, Raphael was saying all the right things tonight. Maybe she shouldn't have rejected his offer in the tent. Based on his kisses, she had no doubt sex with him wouldn't be anywhere close to what she's found with a regular man. It would be mindblowing. Just thinking about it made her breasts tingle and abdomen quiver.

If only he weren't so set on seeing her naked with the lights on. The very idea made her squirm. What if her scars turned him off? What if she saw the same look of revulsion on his face she'd seen on Ronnie? She didn't need the humiliation, especially not when she was finally starting to feel a little better about herself.

"Are ya okay now?" he asked. "Do ya think ya can get some sleep?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for the company."

"Casey sent me a text a little while ago. His uncle is doing better, so he'll be back in the morning.

Raph vacated the bed in one smooth movement. She stretched out her legs, regretting the empty space left behind by his body, wishing she had the courage to call him back.

At the doorway, he paused. "In case ya wonderin', I don't spill my guts like that."

She suppressed a smile. "Don't worry. It hasn't ruined your tough-guy image."

"Good."

Raph's words and actions had shown her two distinctly different sides of him. One as a weapon-wielding ninja savior. The other as a mentor offering insight. And though she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about it, there was a third part of his persona hovering on the periphery of her mind. That a lover could satisfy both her body and her heart.

The aroma of eggs and pancakes drifted up the stairs. Raph paused on his way down and sniffed appreciatively. Breakfast. How great that he didn't have to get in his car and drive to it. He continued down the stairs and headed into the kitchen.

Brooke stood in front of the stove, pouring batter into a frying pan.

"You said you ain't cookin'." He smiled a toothy grin at the smudge of flour on her cheek.

"I'm making an exception." Her eyes met his for a fleeting moment, then slid away. "Don't get used to it."

Despite the gruff tone, he knew this was her way of thanking him for the prior night. It wasn't necessary but mentioning that would only make her feel more awkward. She had her pride, and he had no intention of undercutting it.

She'd already stacked plates on the counter, so he hunted through all the cupboards for glasses and cutlery. After the table was set, he poured two mugs of coffee. His cell phone rang. "I'll keep this short," he promised Brooke, pulling his phone out.

"I got the info on Sidorov you wanted." The voice on the line belonged to Casey's sister, Angel. She was secretly helping through her blood splatter analyst job. Casey didn't like the idea at all, but the info Angel was able to obtain through her connects proved more valuable than not having her included in Leo's search.

"I'm puttin' ya on speaker so I can hear ya betta'." Also, Brooke would be able to listen in. After what she'd been through yesterday, it seemed wrong to exclude her. He set his phone on the table. "Go ahead."

"My search of the database shows Sidorov has become co-owner of about twenty small companies over the last six months. Interestingly, the companies' financials improved signficantly after he invested his capital."

Brooke whispered her question, "Laundering?"

Raph nodded and repeated the question to Angel, "Could he be usin' them to launder money?"

"No red flags are coming up, but it can't be ruled out." There was a short pause on the line. "We need to be careful, Raphael. The police department is catching on that someone outside the force is also trying to rally in Sidorov. They think it's the vigilante."

"Thanks for the warnin', Ang."

"If they know it's you, Raphael, they'll come after you! Catching a mobster is one thing, but catching the New York Vigilante who happens to be a turtle would break headlines for the department. What if you can't find Leo because he doesn't want to be found? Are you sure you want to risk getting caught?"

Raphael heard a clatter behind him and turned toward the noise. The utensil Brooke had been using to flip pancakes lay on the floor. He watched her pick it up and move to the sink to wash it.

"You didn't say 'yes'," Angel went on, misreading his lack of response, "which means you need to re-think your decision. I love Leo, too, Raph, but we have to remember that Leo was your guys' leader and damn near always knew what to do. What if he did this knowing we won't ever find him?"

Raph sighed deeply. "I hear ya. Thanks for the info."

He pocketed his phone, then glanced at Brooke. "Is breakfast ready?"

"Everything's staying warm in the oven," she answered quietly. "Are you sure you're still hungry?"

"Why would I not be?"

"You just found out you have to choose between your life and chasing after your brother...who may not want to be found."

She sounded shocked, but he wasn't. He'd known that there was a chance that this whole situation could be a bust if Leo truly did went into hiding. This is why he'd involved Casey and his sister, Angel - to expedite the search.

"I already made my choice, Blondie. I ain't stoppin' til I find out what happened to Leo and help ya brother-in-law."

Brooke's eyes still held concern. but her lips curved in a smile of respect and appreciation. "Somehow, I knew you'd say that."

She thought she understood him, but she wouldn't be smiling at him like that if she knew he was partly motivated by guilt. He should come clean with her. He should tell her the truth about his troubled relationship with Leo but he didn't want to wreck her good opinion of him, so he stayed silent.

"Thanks," he mumbled, as Brooke served up steaming scrambled eggs and golden pancakes.

Casey arrived a few minutes later. As he strolled into the kitchen, the corner of his mouth kicked up. "Looks like ya two have big appetites this mornin'!"

Raph knew exactly what he was hinting at, but Brooke didn't catch the innuendo. "I took you at your word and raided your supplies," she said.

"I'm just glad you made extra coffee." Casey helped himself to a cup, added some cream, then joined them at the table.

Raph watched the other man's gaze move over Brooke's face, no doubt searching for traces of him fucking her. No, we ain't spend the night screwin' like rabbits, he was tempted to say. Maybe they had shared a bed for a while, but the intimacy wasn't sexual. It was... He frowned, at a loss to define what had passed between them. Not that he intended to explain anything to Casey. It just would have been good to know himself.

"How's your uncle?" Brooke asked Casey.

"Betta' than expected. When my mom mentioned a friend of mine had gone missin', my uncle insisted I get my ass back here." He sipped his coffee. "Any new developments while I was gone?"

Raph reached for more syrup. "Actually, Brooke talked to the CIA agent into lettin' us search the warehouse Leo was posted up at on his last mission with them."

Casey gave her a thumps-up sign. "Nice goin'"

Brooke's flush showed she was pleased by the compliment.

Raph finished chewing a mouthful of fluffy pancake. "While we were checkin' the scene, three of Sidoov's goons showed up and chased us down into the ravine behind the house."

"How did they know ya'll were there?" Casey demanded.

"I think we can assume Sidorov has connections in the CIA."

Casey gestured with his coffee mug. "Okay, Leo was working indirectly for the Russian. So how did he piss him off? Screw up a mission?"

Brooke crossed her knife and fork over her empty plate. "That would be the CIA Agent, Mr. Keesing's problem. And he'd have just fired Leo and get somebody else."

"Did ya find any clues as to what happened at the warehouse?" Casey asked.

Raph spoke up. "It ain't what we found. It's what we ain't find. There were lots of notes scattered around the room. And one unfinished."

"And that's important because... ?"

"It looked like Leo had stopped writing outta nowhere, which makes me think if someone showed up while he was there. If that someone fought with him, or took him, Leo would have left a clue."

"You never mentioned that possibility last night," Brooke said.

"I got distracted by those men showin' up with guns." And later by her body pressed against his in the tent.

"Excuse me," Brook said, pushing away from the table.

Frowning, he watched her exit from the kitchen. It wasn't like her to leave in the middle of a conversation. Was she annoyed he had waited to tell Casey and her now, instead of telling her when they'd got back last night?

When Brooke was out of earshot, Casey said, "I like her." That damn crocodile smile was plastered across his face again.

"Me too." Raph added sugar to his second coffee of the day. "And I'm pretty sure she likes me back, if ya get my meanin'."

"Aye man, don't do anything to mess that up then," the older man promised.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and a moment later, Brooke hurried into the kitchen.

"You're not the only one who got distracted last night," she said, holding out her hand. Dangling from her fingers by a heavy gold chain was an oval pendant surrounded by small diamonds.

Raph headed to the table. "Wheredya get it?"

"Remember the room with the fancy sheets and candle? It was wedged between the pillow and the wall."

"Looks expensive," Casey remarked.

"Lemme see."Raph examined it carefully, noting the initial MS on the back of the delicate pendant. "I'll be damned."

Brooke frowned. "What?"

"I've seen this before."

"Where?'

"From a photo in Sidorov's office." He looked at her. "It belongs to his daughter, Marisa."

"She's Leo's lover?"

Raphael's mind was racing a mile a minute processing what this means. "It looks like it."

Casey folded his arms over his chest. "Well, now. This is startin' to get interestin'."

"How old is she?" Brooke asked.

Raphael knew from the background check he and Donny did on the Russian and his household. "Twenty-two."

"Then she's old enough to decide who she wants to sleep with."

The thought was jarring to Raph for some reason. Why is Leo with Sidorov's daughter? Hasn't he slept with enough enemies in this lifetime? It seems as if Raph may not know his fearless leader as much as he thought he did.

Raph shrugged. "Sidorov may not see it that way."

"Most men have a hard time accepting their little girls have grown up," Casey agreed. "And although I think Leo is a great leader, he's hardly the type to be boyfriend material... let alone to a human woman. He's always the one to remind ya'll to keep your identity lowkey."

"I bet money Sidorov made his impression known," Raph muttered. Of all the times Leo badgered and reprimanded Raph and his brothers about getting close to humans, especially women. Especially women who could endanger their family - What the hell is going on?

"How would your brother have reacted to that?" Brooke asked Raph.

Raph turned to Casey. "Whatdya think?"

Casey rolled his eyes. "I think Leo would've done it in secret. I just don't think he realized how good Sidorov is at finding out the truth."

"That brings us back to the notes on those papers," Raph mumbled quietly. "Best-case scenario is Sidorov had Leo attacked. Worse case... he had him killed."

"A beatin' wouldn't have stopped Leo, he'd fight back," Casey pointed out.

"Ya ain't wrong," Raph agreed.

Brooke's fingers curled around her mug as if she were seeking warmth from its contents. No one spoke for a long while.

Raph forced himself to break the silence and voice the unthinkable. "Leo's body could have been disposed. If he was fuckin' around on a CIA mission, the government coulda' gotten rid of him so no other agency could get their hands on him... or he could be gettin' experimented on."

Casey cursed under his breath. "Where could they take his body?"

Brooke's response matched the one in his head. "The ravine."

Densely wooded with infrequent food traffic, the ravine made a perfect dump site. Casey let loose with another curse, but Raph barely took it in. The delicious breakfast Brooke had cooked churned in his stomach as he remembered the disgusting odor he'd noticed when he'd first entered the ravine. Could it have been Leo's decomposing body?

He realized his horror must have shown when Brooke reached out to touch his arm. "Those notes could be meaningless," she murmured.

His gut and mind were both screaming the opposite. Leo was dead, and so was the hope he'd been carrying around that he could reconcile with his brother -

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Casey said, breaking through his dread. "Wild guesses aren't facts."

"Only one way to know for sure," he said with a calmness he was far from feeling.

Brooke was on her feet before he'd finished speaking. "We have to search the ravine."