Whew - chapters 18 and 19 were fun to write, but a bit exhausting! Thanks again to everyone who's still reading. As always, I appreciate every review! It helps to know if/that people are enjoying the story.

It was Dante Falconeri who picked them up. Anna sat in the front of the squad car, Robert in the back, as the detective brought them up to speed. "The first call came in at 10:45," he told them; "a report of shots fired down by the docks. Two officers on foot patrol were the first on scene. They found a forty-five-year-old white male and a twenty-year-old white female dead, both shot through the head."

[Julian's man had moved almost all the heroin he'd rescued from the in-his-opinion-ill-conceived purge of the previous Sunday night. All he'd had to do was make one or two connections. The junkie-grapevine had done the rest; addicts from across the city had come to him for their hits. In total his haul would add up to eight or nine thousand—not bad for five nights of work. He stood waiting in the shadows for his next customer, and was delighted to recognize a sweet young thing he'd sold a couple of hits to three nights before. He'd given her a deal for a small favour. He hoped she'd be game for the same again.

She was cautious as she approached him, eyes down. "Do you still have some stuff?" she asked hopefully. He nodded. "Same price?" she asked. He grinned.

And then, suddenly around the corner stepped two men dressed in dark clothing.

"Shit," the young junkie said; "the cops." But it wasn't the cops. The two men extended their arms, lifting their guns, and shot Julian's man and his customer before they could react.]

"The next call came in almost immediately after," Dante continued. "This time the shooting had taken place in the underground parking lot of the Metro Court Hotel. A woman found Julian Jerome bleeding out on the cement; he'd been shot in the shoulder, and if he'd been discovered even just fifteen minutes later, he would have been dead."

[Julian had just arrived back at the hotel from a meeting with a business partner. He got out of his car, set the alarm, and began to walk toward the central elevators. "Julian?" someone called out behind him; he turned, and before he had time to look at the man who'd addressed him, he felt a blow on a right shoulder that knocked him back. It was only after he'd hit the ground that he felt the wetness and the searing pain spreading from the right side of his chest to its centre, radiating down his arm and up his neck. Everything went black.]

"The third call came in at 10:55. A black male had been shot upstairs at the Metro Court; leaving the elevator, he saw a man and a woman standing at the door of Ava Jerome's suite. The man had a gun levelled at Ms. Jerome. The black male yelled out; the other man turned, shot him, and fled with his partner. Ms. Jerome called in the shooting herself."

[Ava was expecting Julian to stop in after his meeting and fill her in on the plans he was making to escalate their attacks on Lavery and Corinthos. When the knock came, she was careless and didn't look through the peephole; she opened the door wide, complaining to Julian that he was late.

She was confused to see a thirty-something woman and a twenty-something man standing at the door. She didn't recognize them. "Yes?" she asked. "Can I help you?"

The man smiled, raised his hand. Ava saw that he held a gun, and she'd begun to back away when she heard a shout from down the hallway.

"Hey! Stop! What are you doing?"

The man whirled, fired, and ran toward the stairs; his partner followed close behind.

Ava rushed down the hallway, fumbling for her phone. "Are you okay? Talk to me!" she demanded of her rescuer as she knelt down. With one hand she dialed 911; with the other she tried to staunch the bleeding.]

Anna turned to look directly at Detective Falconeri. "This sounds like mob business. Could these hits have been ordered by your father, Dante?"

Dante shook his head. "I haven't told you about the next call. At 11:05, we received a report of shots fired at my father's coffee shop. A squad car arrived five minutes later to find Sonny's associate Shawn dead on the floor. Three shots, all clean, all close range: one in his head, two in his chest."

[Shawn was behind the counter making a cup of tea and waiting for a drop-off scheduled for midnight. He'd already unlocked the door—careless, sloppy. He'd realized that as soon as the door clicked open and he saw the two men entering. Shawn's hand moved automatically to his hip. His gun was in its holster under his blazer, but he didn't reach for it yet, just in case by some miracle the two men were on the up-and-up, were lost and wanted directions, or were in fact his contacts, just an hour early.

"Can I help you?" he asked them.

"Yes you can," answered the one man, who extended his hand as though offering it in a handshake. Shawn's attention was momentarily diverted, giving the other man just enough time to draw and shoot three times.]

Anna thought for a moment. She asked, "What about your father? Dante, have you tried to contact him? Where is Sonny Corinthos?"

Dante was quiet. He pulled the squad car over to the side of the road. He took out his cell phone and dialled. There was no answer.

[Sonny was alone at the warehouse waiting for Shawn to arrive after the drop-off at the coffee shop. It was the perfect night for business: Giordano and Wu were at the opening; Jerome, Sonny knew, was distracted making plans to attack the club again. Head bent over his desk, Sonny was poring over the accounts—the real accounts, not the dummy accounts managed by his business office. He had to be ready to move money around once Giordano neutralized the Jeromes. Sonny's coup de grâce would be the take-over of the networks established by Giordano and Wu across the border into Canada and into the Asian District, places Sonny hadn't yet been able to penetrate. He was excited at the prospect. Perhaps this is why he was distracted.

There was a knock at the door. Sonny looked up. It was too early for Shawn to be arriving, and besides, he had a key and would let himself in. Sonny walked to the door. "Who is it?" he asked.

"A friend," came the reply. "I'm here to warn you, Mr. Corinthos. You're in danger."

Sonny waited for a moment, then cautiously opened the door a crack. He looked out at the man standing in front of him.

"Who are you?" Sonny asked. "And who am I in danger from?"

"To answer your first question, I'm Gino Giordano's assistant," Victor told him. "And to answer your second question-" he lifted his gun so quickly Corinthos didn't have time to react and shot him six times in the chest: a clear, unambiguous reply to Sonny's question.]

Dante turned on his siren and pulled back out into traffic. Anna called Olivia Falconeri, who told them, as far as she knew, Sonny was at his warehouse. They arrived, guns drawn, to find the main door to the warehouse opened just enough that they could see Sonny Corinthos lying on his back in a pool of blood. Robert held Dante back as Anna slipped through the open door without disturbing the body; she leaned over, trying not to step in the blood, and checked for a pulse. There was none. Sonny Corinthos was dead.

She came back out through the door. "I'm sorry Dante, there's nothing we can do for your father now. I'm calling it in. We need forensics here." She continued, more gently. "This can't be your investigation. If you want to stay, you may, but only as an observer; you can't be involved. I'd suggest that once the team arrives, you go and speak to your mother."

Anna put her hand on Dante's arm in a gesture of comfort and then turned to walk back to the squad car to make the call.

"Anna," Robert called. "Be careful." His gun was still drawn. Anna looked back, nodded, and left.

Only a few minutes later, Robert could already hear the sound of sirens in the distance. Dante had moved off; he was speaking to his wife on the phone and looked badly shaken. The sirens grew louder, then stopped, and Anna returned with two officers. She went immediately to check on her young detective; after, she walked over to Robert, her expression troubled. She drew him aside. "First the Jeromes, then Corinthos and his man Shawn. Robert, what about Duke? Could he be a target?"

Robert considered. "I don't know, he looked pretty confident and comfortable at the club earlier. He seemed in his element. Maybe a better question is—could he be involved in these hits in some way?"

Anna pursed her lips. "I can't believe that of him. I can't believe he would plan the cold-blooded murder of anyone, even Julian Jerome."

"Perhaps he didn't plan the hits," Robert conceded. "Perhaps he's just decided which horse to back in the race, and it wasn't Corinthos. He could merely be complicit."

"Or he could be dead," Anna's face was white. "I need you to check that he's all right, Robert. I need to know."

Robert nodded, took her hand and squeezed it, leaned over to kiss her quickly on the cheek, and left.

He found the door to the club still open. A few extremely inebriated patrons were slouched over the bar, one apparently unconscious, the other two laughing and leaning into each other, sharing some private joke. The bartender looked at Robert. "We're closing," he said; "last call was fifteen minutes ago."

Robert shook his head. "I'm here to see Duke Lavery. Is he still around?"

The bartender took a couple of steps back, turned, walked over to the kitchen door, looked in, called out something, and came back. "Yeah, he's still here. He'll be out in a second. Have a seat."

Robert declined. He walked over to the corner of the room and paced three or four times before he saw Duke enter from the kitchen, halt, then walk the remaining distance between them. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Scorpio?" he asked. "What do you want from me?"

"You're alive," Robert smiled. "I'm so relieved. We were worried you might have been shot through the head, like every other mobster in Port Chuck tonight."

Duke waved for him to be quiet, looked around. "Not here, Scorpio, you idiot. Come to my office." He turned and led Robert into the back hallways of the club, past the kitchen, storage spaces, and dressing rooms in the back.

The very last room, right next to the back entrance, was Duke's office. It was small and windowless, but one wall was filled with a bank of screens providing views of the rest of the club: the front and back entrances, the hallway, the bar, the dance floor, the kitchen, even the front street and back alley way.

"Impressive security," Robert noted. "Seems a bit high tech for a run-of-the-mill club. You expecting some kind of invasion?"

Duke walked around behind his desk and sat down. "It's a rough neighbourhood. But then you know that as a former police commissioner."

"Why aren't you dead, Lavery?" Robert asked. "I assume you're aware of what's been going on outside your ramparts."

Duke pressed his hands together. "The cooks had the radio on in the kitchen. Apparently there have been a number of murders in the city tonight."

Robert frowned. "Five to be exact, two attempted, three successful. Sonny Corinthos is dead, as is his henchman Shawn, as is one of Jerome's thugs. Attempts were made on the lives of Julian and Ava. Julian is critical; Ava escaped without a scratch."

Duke looked down. "I have to admit I'm a bit disappointed that the Jeromes survived the purge. I'm not sorry Sonny's dead. He manipulated and betrayed me."

"Now that Corinthos is gone, who are you working for Lavery?" Robert asked; "Gino Giordano? Are you his lackey? Did you set this all in motion?"

Duke was disdainful. "I work only for myself. I might collaborate at times, but I'm nobody's lackey."

Robert shook his head. "That's what you think. Giordano's a dangerous guy. Don't get me wrong, Corinthos was bad enough—his hold on this town caused Mac and Anna terrible grief, but Giordano, he's a whole other story. You've invited in the devil. And now it's Anna's job to exorcise him, you bastard."

"If it weren't for Sonny Corinthos' interference," Duke almost spat the words, "Anna and I would still be together, and I would be in a position to protect her. He deserved to die." Duke stood. "The only reason Anna's with you now, Scorpio, is that Sonny used me. She'd still be with me if she hadn't found out about my business with Sonny."

"She was only with you in the first place because I was in a coma," Robert barely restrained his desire to shout, "and because of her overdeveloped sense of pity and loyalty. I'm the one she loves. She always has."

Duke smiled. "She would still be with me, but for Julian Jerome, but for Sonny Corinthos. You had her only because I had to die all those years ago to protect her from the Jeromes and because Corinthos sabotaged us when we finally found each other again."

Robert narrowed his eyes. "Believe what you want, Lavery. But know that I'll always be grateful to have her, whatever the reason, whatever the circumstance." Robert felt the shame of this statement—although he hadn't always felt that gratitude in the past, in the future, he decided, he always would. "And when I take her in my arms tonight, I'll report to her that you're just fine, that she shouldn't waste any more time worrying about your safety. You can take care of yourself."

After Robert left the club, he tracked Anna down at one of the crime scenes. He shadowed her as she coordinated the police response and visited each of the scenes in turn. The PCPD was stretched to its limits; every detective and forensic investigator available had been called from his or her bed to process the multiple scenes. Robert, Anna's self-appointed body guard, had accompanied her everywhere, constantly scanning the surroundings, on the lookout for any and all potential threats.

It was four o'clock in the morning by the time they returned home. Even when they entered the apartment, Robert pulled Anna back, went in first himself, then waved for her to follow and shut the door. He left her in the entrance and moved through each room, gun in hand. When he felt the space was secure, he came back to the living room, put his gun on a side table, and sat down heavily on the sofa.

Anna took off her coat and came to sit beside him. She put her hand on his arm. "On New Year's Eve, you suggested the brewing mob war was nothing more than an exciting professional challenge. How do you feel about it now? Port Charles is in chaos. What am I going to do, Robert?"

Robert put a hand over Anna's. "I don't know—leave?" he suggested tiredly. "Get out while you can? Come away with me somewhere safe? Somewhere no one can find us?"

Anna smiled. "It's very like you to try to protect me from danger," she observed. "But it's not at all like you to run away from your own responsibilities."

Robert thought back to what Elizabeth had said to him the night before and his gut gave a churn. "I'm currently only on a short-term contract with Port Chuck. Besides, I think both of us have put in more than our fair share of time and effort trying to keep this lawless burg from devolving to chaos."

Anna slumped and leaned over, resting her head against his shoulder. "Being commissioner of Port Charles has never been easy," she admitted.

Robert inclined his head so that his cheek pressed against Anna's hairline. "I don't like the danger you're in. Could you be the next target?"

Anna straightened, shifted to face Robert more directly; Robert did the same and turned in toward her. "I don't think I'm a target, Robert," she told him. "I had a fascinating and disturbing conversation with Giordano while we danced. He's behind the hits, obviously. He and Wu were at the club to establish an alibi; he asked me to dance and drew my attention to the time in a kind of sick joke—he was taunting me. But when we talked, he told me I was mere background, part of the context and environment in which he operates. He gets off on working the system, not destroying the system. I don't think he wants to harm me or to resort to blackmail or to threats against my family and the people I love. To him, that would be too easy."

Robert looked skeptical. "You believe him?"

Anna pressed her eyes closed and sighed. "I don't know. The Montreal police told me Giordano doesn't observe any code of honour, not even that among thieves, so he might have been lying. But he was so convincing. My gut tells me he was telling the truth. "

She opened her eyes and smiled wearily. Then she grew serious. "Robert," she began, "when we were at the club and I came to collect you, you seemed extremely upset. Was something wrong?"

Robert took her hands. "I was just worried when I couldn't find you. That's all." He smiled, tried to make light of the incident. "You'd maybe primed my paranoia with your weird premonition of peril before we even entered the club." He smiled, lifted her hands to his mouth, and kissed them.

Anna wasn't convinced or reassured. "When I was walking back from the dance floor before I got the call from the station, I saw Elizabeth Beaty sitting at our table. Did she say something that upset you? Now that I think about it, you haven't discussed the Thompson case with me recently. When last we spoke about it, you were going to contact the WSB for help identifying that man Hallam. Did you find out anything?"

Robert stroked her hands with his, squeezed them. "No, Luv, nothing. I'm afraid Hallam is a dead end. I'm sorry. Maybe Alan Schaber and Carolyn are living happily-ever-after in Europe and raising their daughter."

"Or son," Anna said, knowing it wasn't true, wanting to cry, not only for Carolyn but also for herself. There hadn't been a happily-ever-after for her and Robert either, not either time she was pregnant, because of Anna's secrecy, her duplicities, her betrayals, her desire for revenge.

"I will grant you that I was a bit frantic when I couldn't find you," Robert shifted their conversation back and away from the case. "When I looked out at the dance floor and I couldn't see you, I thought for a moment maybe you'd been snatched away while I was distracted. And I realized something very clearly in that moment." He pulled her toward him, rested his forehead against hers. "I can't lose you for a third time, Anna. I can't. It would kill me. I can't get you back only to have you taken away again."

Anna pulled back, put her hands around Robert's face, forcing him to look into her eyes. She smiled reassurance. "You're not going to lose me, Robert. Ever. I promise you that. No one's going to take me away, and nothing would make me leave you." She leaned in to kiss him and was surprised by the desperation and need in his response.

They made love. After, when Anna tried to coax Robert to bed, he told her he'd be in shortly. But he wasn't. He sat on the couch, gun in hand, imagining threats from all directions.