by LENA DIAZ,
He hated that his boss was right. If he didn’t make a deal in the next day or two, the victims were likely beyond their reach, already sold to the highest bidder. Bringing down the trafficking ring would be the only way to prevent others from becoming future victims. But he wasn’t giving up on the girls he’d seen in those pictures. The children. Not yet. Someone had to fight for them. It might as well be him.
“All right. Forty-eight hours. I still get Chris as my contact? Same signals, same setup? I don’t have time to train someone else, establish new parameters and routines.”
“Nothing’s changed from my perspective. It’s the scum you’ve been dealing with who may feel otherwise. If they even suspect who you really are—”
“They don’t.”
“Can you guarantee that?”
Ian’s mouth tightened. What could he say? He had no way of knowing for sure what Butch suspected, or didn’t suspect.
“I didn’t think so,” Nash said. “I’m adding a condition to your forty-eight hours. Every time you go out, you put on Kevlar.”
“Boss—”
“Nonnegotiable. Either wear the vest, or I shut this operation down right now.”
Ian swore. Kevlar added risk, especially with his contacts possibly spooked. But if something did happen, and he wasn’t wearing his vest and somehow survived—Nash would can him in a second. Then what would Ian do? This wasn’t just his career. It was his life. There wasn’t anything else.
Shannon. There was still Shannon.
He shook his head. Stupid dreams. There was no possibility of a future between the two of them. She thought he was simply the mechanic who lived on the other side of her duplex. Once she found out he was in law enforcement, he’d become enemy number one. He’d never see her again.
Of all the people he’d duped in his career, Shannon was the one he truly regretted. She wasn’t some criminal or thug. She was a genuinely good person, a survivor. She’d worked so hard trying to find her friend Maria, who was still trapped in the life that Shannon had escaped. That story had been shared with Ian over dinner and a few too many glasses of wine one night. It had also been the catalyst that had sent his investigation in an entirely new direction.
What Shannon told him about believing Maria might be in the area had eventually led him to Wolverine. She was a hero, and didn’t even know it. She trusted him, thinking he wanted to help her find her friend, because of the attraction they shared and because he was a good person.
He hadn’t faked the attraction.
But the guilt was eating him alive that he’d misled her about his motives, that everything else he’d told her was a lie. Almost. In order to gain her trust, he’d revealed his own extremely personal dark secret, a secret he’d never told anyone else. Which only went to show how obsessed he was with this case, or with Shannon. He’d always planned on taking that particular secret with him to the grave.
“Ian? You still there?”
He shook his head again, then winced when the movement jump-started the headache that had been threatening since the fight with Adam. Maybe he could bum an aspirin or something stronger off a nurse before escaping this place. “I’m here.”
“What about the vest? Do we have a deal?”
He blinked against the bright fluorescent lights overhead and longed to rub his aching temples. But with his left hand in a sling and the phone in his right, all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut. “We have a deal. My vest is at the duplex. I’ll put it on before I head to the shop in the morning.”
“You’d better. If these guys decide they can’t trust you, that vest is your only chance. First sign of trouble, use the nuclear option. I’ll have the cavalry in place to come running. Understood?”
The nuclear option meant blowing his cover, sending the signal for agent in distress. It would activate every asset in the area to come help him. But it would ruin his chances of rescuing anyone. He had no intention of using it. Ever.
“Understood.” Technically, he hadn’t made a promise. “What about the ADA?”
“Leave him to me. I’ll tell him you’re lying low, letting things settle. Don’t make me regret this, Ian. Be careful. See if you can figure out the location of the victims so we can set up a rescue operation. Then shut it down. Don’t try to be a hero and get yourself killed. The paperwork would be a nightmare.”
Ian laughed, then winced at the sharp jolt that shot through his cut cheek. His stomach clenched. The pain was making him nauseous.
“Ian?”
“Okay, okay. I’ll do what I can to keep you from all that paperwork. You’re going to pick up the hospital tab, right? My crappy car mechanic insurance won’t cover an ER visit without a hefty deductible.”
“I’ll take care of it.” The line clicked.
Chapter Five
Ian dumped the landline phone onto the side table and clutched his aching head. But he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of sitting there until the pain receded. He needed to leave. Now.
He stood, then had to grab the bed railing to keep from falling. When the room stopped spinning, he hobbled to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. A few deep breaths seemed to help with the nausea. He cupped his hands beneath the faucet and drank some water. Then, seeing the blood smeared on his face and matting his hair, he did a quick wash in the sink. Finally, looking more presentable and feeling less shaky, he went on a hunt for his clothes.
A few minutes and several curses later, he was fully dressed, minus his favorite leather jacket. It had died a tragic death beneath the scissors of a nurse trying to work it off his injured arm. It would have come in handy right now to hide the splotches of blood on his shirt. But he figured that was to be expected in a hospital. People would just assume it was someone else’s blood, that he’d helped a friend into the emergency room. He couldn’t imagine anyone would try to stop him, as long as he made sure the nurse assigned to him didn’t see him leaving the room.
He still felt naked without a gun. Shannon had his .357 Magnum and his car, which meant she presumably had his Glock .22 pistol, as well. Thankfully, his house key and wallet were in his jeans pocket, so he’d be able to hire a car to drive him home. And he wouldn’t have to kick in the door when he got there. Bonus. That was one tiny bright spot in what had turned into a wasted day.
The second bright spot was that Shannon hadn’t gotten hurt. When she’d pulled that gun on Adam, Ian had been terrified that she’d get killed. Hopefully, she’d gone home and was lying low. He didn’t think Butch or the others had seen her rescuing him at the end of the fight. The van had been gone by then. But he wanted her away from any potential danger, just in case.
He never should have taken her to that truck stop with him, even if it meant rescheduling the meeting. He should have ignored her impassioned pleas that he not delay, that he go directly to the rendezvous point. He shouldn’t have believed her promises that she’d stay in the car and wouldn’t interfere.
Then again, she had stayed in the car.
He grinned at the memory of her daring to call Adam a bully. The woman was just as feisty as she was gorgeous. But knowing Adam, he probably had a BOLO out on her and Ian, just on principle. Every cop in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, had likely been alerted to be on the lookout for the two of them. Which meant if they saw her, especially driving the Charger Adam had seen, she’d be handcuffed and thrown in jail.
In the few months that Ian had known her, one thing was clear—she had a deep-seated fear of law enforcement. If she ended up under arrest, the second she made bail she’d run. He’d never see her again. That shouldn’t matter. But it did.
He was halfway to the door when it started to open. He was mentally spinning a cover story to explain why he was dressed and walking when the nurse stepped inside. Except it wasn’t a nurse. And it wasn’t just one person. It was three.
Adam was flanked by
Duncan and Colin. And they were looking at him as if they thought he was the slime stuck to the bottom of their shoes. Nothing had changed since the last time they’d all seen each other. When was that? Probably last Easter, a good seven months ago. Not nearly long enough.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Adam stepped in front of him, blocking his way.
Ian braced his legs and fisted his right hand at his side, fully expecting all three of them to take a turn trying to wallop him. One-on-one, even though each of them was a tad bigger than him, he’d normally have at least a fifty-fifty chance. But he wasn’t exactly at his best tonight. Still, he’d give it a good solid try if they pushed him. As ticked off as he was about this truly screwed-up day, it could give him the advantage.
“If you’re here for round two, Adam, be warned that I’m not throwing the fight this time. You’re the one who’ll be bleeding on the floor when we’re through.”
“I knew it,” Adam said. “You were pulling punches at the truck stop. I figured it was either that or you’d gone soft. Why did you pick the fight to begin with? And what in the world were you doing with those losers by that van?”
He shrugged, then pressed his hand against his protesting ribs. “Losers hang with losers, right?” The other two were intently watching him, but seemed content to let Adam do the talking for this little welcoming committee. “I’d love to reminisce about old times with you boys, but I have things that need doing.”
He stepped around Adam. As one, Colin and Duncan moved to block him, spreading their legs and bracing themselves against whatever he might try.
He blew out a deep breath. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh? You can’t butt out and let it lie? Fine. There’s still some fight left in me. But to be fair, let’s do this one at a time.” He motioned toward the sling on his left arm. “Just to even the odds.”
“Knock off the sarcasm.” Adam crossed his arms, his brow knitting into a frown.
“Who’s being sarcastic? I can take you guys.” He motioned toward Adam. “You first. Payback time.”
He rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “What did the doctors say was wrong? Do you have broken ribs? A concussion? They don’t typically admit someone for a broken arm.”
“What do you care?”
Colin shoved him. “Knock it off, Ian. What’s really going on? Adam told us about those pieces of scum that you were with at the truck stop. Associating with guys like that is low, even for you.”
“Even for me? Gee, thanks, Colin. That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Can’t wait to see what you write on my next Christmas card.” He tried to shove him out of his way.
Colin shoved right back.
“Leave him alone,” a feminine voice called out from behind the Colin-Duncan wall.
Ian groaned as Colin and Duncan turned around. Shannon stood just inside the door, holding his .357 Magnum revolver in both her hands.
In the blink of an eye, three pistols were pointing directly at her.
“Drop it,” Adam ordered. “Now.”
Her face turned chalk white. Her arms started to shake.
Ian moved between Colin and Shannon, once again playing human shield. He was really getting tired of that role. “Guys, dial it back. Shannon, give me the gun.”
“But they were—”
“It’s okay. Trust me. Please.” He held out his hand.
She hesitated, her hands shaking dangerously, her finger on the trigger.
He purposely kept his voice gentle and calming as he spoke. “Shannon, darlin’, I really need you to move your finger off the trigger and give me the gun. You think you can do that?”
Her blue-tipped black bangs had fallen into her eyes. She tossed her head, green eyes darting back and forth from the others to him. None of them had lowered their weapons. They’d simply shifted their stances so they could aim at her without him in the line of fire. They wouldn’t shoot him. But they didn’t know Shannon and weren’t taking any chances with her.
“Shannon—”
“Okay, okay.” She moved her finger off the trigger and turned the gun around.
He blew out a relieved breath as he took the gun. “Thank you. You did great.” He smiled encouragingly and shoved the revolver into his jeans pocket.
The others lowered their weapons and slowly put them away, as if they were worried that she might draw another gun.
Ian turned sideways so he could keep an eye on all of them. He smiled at Shannon again and motioned to the others. “Shannon Murphy, allow me to introduce you to the brute I allowed to beat the crap out of me at the truck stop. This is Adam McKenzie, a law enforcement ranger for the National Park Service.”
Adam nodded, but maintained a tense watchful wariness.
Shannon’s eyes widened, panic welling in them as soon as she’d heard the words law enforcement. He rushed through the rest of the introductions.
“The second one who looks like he could be Adam’s twin, but isn’t, is Special Agent Duncan McKenzie, also with NPS. Our last black-haired blue-eyed Irish lad is Deputy US Marshal Colin McKenzie.”
She swallowed, her haunted eyes zeroing in on him. “Why are they here, Ian? And why do they look so much like you?”
The knowledge was in her eyes. But she obviously needed to hear him admit it before she’d accept what to her was likely an unforgivable deception. He thought about lying. But there’d been enough lies between them already. And he knew the others wouldn’t go along with whatever story he wove, not without understanding why. All he could do was hope the fragile bond that he and Shannon had formed over the past few months survived the next few minutes.
“They’re here because they’re my brothers.”
She swallowed again, twisting her hands together. “I’m guessing that Ian Savage isn’t your real name. And you’re not really a mechanic?”
He glanced at his brothers, who were watching the conversation with riveted interest, before he met her tortured gaze again.
“I am a mechanic. I can fix pretty much anything with an engine. But I only work at the shop as my cover while working a case. My real name is Ian McKenzie. I’m a special agent for Homeland Security, specializing in the fight against human trafficking.”
A sob burst from her lips and she ran from the room.
Colin started after her, yanking open the door to give chase.
Ian grabbed his arm. “Let her go. She’s terrified of anyone with a badge. For good reason.”
Colin hesitated, then let the door close. “Special agent with Homeland Security, huh?” His voice was heavy with disbelief. “Since when?”
“Ian Savage?” Duncan cocked his head and grinned. “What a lame cover name.” He winked, letting Ian know he was teasing.
Normally Ian didn’t get Duncan’s jokes or appreciate the lighthearted way he approached life. But at this moment, he was Ian’s favorite brother.
“Let’s hold the twenty questions until Ian’s back in bed.” Adam firmly grasped his shoulders and steered him farther into the room.
“I must have hit you harder than I thought,” Ian mused. “You’re limping.”
“Old injury. You don’t get any credit for that. Come on. You’re about ready to fall over.”
“I’m only going to lie down because there’s no point in leaving now. You’ll just follow me and badger me with questions.”
Adam chuckled. “Right. It has nothing to do with how wobbly you are or that you look like you’re about to pass out.”
Ian stopped beside the bed. “You forgot something else.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m also about to throw up.”
Adam’s eyes widened. He jumped back just as Ian lost the contents of his stomach on the floor.
Chapter Six
“Four years, Ian?” Adam’s brows drew down in a thundero
us frown as he dried his hands in the bathroom doorway. While he’d cleaned the floor moments earlier, and his shoes, the others had dragged extra chairs into the room. Now, as Adam took a seat, he and the others formed a ring around the bed, effectively boxing Ian in as if to keep him from trying to leave again.
“You must have gone to college after taking off and never told anyone about it. Then you joined Homeland Security shortly after you graduated.”
“Your deductive reasoning and math skills are extraordinary. You’re wasting your talents as a ranger.”
Adam’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
Colin swore. “Why all the subterfuge? We see you once, twice a year if that. And every time we ask about your life, you give a different story about your occupation. One time you were a bartender. Once you were a taxi driver in New York.”
“Don’t forget cowboy on a dude ranch in Montana,” Duncan chimed in. “That was my favorite.” He motioned toward Ian’s neck and arms. “Those tats real?”
“Why all the lies?” Colin demanded.
“I didn’t lie. I was all those things. And, yes, Duncan, the tattoos are real.”
Duncan waved toward his hair. “The blond streaks are new. Can’t say I care for them.”
Ian shot him an aggravated look. “Can’t say I care about your opinion.”
Duncan grinned.
Colin frowned. “Those were never real jobs. They were cover for whatever you were doing for Homeland Security.” He waved toward the other two. “It’s not like we can’t relate. We’ve all done undercover work. And we’re brothers in blue in addition to blood. We would have kept your secrets, been there for you over the years instead of—”
“Instead of judging me and telling me what a screwup I was all the time?” Ian started to cross his arms, but the sling stopped him. “Thanks, but no thanks. I got enough of that from all of you—and Dad—while growing up.”
Adam fisted his hand on top of the bed railing to Ian’s right. “That’s not fair. You were a screwup back in those days. You vandalized houses, stole cars, did drugs. All we ever did was try to help you.”