by LENA DIAZ,
“Uh, no. You beat the crap out of me and tattled to Mom and Dad. And for the record, I’ve never done drugs. Not even while undercover.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “What are we? Ten? Let’s talk about this like grown adults. Or if we can’t do that, let’s speak to each other as the professionals that we are. Ian, if you’re in some kind of trouble, we can help.”
Ian snorted. “Of course you’d think I was in trouble.”
“Stop it.” This time it was Duncan who spoke up, sounding serious for a change. “I don’t think Adam was saying that on a personal level. He meant on whatever case you’re working. You told that girl—”
“Shannon.”
“Right. Shannon. You told her that you were working as a mechanic as your cover. That you specialize in fighting human trafficking. Is that why you’re in town? You’re after a trafficking ring? Where does Shannon Murphy fit into that? Who is she?”
Adam tapped the railing. “And what does it all have to do with Butch Gillespie? Has he risen from common pimp to running modern slavery rings?”
Ian straightened, then sucked in a breath and rubbed his aching ribs. “Gillespie? That’s his last name? You know him?”
“When I was a Memphis cop, I worked on numerous task forces. That included vice, specifically prostitution. Gillespie was arrested during one of our raids. The net was wide, mostly circumstantial evidence. He was one of the fish who got away. Not enough to hold him beyond the first twenty-four hours. No one was willing to turn on him, make any deals. He walked. But there’s no doubt in my mind that he was one of the ones behind the ring we broke up.”
“When was that?” Ian asked.
Adam considered it a moment. “Two, maybe two and a half years ago.”
“What did you find out about him? Did he run with anyone called Axel or Jagger?”
“Not that I remember. His right-hand guys went to prison. No way they’re out already. Are Axel and Jagger the other two big guys who were leaning against that van when I saw you?”
Ian nodded. “My thug contact, the scrawny guy by the front bumper, finally got me a face-to-face meeting after I’d been trying to talk deals for weeks using him as an intermediary. I’d hoped to make the bust tonight, rescue dozens of girls and bring down a major trafficking hub right here in Gatlinburg.”
Adam held his hands out. “Sorry, man. I had no way of knowing you were working a case. I didn’t even know you were in town. Maybe if you’d told us that you had—”
“Don’t,” Ian warned.
Adam let out a deep breath. “No judgment, all right? I’m just saying that had I known you were a special agent with Homeland Security, I wouldn’t have interfered. As for Gillespie, if you want, I can call some of my guys in Memphis and have them email me what they’ve got on him.”
Ian stared at him in surprise. “O...kay. Sure. I’d appreciate that.”
“You don’t have to act so shocked. We’re brothers, in and out of uniform. I’m always here for you, Ian. We all are.”
Duncan and Colin nodded as if on cue.
Ian was so used to being on the defensive around his family that he wasn’t sure how to react to this new uneasy truce, of sorts. He finally nodded his thanks, hoping that was enough.
Duncan thumped the railing. “Homeland Security, huh? Impressive. Tell us about it.”
It was surreal sitting in the hospital bed chatting with his brothers. That never happened. Since leaving home at eighteen, his return visits had been short and more for his mom than anyone else. He’d never once considered that the others might really care about him. Or did they?
After giving them a small glimpse into the kind of work he did, he said, “Tell me the truth. If I wasn’t in law enforcement, would you even be talking to me right now?”
Duncan considered the question, then rested his forearms on the railing. “Probably not. Your turn. If you weren’t still woozy and thought you could get past the three of us, would you still be here?”
He reluctantly smiled. “Probably not.”
Duncan grinned. “Back to your current case. You working alone?”
“Except for a liaison agent I meet at a pizza parlor every now and then so he can update my boss and provide resources, it’s just me. I’ve spent months following dozens of tips and leads through three states. Everything pointed to Gatlinburg being a hub, a distribution point. We’ve made some minor busts along the way. But here in Tennessee, I’m hoping to bring it all to a head. I want Butch and his men in handcuffs. But mostly I want to rescue the girls he’s currently holding. Unfortunately, I haven’t figured out where he’s keeping them or I’d have gotten them out by now.”
“I’m so sorry,” Adam repeated. “I had no idea about the damage I was doing when I confronted you in that parking lot.”
“Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve ever apologized to me?”
Adam snorted. “It’s the first time you ever deserved it.”
Ian’s jaw tightened.
“That was a joke. Not a good one, but an attempt regardless.” Adam smiled, but his look was wary. “I’m not Duncan. I don’t have the silly gene.”
“Hey, hey. Duncan’s in the room here, guys,” Duncan said.
Adam arched a brow. “Insulting you wouldn’t be any fun if you weren’t.”
Duncan grinned. “There’s hope for you yet, my serious brother.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “What’s your number, Ian? I’ll text you once I hear back from Memphis PD about Gillespie.” He pulled out his phone.
Ian hesitated.
Adam arched a brow. “What am I supposed to do? Shine the bat signal and hope you see it?”
The weight of all three brothers’ stares focused on him. Did they think that this civil conversation meant all was forgiven? That they could suddenly be friends? When they thought he was Ian the rebel, Ian the delinquent, they wanted nothing to do with him. But now that they knew he’d followed the family tradition of going into law enforcement after all, they suddenly wanted to be cozy?
Screw that.
They might consider everything that had happened as water under the McKenzie family bridge, but he wasn’t ready to throw out an olive branch. Especially since he hadn’t taken this job to make their retired-judge father proud. He’d taken it in spite of his father, to right the terrible wrong that Mighty McKenzie had done so many years ago. Not that anything could ever atone for what he’d done.
For what Ian hadn’t done, but should have done.
He rattled off a number and waited until Adam had saved it in his contacts. “That’s my boss’s line. His name is Barry Nash. You can text him about the case file on Gillespie. He’ll see that I get the information.”
Adam jerked his head up. “You gave me your boss’s number?”
“It’s the best I can do right now without risking blowing my cover. I don’t have an electronic trail in my real name here in town. I’m Ian Savage. Period. Mostly I use burner phones.”
Adam gave him a resigned look. “All right.”
Surprised at how easily his oldest brother had given in, Ian thanked him. “I appreciate you accepting my decision.”
“Oh, I’m not accepting it. I respect that you don’t want us interfering in an investigation. But now that we’ve found you again, I have no intention of letting you disappear like you usually do. Things are different now, Ian.” He held up his left hand. A gold band winked in the overhead lights.
“What the—You got hitched?”
“Last June. And both Colin and Duncan are engaged. They’re tying the knots in a double ceremony this Christmas. Are you going to miss every important moment in our lives because of your silly grievances against Dad and your resentment at us for not hating him like you do? Or are you going to finally grow up and work through whatever made you leave all those years ago?”
> “Get out.”
Adam blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Get out. Forget about Gillespie. I’ll get the information myself. Forget about me and my silly grievances. I never asked for this little reunion, and I have no intention of growing up anytime soon.” He pushed the call button on the side of the bed.
Colin put his hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Come on. He’s not ready. We’ll come back later.”
“What exactly do you think Dad did?” Adam demanded.
“Nurse’s station.” A woman’s voice crackled through the speaker built into the bed railing.
“I have some guests who’ve overstayed their welcome,” Ian told her. “They don’t seem inclined to leave on their own.”
“Do you need me to call security, Mr. Savage?”
Ian arched a brow.
Adam swore. “This isn’t over.” He stood, jerked his suit jacket into place and strode to the door. Colin followed without a backward glance. Duncan gave Ian a sad smile and exited with them.
“Mr. Savage?” the nurse called out again.
“Never mind. They’ve left now. Thank you.”
He wrestled down the bed railing that Adam had raised after Ian had nearly thrown up on him. He swung his legs over the side and used the bedside phone to call Shannon’s cell. No answer. He left her a message, then called his own cell in case she’d answer that. She didn’t. For a day that had started out so promising, it was turning out to be one of the worst ones ever. And he’d had more than his share of bad days in his twenty-seven years.
Less than five minutes later, he walked out the emergency room doors without anyone trying to stop him. Not wanting to risk his brothers seeing him if they were still hanging around the hospital, he’d phoned for a car for hire to pick him up a few blocks away.
He was halfway through the parking lot to the agreed pickup place when he spotted a familiar black Charger parked in one of the spots. His black Charger. He hurried toward it, half expecting to see Shannon waiting there. His shoulders slumped with disappointment when he saw it was empty. He’d stupidly hoped she might have come back to give him a chance to explain. Where was she? Had she hired someone to drive her home, as he’d planned for himself? Maybe she’d left a note inside the car.
He’d just unlocked the door when tires screeched behind him. He turned to see an all-too-familiar white panel van, idling behind the Charger.
Ah, hell.
He kept his expression bland and nodded at Butch, who was driving. “I was going to call you to reschedule our meeting since we were rudely interrupted.”
“I’ll just bet you were, cop.”
The side door slid open to reveal Blade aiming a sawed-off shotgun at him. “Get in.”
Chapter Seven
Shannon strode toward the emergency room exit. She’d debated taking Ian’s car when she ran from his hospital room. After all, he’d lied to her all this time. He deserved to be stranded when they discharged him, forced to figure out his own way to get home. Maybe he could ask one of his brothers for help.
Brothers.
He’d told her he didn’t have any family. He was an orphan, grew up in foster care. And those were just a few of his lies. Had anything he’d said been true? Had the make-out sessions on his couch been real? Or was that some kind of cover for a reason that she hadn’t figured out yet?
She clenched her fists and moved back to allow a gurney to roll past. Just thinking about how badly she’d been duped, and used, had her lungs squeezing in her chest. Had he been laughing at her this whole time? Pretending to commiserate with her, pretending to be her friend? Why? Why had he done it?
She shook her head. Didn’t matter. They were done. Over. All the silly fantasies she’d had that their fledgling relationship might turn into something deeper, that maybe she’d finally found someone who got her, who didn’t judge her for her past, had died the moment he’d introduced himself as a cop.
Ian Savage, a cop. No, Ian McKenzie. Brother of three other cops. Or special agents. Or investigators. Or whatever they were. None of it computed. None of it mattered.
Not anymore.
He deserved to be stranded at the hospital. She didn’t trust him now any more than she did the strangers in his room, those men who’d looked so much like him that her heart had broken the moment they’d turned around. She’d known, immediately upon seeing them shoulder to shoulder with Ian, that they were all brothers. She’d known Ian had lied to her about being an orphan. And then it had only gotten worse.
Still, she couldn’t quite bring herself to steal his car when his arm was in a sling and he had a concussion. Stupid, yes. But there it was. She was a sucker and felt sorry for him even though he didn’t deserve her sympathy. But just because he was a jerk didn’t mean she had to stoop to his level. His phone and pistol were already hidden inside the car. All she had to do was leave the key under the mat and walk away.
She’d hire a car to pick her up at one of the fast-food restaurants close by. Hanging around the hospital any longer than she already had was too risky. She’d wasted half an hour hiding out, walking the halls, worried he or his brothers were after her. Now she had to get home and pack. It wouldn’t take long. She never set roots down very deep. Most of her stuff she could put into one suitcase. The duplex she rented came mostly furnished. What few pieces of furniture she’d added weren’t worth taking.
The emergency room doors slid open. She’d just reached the end of the row where she’d left his car when she realized a white van was parked behind it. A familiar-looking man dressed in black straightened beside the Charger, slammed the passenger door and shoved something into his pocket. Then he ran to the van and hopped inside. It took off, tires squealing, and turned down another row as the side door slid shut.
But not before she saw Ian inside, with one of the thugs from the truck stop pointing a shotgun at him.
She took off running toward the Charger.
Risking her life to help him made no sense, except that in spite of the lies, he’d helped her a dozen times since they’d first met—from loaning her grocery money when unexpected expenses ate into her emergency fund to fixing her car for free. No matter how betrayed she felt, she couldn’t do nothing and just let him be murdered. Even the idea of him being hurt squeezed her heart. She’d begun to fall for him, and it was going to be frustratingly hard undoing that mistake. Meanwhile, she had to help him, if she could just figure out how.
She watched the van make a right turn out of the parking lot as she grabbed the car key from her jeans pocket. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
She shoved the key in the door lock.
The van stopped at the light three blocks down.
A hand clamped down on her shoulder. She whirled, fist drawn back, ready to let it fly.
The man swore and grabbed both her arms before she could throw the punch. “Why are you trying to run me over, shoot me or hit me every time I see you?”
She blinked and looked up into the face of one of Ian’s brothers. Adam, the one from the truck stop. Cop. He was a cop. She started to shake. Ian, what about Ian? She looked over her shoulder. The white van was gone. Where was it? She scanned the road.
“It’s Shannon Murphy, right? I’ll let you go if you promise not to try to coldcock me again.”
There. The van turned right at the next light. She jerked back toward Ian’s brother. “Adam, right? You’re the ranger, with the National Park Service?”
He frowned and let her go. “That’s right.” He glanced at the car, then at the key in her hand. “Can we talk? About my brother? I have a few questions, and when I saw you, I thought you might—”
“Not now. I’m in a hurry.” She flung the door open.
He grabbed her arm again. “Listen, lady. I can arrest you right now for assault and half a dozen other charges for pulling a gun on me twice today. I just want
to ask you a few questions.”
She jerked back toward the road. The van was gone. They were getting away. And she didn’t know where it was going. She had to do something. Fast. But this man was a cop, or a ranger, whatever. Could she trust him?
“Shannon?”
He was Ian’s brother, and his life was on the line right now. She’d just have to hope that mattered to him. “The guys from the truck stop, they were here, just now.”
His eyes widened. His left hand went to his hip like a reflex even though the gun she knew he had was covered by his suit jacket. He was left-handed, like Ian. The thought made her heart squeeze again.
“Did they hurt you? Are you okay?”
She blinked, surprised that he’d bother to ask. “I’m fine. But Ian isn’t.”
His gaze whipped back to hers. “What do you mean?”
“I saw him, inside the van. One of Butch’s men was pointing a shotgun at him as the door slid shut.” She pointed down the street. “They turned right at the light. I don’t know where they’re taking him but—”
“Give me the key. I’ll try to catch up to him. You can wait here and—”
She tossed him the key and then dove inside, rolling over the center console into the passenger seat.
He jumped into the driver’s seat, glaring at her. But he didn’t waste time arguing. His jaw was set in a grim line as he drove out of the parking lot, dodging other cars that honked their horns at them.
He raced down the street, skidding through an intersection against the light, barely squeaking past an oncoming car without getting hit. They were on a main road through town, but there was no sign of a white van.
“Look right. I’ll look left,” he said.
She craned her neck, searching every street they passed. Brake lights caught her eye on a side street. “There, there! They just turned left.”
“Hold on.”
She braced her arms against the dash as he did a one-eighty in the middle of the road. Other drivers squealed their brakes and honked again. He ignored them, slamming the accelerator, bumping over a curb before heading down the road she’d indicated.