by Cynthia Eden
Rachel leaned forward to get a better view of the framed image. It was a photo of her and Dylan. It had been taken after their mission in Panama last year. They’d been so happy to get the hostages out of that place alive.
“No.” Dylan’s voice was clipped. “I didn’t smash it.”
“I figured you hadn’t, but I needed to be sure.” Mercer left the frame on the table. A few shards of broken glass remained on top of the photo. “We found it inside your nightstand drawer.”
“That’s where it usually is,” Dylan said. Again, his words were clipped.
Rachel’s gaze jumped to him. He kept a photo of them in his bedroom?
Dylan didn’t look her way, so Rachel glanced toward Mercer and Noelle once more.
Noelle’s gaze was studying her. Rachel didn’t like that particular look from the profiler. It made her feel a little too much like a bug under a microscope.
“I hoped Jack had cut himself on the glass, but...” Mercer exhaled on a long sigh. “No such luck. No doubt he was wearing gloves. The gloves would explain why there were no prints and no blood.”
“We were just minutes behind him,” Thomas said. He gave a disgusted shake of his head. “But he still just disappeared.”
“He’s good at that,” Mercer replied. “Too good.” Then he glanced over at Noelle. “And that’s why we have to make him come out into the open.”
Rachel had known this would be coming. Mercer’s bait plan, no doubt. He’d want to use her—
“Agent Foxx, you’re going to draw Jack out for us.”
“What?” Rachel’s voice rose with her surprise. Dylan wasn’t supposed to be bait. He couldn’t be bait.
But Dylan just nodded and said, “Bring it.”
No, no, this was not happening.
Her hand slammed down on the table. “You all don’t understand—”
“Actually,” Mercer said, cutting through her angry words, “I think I do. And Noelle, here, she’s very good at predicting what killers will do. She understands them particularly well.”
Noelle gave a firm nod. The light reflected off the lenses of her glasses. “He isn’t going to kill you, Rachel. You don’t have to worry about that.”
A laugh escaped her. A broken, twisted laugh. “Really? He’s not? Because when he drugged me, tied me up and shot me before, I certainly got the impression that Jack wanted me dead.”
Noelle held her stare. There was sympathy in the profiler’s gaze. “I’m very sorry for what happened to you, but—and this isn’t to make light of the situation in any way—”
Was the woman serious? Rachel’s hands balled into fists in her lap.
“But if Jack had truly wanted to kill you, then why didn’t he just slit your throat while he had you tied up?”
Dylan stiffened.
“Or he could have aimed for your heart when he shot you,” Noelle continued. “But he didn’t. He hit your shoulder. A flesh wound. He’s suspected in dozens of kills, so we know he’s a professional. I just don’t...I don’t believe a professional would ever make a mistake like that.” A brief pause. “Unless he wanted to make that mistake.”
A dull ringing filled Rachel’s ears. “You’re saying he let me live.”
“Yes.”
“He kidnapped me.”
Noelle’s lips pressed together for a moment, then she softly said, “Perhaps he thought that he could go through with the hit on you. But then something changed. Maybe it was seeing you, helpless, realizing that he held the power over you. For men like him, everything is about power.”
Rachel’s nails bit deeper into her palms.
“He didn’t kill you when he had the chance.” Noelle’s shoulders straightened. “And I don’t believe that he is back to kill you now.”
This was crazy. So much for Noelle being some kind of expert who could peer into a killer’s mind. “Jack said he’d come back—”
“But I don’t think he meant to kill you. I think...I believe—” now Noelle’s voice strengthened as she continued “—he told you that he’d come back...because he wants to be with you.”
Rachel could only shake her head.
“But there’s a problem,” Noelle said. Her gaze swept over to Dylan. “You’re the problem, Agent Foxx. You’re the man standing between Jack and the woman that he wants.” Noelle bent over the table and her finger—tipped with light pink polish—hovered over the frame. “You’re the man he sees as his competition for Rachel. And you’re the man that he will try and eliminate.”
Rachel shot to her feet. “No. No.”
All eyes were on her now.
Good. They needed to listen very carefully to her. “I get that you’ve got a fistful of degrees that tell you how to play mind games, Dr. Evers.”
Noelle tensed. “I don’t consider them games at all.”
Rachel wasn’t so sure. “But you don’t know Jack. I don’t even know him, and I dated the man for three months.” Months that seemed like a dream to her now. No, not a dream, a nightmare. “He isn’t in town to make some kind of love connection with me. He killed Hank Patterson. Jack is in town to take care of his usual business—death.” That had to be obvious to everyone.
“He might have come to D.C. because he had a hit,” Mercer agreed, “but that doesn’t explain why he went to your place or to Dylan’s.” His fingers tapped on the table’s edge. “I’m actually surprised that Dylan came up on his radar, but then, if Jack has been keeping track of you—”
“And I think he has,” Noelle said.
“Then he’d know that you and Dylan are...close.”
“We aren’t dating!” Okay, yes, she was definitely flushing as she said that line.
“But Jack believes you are.” Now Noelle cocked her head as her gaze slid between them. “The picture he discovered of you two will be the evidence he needs to cement that belief in his head.”
And, if Jack had been watching her last night, then he would’ve seen Dylan kiss her, too. They’d been right there in the street. Her nervous gaze flew over to Dylan. He wasn’t looking at her. Just staring straight at Mercer.
A soldier, awaiting his orders.
But the orders could get him killed.
“The fact that he broke into Dylan’s home works for us,” Mercer said. “It shows that he still has a connection to you, Rachel, and that he doesn’t like it that another man is close to you.”
Her breath was coming too fast. Rachel tried to ease the panting as she held tightly to her control. “He could be planning other hits,” Rachel said. “We need to work on that angle for tracking him down. We need to find out why he went after Patterson—”
“And we will,” Mercer said. “You, Foxx and Thomas Anthony will run down those leads.”
Now that was something that she could work with. She could—
“You and Foxx are to stay close to one another at all times,” Mercer added with a stern stare. “The closer that you two are, then the more likely Jack will make an attack on Foxx.”
She was still on her feet, and Mercer, apparently, was still insane. “You’re wrong about Jack.” Mercer was wrong. The profiler was wrong. Jack wasn’t keeping her alive because of some emotional connection he felt to her.
He could kill her at any time. But I’m harder to kill now. Dylan taught me how to be even stronger.
Mercer just shrugged. “If I’m wrong, then he’ll come to kill you. And in that case—well, Dylan will be there. I’m covering my bases, Agent Mancini. I’m doing my best to keep all of my agents alive, and I will bring down this SOB before he has the chance to escape the country again.”
Tension had Rachel’s muscles trembling.
“That’s it for now,” Mercer said, his voice lowering. “Now let’s get to work and find Jack.”
Rachel headed for the door. Thomas was at her side.
“Ah, Agent Foxx?” Mercer said. “A moment, please.”
Rachel looked back. She did not like the expression in Mercer’s eyes.
And the determination on Dylan’s face chilled her.
* * *
THE DOOR CLOSED behind Rachel and Thomas. Dylan remained in his seat, with his gaze on Mercer. Noelle was still with the director, and the glance she threw his way held more than a hint of nervousness.
Ah, so Noelle wasn’t exactly game-on for whatever plan Mercer was about to spill.
“I expected Rachel to be...hesitant,” Mercer began.
Dylan let his brows lift.
“But we can use your relationship with Mancini.” Mercer gave a firm nod. “It’s the most obvious tool that we have.”
Keeping the emotion out of his voice, Dylan asked, “Just what sort of relationship do you think I have with Rachel? Team members working in the field aren’t allowed to have...physical relationships.” That was the spiel they’d all been given when they joined the EOD.
“It’s not what I think that matters.” Mercer’s lips curled in the faintest of smiles. “It’s what Jack thinks. Rachel is the only emotional connection we know that the man has—”
“He may not have even realized that he could connect with someone.” Noelle spoke up as she slid off her glasses. “Not until he found her. And his connection to Rachel isn’t exactly the way a normal man would feel. It’s not, of course, the way that you feel—”
Dylan held up his hand. “Neither of you know anything about my feelings for Rachel.”
Noelle bit her lip.
Mercer just kept that faint smile on his face, then after a moment he inclined his head. “I know enough to realize that you’ll get the job done, won’t you? I believe your words were, ‘Bring it’, yes?”
Hell, yes. He wanted Jack to come his way. Because Dylan didn’t want Rachel afraid any longer. He knew she still looked over her shoulder, wondering when Jack might strike. She wasn’t going to be safe again, not until Jack was contained.
Or killed.
“It’s the appearance that matters,” Mercer told him. “Give Jack the appearance necessary to push him over the edge. Let him think that you and Rachel are lovers.”
His back teeth were grinding together. “What if this BS plan of yours backfires? What if he doesn’t come after me? What if he goes after Rachel?”
“Like I said before, that’s why the two of you are working so closely. You’ll guard her back. She’ll watch yours. That is the way things worked for you and Agent Mancini on your other missions.”
Yes, it was.
Noelle shifted slightly in her chair. “And Agent Anthony will be there, covering you both.”
Dylan glanced down at his hands. Rachel’s fingers had been clenched into tight fists. Her knuckles had been white as tension coursed through her body. He’d wanted to stroke her shoulder, to soothe her, but he hadn’t reached out to Rachel. Not with Mercer and Noelle watching them so closely.
“The EOD has taken a very personal interest in Jack.”
Dylan looked up at those low words. Mercer’s smile was gone.
“That interest isn’t just because of Agent Mancini, though I hope you know how much I value her.” Mercer stood. His chair rolled back behind him. “Jack has been killing for ten years. The very first man that he killed—the first we linked him to, anyway—worked in my military unit. Carson George survived wars, enemy camps and flat-out hell, only to be taken down in his own apartment just outside D.C.”
Dylan had read all of the files on Jack. “He always goes after military, either currently enlisted personnel or retired members.” No civilians, ever.
Why?
Noelle cleared her throat. “I think he’s ex-military, too. And he sees his victims...he sees them as more of a challenge. Going after civilians would be too easy, and Jack isn’t for easy.”
No, he was for blood. For death.
“I’ve known several of his victims. They were good men and women. Jack has to be stopped.” Mercer nodded toward Noelle. “The FBI is after him, too, so watch your step.”
“I have...associates who are eager to close in on him,” Noelle explained carefully.
“One way or another, we will take Jack down.” Mercer was adamant. “But I don’t want to lose any of my team members in this hunt.”
Rachel would not be lost. “Understood, sir.”
“Good.” Flat. “I knew I could count on you.”
Mercer and Noelle filed out of the room.
Dylan remained seated. Count on him? To take out Jack?
With pleasure.
* * *
BEFORE HIS DEATH, Hank Patterson had been planning to rule on a court-martial for Lance Corporal Chris Harris, a man who’d been accused of attacking a fellow marine—that marine had wound up in the hospital with three broken ribs and a broken arm.
Mercer had pulled strings and gotten Rachel and Dylan access to Chris Harris. A military guard was stationed a few feet away from the prisoner, and they were in a small, narrow room at the military holding facility.
Chris Harris, barely twenty-two, wore a smirk on his face as he glanced at Rachel and Dylan. “What do you two want?” His gaze drifted over them. “You’re not officers...”
“Not anymore,” Dylan agreed. He didn’t sit. Neither did Rachel. She was too tense to stay still, so she paced toward the left wall and prepared to watch the show.
When it came to interrogations, Dylan had a gift.
“If you’re not officers, then who are you?” Chris glanced at her. His eyes were a dull blue, his cheeks ruddy. And his hands were moving nervously against the table.
“We’re friends...of Hank Patterson’s,” Dylan answered.
Chris’s lips trembled. Rachel was staring right at him when he made that telling movement. The guy almost smiled. She was sure of it.
Dylan’s hands slapped down on the table in front of Chris. Dylan saw that movement, too. “You know he’s dead.”
Chris nodded. “Real shame.” His voice said it was anything but a shame. “My lawyer...he’s checking things for me now.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he is. I heard the trial wasn’t going so well for you.”
Chris shrugged. “Don’t think that matters now, does it? New trial, new judge.”
Dylan stared at him. “You’re sweating, Chris.”
“It’s hot in here.”
“No, it’s not...” Dylan glanced toward the guard, gave a nod.
The guard turned his back.
“Why’s he doing that?”
The guard walked away.
“Hey! Wait!” Chris yelled.
“He’s not going to wait. And you know what else, Chris? There’s not going to be any record of this little visit today...”
Chris gulped.
“Hank Patterson had a lot of powerful friends.”
“He was railroading me! He kept me locked up in here the whole time when I should’ve been out! My lawyer’s gonna get me out now—”
Dylan just kept his dark gaze focused on the prisoner.
“The guy thought I was guilty from the first minute I stepped into that courtroom! He didn’t give me a chance—”
“So you made sure that he wouldn’t be around long, didn’t you? You made your own chance.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Chris rocked back in his chair. “The guy got attacked. He died. Sucks, but that’s life.”
No, it wasn’t. “He had a family,” Rachel said. An image of Patterson’s body flashed through her mind. “A daughter. A son.” His wife had died years before.
“I got a family, too,” Chris snapped. “You think my old man likes that I wo
und up like this? He was military, too. Thirty years. Hell, no, this shouldn’t have happened, but that lying jerk McAlister said I got drunk and roughed up some girls. I didn’t. He did. McAlister’s ribs got broken because I was making him back off. That’s what happened.” His chin jerked into the air. “I should get a medal. Instead, they threw me into the brig.”
“I don’t care about your sob story,” Dylan fired out.
Chris blinked.
“I want to know how you found him.” Dylan pointed at Chris. “And you’re going to tell me.”
Chris laughed. “You’re crazy.”
“The FBI is checking your father’s bank account right now,” Dylan revealed. Rachel knew that the EOD was actually the one doing the check. “Are they going to see that it’s short by...oh, maybe twenty thousand? Thirty? That used to be Jack’s going rate.”
Chris’s smile dimmed. “I don’t know any Jack.”
“Sure you do. You had him kill Hank Patterson.”
Chris’s gaze cut over to Rachel. “Pretty lady, are you just gonna stand there and let your—”
“Eyes here,” Dylan snarled.
Chris jerked upright. His eyes flew back to Dylan.
“I’m not your lawyer.” Dylan’s words hit with a thundering intensity. “I’m not one of your guards. I don’t care about how much money your father has or who the hell he served with. I’m an ex-SEAL, and I am your worst nightmare.” He leaned toward Chris. “You think you’re safe in here? I’ve got you now. No guards will hear you if you cry out. No one will hear you but me.”
“I didn’t hire Jack!”
“You’re weak.” Disgust was heavy in Dylan’s voice. “The bully who picks on others, but never on anyone that he thinks can actually fight back against him.”
Chris’s lips clamped together.
“You knew Patterson was going to rule against you, so you had him killed. Probably you and your old man.”
Goose bumps rose on Rachel’s arms. This was just like before. Her last case as a Marine Corps Judge Advocate. Jack had been brought in on that case, too...