“Maybe not such a willing participant, after all,” he growled into her ear. “Too bad I can’t take both you and your boyfriend with me. I’d like him to watch.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
He laughed in her ear, then bit her neck so hard she screamed. “I was surprised, too, but Dr. Kincaid doesn’t have a very good poker face.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement in the kitchen.
Scott saw it, too.
He pulled her up, produced a knife in his hand. It was at her throat.
Jack stood in the threshold between kitchen and dining room, gun drawn.
“I’ll kill her,” Scott said calmly. “Don’t move.”
“Give it up now, Scott.”
“Trask! My name is Trask!” He held Kate close to him. “I think I’m holding the cards.”
Scott took a step toward Jack dragging Kate with him. She provided him with a shield, dammit! She squirmed and felt the knife cut into her throat.
“Get out,” Scott told Jack.
Jack didn’t back off.
Scott pushed the knife deeper into her throat. Kate tried not to make a sound, but a cry escaped her lips.
Go, she mouthed to Jack. Now.
It was obvious he was torn, but he backed out of the kitchen.
“Out the door, soldier,” Scott ordered.
Jack complied, a tight anger across his face. Scott bolted the door.
He bolted the door, Kate thought. That meant Jack had a key. Had Colonel Kincaid given him one? Or had he gotten it from Dillon? Was Dillon safe?
He had to be. Jack wouldn’t have left the house with his brother still in danger. Would he?
With Jack gone he pulled Kate back over to the computer in the next room. “I set the next bomb to blow up in five minutes. Whoops, three minutes, ten seconds. Unless I stop it, it’ll blow. You destroy my computer, it will blow. You hinder my escape, it will blow. Hell, I might just let it blow for fun.”
“Doesn’t give me the incentive to let you escape.”
“Hmm, probably not. Except that it’s this house that’s the next to go. And your doctor friend is bleeding to death in the next room.”
“Not anymore.”
Dillon’s voice to their right startled Scott for only a fraction of a second. But that was long enough for Kate to take advantage of him dropping his arm just a hair. She brought her arms up between his knife arm and her neck, pushing them back. The sting of another cut to her throat didn’t slow her; they didn’t have time. She whirled around, kicked him square in the chest.
Scott threw the knife at Dillon who anticipated the move and turned back into the hallway. The knife hit the wall inches from where Dillon had been.
Scott turned back to Kate, her gun in his hand. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill her, especially since he had an ace in the hole: bombs.
Kate dove at the same time Scott fired, seeing movement from the hall.
Dillon tackled Scott from behind and they both hit the floor hard.
“He has a gun!” Kate shouted.
Dillon grabbed his hand as Scott tried to turn the gun toward him. He slammed it against the wood floor. Once, twice. The gun fell from Scott’s grasp and Kate retrieved it. Scott reached down and twisted his fingers into the hole in Dillon’s hand.
Dillon cried out, tried to regain his hold on Scott, but the killer kicked him and jumped up. He glanced at his computer and laughed. “One minute forty-five seconds and it blows.”
He opened the front door.
“Get the computer!” Dillon shouted at Kate. “Stop the bomb.”
Kate grabbed the computer while Dillon went after Scott. He lunged forward, knocking Scott off balance and causing both of them to roll down the porch stairs. Dillon landed on his back, winded. Scott clambered up and Dillon grabbed his foot, pulled him back down.
Scott grunted, but he wasn’t seriously hurt or bleeding. He had an edge over Dillon whose wounds had started bleeding freely again.
He heard a shout from the side of the house. Sounded like Jack.
Dillon tried to climb on top of Scott, to keep him on the ground until Jack arrived. Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw a dark-haired woman run across the lawn.
Lucy.
“Get out of here!” he shouted.
Scott kicked Dillon in the head and got up. He staggered forward, saw Lucy only feet from him. Monique. She’d returned for him.
He smiled. “You’re late.”
He took a step toward her.
She pulled a gun from under her sweater. Aimed it at Scott.
“Monique, you won’t kill me.”
She stared at him as if he were insane. That angered Adam more than anything. “Monique!” he said sharply.
“My name is Lucy Kincaid.”
“Monique, it’s me. Adam. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go so far.”
She pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced him in the chest. His mouth dropped open.
“Why, sweetheart. Why?”
She pulled the trigger again. Again.
Adam dropped to his knees. He was dead before he fell face first into the dirt.
“Lucy, stop!” Dillon called, stumbling up. Jack ran at him, held out his hand to pull Dillon up. “Thanks, bro,” Dillon said. Jack nodded curtly, then turned to where Lucy had her empty gun pointed at Adam Scott’s dead body.
Kate ran from the house. She had Scott’s laptop.
“Run!” she yelled. “I can’t stop the bomb!”
Jack removed the gun from Lucy’s hand, grabbed her around the waist, then started for the street.
Local and federal police were pulling up in front of the house. Kate waved them off.
“There’s a bomb! Get away!”
The explosion lifted them all off the ground as they ran. They hit the lawn across the street.
No one moved.
Slowly, Kate rose to her knees, shaking her head to get rid of the ringing, but it stayed with her.
Dillon. Where was Dillon?
Sirens, shouts, and screams filled the air. The last time Kate had seen Dillon was in the front yard. Had he heard her? Had he run far enough? Had he even been able to run?
“Dillon!” she shouted, her voice hoarse from Adam Scott’s hands. She cleared her throat, coughed. The crackle of fire consumed the house that had been Dillon’s. The firefighters were frantically setting up to try to save the neighboring homes.
“Dillon!”
She sat up, looked around. She saw Jack huddled over Lucy on the ground twenty feet away. They were both moving.
Dillon, where are you?
She couldn’t lose him now. They hadn’t had any time together, dammit! It wasn’t fair!
Kate stood, pushing back the nausea that threatened. People ran back and forth, SWAT and feds and local police and fire crews. Debris covered a body in Dillon’s front yard. Her mouth fell open and she cried out.
No, Dillon, please no.
She stumbled back across the street and a fire-fighter stopped her.
“You can’t go there.”
“No, no,” she said, staring at the body. It wasn’t Dillon. The body wore beige slacks. Like Adam Scott had been wearing.
“Kate.”
She heard her name and turned slowly around. There. Dillon. Up against a car parked across the street. She ran to him. Touched his face. Kissed his swollen lips. Buried her face in his neck.
“Oh, God, Dillon. I thought—” She couldn’t say it. She wouldn’t say it.
“I know.” His voice was weak.
She sat back on her knees and saw his leg was bleeding extensively. “Medic!” she shouted as loud as she could. “Medic!”
“I’m okay.” He closed his eyes.
She laughed nervously. He was not okay. “Oh, Dillon.” She tore her shirt and tied it around his thigh.
Lucy limped over with Jack at her side.
“Is he okay?” she asked.
Dillon nodded. �
��Luce, I’m fine.”
Kate was concerned about the pallor of Dillon’s skin. He’d lost a lot of blood. She checked his vitals. Strong. Of course. Dillon was the strongest soul she knew. “Scott is dead,” Kate said.
“I know,” Dillon replied. He opened his eyes, searching for her. She clasped his uninjured hand, tears of relief falling freely.
“I’m not sorry I killed him,” Lucy said defiantly. Her eyes had a pained, faraway expression.
It would hit her later, Dillon thought. No one could kill another human being, even an evil bastard like Adam Scott, without conflicted emotions.
Jack asked Kate, “What about other bombs?”
“I didn’t see any more set up, but we need to get this computer to the FBI immediately.”
Quinn Peterson ran over to them. “Where’s Scott?”
“Dead,” Kate said.
“In the explosion?
Kate and Dillon looked at each other. “Yes,” they said in unison.
Jack led Lucy away and Quinn said, “An ambulance is on its way. Hang in there.” He went to coordinate the authorities.
Dillon squeezed Kate’s hand as hard as he could. “I don’t think I’ll be making dinner tonight.”
“Damn.” She leaned over and kissed him.
He touched her throat, where bruises were beginning to form, where dried blood coated her neck. “He hurt you.”
“Well, he hurt you, too,” Kate said. “Now he’s dead.”
She sat against the car next to him, put her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I made such a stink about meeting your family.”
“I’m sorry I pushed you too hard.”
“You didn’t. I was just scared. But that fear was nothing compared to the thought of losing you. I don’t want to lose you, Dillon.”
“You won’t, Kate. I love you.”
Jack walked over to them. “Carina has Lucy and there’s an ambulance on the way.” He glanced over at Dillon’s burning house. The first fire truck had arrived. “Your house is a goner.”
“I won’t need it for a while,” Dillon said. “I’m heading out to Washington for a couple weeks.”
“You are?” Kate asked.
“I told you I’d stand by you through the hearings.”
She smiled through her tears. “You meant what you said and you said what you meant.”
Dillon nodded. “One hundred percent.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
THE FOLLOWING MONDAY MORNING, Kate walked into the scheduled hearing in the Office of Professional Responsibility. She was nervous, she couldn’t help it. Even with Quinn Peterson’s assurances and Dillon waiting for her outside, she knew she had to answer some serious accusations.
Nervous, but ready. More than ready to put the past behind her and live for the future.
She was surprised when she walked in and both Quinn Peterson and Jeff Merritt were sitting at the conference table. Quinn hadn’t told her he’d be here; the last she heard he had returned to Seattle. Merritt had lost weight, his skin was pasty, and he had no gun in his holster.
A gun—and badge—sat in front of the director of the review committee, Madeline James.
“Sit down, Agent Donovan.”
She sat. It was the first time someone had called her “agent” in…years.
“Regardless of what Mr. Merritt is about to say, this committee has determined that you will have to answer for leaving the country when you had been ordered to report for a debriefing after Special Agent Paige Henshaw was murdered. Though you have been forthcoming about your illegal activities since, hacking government computers is still a crime and one we cannot take lightly.
“But it has also been decided that you may return to active duty provided you complete a probationary period as punishment for your crimes. We’ve decided that should you stay with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, you must return to the training academy, all sixteen weeks, and successfully pass every test as if you were a new recruit. Afterward, you will not be allowed in the field for a minimum of one year. Instead, you will be required to teach a class in e-crimes at the Academy.”
“And if I don’t want to return?”
“Then you’ll be a civilian.”
She glanced at Quinn, but his face was unreadable. She looked at Jeff Merritt, frowned.
“You mean,” she asked for clarification, “I will be free?”
“If you mean you will not be serving prison time, yes. You’ll be free. But if you choose not to return to the Academy, you’ll lose your rank, your pension, and your gun permit, and will not be allowed to work in law enforcement or touch a computer for a period of two years.”
Madeline James continued. “Your crimes were serious, but the committee has determined that there were extraordinary circumstances that would likely not be duplicated should you return to the FBI.”
She nodded to Merritt. “You may speak.”
“Paige is dead because of me,” he said. “I have resigned from the Bureau.”
Kate didn’t say anything. But the final pieces of the puzzle began to click into place as Merritt spoke.
“When Paige told me she was pregnant, I told her to quit. She had always been a little reckless, and I felt that the two of you together were dangerous. You pushed the boundaries, but Paige was the one who really crossed the line. Over and over. That undercover operation seven years ago? Before you were partners? Paige went in against orders. I covered for her then, lied, so she wouldn’t be reprimanded or fired.
“But then she became pregnant. With my child. And I knew she wouldn’t stop her recklessness. I asked her to leave the field. I could have gotten her a position anywhere—at Quantico, at the laboratory—something safer. She refused.
“I was the one who canceled the backup the night you and Paige confronted Adam Scott. I honestly didn’t believe you were in danger. I thought you were just meeting the girl, Denise Arno. You had called Evan before you left and told him I’d cleared backup. But he heard from someone else that they’d been put on a different assignment, so he followed you to the warehouse. He saw what was happening, called it in, but by the time anyone arrived it was too late. He rushed into the warehouse to help cover you and Paige—”
“He sacrificed his life to save mine,” Kate whispered.
“When Paige was kidnapped I covered up my decision. With Evan also dead, it was easy. Easy to put the blame on you. And when Paige died”—he closed his eyes, shook his head—“I would never have intentionally put her in harm’s way. She told me you were meeting Denise Arno alone and she had evidence. I didn’t know it was a trap.”
Madeline James spoke. “As Mr. Merritt knows, he is under investigation for his actions. Do you have anything else to add to your previous statements?”
Kate shook her head.
“And your decision about accepting our offer of probation?”
“May I have a couple of days?”
The director consulted a calendar in front of her. “I’ll expect an answer Monday morning, which is the start of the next training session at the Academy. You’ll report at oh eight hundred at Quantico, or you will meet me in my office at oh nine hundred to sign your resignation.”
Kate stood, nodded to the committee members. She couldn’t look at Jeff Merritt before she walked out the door.
Dillon watched Kate approach. He’d been waiting on a stone bench outside the J. Edgar Hoover Building. It was sweltering on this last day of June. He forgot the ache in his thigh and hand as soon as he saw Kate, though he couldn’t tell by her expression what had happened. She’d told him she might be in there for hours, but only thirty minutes had passed.
He stood, took her hands.
She kissed him lightly. “Sit. You shouldn’t be standing.”
“I’m fine, Kate.” But they sat down next to each other, hands entwined. “Well?” he asked, surprisingly impatient.
“I have two choices. I can quit, no repercussions except I can’t work in law enforcement or on a com
puter for two years. I’d be a civilian again. Or, I can be on probation and earn back my rank.”
“Probation?”
“I have to go through the Academy. Sixteen weeks.” She groaned. “It was hard the first time around.”
“You’re smarter now.”
“The tests didn’t throw me. Do you know how many miles I have to run each day?”
“You’re in great shape.”
“I was in better shape when I was twenty-three.”
“So that’s it? Go through the Academy again and you’re reinstated?”
“Well, I can’t go in the field for a year. They want me to teach e-crimes at Quantico.”
A huge weight lifted from Dillon’s heart. She was free. He’d been so terrified she’d go to prison, no matter what Quinn Peterson had told him.
“Jeff Merritt admitted he’d pulled backup off our meeting and then covered it up. He resigned.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Sixteen weeks is a long time. I’d only be able to see you on Sundays, if that.”
He kissed her. “I’ll be here every Sunday.”
“You would?”
He nodded. “I love you, Kate.”
She relaxed, rested her head on his shoulder.
“What do you want to do?” he asked her again.
She paused, thinking. “I’d like to go back. I think I have something to offer.”
“I know you have something to offer. When do you have to start?”
“Monday.”
“That gives us a week.”
“Enough time for a little vacation in San Diego. I think your family misses you.” She frowned. “How’s Patrick?”
Dillon looked over at a statue of a man he didn’t know. Possibly J. Edgar Hoover himself, or maybe a military war hero.
“He’s still in a coma.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Kate.”
She sighed uneasily. “Maybe not, but you love him and I hate that you’re hurting inside.”
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