by Cynthia Eden
She turned away. Mac’s hand flew out and his fingers locked around her wrist. “You’re not going anyplace.”
She yanked against his hold. “I’m not letting her die.”
Sullivan was grabbing his coat. “The cops just tracked that call. They’re on the way to the location they got, and so am I.”
“What?” Elizabeth asked, and hope lit her eyes. “You can help her?”
“We can,” Mac told her as his hold tightened on her wrist. “But I need you to stay here. I need you to stay safe. We’ll go after that guy.” Because he was going to be in that takedown. The killer didn’t get to just threaten his family like that. “We’ll make sure he’s locked up and that he can’t hurt anyone else.”
“I want to come, I want—”
Mac shook his head. “You’re the one he wants dead. The last thing I am going to do is put you in his path.”
Sullivan approached them. “We’re all safer if you just stay here, Elizabeth.”
She swallowed. “How does that make any of you safe? I don’t want you in danger because of me.”
Mac’s fingers stroked along the inner column of her wrist. “If you go with me, I won’t be able to think past the fear.”
“Wh-what?”
“I have to know that you’re in a secure location. You are secure here. My place is damn safe with the security system I installed. By knowing that you’re all right, I can make sure that SOB is caught and locked up.” She didn’t understand just how far beneath his skin she’d gotten. “Just stay.”
Elizabeth’s gaze searched his, and after a moment she gave a grudging nod. “Please stop him.”
“I will.” He let her go and nearly ran to his door. “Count on it.”
* * *
MELINDA GRUNTED BEHIND the hand that was over her mouth. He’d clamped his gloved hand over her lips when she’d tried to yell the truth to Mac, and the freak had nearly suffocated her.
But now the call was over. Now his hand was sliding away.
“That went well,” he murmured.
Elizabeth was going to trade places with her. Elizabeth Snow was going to die. How was that well in any twisted universe?
He tossed her phone to the floor, and she heard it shatter. Then she felt the edge of his knife.
“I’m sure a PI like McGuire would have been tracing the call,” he murmured. “That would be the smart thing to do. It’s what I would have done.”
Hope burst inside her. If Mac had traced it, then she could survive! Her brothers and sisters in blue would come, and she’d make it out of this nightmare alive. She’d—
He drove the knife into her stomach.
Pain, burning sharp as he twisted the knife.
“Do you think you’ll bleed out before help arrives? It’s going to be close...” He yanked out the knife. “Just so you know... I actually hope you do survive. Then the real fun will start. Do you think they’ll ever believe you weren’t on the take?”
Her shirt was soaked with her blood. She could feel it pumping out of her.
“Will some of them always wonder...were we working together? Then I double-crossed you? Will you live...only to be hated?”
She was so cold. And she hurt.
“Maybe you should wish for death. It will probably be easier than facing all of those suspicions.”
His footsteps shuffled away. The door opened. The bright light hit her in the face.
Where was he going? Where... “Eliz...”
“I know where she is. Don’t worry.” He looked back at her. She squinted against that light, trying so hard to see the face of the man—the man who’d killed her.
I’m dying. Too much blood.
“Elizabeth is my job, and I always finish any job that I start.”
The door shut. She was left with the darkness.
Chapter Six
“Grant,” Mac said, talking into the Bluetooth connection in his car even as he drove hell fast. “Man, I need you to get over to my place. Elizabeth is there, and I want a guard on her.” He’d called his oldest brother as soon as he could. Mac didn’t like the idea of Elizabeth being alone. The security system was good, but he needed better protection for her.
Grant would be that protection. Grant was an ex-army ranger. An all-around force to be reckoned with. He’d get the job done.
And he also lived damn close by. So he can get his butt over to my house, pronto.
“Wait...slow down, man!” Grant’s voice was gruff. “Elizabeth? She’s... Sullivan mentioned her earlier. She’s our new client?” The sleepiness was leaving his voice with each word that he spoke. “What’s happening? What’s going on?”
“She’s the new client.” His hold tightened on the steering wheel, and when Sullivan pointed left from his position in the passenger seat—giving him directions that the guy was getting from the police—Mac took a hard left. “She’s also in danger. I need—”
“If she’s in danger, why the hell is she alone?” Now Grant was angry. “You know we always put the client first at McGuire Securities.” Grant had been the one to push for the opening of the business. It was his baby. “This is the woman you’ve been mooning over the past few weeks, isn’t it? The one you kept sneaking away to see—”
“I do not have time for this crap,” Mac fired back. He hadn’t been sneaking anyplace. He’d gone to the damn library. Like that was some kind of federal crime. “The perp kidnapped a detective, and he’s threatening to kill her right now. Sully and I are en route with the cops—we’re going to stop him before he can hurt anyone else.”
Grant whistled. “All of this happened while I was sleeping?”
“Get to my house,” Mac ordered him. “I need you there. I have to know that someone is close to her.”
“You can count on me,” Grant said simply, and yes, that was the way it was for them. They always watched each other’s backs. Always.
The call ended, and Mac drove even faster.
“My contact says for us to take a right at the light,” Sullivan told him. “We should be there soon, maybe in the next ten or fifteen minutes.”
That didn’t seem like such a long period of time. Unless... “You heard Detective Chafer scream, too.”
“I did.” Then, voice careful, Sullivan said, “We still don’t know how she’s involved, though. I mean, that money in her bank account hasn’t been explained. She could be working with him. Or maybe he turned on her or—”
“Or maybe she’s an innocent woman who could be dying.” A woman that a hired killer was using. “I know you aren’t big on trusting anyone, Sully...”
“Only my family,” he replied curtly.
“But not everyone is a liar. Not everyone is out to use and destroy.” Sullivan had grown hard over the years. And he was keeping secrets. Mac knew it.
Hell, most people thought that Mac was the McGuire brother to watch out for. That he was too intense. That he carried a brutal edge. He’d heard all those stories and plenty more.
Some of those tales were true. He’d seen and done things that would give too many others nightmares. He hadn’t led an easy life. Easy wasn’t exactly in his vocabulary.
Brutal. Hard. High-risk...yeah, that was his world.
He made no apologies.
Neither did Sullivan.
He’s more like me than anyone else.
“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” Mac asked quietly. This was the only time he’d pushed his brother about the woman in Sullivan’s past, the woman that no one else in the family knew about but—
I was there. I saw him with her. I saw him after... Sully had been gutted.
“Don’t even go there,” Sully snapped. “Don’t. I don’t talk about Celia. You know that.” His voice thickened. “Just driv
e the damn car, bro. Focus on the killer out there, and leave my love life the hell alone.”
* * *
ELIZABETH PACED TOWARD the picture window in Mac’s den. The blinds were closed, and she peeked out carefully, gazing into the night. The caller’s voice replayed in her head, both scaring her and infuriating her.
A hired killer had taken out Nate? That made no sense to her. Nate had just been a kid—she and he both had been. Two desperate kids who’d connected. Why would someone want him killed?
She turned from the window and paced to the desk in Mac’s study. The photos that he had recovered from Steve Yeldon’s place were there, along with one of Steve’s notebooks. She opened the notebook.
Possible accomplice? It was the notebook she’d been looking at inside Steve’s closet. She scrolled through his notes, reading as quickly as she could.
Nate Daniels was targeted.
Hit put on him.
Family connection.
She frowned and reread that line. Family connection? Nate hadn’t told her about his family.
She thumbed through the pages of that notebook. Yeldon had written down all kinds of information. Some things that seemed completely irrelevant and then some things...
Nate’s mother...died in a car accident.
She swallowed. Well, that would explain why Nate hadn’t mentioned his mom. But it seemed odd... Steve had underlined the word accident. Had the reporter thought that something more sinister had happened?
No father listed on birth certificate.
She flipped the page in the notebook.
Father? DNA test was a match.
Then there was just...nothing. All of Steve’s other information must have been in the other notebooks—notebooks that had burned in that inferno. Or maybe he’d had computer files, but the cops had Yeldon’s computer, and she doubted they’d be turning it over to her anytime soon.
She put the notebook down and picked up the photos.
They’d gotten a little charred. Burned a bit around the edges.
She saw herself getting into the back of the patrol car. She saw Nate’s body, with all the blood around him. Yeldon had written about a DNA match. Had Nate’s DNA been taken and tested during the autopsy?
Or had someone known his dad’s identity before Nate was killed?
She picked up another photo. This one was Nate’s funeral. Her younger self stood there, away from the few others in attendance. They’d buried Nate in that little Colorado town. An anonymous Good Samaritan had donated the money for the burial and the headstone.
It had been a simple service. In that picture, she saw herself and the handful of cops who’d come to the burial. Steve had also been there that day. She didn’t remember him taking the picture, but he must have snapped it.
Then...there was another picture from the cemetery. She was gone. The cops were gone. Nate’s grave was covered with a bare amount of flowers. She’d put a rose there before she left. And...
There was a man standing near his grave. A man in a long black trench coat. His head was turned toward the grave, and his shoulders were slumped. Behind him, a big, black car waited.
She squinted her eyes as she stared at that photo. She couldn’t remember seeing that guy at the funeral. Things had been pretty hazy for her then but—
The doorbell rang. The photo slipped out of her fingers and fluttered to the table.
The doorbell rang again.
It was still the middle of the night. She was wearing Mac’s shirt. No one should be there.
Mac wouldn’t ring the doorbell, not at his own house.
She crept back into the den. He hadn’t told her that anyone was coming by. She eased closer to the door—
And that was when she saw the lock and doorknob turning.
* * *
THE PATROL CARS got to the office building before Mac did. When he pulled up, the cruisers had their lights flashing, and uniformed men and women were racing inside the location.
The place was one of the newly constructed sites in the area. Fancy offices, all hooked up and wired, but no businesses were technically in them—not yet. They were show ready, as the Realtors would call them—and the perfect place to stash a hostage.
Sullivan and Mac rushed for the building. Mac saw cops that he knew, guys who waved him past so he could go forward and figure out what was happening.
EMTs burst out of the building. A stretcher was between them, and Melinda Chafer lay cradled on that stretcher. Her face was chalk-white, and there was blood soaking her shirt. When Mac first saw her, he thought she was already dead.
Then her hand moved.
Not yet.
“What did he do to her?” Sullivan demanded.
Mac raced with the EMTs. They were running for the back of the ambulance, and he knew time was of the essence. “Detective Chafer!” he yelled.
The EMTs loaded her into the ambulance. They were working on her, moving so fast, but...
“Mac...” Melinda rasped his name. “He’s...he’s going after...Snow...”
An EMT shoved Mac back. “She needs to get to the hospital, now.”
“Said he—” Melinda seemed to be fighting to force those words out “—was gonna...finish...”
Mac’s whole body iced.
“Help her,” Melinda whispered.
The ambulance’s siren screamed. A few moments later Mac and Sullivan watched as it raced away.
“The building is clear!” a cop yelled.
Clear? Mac searched for a person in charge and saw a police captain whom he knew—Ben Howard. Ben had been the one giving Sullivan the building’s location as they raced to the scene. “Ben! Dammit, what is happening here? Where is he?”
Ben jogged toward him. Breath heaving, Ben said, “He stabbed her.” His face hardened. “I had my team searching every inch of this place, but that guy is gone.”
Ben was a fit veteran of the force. An African American in his early thirties, Ben had once served as an army ranger with Grant. Ben was one of the officers who often helped out McGuire Securities. And they helped him.
“If you hadn’t called us,” Ben said, “Melinda would be dead.” He gave a grim shake of his head. “She may still die. I’m not sure she’ll make it to the hospital.”
Neither was Mac. Not with all of that blood loss.
Collateral damage. Hell, no, she wasn’t.
“I have to know who I’m looking for,” Ben said. “I can’t put an APB out for a ghost—and that’s just what this guy is. He’s vanishing and not leaving anyone behind who can tell me what he looks like.”
Mac backed away. “I need to get back to Elizabeth.”
“The target,” Ben said, nodding. “I already sent men to her house. They’re looking for this guy. If anyone suspicious shows up there...”
“I don’t think he will be showing up there,” Mac said as his gut tightened. “He’s a professional. A guy who’s been killing for years.” And he wanted Elizabeth. Dammit, when he called...he got confirmation of her location. He heard Elizabeth! His place had good security, but hell, Mac understood that with the right tools, any security system could be breached.
And this guy isn’t an amateur.
Mac knew he was dealing with one cold-blooded killer. “He knows where she is.” My house. His frantic gaze locked on Ben. “Send patrols to my place, now!”
He raced back to his car, Sullivan at his side. Mac yanked out his phone and frantically dialed Grant. Be there with her. Be there.
* * *
ELIZABETH SWUNG THE lamp at him. When the big, hulking guy snuck inside, she was ready. Unfortunately, so was he. He grabbed the lamp, stopping it about an inch from his face. His eyes—a dark, familiar green—met hers, but Elizabeth was already launching at
him with a fast, vicious kick.
She met her target, and he grunted at the impact, but the guy didn’t go down.
His eyes. I know those eyes.
“Why my brother thinks you need protecting,” the guy muttered as the alarm system beeped, “is beyond me.”
Brother. She’d just attacked another McGuire? Hell, now Elizabeth knew why those eyes were familiar. She stared up at his face. Handsome, strong, determined—and a definite family resemblance to Mac.
He reset the alarm and only winced a bit when he walked. “Sorry to scare you, ma’am,” he told her, the Texas accent a bit more pronounced in his voice than it was in Mac’s. “But you weren’t answering the door, and I needed to make sure you were safe. By the way, I’m Grant.” He glanced at the lamp. “Glad we didn’t break that. Mac would be—”
His phone was ringing.
“Excuse me.” He pulled out his phone. “Speak of the devil...” His finger swiped over the screen. “Mac, I’m staring right at our new client, and I’ve got to say...your shirt looks good on her.”
His shirt? Elizabeth glanced down. Crap. Time to—
“He’s coming, Grant,” Mac’s voice snarled. “He stabbed Detective Chafer and cut out of here. I know he’s coming for Elizabeth. Secure the house. Keep her safe. Cops are on the way, but he’s got a lead on us. He’s got—”
The lights went out. She expected the alarm to start shrieking, but it didn’t. For an instant there was no sound at all.
“I think he’s here,” Grant said softly. “The alarm isn’t working, so the guy must’ve shut down the system.”
How had he done that? The fact that he had done it—chilled her. He’s too good. He just keeps coming.
“Don’t worry,” Grant muttered into the phone, “he won’t get her.” The phone’s screen went black in the next instant, and she knew he’d ended the call.
Grant grabbed her arm, proving that he could see way better than she could in the dark. “The doors are locked,” he told her. “And I’m armed. You’re safe.”
But was Grant? The guy after her had said that he’d take out the McGuires if they were in his way. She couldn’t let Mac’s family die because of her.