CHANCES ARE (Last Chance Rescue)

by Reece, Christy

  His frown turned to a scowl. “I’m aware of that.” That had been one of his main concerns when Angela made it known she would be open to something more than friendship between them. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt someone who’d already been hurt so much.

  “She seems to think a lot of you.”

  Puzzled and getting slightly pissed, Jake said bluntly, “Want to tell me what the hell you’re getting at, McCall?”

  As if Jake hadn’t spoken, the man continued, “Angela started working for LCR when she was seventeen years old. She’s like family.”

  It’d been a long time since a father or brother had warned him away from corrupting a young woman, but from McCall’s expression that was exactly what was about to happen.

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” Jake growled, “but there’s nothing going on between Angela and me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Hell yes, I’m sure. I think I’d know if there was. Did you call me in for an assignment or to dig into my personal life?”

  “So if there’s nothing going on between you two, you won’t mind working with her.”

  Feeling like a dimwit, he said, “I haven’t had any problems working with her.”

  “I mean on an op.”

  Jake’s entire world shifted. “Angela? On an op? But she’s a researcher.”

  “She’s also a fully trained operative. She’s asked for her first assignment and I’ve agreed.”

  His thoughts reeling, he tried to come up with a reasonable objection that didn’t look like it was more than simple concern for a fellow co-worker. “She’s had a tough time the last few months. You said yourself she’s still vulnerable. You really think she’s emotionally ready for an op?”

  “She’ll go through a mental eval, just like all operatives.”

  “But why put our best researcher at risk?”

  “Angela’s been training Deidre for the past few months. She’s highly qualified and Angela believes she’s ready to take over the researcher task full time.”

  Hell, he had no issues with Deidre. She was a sweet, middle-aged woman who had a tendency to mother everyone. She was also, reportedly, a whiz on the computer. What he had problems with was putting Angela in harm’s way. His mind told him if she was a fully trained operative then she had every right to be out in the field, his gut said something different.

  “Angela’s wanted to be an operative since she came on board with LCR,” McCall said. “We both agreed that her family came first. Since she was supporting them, she couldn’t put herself at risk. Sadly, that’s no longer an issue.”

  A heartbeat of a pause, then McCall raised a cool, questioning brow. “You have some objections?”

  Yeah, he had some objections, but none of them were valid. Voicing the real reason for his concern was out of the question. Especially when he refused to pull at that particular thread himself. His shrug was deliberately casual. “Just surprised, that’s all.”

  “I think you’ll be impressed with her skills. I’ve asked her to complete a two-day refresher. Dylan will oversee it, but I’d like you to be there, too.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re going to be her partner on the op.”

  Hell, hell and double damn hell. So much for staying out of her way. Still, even as he cursed, he couldn’t deny the relief. He would protect her. He had failed in protecting the last woman he cared for…he would not fail Angela.

  McCall stood. “The other operatives will be here tomorrow afternoon. Be back here at three for the briefing.”

  Still feeling off-center, Jake got to his feet and followed McCall to the door. “How many are on the op?”

  “Ten, including you and Angela.”

  He didn’t know whether to be concerned with the size of the op or not. Having that many experienced operatives should ensure Angela’s safety. “So what’s the mission?”

  “We’ve been asked by British authorities to assist in apprehending the Red Rose Killer.”

  Jake froze mid-stride. No way could he hide his reaction at the news. Angela was going to be working to capture a man who had been deemed one of England’s most horrific murderers of the 21st century? A killer who had been referred to as a modern day Jack the Ripper. And the bastard liked only one kind of victim: Tall, beautiful brunettes…just like Angela Delvecchio.

  Shit!

  Chapter Three

  Anxious for the meeting to begin, Angela tapped her pen impatiently against the conference room table. As she waited, her gaze wandered around the room, touching on each operative assigned to this mission. She knew some of them almost as well as she had known her own family. Now they were her only family. Familiar grief clutched at her heart, causing a stabbing ache in her chest and a burn of tears behind her eyes. Taking slow, even breaths, Angela battled the pain.

  Samara had told her it would be like that, perhaps for years to come. She’d be doing fine, carrying on with her life, and then it would hit her like a sledgehammer, making it all seem fresh and newly horrific. Her entire family was gone.

  Losing her parents had been excruciatingly painful but in some ways easier than losing her brother and sister. Though her parents’ health had improved significantly, they still hadn’t been completely well. For years, Angela had lived with the knowledge that she could lose one or both of them at any time. She had learned to appreciate each day as it came.

  Her sister and brother were different. They had just begun their lives—young, exuberant and full of life. She could become exasperated with either one of them and then they’d do something to make her laugh and she'd completely forget her aggravation. Having taken on so much responsibility at an early age, Angela often felt like a third parent. In some ways, she felt as though she’d not only lost her brother and sister but also her children.

  A slender hand touched her shoulder affectionately. Angela pushed aside her grief and turned to the surreally beautiful woman next to her—Eden St. Claire.

  “How are you holding up?”

  Angela smiled her gratitude. “I’m better. Still have some rough days.”

  Eden smiled in sympathy, her soft gray eyes revealing an understanding and awareness few people could fathom. This woman knew all about loss and its aftermath. She had lived through her own hell.

  “So do you know what the op is? Noah’s been even more closed-mouth than usual.”

  Angela wasn’t surprised. Not only had Noah struggled with whether LCR should take on this mission, she knew he had wrestled with the assignments. In the end, with the exception of Angela, he’d chosen some of his most experienced and lethal operatives.

  “I can’t say, other than to tell you to start looking for either a black wig or some expensive hair dye and lots of make-up.”

  Eyes dancing with excitement, Eden murmured, “Hmm. Sounds intriguing.”

  Physically, with the exception of her hair color, which was a lovely white-blonde, Eden fit the criteria that seemed to attract the killer. And she was as deadly as she was stunningly beautiful. If the killer chose to go after her, he would be in a world of hurt.

  The handsome man sitting beside Eden, her husband Jordan Montgomery, was just as lethal. Not only that, if anyone looked at Eden the wrong way, Jordan had a tendency to get very upset. Angela had seen Eden become very amused by her husband’s over-protectiveness.

  At the sound of soft, husky laughter, Angela turned her gaze to LCR operatives Shea and Ethan Bishop, who were whispering to each other. Shea’s eyes were bubbling with merriment as she smiled up at her husband. Ethan’s face said something else. If they weren’t in a roomful of people, Angela had a feeling that Shea would have been thoroughly kissed.

  The auburn-haired Shea wasn’t the killer’s preferred type either, but with a disguise, she would blend in beautifully. Slender, with creamy skin and sparkling green eyes, she would attract any man’s attention. And the fierce-looking Ethan would make sure anyone who came close enough to hurt his wife would a
nswer to him.

  One of the things Angela loved and admired about the married LCR operatives was their intense devotion to each other. They watched each other’s back and trusted their spouse implicitly.

  And though they weren’t married or even romantically involved, soon she and Jake would be sharing a partnership where they would need to trust each other the same way. She already trusted Jake, but would he return that trust? Since this was her first op, would he doubt her abilities? She pulled back from her worry. No point in borrowing trouble or creating more doubts than she already had. They could and would work through any difficulties. She and Jake had a good relationship. He might see her as a friend and nothing more, but he liked and respected her. Once they started working this case, she would prove to him that she was just as capable as any other LCR operative.

  A huff of exasperation caught her attention. Sabrina Fox, a vibrant redhead with the personality to match, was rolling her eyes and talking animatedly to the golden-haired man sitting beside her, Aidan Thorne. Of all the LCR operatives, Sabrina might well be the most lethal. A few months back, Angela had walked in on a training session in the LCR gym and watched in awe while Sabrina took on three men at once, all seasoned operatives. And then, unscathed and barely out of breath, the woman had laughingly walked away, leaving all three on their asses.

  Sabrina was most often teamed with Aidan. Though there was speculation that the two were romantically involved, Angela knew that wasn’t true. Sabrina talked about Aidan as if he were a slightly irritating but much-loved brother.

  Angela turned her attention to Aidan and held back a dreamy sigh. There wasn’t a heterosexual woman in this world who could look at Aidan Thorne and not feel something. Nicknamed ‘the golden Adonis’ by a few of the single LCR employees, Aidan could make the most married and committed woman’s heart skip a few beats. Even as crazy as she was about Jake, she couldn’t look at Aidan without appreciating the view. No mortal man should look that good. And if that wasn’t enough, he had a great sense of humor and was a genuinely nice guy.

  Tearing her eyes away from Aidan, Angela looked to the other end of the table where a quiet and pensive Riley Ingram sat unmoving, patiently waiting for the meeting to start. An unknown in every sense of the word, Riley had been an operative for almost two years and was the most mysterious LCR employee they’d ever had. She had read her file, done the necessary research for Noah to bring her in as an LCR operative and yet, Angela still felt she didn’t know anything about her.

  The man sitting beside Riley, and politely ignoring her, was Justin Kelly. He had been hired last year without Angela’s knowledge, which was a rarity since she usually dug up every minutia of background on a prospective operative before Noah made the decision. It wasn’t until after Justin was hired that she learned he was former military and had apparently encountered LCR years ago when he had been trying to rescue his kidnapped sister from a human trafficker. From all accounts, it hadn’t been a good first meeting.

  According to Noah, Justin was the one who had made the contact and requested an interview. She remembered that Noah had left for the meeting sure that the man intended retribution. Three hours later her boss had returned and said, “We’ve got new employ, Justin Kelly. He’ll start in a couple of weeks.” And that had been that.

  Since then, Justin and Riley had apparently developed a love-hate relationship. Angela had heard that they worked together better than many operatives who’d been together for years, seemingly able to read each other without words. Outside an op, they acted as if they didn’t know the other existed. Angela found their dynamics fascinating.

  Finally she allowed herself to focus on Jake, who was sitting beside Noah. Her boss had the usual grim, determined expression locked on his face. Jake looked equally forbidding. When his eyes shot to her, they seemed to pierce straight through. Angela’s heart rate increased, thudding hard against her chest.

  The instant Noah stood, the entire room went quiet and all eyes zeroed in on the LCR leader. “We’ve been asked, along with several other organizations, to lend a hand in the search for the killer who’s been on a rampage in London for the last year or so—the one the press has named the Red Rose Killer.

  “Here’s what we know: All of the victims have been tall, attractive brunettes. The women are single, Caucasian…between the ages of twenty and thirty. His preferences are waitresses and strippers.”

  His eyes scanned the room. “We believe he stalks his victims to ensure that they live alone. Once that’s determined, he somehow gets into their home and takes them. There’s been no sign of forced entry in any of the victims’ houses.”

  “Is there any evidence that he actually gets into the home? How do they know he doesn’t take them at the door? Or somewhere else?” Shea asked.

  “There’s a possibility some have been abducted elsewhere but there have been signs of a struggle in some of the victims’ homes. The theory is he gets inside, overpowers them, and then carries them out.”

  “How the hell have people not seen them taken?” Ethan asked. “At some point, you’d think someone would have noticed an unwilling woman being dragged from her home.”

  Noah shook his head. “Traces of Ketamine, Rohypnol and Scopolamine have been found in the victims’ blood. Any of those drugs can render a person helpless without causing unconsciousness.”

  “And can make you do things you never thought possible,” Shea muttered.

  All eyes went to the operative who had been kidnapped by a madman several years ago. Shea had been given a cocktail of the very same drugs, had lost her memories and almost her life. Thankfully, Ethan had rescued her but the hellacious event had struck at the very core of their organization.

  “Exactly,” Noah said grimly. “Scopolamine in particular. It’s been called the zombie drug for good reason. A victim remains conscious and will follow voice commands. When the drug wears off, the victim often has no recollection of what happened.”

  “I’m surprised there’s any blood left to test,” Riley said.

  Noah nodded. “All the women have died from massive blood loss. Throats are slashed, severing the carotid artery.” He looked down at a file in front of him. “It’s also believed that once he abducts his victim, he keeps her alive for several days before he kills.”

  “Why do they think that?” Eden asked.

  “A couple of reasons. Several of the victims have called into work or contacted friends and relatives informing them they were going to be gone for a few days. When they didn’t come back to work or reappear, relatives and friends went to check. The homes were empty. Mail and paper stacked up—indicating the women have been gone for a while.

  “Also, the amount of torture he’s inflicting would take hours, if not days. It’s believed he keeps them between three and eight days. His torture methods are as varied as they are horrific. Electrical shock, strangulation, and burning their skin are just a few of them. After he kills each victim, he dresses them and then dumps the bodies in high-traffic areas around London.”

  “Sounds like he wants to get as much press exposure as he can get,” Jake said.

  “Yes, and the press has been more than happy to oblige,” Noah said.

  Pulling photographs from a thick folder, Noah passed them to Jake. Angela had already seen a couple of the photographs. Beautiful women, dressed in elegant evening gowns, hair and makeup in perfect order, and a single red rose clutched in their hands. The only thing that marred their pale, lifeless beauty was the hideous gaping slash across their throats. The evening gown covered the multitude of torture marks on their skin.

  Jake examined the photographs, passed them to his left and lifted his gaze to Angela. She saw questions, concern, and not a little bit of anger. The anger was justified. She should have been brave enough to talk to him yesterday. Bravery wasn’t usually an issue for her. She had no doubts about her courage but Jake brought out a unique vulnerability in her. She wanted to please him.

  “How m
any victims?” Shea asked.

  “Ten that we know of. At first it was one murder every three or fourth months. For the past two months, it’s been one about every eight to ten days.”

  “His need is increasing,” Jordan said grimly. “Do we know whether he already has another victim picked out before he kills his current victim?”

  Noah shook his head. “No, and that’s just one of the many things we don’t know. Maybe he targets several. That way, as soon as he’s done with one, he already has another lined up. But from the amount of torture he’s inflicting on these women, he’s spending a considerable amount of time with them. It’d be hard for him to commit a lot of hours to stalking.”

  “Other than their occupations, does anything else link the victims together?” Sabrina asked.

  “Not as far as we know. However, there are four areas of the city he seems to be concentrating on. You’ll see your assignment is in one of these areas.

  “British authorities called me in for a consult the day they found their fifth victim. Honor, Seth and I flew to London and met with them. I offered LCR’s assistance at that time but it was refused. The day they found the eighth victim, they called, asking for our help.”

  Angela remembered the day they returned. All three had the same bleak, sad look on their faces. Seth Cavanaugh had been a cop and his wife Honor was a former FBI agent. Both had seen their share of evil things. Angela had immediately known this wasn’t the average killer. This man was a monster. One that had to be stopped.

  “There's one more distinguishing factor,” Noah said. “Each woman received a bouquet of red roses the day before she was attacked.”

  Shea nodded. “So that’s where the press came up with the Red Rose Killer. I haven’t seen any mention of the single rose found in the victims’ hands.”

  “Right,” Noah confirmed. “That’s one of the few things they’ve been able to keep from reporters.”

  “What about florist shops?” Sabrina asked. “Any idea where he’s buying the flowers?”

  “No. There are no cards indicating which florist made the arrangement. It’s assumed he buys them from all over the city. Probably pays cash. There are thousands of rose bouquets purchased every day. It’d be damn hard to trace every one of them.” Noah lifted his shoulders in a shrug, his dark expression showing his frustrations with the lack of knowledge. “Hell, we’re not even sure how the flowers get delivered.”