Wolfe reached down for his knife.
Rock lifted his right hand, showing a detonator with a green blinking light. Coils of some kind attached the device to his hand, so that nobody could take it away.
Wolfe’s gut clenched. “You wired the place.”
Rock smiled, revealing his too long left canine. “I do love things that go boom.”
Fuck. The happy group in the restaurant behind Wolfe had no idea. He started to turn back, to run, to do something, when Rock whistled. “Just sit.”
Was there a choice? Wolfe turned back around, pulled out the chair to sit, staring at the man he’d once considered a brother. Rock had let his buzz cut grow out, but his eyes were as sharp and blue as ever. The beard was new. Today he wore a gray golf shirt and khaki pants that showed muscle and brute strength. Wait a minute. Was that a hickey on Rock’s neck? “How did you find me, Gary?”
“What? No nicknames any longer because I killed a couple of morons in the desert?” A scar down Gary’s throat moved, right beside the hickey, when he talked.
“No. You don’t deserve a nickname.” Wolfe would never call him Rock again, and he deeply regretted holding that throat wound together on a mission until they could get help. “How?”
“The gods favor me, as you should know by now,” Gary said.
Wolfe forced his body to remain relaxed when all he wanted to do was leap over the fireplace and break Gary’s neck. The detonator no doubt had a dead man’s switch, so if he tackled Gary, the bomb or bombs might explode. “How so?” he asked, wanting confirmation.
Gary looked past him to the restaurant. “Luck. It always finds me.”
Wolfe sat quietly, his mind spinning. Luck? If it was luck, then Gary hadn’t been looking for Wolfe. So the only way he could’ve found him would’ve been through Dana? The pit in his gut now made sense. “Heroin,” he murmured, the puzzle still not quite fitting together.
Gary focused on him again. “What about it?”
Candy’s notes. The drugging. Albert Nelson’s ties to Frank Spanek. The missing CEO—Theresa Rhodes. Heroin tracked over the southern route. Serena’s deciphering of Candy’s notes and finding heroin in them, in a story about Theresa Rhodes Ah, crap. The pieces all swirled around, hinting at the danger of the ticking explosives as everything dropped into place. Finally. “Nice hickey.”
Gary studied him. “Thanks.”
The cases were combined. His and Dana’s and poor Candy’s. There was no doubt Rock would detonate the bomb and enjoy watching Wolfe react, so there was only one option. Hopefully he’d get the facts right. Time to bluff. “I know about your woman. Have a friend on her right now, watching through the scope.” Wolfe went with his gut, faster than his brain at the moment.
“Bullshit,” Gary retorted.
Jackpot. All right. Wolfe dealt with the facts, shoving emotion away for now. He’d freak out later. “Oh, come on, Gary. You thought I’d miss the clues? You hire Frank Spanek as a middleman, who also somehow, just coincidentally, is a connection to both Albert Nelson and Theresa Rhodes?”
Gary sat back, his gaze shuttering.
But Wolfe knew him. There it was. A fleeting reaction. “So your pretty CEO has been, what? Running drugs through her sporting goods company and associated nonprofits?”
No response.
“Through her nonprofits that help women.” Wolfe tsked, forcing amusement into his tone. “Candy Folks tracked down that story, no doubt tugging the strings from money laundering to the heroin market. You used Theresa Rhodes and her connections with Nelson and Spanek to get your heroin out of Afghanistan, and Candy figured it out. Shit, Rock. Did you kill an innocent journalist?”
Rock lifted a shoulder, his hand steady around the trigger. “She put up a good fight. Nothing close to what I assume your blonde would give. If she lives, that is.”
Wolfe showed his teeth. “If I don’t make the phone call within the hour, your CEO dies. Do you care?” It was a bluff, because there was a good chance Gary didn’t care about the woman. About anybody.
“I care,” Gary growled. “Should we let both of our women live or die today?”
Wolfe could deny it, or he could say they were just friends, but it was too late. Dana was already on Rock’s radar. Gary’s radar. Gary, damn it. But if Wolfe’s involvement at the golf course was a surprise, then Gary hadn’t found out about the Deep Ops team. That was something. “What do you want?”
Gary sighed. “Well, world peace would be a nice start.” He shifted his weight, showing he’d been working out.
Wolfe remained silent.
“You never did have a sense of humor. Apparently being blown up hasn’t helped any.”
Wolfe barely kept his hands from curling into fists and instead adopted a slightly bored expression. “I always wondered. Why did you leave me alive?”
Gary chuckled, the sound grating. “I thought you were dead. You sure looked dead, and I was under a bit of a deadline.”
That explained it, then. “How about we leave the women out of it and just go to it, you and me? I’ve offered several times, and you keep refusing. You think you’ll lose?”
“No. I’d win, but what fun would that be? Over so quickly?” Gary leaned forward. “Didn’t you ever wonder? Who was better at the game—you or me?”
Wolfe shook his head. “I never considered any of it a game. We were on the same team, so it didn’t matter who was better.” It mattered that they covered each other’s backs. “It sickens me that you killed one innocent woman and have been stalking another one. How long have you been following Dana?” He had to make sure Gary hadn’t found the unit as well.
“I haven’t.” Gary grinned, leaning back as if they were two old buddies catching up. “Found out she was snooping around the story about Candy disappearing, had a buddy look her up, and guess what’s plastered all over social media? Yep. This wedding. The bride is very energetic and so helpful. I arrived, found you, and got to work on the building after all of the nice wedding guests went to bed, including you.”
Was he telling the truth? Seemed like it.
Bile rolled around in Wolfe’s stomach. “This is getting tedious, and we’re at a stalemate. We both need to walk away right now.” So he could get Dana and her family to safety. The urge to do so rushed through his veins.
“Oh, I’m not quite done today.” Gary stroked the detonator with his free hand. “What do you know about my operation?”
“Not enough. I was just on to Albert Nelson when he was shot in the head. You?” Wolfe asked as more of the puzzle took shape.
“Me,” Gary confirmed. “It was an easy kill. Were you at the party?”
Wolfe nodded. “Yeah. Didn’t feel you there.” Was he losing his edge?
Gary scratched his beard. “I didn’t feel you there, either. Interesting.”
Wait a minute. “The second Captive party. Were you there?”
“No.” Gary sighed. “I’d never dose you. Too easy, you know?”
Ah, shit. “It was Theresa.” Now he remembered the woman wearing the mask.
Gary snorted. “She’s a crafty one, and she did that on her own. Had a couple of men there to take Dana, and neither of us realized that you were there as well. Otherwise, Dana would’ve met me in person that night and told me all she’d discovered.”
Bile rose in Wolfe’s throat. “Great. You and a sociopath teaming up. What could go wrong?”
“The sex is amazing.” Gary’s eyes gleamed. “You should also be aware that you didn’t feel me here last night. That was quite a spectacle with your dog, who is sneaking up behind me, by the way. Might want to stop him before I let go of this handy detonator.”
Wolfe whistled, and Roscoe emerged from the bushes behind Gary. “Here, boy. Leave the psycho alone.”
The fur stood up across Roscoe’s back, and he growled low, moving past Gary to sit slightly in front of Wolfe, facing the enemy. “Good dog.” Wolfe reached out and set a reassuring hand on the canine’s head, ru
bbing his fur. Roscoe apparently had great instincts with people. His fur and muscles quivered as he kept himself from attacking.
“What else have you figured out?” Gary asked, his gaze on the dog.
“Nothing yet, but I’ll get it all. I’m assuming you traveled from Afghanistan via the southern route?” Wolfe didn’t really care how, but he wanted to know where.
“Maybe, but I’m a long-term thinker, you know.” Gary tilted his head and looked past Wolfe. “Your blonde is looking out the window.”
“She’s not mine,” Wolfe retorted.
Gary jerked his chin. “She is now.” He smiled, his gaze lightening, giving away his intention. He couldn’t help himself. The bastard was going to blow up the entire building, even if it meant Theresa died as well.
Shit. There wasn’t a choice here. God, Wolfe hoped he was as fast as he used to be. He plastered a bored expression on his face and tugged on Roscoe’s ear while standing, his leg muscles bunching. “I’m done with this.”
Gary started to push from the chair, anticipation dancing across his broad face.
“Now,” Wolfe ordered, leaping for Gary along with Roscoe.
They impacted, and Wolfe grabbed the detonator, uncoiling the wires, sliding his finger beneath Gary’s and then elbowing him in the eye. Roscoe went for the legs. Gary bellowed, punched Wolfe in the neck and turned to kick Roscoe in the face. The dog yelped and rolled toward the bushes, springing up quickly and charging.
Wolfe rolled to the side, holding his finger over the button so it couldn’t be depressed. Adrenaline flooded him.
Roscoe hit Gary mid-center, throwing them both over the bushes.
Wolfe jumped to his feet, his heart thundering, the detonator safe in his hands.
The dog yelped again, and Gary ran several feet to a ball washer, grabbing the attending kid and putting a knife to his neck.
Wolfe paused. “Roscoe. Come.”
The dog instantly jumped his way, growling and snarling.
The kid’s eyes were a wide, terrified blue, but he didn’t make a sound. He looked about seventeen, and his skinny arms hung by his sides.
Gary kept the knife in place and started to back up, taking the kid with him.
Dana came into view through Wolfe’s peripheral vision. “Wolfe? What’s going on?”
Gary smiled and kept backing up, dragging the kid to the parking lot.
Wolfe had to let him go for now. “Tell everyone to get out of the building and call the bomb squad. Now.”
She gasped and turned to run back to the building.
Gary finally reached the parking lot and threw the kid into the side of the nearest truck. “We’re just getting started, Wolfe.” He jumped into a souped-up coup and zipped out of the parking lot, while the kid stood, rubbing his temple.
“You bet we are,” Wolfe muttered, looking down at the innocuous detonator as people streamed from the restaurant. He needed to call Force. Now.
Chapter Thirty
Gary Rockcliff threw the keys across the luxurious living room, watching impassively as they crashed into the sliding glass door leading to the sprawling deck and down to the lake. It had taken him several hours to drive to the remote and very private estate in North Carolina, and his anger had grown with each passing mile.
“Problem?” Theresa Rhodes stepped out of the perfectly decorated kitchen, wiping her manicured hands on a hand towel. Not that she’d been cooking. The princess never cooked.
“No.” He quickly banked all emotion and set his shoulders back. “Everything is going according to plan.”
One of her perfectly plucked eyebrows rose. “Is that a fact? The news has been covering an interesting story out of Tennessee.” She gestured toward the plasma television mounted above the large wooden mantel of the fireplace, beyond the white leather sofas that were harder than cement blocks.
He turned to watch the news, the sound muted, to see the country club he’d left hours earlier, where crime scene tape was stretched in overkill mode. Somebody had been bored. “So?”
“So?” She tossed the towel behind her, those intriguing blue eyes sparking. “Watch longer.”
“Watch your tone.” He turned, bored, and then saw his military ID plastered on the screen.
She stepped closer to him, her white linen pantsuit unwrinkled and molding to her tight body. Even hanging out in one of her many corporate and impossible-to-find mansions, she wore high heels and matching jewelry. “What were you thinking?”
He moved out of instinct, wrapping his hand around her neck and shoving her against the wall.
She gasped, her eyes widened, and color infused her patrician cheekbones. Excitement had her tongue out and wetting her perfectly Botoxed lips. She reached up and clawed sharp nails into his forearm, drawing blood. “Let go.”
He leaned in, every instinct inside him urging him to start squeezing until her eyes bugged out.
Her nipples hardened against the thin material, easily visible since she didn’t wear a bra. “You want to play? We’ll play, Rock. But don’t think for one second that you’re going to take your failure today out on me. We both know I have protection in place.”
Yeah, the bitch had evidence on his holdings that’d be released at her death, enough that he’d never get free. Oh, he might elude the government for a time, but if that evidence got out, his time would be limited. “Maybe I don’t care about your protection.” He tightened his hold and leaned in to bite her bottom lip, drawing blood in turn.
Her sharp intake of breath coincided with lust flashing into her eyes.
Man, she was one screwed-up woman. Serious issues. His dick hardened, and he licked the blood off her mouth.
Her moan set him on fire.
“Any calls?” he asked, grabbing her top to rip it apart, revealing perfectly created breasts. Her surgeon had been a damn genius.
“Forget calls.” She purred and scraped her nails down his T-shirt, tucking them into his waist.
“Business first.” He grabbed her wrists and ground them together.
She winced. “Two calls. One from Mexico, where they’re cutting the product right now. A second from our supplier on the northern route, who will only talk to you.” She pouted, her lip already swelling. “I’m an equal partner here.”
She wasn’t close to an equal partner. Despite her connections, she hadn’t found all of his stash. Though he did need her pipeline, and she knew it. “You’re too public, and they won’t risk talking to you.”
“Whatever.” She glanced over at her many humanitarian awards stacked in a tall curio cabinet. “What happened in Tennessee?”
Clarence Wolfe had happened. Anger rushed through Rock faster than the lust had, and he held her tighter, fury beating into him.
She cried out and tried to pull free, failing completely. “I was just asking.”
“Don’t ask.” Oh, he’d kill Wolfe, but first he’d make the bastard hurt. The game was going to take time, and he was going to cut off pieces of everything and everyone Wolfe cared about. The idiot had always gone with the heart.
Theresa moved into him, even though he still had her wrists. “We’re together, Rock. You went to blow something up, and you were excited. I’m sorry it didn’t happen.”
“It’s too late to appease me.” He yanked her even closer.
Her breath caught and her nipples hardened even more. “You’re mad.” Her voice had dropped to a husky hush that did nothing but add to his fury.
“I am.” One of these times, he was going to kill her. He could control himself today, but he had to figure out a way to get that evidence she’d collected. Torture wouldn’t do it, because she was too damn smart. She had given it to a friend, one he couldn’t track down, with instructions that only on her death would it be released. Rock just had to find the friend. Theresa was almost as big a threat to Rock as Wolfe was. Not quite, and she had other attributes he quite enjoyed. He released her wrists.
She pulled back, rubbing them. “Wh
a—”
Then he grabbed her hair, yanking her toward the bedroom.
Her pained laugh filled the day as she grabbed onto his belt loops. “Rock? Do you care for me at all?”
The question caught him off guard, and he paused in the doorway, pressing her against the wall. If he cared for her, wouldn’t he get her help? Or would he continue bringing out her darker side? “I care for you.” Probably. He’d never met anybody like her.
For the briefest of seconds, she looked sweet. Even vulnerable.
“But I’m still going to hurt you.” He threw her toward the bed, not surprised when she laughed.
Definite issues.
Chapter Thirty-One
Dana glanced at her bag in the back seat of Wolfe’s truck and then waved as her parents drove by, heading home. The breeze of the day before had disappeared, leaving a sweltering heat laden with moisture. The bomb squad had arrived surprisingly quickly, followed by federal agents whom Angus Force had handled over the phone.
“Well. That was exciting,” Dana murmured, her heart still pounding.
“Your folks took all of it pretty well,” Wolfe murmured, starting the engine, his gun tucked into the side of his waistband.
“Dad was a marine,” Dana said, shivering. “Those were real explosives? Not a bluff?” She’d watched, from a safe distance, as Wolfe had met with the bomb guys.
“Yes,” Wolfe said, his voice clipped.
Roscoe sprawled across the back seat, his nose on his paws.
They both seemed out of sorts.
Okay. Something was so not right. Dana secured her belt, her hands trembling. Gone was the good-natured and finally relaxed Wolfe of the night before. Not that she could blame him. She remained quiet as he drove by the golf course and out of the club grounds, turning toward home.
The silence between them was nothing like what they’d shared that morning before breakfast, when she’d cuddled in his arms and just enjoyed being near him. This was hard and cold and distant.
She swallowed. “What all did you and Rock talk about before I came outside?”
Wolfe remained silent, his gaze on the shimmering asphalt through the window.
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