Evidence of Passion (14 page)

Then Jack started to laugh. The sound was chilling.

“It’s not over...” Jack told them. “It’s just starting...”

Dylan rose, keeping Rachel in his arms. The guy had lost his ski mask. His head was bowed, so Dylan couldn’t see his face clearly. “You’re going to spend the rest of your life in a cage.”

Jack tilted his head back. “Don’t be so sure of that.”

Dylan found himself staring down at a familiar face. The face he’d seen in O’Sullivan’s pub. The face of the man who’d seemed so concerned about Rachel hours before.

The man who’d kidnapped her.

Aidan O’Sullivan.

* * *

R
ACHEL
SAT
IN
the back of an ambulance with a blanket around her shoulders. The EMTs had checked her out about five times now, and her body had finally stopped shaking.

“Are you all right?” The soft question came from Noelle. Noelle had been by Rachel’s side during all of those EMT checks. The woman was still watching her like a hawk.

Rachel nodded. “Jack’s in custody. He won’t hurt anyone else again.” She swallowed. Her throat ached. Probably due to all of the water that she’d swallowed. “So, yes, I’m definitely all right now.”

She wouldn’t think about the dark water or about the burn in her lungs. She’d gotten tangled in some kind of rope down there. She’d managed to break the surface once, to wave for help, but the rope hadn’t let her stretch out enough to actually suck in air.

So she’d gone back down. She’d fought, twisting and turning, and she’d finally managed to yank her way free of the rope.

There were so many boats docked at the harbor. The rope could’ve come from anywhere...

And it almost killed me.

By the time she’d gotten free... “I just didn’t have the strength to get back to the surface.” She’d tried. She’d kicked.

Her lungs had burned.

Rachel exhaled slowly. The last thing she remembered was trying to surge for the surface and then— “Dylan.”

Noelle glanced toward a black van that had just arrived on scene. Thomas and Dylan were loading a handcuffed Jack—
Aidan?—
into the van.

I talked to him. I had drinks with him. I never suspected the truth.

Jack had fooled her again.

“When I got here,” Noelle said, “Dylan was under the water. You were both down there for a very, very long time.”

Rachel’s eyes were on the van. On the men there. Jack looked back at her.

He was right in front of me at the pub.
And she hadn’t recognized him.

Jack had darkened his hair. His nose—it had changed, been broken a time or two. His jaw was different, harder. He must’ve had some surgery done to alter its appearance. He’d worn contacts, lost weight and changed his voice as he adopted an Irish accent.

He seemed like a totally different man.

But he’s the same.

Jack smiled at her. Then he climbed into the van. Thomas followed him inside.

Dylan slammed the door shut. He watched the vehicle as it sped away. His shoulders were tense. When the taillights vanished, Dylan turned back to face Rachel. His gaze held hers. Then he stalked toward her.

Rachel pulled the edges of the blanket closer to her.

Noelle stepped in front of Rachel, blocking her view of Dylan. “Are you afraid of him?”

Rachel shrugged. “Jack’s a dangerous man, but showing fear won’t—”

“Not him. Dylan.”

Maybe she was. He had the power to hurt her more than any other person.

“You are.” Noelle seemed surprised.

Rachel glanced up, meeting her eyes. “Even the good guys can be scary.”

Noelle glanced over her shoulder. Dylan was just steps away from them now. “You should let the EMTs take you to the hospital for a more thorough check.”

Rachel stood. Her clothes were still damp and a chill skated over her flesh. “There’s no way I’m stepping foot into a hospital again.” She was breathing. She was alert. The EMTs had checked her
five times
for goodness’ sake.

“But you need someone to watch you.” Noelle’s worry was obvious.

“I’ll watch her,” Dylan said. He brushed by Noelle. He didn’t reach out to touch Rachel, and she was glad. Part of her feared that she might shatter if he touched her. “Rachel’s coming home with me.”

Her eyes widened. “Since when?”

“Since I thought you’d died in my arms... Since I realized that I’m not letting you out of my
sight
tonight.” He came even closer to her. His clothes were wet, just like hers, but he didn’t seem cold at all. His eyes blazed with emotion. “What the
hell
were you thinking? You went out that window with him!”

Yes, she had. She’d known the water was there, so she’d thought her odds of survival were fair. Her chin lifted. “I was thinking that if I didn’t move, you were a dead man. There were only four feet between you and Jack. He wouldn’t have missed that shot.”

“You mean the way you did? Three years before?”

His question seemed to come out of nowhere, and Rachel flinched.

His eyes widened and a look of what could have been horror flashed over his face. “No, Rachel, wait, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sure Mercer will want you at the EOD.” There would be questions—dozens of them. Reports to write, a massive interrogation to conduct. Jack was the killer, but he’d been hired, paid for his crimes. The EOD would want the names of the people who’d been in contact with him over the years. Now that he was in custody, Jack would become a tool for Mercer to use.

Rachel knew how the game was played.

She was just tired of playing it.

“I don’t really give a damn what Mercer wants right now,” Dylan said and he put his hands on her. She flinched at his touch because fire seemed to leap through her body.

She’d always been too sensitive when it came to Dylan. Too aware of him. She had to start pulling away from him. The job was done. Dylan had his vengeance.

And she...she could finally stop looking over her shoulder. She could have a real life again.

I never even told my family about Jack. I didn’t want them to be afraid.
So she’d kept all of the fear to herself.

“I’ll...um, let you two talk.” Noelle nodded briskly and hurried away.

Rachel didn’t want to talk with Dylan, though. She wanted to escape. To collapse.

I want to start building my life again.

“You’re what matters to me now,” Dylan told her.

Rachel found that she couldn’t look in his eyes. So her gaze swept the scene. So many people were there. EOD agents. Techs. “I thought you wanted to get rid of me. That was the whole point in transferring me to Atlanta, right?”

“No.” His hold tightened. “The point was to get you away from Jack.”

“Then I guess that plan didn’t work so well, did it? Maybe we should’ve stuck to
my
plan, you know, when I said that Jack might try to take me again.” And he had. “But you wanted to be the bait.”

The plan had gone to hell. They were both just lucky to be able to walk away. “But my idea wouldn’t have worked, either,” she heard herself whisper. “He knew about the GPS chip. He cut it out of me right away.” Her shoulder still throbbed.

“Rachel...”

Enough. She
had
to get away from him. Rachel pulled from his arms. She started walking blindly. Thomas was gone, but there would be another agent on the scene who could give her a ride home.

“I thought you were dead.”

Her steps faltered. She was so cold and bone tired.

“When I pulled you out of the water, your body was like ice.”

“I got tangled in a rope. Maybe some old netting.” She didn’t really remember for sure. Rachel looked down at her hands. The nails were ripped. Torn. She’d fought so hard to get free.

“I wasn’t coming out of the water without you.”

The chill she felt got worse. Rachel shook her head in automatic denial. He was just talking in the heat of the moment. The old EOD code...they didn’t leave teammates behind. But
of course
Dylan would’ve surfaced. He wouldn’t have died for her.

With her?

Rachel looked back over her shoulder. Dylan stood, just as she’d left him. His eyes glittered at her. “I wasn’t letting you go then.” He strode toward her and caught her in his arms. “And I’m not letting you go now.” He held her so tightly that she could barely draw in a breath. His head pressed into the curve of her neck, and Rachel felt the shudder that racked him.

“Dylan?” This wasn’t like him. Even during their most dangerous missions, he’d never—

“I
can’t
let you go, Rachel. I need you too much.” His head lifted. “Come with me. Just...
come with me.
Because if I don’t keep you close tonight, I think I might go crazy.”

There were questions to be answered, statements to be given. The EOD had to clean up the chaos that Jack had left behind. Since Dylan was in charge of this mission, that meant the EOD needed him.

“You should go back to headquarters.” She needed to crash.

“He’s contained.” His voice was a growl. “Everything else can wait a few hours.
You can’t wait.
”

Then he had his fingers wrapped with hers. He pulled her away from the scene and toward a waiting car. They climbed inside. Rachel didn’t speak. At that point, she wasn’t sure what to say.

I never loved you.

Hadn’t she already said enough to him?

He cranked the car. A remembered tendril of fear slipped through her, but the engine started easily. They left the harbor.

Rachel wasn’t sure what would happen next but she did know that her life was changing.

The EOD was done for her.

Jack was off the streets.

And Dylan? Her gaze slid to him. She’d never seen him quite like this before. A hard, dangerous edge clung to him and his body was tight with intensity. She had the feeling that his powerful self-control could snap at any moment.

When it did, there would be no going back.

Chapter Nine

“You need to get out of those clothes,” Dylan said as he shut the door behind Rachel.

He wanted to touch her again, to pull her against him. He couldn’t seem to touch her enough.

She’s alive. She’s safe.

He had her in his home. Soon he planned to have her in his bed.

Rachel glanced at him. Her eyes were so wide. “I don’t... I don’t have anything to wear here.”

“You can wear one of my shirts.” He motioned toward the bathroom. “A hot shower will make you feel better.”

“I don’t know...” Her voice was hesitant. “I feel like I’ve already had enough water to last me a lifetime.” But she headed for the bathroom.

He locked his muscles and didn’t follow her.

She’s alive. She’s alive.
Those words were the mantra that he had to keep repeating to himself.

Because every time he closed his eyes, he saw her, limp in his arms.

Don’t leave me.

He raked a hand over his face. He had to make some plans—fast and furious plans. Rachel was going to try and slip away. That couldn’t happen.

He’d screwed up. Royally. He’d only been trying to keep her safe, but Rachel wouldn’t have seen it that way. She would’ve thought that he was doubting her abilities. Doubting her.

I was an idiot.

He’d been torn in two. Torn between the leader and the lover.

The lover had won the fight. He’d moved heaven and hell to get Rachel taken off the case. And the lover had been the one to suffer when Rachel stared at him with betrayal in her eyes.

How do I fix this?

Dylan didn’t know, but he had to try. He had to do anything, everything, to make her look at him with trust in her eyes again.

He could hear the rush of water from the shower. Good. The water would warm her. Dylan hurried into his bedroom, stripping off his shirt as he went. He could use a shower, too. Actually, he could use a shower
with
Rachel, but that wasn’t going to happen.

At least it wouldn’t be happening any other place but in his fantasies.

She needs time to heal. She was under the water for too long.

He kicked away his boots. Tossed the socks that clung to him. He reached for the snap of his jeans, but then—then he thought he heard Rachel, crying out.

In an instant, he was at the bathroom door. “Rachel?”

She didn’t answer him. He lifted his fist and pounded on the door. “Rachel, are you all right?”

He heard a faint sound. A cry?

Dylan turned the knob. It was unlocked—and he was
in
that bathroom in the next instant.

Rachel was under the spray of the shower. Her shoulders hunched.
Crying.

His heart twisted. No, the damn thing seemed to break in his chest.

She turned toward him then. His beautiful, strong Rachel. The water slid down her body. “I thought he’d kill you,” she confessed.

And he would have died to protect her, in an instant.

Dylan ditched his jeans. He climbed into that shower with her. He wrapped his arms around her and let the water pound down on them both. Her tears ripped into him. He
hated
to see her in pain. “We’re safe, baby. It’s over for Jack.”

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

Steam rose around them.

“You know that, don’t you, Dylan?”

I never loved you.

He swallowed and raised his head. He tipped back Rachel’s chin so that he could stare into her eyes. “I know.” Then, because he couldn’t hold back any longer, because her tears had broken his control and there was no going back for him, Dylan put his mouth on hers.

He’d breathed for her before.

Did she have any clue that he
lived
for her now?

Her arms rose and curled around his neck. Her body—wet, silken skin—pressed to his. Her lips opened. The kiss started soft, but they were both too raw for the gentleness to last.

Passion, need, grew.

His tongue thrust into her mouth. He licked her, tasted—demanded
all
from her.

Just as she demanded everything from him.

His hands swept over her body.
Touch her everywhere. Keep her close.

He wanted her with him, always.

His fingers caressed her breasts. They were so perfect. They fit in his hands like they were made for him. He lifted her up, holding her easily. He took her nipple into his mouth. Sweet. So amazingly sweet.

She moaned and her hands slid over his back.

He kissed her flesh. Small scars that marked her body. That made him ache because he hated that she’d suffered.

On missions.

Because of Jack.

He kissed her scars again and wished that he could take away her pain.

His fingers were around her waist, holding her up against the slick tile wall. Her legs were parted, and he pushed against her. He wanted inside her more than he wanted his next breath.

Make it perfect for her.

He turned, lifting her from the shower and then letting her feet touch down on the bath rug.

“Dylan?”

He loved the way she said his name. Husky. Sensual.

He yanked on the faucet, turning off the water, then grabbed a towel and took his time drying every perfect inch of her.

He didn’t bother wiping the water from his own body. “I was supposed to savor you.”

Her breath caught.

“And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” It was time to show Rachel that he was a man of his word. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He spread her out on the covers then just took a minute to look at her.

Rachel’s cheeks were flushed. Her eyes shined. Her lips were red and full. She was wonderfully
alive.

Her nipples were tight, tipped pink. He slid onto the bed. Covered her but made sure not to crush her body.
Savor.
He would do just that. He wanted Rachel to realize how important she was to him.

He started by stroking her, kissing her. He learned every spot that made her tense. Then he made her gasp with pleasure. He learned how to make her tremble and how to make her ask for more.

Her legs parted for him. He explored her, so aroused that he ached, but he held back.

He brought Rachel to her first climax. She arched against his hand. Moaned his name, and he drank the pleasure from her lips.

For her second climax,
he
was in her, sheathed as far as he could go. He’d pulled away from her only long enough to take care of the protection.

His thrusts grew stronger, harder, and Rachel matched him perfectly. Her eyes were on his. He swore that she could see right into his soul.

Her second release hit, and her inner muscles squeezed around him. He withdrew, thrust, held as tightly to her as he could—

And the world exploded for Dylan. Pleasure hit him, surging over him in the most powerful release of his life.

He kissed Rachel. Held her close.

When the pleasure faded, his head lifted. He stared into her eyes.

“When...” Rachel licked her lips. “Do I get to savor you?”

Dylan found himself smiling down at her even as he thought,
The woman is going to break me
.

* * *

T
HOMAS
A
NTHONY
ENTERED
the interrogation room with silent footsteps. Walking silently was pretty much second nature to him, and it was a habit that had come in handy since he’d joined the EOD.

The prisoner in that room was cuffed—both with wrist restraints and ankle cuffs. An armed guard stood behind the assassin known as Jack.

But Jack didn’t look intimidated. He glanced up at Thomas, a smile on his face. “I was wondering when the party would get started.”

Thomas didn’t speak, not yet. He crossed the room and pulled out the chair across from Jack.

Jack’s smile widened. “This is a waste of time.”

“I don’t think so.” Thomas didn’t glance toward the mirror on the right, a two-way mirror that let those in the observation room watch this little scene play out. “We have your fingerprints, your DNA. In just a little while, we’ll know who you really are.”

“You already know.” A shrug. “I’m Jack.”

“You’re a killer who hides behind cards.” Thomas leaned forward. “You’re going to spend the rest of your life in a cage. You’ll be damn lucky if you ever see daylight again.”

Jack laughed. “Don’t count on that...not yet,
Dragon.
”

Thomas didn’t let his surprise show. Only EOD agents called him by that moniker.

Jack lifted a blond brow. “I guess we all hide behind something, don’t we?” Then Jack rolled his shoulders. “But I’m done with this little chat.” His hands slammed down on the table and his head turned toward the mirror. “You’re watching. Mercer, that’s your name, isn’t it?” Jack whistled. “If you only knew how much I’d been offered to put a bullet in your heart. Your death...it’s always the most requested.”

Jack knew far, far more about the EOD than they’d realized.

“I have connections that you can’t even dream about,” Jack said as he stared at his reflection. “Ties to individuals that I know you’d love to—ah, wait, what’s your word?
Contain.
”

“Right now, you’re contained,” Thomas told him.

Jack’s gaze cut to him. “Am I?” He seemed surprised.

What kind of game was the guy playing?

“I have intel.” Jack focused on the mirror once more. “Intel that you need. But I’m not just going to spill to the first agent who walks into the room.” He straightened. “No offense, Dragon.”

What?

“I’ll talk to my Rachel, or I won’t talk to anyone.”

Thomas sighed. He rose from his chair and slowly stalked around the table. Then he brought his face right in front of Jack’s. “Do I look like I care what you want?”

“You look like a lackey to me. Someone who doesn’t have the power to make a call like this.” A smirk was on Jack’s face. “You think I don’t know how valuable I am? Why do you think Mercer didn’t give orders for me to be taken out instead of contained? He wants my intel.” Jack shrugged. “And if he wants it, then he’s going to have to play by
my
rules.”

* * *

N
OELLE
E
VERS
STARED
through the two-way mirror. Mercer was beside her. Silent. Watching.

“He’s still trying to pull the strings,” Noelle said. Jack’s behavior was just as she’d expected. The man was a control freak. Every act, every kill—it was about power to him, not about the money.

“He’s also still trying to get Rachel Mancini,” Mercer murmured. He glanced at Noelle. “But after what went down at the harbor, how is he going to react if he does see her in person?”

Seeing as how Rachel had pushed the man out a third-story window, probably not so well. “The attachment is still there. If you want to make him talk—” she knew that Mercer did “—then Rachel is your best bet.”

Noelle didn’t doubt that Jack had secrets to tell. Secrets that Mercer wanted to hear.

The door opened. She glanced over and saw Thomas stalk inside. “He’s a smug SOB,” he said, disgust in his tone.

He came to stand next to her. Noelle automatically tensed. She did that every time Thomas got too close.

Her job was to profile for Mercer—to watch both the agents at the EOD and the “suspects” that were brought in for questioning. Mercer wanted to make sure that he had no more rogues in-house at the EOD. He also wanted her help at getting into the minds of his enemies.

Since she owed Mercer more than she could repay Noelle had traded in her job at the FBI for some time with the EOD.

And with Thomas Anthony.

She looked up and got caught by Thomas’s golden eyes. There was just something about him that was so familiar to her, but Noelle could
not
remember when they’d met.

“Is he bluffing?” Thomas demanded. “Or will the guy actually talk if Rachel comes in?”

She hesitated. “It’s a game to him. He wants to be the one who wins.”

Thomas shook his head. “That’s not an answer. Is the guy going to tell us what we need to know or not?”

Mercer’s phone rang then. He answered immediately, moving to the side.
“What?”
She heard him say. “Hell, no, that just makes things harder.” He ended the call abruptly and glanced back at her.

“We were right,” Mercer said as he inclined his head toward the interrogation room. “The guy is ex-military. His real name is Kenneth Cross. According to the match we just found in the system, that guy was part of the U.S. Army 75th Ranger Regiment.”

Noelle knew the situation had just gone from bad to much worse. Kenneth wasn’t just a killer, but they’d always known that. His ranger status put him in a whole new category.

“His file said he died in battle.” Mercer’s jaw hardened. “Guess which senior officer signed off on that death? I’ll give you a damn hint. Old
Jack
in there killed him recently.”

“William Harris,” Thomas muttered.

Noelle focused on the cuffed man once more. He still had a faint grin on his face. “A ranger won’t break during interrogation.” And this guy...he was exhibiting behavior that made her strongly suspect psychopathic tendencies were working in his mind.

But the attachment to Rachel doesn’t fit.

During all of her years of study and her work in the field, Noelle had found that psychopaths rarely formed any sort of real attachment to other people. Others simply didn’t have meaning to them. Sure, some psychopaths would mimic the behavior of attachment. They’d go through the motions, but it wasn’t real.

“Maybe he’ll break,” Thomas allowed. “Maybe he won’t.” He straightened his shoulders. “With your permission, sir?”

Mercer hesitated. His eyes narrowed as he studied Kenneth Cross.

“He’s not going to break,” Noelle stated again. But...this
was
why Mercer wanted her there. To tell him what she thought. “He’ll withstand pain. He might even
enjoy
the pain. He’ll like having the power, because he knows he has information that you need.”