Midnight Rescue: A Killer Instincts Novel (17 page)

Abby raised her voice. “Let. Me. Talk to him.”

“What? No,” Luke said into the receiver. “That was just—”

She was on her feet and snatching the cell from Luke’s hand before he could blink. Pressing the phone to her ear, she squared her shoulders and said, “What do you want, Devlin?”

The delight in his voice was unmistakable. “I knew they were hiding you away, luv. Tell me, how’s my beautiful Erica doing? Or should I call you
Abby
?”

Shit. How had he found out her real name?

“What do you want?” she repeated.

“I just wanted to hear your lovely voice.” He paused. “And I also had a question for you.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” she said sullenly.

“Did it hurt when Leon Garcia sodomized your seven-year-old virgin ass?”

All the air swept out of her lungs in one fast rush. Horror slammed into her, a tidal wave that had her sagging against the table. As her legs shook like trees in a windstorm, she collapsed into the nearest chair. Stunned. God, how did he know about Garcia?

“You still there, luv?”

She clenched her teeth. “I’m still here.”

“Then answer the question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Beside her, Luke’s dark eyes were swimming with concern. He tried to take the phone from her, but she swatted his hand away.

“See, I had the pleasure of paying a visit to an old friend of yours yesterday,” Devlin said cheerfully. “Dr. Silverton—does the name ring a bell?”

Abby worked hard to keep her nausea at bay. “If you hurt her, I’ll—”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he interrupted. “The doctor is safe and sound. I did, however, liberate some very interesting reading material from her office.”

Her files. Dear God, he had her files.

“Now, this is what intrigues me. I listened to the first tape last night, luv. I heard all about Garcia and how he fucked you. Lord, you remembered every last detail, didn’t you, Abby?”

Her fingers shook wildly against the phone.

“But you left out so many curious things,” he went on. “Like how it felt. Why you didn’t fight back.”

“How do you think it felt?” she spat out, the vehemence in her tone making Luke jump.

Jumping to his feet, Luke stormed off the terrace, no doubt to find the cavalry. She barely noticed his departure. She was too focused on Devlin’s merciless voice, the sheer pleasure he seemed to derive from this conversation.

“And you couldn’t fight back, could you, luv? You were an innocent little girl, and he was a big bad rapist.”

“What do you
want
?” she hissed out, determined not to let his words affect her. That part of her life was over. Buried. She refused to let him hurt her with the past.

“You. I want you.”

“You’ll never get me.” She got great satisfaction saying the words. “You’ll never find me.”

“Sure I will.” He suddenly sounded enraged. “And I will punish you for what you did to me.”

“How’s the eye?” she asked innocently.

“You fucking
bitch
.” He was breathing heavily now. “Do you truly think I’m going to let you get away with that? I’m already tracking down Morgan’s whereabouts as we speak. It’s only a matter of time before I find him.”

“Then I’ll leave,” she said, a laugh slipping out. “I’ll leave here and disappear, and you won’t find me.”

“I
will
find you.” His breathing steadied and when he spoke again, he sounded calm. “And until I do, I’m going to keep calling. I’m so very curious about your life, luv. Did all the foster fathers rape you the way Garcia did? Did Jeremy Thomas?”

She ignored that. “Call all you want. I won’t pick up.”

“But you will,” he corrected. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to pay another visit to Dr. Silverton. And this time I won’t break into an empty office. I’ll make sure the doctor is in.”

Bile coated her throat. “Don’t you touch her, Devlin.”

“That all depends on you. You’ll pick up the phone when I call again, won’t you, Abby?”

Gulping down a wave of sickness, she thought of Amanda Silverton’s kind gray eyes, the way she’d sat quietly and let Abby talk, without once pushing her to reveal more than she wanted. If anything happened to Dr. Silverton, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch what you said.”

“Yes,” she choked out. “I’ll pick up.”

“Wonderful. Let me tell you, I can’t wait to delve
deeper into your past. I’m about to listen to the next session on the tape. Will it feature Garcia, or maybe Ted Hartford, the man who used to break your fingers when you refused to—”

The phone was ripped out of her hand. She blinked in surprise, shocked to see Kane looming over her, his green eyes flashing with unrestrained fury. “What the
hell
are you doing?”

It took her a couple of seconds to snap out of the panicked trance Devlin had sent her into. “W-what?”

“Why did you take the call?” he fumed. “William Devlin is a sick sociopath who gets off on tormenting others! How could you sit there and listen to his filth?”

She didn’t answer.

Kane softened his tone. Kneeling at her feet, he looked up to meet her eyes. “What did he say to you? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “And he didn’t say anything I didn’t already know.”

“He’s after revenge,” Kane said darkly.

She stood up, her legs a tad rubbery. “Yep.”

Kane eyed her in suspicion. “Anything else?”

“No,” she lied. She headed toward the sliding door, then glanced over her shoulder. “If he calls again, let me talk to him.”

“Abby—”

“Just let me talk to him.”

“Why, for fuck’s sake?”

She let out a weary breath. “Because Devlin and I have unfinished business.”

Trevor had barely said two words to her since they’d landed at Aeropuerto Internacional El Dorado, Bogotá’s major airport. Hadn’t helped carry her bags either. Before they’d left Mexico, Morgan assured her he’d spoken with Trevor and everything was fine, that Trevor understood exactly what was required of him for this gig.

Isabel wasn’t as confident about that. She’d run into men like Trevor Callaghan before, men who’d lost everything they cared about, men who had nothing left to live for. And as much as she would’ve liked to view him as her partner in crime, she knew she was all alone in this mission. She couldn’t trust Callaghan to have her back, which meant she needed to work extra hard to stay alive.

Trevor remained quiet as they walked out of the airport terminal and into the late-afternoon sunshine. He didn’t speak as they got in line at the taxi stand, as they hopped a cab that took them to Morgan’s uptown safe house. Still didn’t utter a word even when he unlocked the door and led her into the modestly furnished living room.

Isabel gritted her teeth. Jeez. How much longer was
she supposed to put up with this crap? Yesterday he’d been more obliging, actually sitting down with her so they could learn everything they needed to know about each other’s alternate personas. This morning, though, he’d turned into a mute. When Isabel had said good-bye to Abby back at Morgan’s compound, the woman had reassured her that Callaghan was a pro, but Isabel wasn’t so sure. He may have been a pro in his former life, but right now, with his disheveled hair and empty eyes, she couldn’t see how he’d ever be an asset.

“Well.” She cleared her throat. “When are you going to call Esposito?”

Trevor blinked as if emerging from some kind of hypnotic state. “What?” he said roughly.

“Esposito,” she repeated, fighting back annoyance. “We need to set up a meeting with him, which means you need to call him.”

“I have to make a few preparations first.”

That was it. Without even looking her way, he slung the black duffel he’d carried on the plane over his shoulder and strode toward the narrow hallway that probably led to the bedrooms.

What the hell?

Isabel took a few deep breaths to steady the angry beating of her heart. Fine. If he wanted to act like a total asshole, let him. She might have to pretend to be married to the man, but that didn’t mean she had to like him.

She headed for the corridor Trevor had disappeared into. She thought she heard the whir of an electric razor coming from behind one of the three doors in the hall. Hallelujah. She wondered how long it had been since Trevor had picked up a razor. Maybe he wasn’t a total lost cause, if he’d decided to shave.

Tentatively pushing open one of the doors, she peeked into what looked like an empty bedroom and then headed inside. She set her bags down on the twin bed. Trevor was evidently getting into character. Time for her to transform too.

Transform
. The story of her life, she thought ruefully as she unzipped one of her bags. She pulled out the two boxes of hair dye Ethan had picked up from the drugstore in Tijuana and walked into the tiny bathroom across from the bed.

She stripped off her clothes and then, in her bra and panties, stepped in front of the mirror and examined her reflection. Becoming Paloma would be hard work, but she’d played the part enough times that she could do the transformation in her sleep.

First came the dye, which she applied to her hair. While she waited for the chemicals to do their thing, she used the weaker dye on her eyebrows, then reached for a smaller box, read the label, and wrinkled her nose. Damn. She hated the pubic hair part. The memory of the last time slid into her head and she winced as she remembered the burning sensation. Oh, and the itching…

She tossed the box back into her bag. Screw it. She would just wax it all off. Not that anyone would get to see her handiwork. Chances were, she and Trevor wouldn’t need to pay a visit to Blanco’s estate, and unless Callaghan suddenly decided he’d fallen madly in love with her and proceeded to strip her naked, he wouldn’t be getting a peek either.

The thought made her grin.

She sat on the closed toilet seat, waiting for the dye. Twenty minutes later, she was in the shower, washing the
thick black goop off her scalp and watching as it swirled down the drain like sticky tar.

After she’d dried herself off and run a blow-dryer over her head, she proceeded to flat-iron her normally wavy tresses. And then it was time for the makeup.

By the time Isabel stepped out of the bedroom, more than an hour had passed, but she was pleased with her creation. Her hair, black and stick straight, cascaded down her back like a silk curtain. Thanks to the makeup, her skin was at least three shades darker, boasting of Paloma’s Brazilian roots, and the dark green contacts she’d slipped into her eyes gave her an exotic air. She wore a short white sundress with a pair of white high-heeled sandals, adding at least four inches to her five-foot-six-inch frame. The entire look was so familiar she found herself falling right back into character, her normally easygoing gait becoming the hip-swaying sex walk Paloma had perfected.

Trevor was already in the living room when she walked in, and Isabel wasn’t sure who gasped first, him or her.

The man she was looking at in no way resembled the man she’d boarded that plane with. His brown hair was now short and slicked back with gel, and his face was completely smooth, revealing a strong jaw and a cleft chin that his previous thick stubble had hidden. His right ear had a small diamond stud in it, his thick, corded neck was encircled by a silver chain, and the suit he wore… Isabel couldn’t help but appreciate his tall, masculine body, covered in a tailored pin-striped number that hugged his muscular form.

She suddenly experienced a visceral jolt of arousal that left her speechless for a moment. Oh no,
not
a good
idea. Just because Trevor Callaghan was a bona fide heartthrob when he cleaned himself up didn’t mean she had to respond to it.

“You look… like Julian Martin, I guess,” she said.

He shrugged. “I’ve pretended to be Julian for so long it’s second nature to me.”

“Me too.” She found herself stammering. “I mean, being Paloma. Sometimes it feels like she’s actually a real person.”

“I know what you mean.”

A silence descended over the room. Isabel swallowed to soothe her suddenly dry mouth. “Did you bring in a hairdresser when I was in the bathroom?” she asked with a hesitant smile.

“Nope, I’m my own hairdresser. I’m damn good at it too, not to brag or anything. If you ever need someone to cut your hair…”

To her extreme shock, he actually smiled. An honest-to-God smile, and boy, how it altered his face. He went from harsh and soulless to warm and inviting in a split second.

And then, to her disappointment, the smile faded as quickly as it had appeared, and Mr. Harsh and Soulless was back in full force.

“I’m going to call Esposito now.” He moved toward the hallway. “Hopefully he’ll be able to meet with us tonight.”

Isabel stared after him, wondering if she’d imagined that smile. Maybe the contacts were just messing with her eyes. And maybe all the chemicals she’d rubbed on her scalp were creating these weird sensations of desire in her body.

Because she couldn’t actually
want
Trevor Callaghan.

No, of course she didn’t.

She didn’t have a thing for dead men walking, after all.

Trevor could barely draw a breath as he barreled into the bedroom and shut the door behind him. Something had happened to him out there in the living room. He’d seen Isabel Roma’s curvy body covered in that sexy dress, gazed into her smoky emerald gaze, and his body… shit, his body had actually
responded
.

For a moment, a barrage of forbidden images had flooded his mind. Images of him between Isabel’s long, silky legs. Kissing her lush lips. Palming those firm breasts, bringing a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it until she—

No.

He squeezed his hands into fists and banished every traitorous image from his head. His cock, which had swelled at that first sight of Isabel’s new look, now softened, retreating like a defeated soldier on the battlefield.

Gina… God, baby, I’m sorry.

He repeated the words over and over again in his head, disgusted and horrified with himself for betraying his fiancée’s memory.