Evidence of Passion (3 page)

“Just like always,” she murmured. But Rachel was tense beneath his touch. Far too tense.

The hotel manager stared at Dylan with nervous eyes. Dylan flashed him an ID. An official-looking piece that labeled him an FBI agent. The ID was just part of a cover provided by the EOD, but the manager would never know that. “I’m going to need access to every bit of security footage that you’ve got at this hotel.” The EOD would be confiscating that footage. Then their techs would review it, moment by moment, as they looked for the killer.

A killer who seemed to be back, hunting once again in the U.S.

* * *

H
IS
R
ACHEL
WAS
still as beautiful as ever.

Her hair was a little longer. She used to wear it just to her chin, but now it skimmed her shoulders. It was still as dark, still looked as silky.

She was a bit thinner, and there was a new delicacy to her that hadn’t been there before. Probably because of the recent attack she’d suffered.

He’d heard that Rachel had been in the hospital. A knife attack. Some crazed fool had attacked Rachel in her own apartment.

He’d been furious at the news. No one else was supposed to kill Rachel.

She was
his
.

The man with the dark hair stood too close to her. He touched her too much. Even then, his fingers were on her back.

Dylan Foxx. He knew the man’s name, and he also knew that Foxx was an EOD Agent.

Foxx had ex-military stamped all over him. It wasn’t the too-short hair or the go-to-hell glint that he’d caught in the man’s eyes. It was obvious in the battle-ready way he walked. In the gaze that kept sweeping across the room. The guy was looking for threats.

I’m right here, but you don’t see me.

Probably because he’d borrowed a cop’s uniform. The uniform gave him the up-close access that he needed to the hotel. He’d wanted to see who would be called in for this kill. He’d hoped Rachel would get the case.

She had. Now, finally, things could get interesting again.

He followed two other uniforms out of the hotel. He kept his head down as he walked. Not that he expected anyone to recognize him. Not with the changes he’d been through.

Rachel might look the same.
Just a few slight differences.

He’d altered completely.

And that was why she would never see him coming. Not until it was far too late.

I’ve kept my promise, Rachel. I’ve come back for you.

* * *

“I
S
IT
HIM
?”
Bruce Mercer demanded as his hands flattened on his desk.

Dylan hesitated before answering the boss.

“Don’t try to sugarcoat this mess,” Mercer snapped at him. “Tell me straight...is he back?”

“It’s too early to tell for certain. It could be Jack, or it could be a copycat.” He knew Rachel hoped they were dealing with a copycat, anyway.

Mercer’s eyes narrowed. As the boss of the EOD, Mercer never pulled his punches. “What does Rachel think?”

Just the mention of her name had Dylan tensing. “She’s afraid.”

Mercer grunted and rose to pace toward the window that overlooked the D.C. skyline. They were in the main EOD building—not that most folks would ever realize the nondescript structure housed the elite group of agents. To just get through the doors of the building required a level of clearance that the majority of people in the city would never possess.

Mercer stared out at the night for a moment then he said, “She’s smart to be afraid. If it is him, then he’ll try to make contact with her.”

Dylan’s fingers tightened around the armrests on either side of his leather chair. “She thinks that, too. Rachel said he’d come for her.”

Mercer turned toward Dylan. The EOD boss inclined his head. “She’s right.”

That wasn’t what Dylan wanted to hear. “Do you think he knows she’s EOD? Is he aware that she’s working with us?”

“I think this assassin knows quite a few things,” Mercer murmured. “And I think stopping him is our number-one priority.” A rough sigh escaped from Mercer. “As far as I’m aware, this man only has one weakness.”

Now that news caught Dylan’s attention because he hadn’t thought the killer had
any
weakness. “I’ll exploit it,” he said, more than ready to get his hands dirty on this one. That sicko wouldn’t get the chance to hurt Rachel ever—

“Rachel Mancini is his weakness.”

Dylan’s heart raced in his chest. Instinctively, he shook his head. “The man almost killed Rachel three years ago. She barely escaped him, and you actually think she’s some kind of weakness for the guy?” Dylan shook his head. “Mercer, you’re usually a whole lot better on this than—”

“Do you wonder
why
he didn’t kill her?” Mercer cut through his words.

He didn’t wonder. He knew. “Because she fought him. She got away. She
shot
him,” Dylan gritted out the words.

“From what I can tell, this man has been making his living as a killer for years. He’s never let anyone who he has targeted live, until Rachel. She was his prey. He had her tied up for at least two hours, according to our intel. He could’ve killed her at any point during that time frame.” Mercer rolled back his shoulders. “He didn’t.”

Dylan didn’t like to think of Rachel tied up, scared and alone with the killer known as Jack.

“Did you know that I’ve recently brought a new profiler into the fold here at the EOD?” Mercer asked.

Talk about a change in topic...
Dylan’s eyes narrowed on the guy.

“I think you met Noelle Evers before,” Mercer continued as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “She worked with the FBI, but I...drafted her and convinced Noelle to join our team. It’s on a probationary basis for now because she’s not like the others here. No military background.” His hand fell to his side. “But I think that’s an advantage for her. It lets her see things from a different perspective.”

He needed to get Mercer back on track. “Sir—”

“It was Dr. Evers who pinpointed Jack’s weakness. She saw what I didn’t.”

“And what was that?” Dylan wanted out of that office. Actually, he wanted to go and check on Rachel. She’d been so shaken, and Rachel didn’t usually show her fear.

Except when Jack is involved.

“Dr. Evers realized that Jack
couldn’t
kill Rachel.”

That was bull. “He shot at her—”

“And only hit her shoulder. Even though he was less than five feet away from her. Odd, isn’t it? For a professional killer, I mean. He
should’ve
been able to make that shot.”

Dylan was just damn grateful he hadn’t.

“Dr. Evers thinks that Jack only fired to stop her from hurting him.” Mercer’s gaze held Dylan’s. “The assassin’s plan was to get close to Rachel then to kill her. He got close...”

But never killed her.

“A weakness,” Mercer repeated. “One that we will use.”

Dylan jumped to his feet. “
No.
There is no way I am putting Rachel at risk!” He was protecting her at all costs. “She just got out of the hospital, and you want to send her right into harm’s way?
No.
That can’t happen.”

“I want you with her, Agent Foxx.” Mercer’s voice had hardened. “Whether we
use
her or not, the fact remains that the man known as Jack could be in D.C. right now, and if he is...you can bet he’ll be getting close to Rachel very, very soon.”

“When he does, he’ll find me in his path.” Because
that
was Dylan’s plan. Not to use Rachel, not to jeopardize her in any way. But to be there for her. Always.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Mercer said, sounding satisfied. He even smiled.

Mercer smiling was a scary sight.

“Go find Agent Mancini. I’ll brief you both when I have more information on the Patterson murder.”

Dismissed. Fine. Dylan figured it was about time he got away from Mercer. He spun for the door.

“Oh, Agent Foxx?”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Just be careful,” Mercer warned him. The lines near Mercer’s eyes deepened. “You don’t want Jack’s weakness to become your own.”

Dylan didn’t respond because he already knew that message had come too late.

Rachel had gotten beneath his skin, and, in order to keep her safe, he’d do just about anything.

* * *

N
ORMALLY
, R
ACHEL
M
ANCINI
didn’t care much for bar scenes. She didn’t like the smooth lines that men spouted there so easily. She wasn’t comfortable with the flirtatious talk that she was supposed to use in return to their overtures.

As a rule, Rachel had a very hard time trusting men.

Thanks, Adam—or Jack or whoever you really are.

When the guy you loved tried to kill you, well, it could sure make a girl hesitate when it came to men and future relationships.

But this night wasn’t a normal night, and if Rachel hadn’t escaped the too-quiet atmosphere of her apartment, she was pretty sure she would have gone crazy.

So she’d fled her apartment and headed down to the corner bar. Actually, the place was more of a pub. O’Sullivan’s. Patrick O’Sullivan had opened the pub over twenty years ago, and the place was still thriving in D.C.

The pub was certainly packed that night.

Rachel eased up near the bar. The blond man on her right immediately turned toward her, a wide grin on his face. “Hey there, doll.”

Doll?
Did she look like a doll?

Tall, tan and with carefully tousled blond hair, the guy beside her could have stepped right off the set of some cologne commercial. His smile broadened as he stared at her. His blue gaze swept over her body, way too slowly, before finally returning to her face. “A girl like you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

“But that’s exactly what I want to be,” she murmured back and she semi-tried to keep the annoyed edge out of her voice.

A frown creased the blond’s brow.

But the bartender, obviously having overheard her, laughed.

She glanced his way. The bartender, a dark-haired guy with a well-trimmed beard that covered his jaw, offered her a grin. “What can I get you?” He leaned toward her. “Want to start with Paddy’s Whiskey?”

That sounded like a fine plan to her. Rachel nodded.

He winked. “Be right back.” The faint hint of Ireland rolled beneath his words. He was a good-looking guy. Nice features. Light blue eyes.

So why did she look at the bartender and find herself thinking about a man who didn’t look quite so handsome...a man who always appeared a bit dangerous? A man with dark eyes—eyes that she swore could see straight through her.

Dylan Foxx.

Her gaze shifted away from the bartender.

“You don’t
have
to be alone,” the blond next to her said. Obviously, her earlier comment had gone right over his head.

She gave him a smile. Polite, but firm, Rachel said, “That’s the way I want to be tonight.”

Unfortunately, that was also the way she was every night.

Three years had passed, but Rachel still tensed at the thought of any man slipping past her defenses. Any man except—

“You heard the lady.” That low, growling voice came from behind her. And she knew only one man with a voice like that—Dylan. “Looks like you’re striking out here, buddy. So go try your luck someplace else.”

The blond glared at him. Rachel turned, shaking her head as she gazed up at Dylan. “What are you doing here?” Sure, Dylan wasn’t like her. He visited plenty of bars. But he lived across town.

And this bar was practically in her backyard.

“I came looking for you.”

His words had her tensing. “Has something happened? Has—”

She broke off, realizing that Dylan wasn’t actually looking at her. He was too busy glaring back at the blond. The guy was just sitting there, staring at them.

“Leave,” Dylan barked, using the voice that sent even seasoned EOD agents fleeing. “Now.”

The blond guy fled, but he muttered, “Should’ve said she had a boyfriend...” as he stormed away.

Dylan immediately took the guy’s seat. He exhaled as he got comfortable. “Better. Much better.”

The bartender appeared with her drink. He slid it across the table toward Rachel. “On the house,” he said with a wink.

Surprised, Rachel found herself smiling back at him. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do for a neighbor.” Again, that Irish whispered in his voice. “You don’t know me, but I’ve heard plenty about you.”

His words surprised her.

“My grandfather, Patrick, told me to keep a look out for you, Rachel Mancini.”

She knew Patrick. When she’d first moved into the city, Patrick had been the first person she’d met.

But he’d passed away a few months ago. “I’m so sorry about your grandfather—”

The bartender held up his hand. “So am I, but he wouldn’t want us grieving. To him, life was for celebrating.”

Yes, that was the way Patrick had thought of life—just that way. She’d never seen him without a smile on his face.

“My name’s Aidan. Aidan O’Sullivan. And it’s good to finally meet you.” He offered his hand to her.

Rachel shook that hand, and quickly let him go. For some reason, she was far too conscious of Dylan’s stare on her.

Aidan glanced at Dylan. “What can I get for you?”

“Whiskey.”

Her gaze darted toward him.
He’s still watching me.

“I have everything else that I need,” Dylan said.

He didn’t mean those words the way they sounded. Rachel was sure of that.

Aidan laughed and got the drink. “Hope you have better luck than the last one.” He pushed the whiskey toward Dylan.

Dylan’s fingers curled around the glass. “I will.”

Rachel took a quick gulp of her drink. It burned, in a good way, as it slid down her throat.

Dylan emptied his whole glass in one swallow. His eyes stayed on hers. He had the deepest, darkest eyes she’d ever seen. So dark they almost looked black.