Evidence of Passion (8 page)

But not here. Not now.

Dylan let the kiss linger just a few moments more. Because he had to
take
more.

But then he pulled back. Damn reluctantly. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes gleamed.

“There’s no going back now,” he warned her.

Rachel’s breath rushed out. “I should be saying that to you. You’re the one walking into danger.”

He was ready for it. She needed to be ready for what was coming, too.

“It’s not...not just part of a cover, is it?” Rachel asked him.

That question had anger piercing through him.
“No.”

“Because I need honesty between us. No matter what.”

He nodded. “And you know what I need?” The gloves were off.

“What?” A whisper from her.

“You. Naked. Beneath me.”

He saw her pupils spread. Her breathing kicked up a little more.

“And I’ll have that,” Dylan promised her.

* * *

J
ACK
WHISTLED
AS
he headed up the stone steps that would take him to his prey.

An old acquaintance, one who’d called him back to town.

Jack knocked on the door. He waved to the nosy neighbor across the street. She waved back.

He didn’t worry about the woman being able to identify him. He had on a baseball cap. A loose sweatshirt. Jogging shorts. He looked like any of the other dozen joggers currently running down the street.

Only there was one major difference between them.

He was there to kill. Not to jog.

The door opened. William “Billy” Harris stood there, his eyes wide. “Who the hell are you?” Billy demanded. “What do you want?”

Ah, even his old mentor didn’t recognize him. It was amazing how time—and a little surgery—could change a man. Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a playing card. “I’m here to finish our business.”

Billy’s eyes widened.
“Jack?”

Billy had been the one to first give him that moniker. They’d been playing cards. The pot had been up to three hundred dollars. Billy had been holding three tens.

But I held all the Jacks.

He smiled and stepped forward. Billy immediately fell back. Jack closed the door. There was only so much that he wanted the nosy neighbor to see.

“I...I can’t believe you answered my email,” Billy said as he ran a shaking hand over his head. Billy hadn’t aged so well. He’d once been a fierce soldier, a leader.

Now his hands shook and his shoulders slumped. The paunch near his middle said the guy didn’t exactly keep up his old exercise routine.

Ah, Billy, I expected more from you.

“It was a shot in the dark,” Billy muttered. “But I was desperate.”

Desperate men would do anything.

Jack shrugged. “I was due a visit back here.”
Rachel waited here.
As did other, new business. Lately, it seemed that Jack’s services were in particularly high demand.

Soon I’ll move on to my next target.
A very big kill. Perhaps the most challenging one of his career.

Yet for now, he had to take care of his current payday and his prey. “You know why I’m here, Billy. I did my part, and you owe me.”

Billy nodded quickly. “I’ll just go get the rest of your cash.”

Normally, Jack didn’t conduct his transactions in person. For Billy, he’d made a special exception. He’d let the guy wire half of the payment to him, the upfront money. And Jack had agreed to collect the remainder due in D.C.
after
the kill had been completed.

Silently, he followed Billy down the narrow hallway.

He knew Billy very well. After all, Billy had been the one to turn him on to this line of work.

The government trained us to kill. Why not use our skills? They’re just going to dump us, to forget us. I say we make sure no one can ever forget just who we are!

Billy had been drunk at the time and furious over a demotion.

Jack hadn’t been drunk. He’d been fully aware. He’d seen an opportunity. He’d taken it.

I get to pick my kills now. And I get paid for it.

The money had never been sweeter.

Billy stood in front of his wall safe. He spun the dial, and it snicked open. The cash was in there.

So was a gun.

Jack could see the edge of the weapon. And Billy, well, the fool was reaching for it.

And that’s one of the reasons why you are my prey today.

Before Billy could swing around with that gun, Jack grabbed the man, and he slammed Billy’s head into the side of the safe. “Wrong move,” Jack whispered. Then he snatched up the gun.

So convenient...it even had a silencer attached.

Billy slumped to the floor. Jack put the gun to his head. “Did you truly think you were going to be able to double-cross me?”

Billy had busted his lip when he’d careened into the safe. Blood dripped from the wound.

“I’ve been at this game a long time now. You aren’t the first to have this idiotic idea.” Jack shrugged. “But guess what happens to people who try to play me.” His fingers tightened around the trigger.

Billy shook his head, frantic. “I wasn’t going to shoot you! It was just for protection, just in case—”

“In case a killer came calling?” He wasn’t in the mood to waste any more time. “Goodbye, Billy.”

“No!”

Just as Billy screamed, a loud pounding echoed through the house—a pounding against the front door of Billy’s home.

Billy’s eyes bulged.
“Help me!”
he screamed as he lunged to the side.
“Help—”

Jack fired.

Chapter Four

“Help me!”

Dylan’s gaze jerked to meet Rachel’s when he heard the scream, then they moved as one, and they kicked in the door to William Harris’s home.

Dylan heard the thud of footsteps, running fast and to the left, going toward the back of the house. He raced ahead, following that sound, and he nearly tripped over the body on the floor.

One glance and he knew it was William Harris. The guy looked just like the photo that had been sent from the EOD. Only in that photo, William hadn’t been bleeding from a gushing wound in his chest.

Rachel knelt on the floor, moving in close beside the injured man. Dylan heard her calling for backup and ordering an ambulance to the address.

Dylan didn’t think an ambulance would be able to do much good. William’s shirt was soaking with blood before his eyes.

“Tried to...get away...” William’s voice rasped out. “Still shot me...chest...not...head...”

Dylan pinned Rachel with his stare. “You stay with him.”

Her eyes widened. “Dylan, you can’t—”

He couldn’t let Jack get away. Dylan lunged toward the back of the house. Jack only had a lead of a few minutes.

Dylan’s hand slapped against the back door, and the old wood swung open. Dylan jumped onto the narrow patio. His gaze swept to the left.

He saw a man scaling a fence. Tall, broad shoulders, wearing a baseball cap, jogging shorts and a sweatshirt.

And gloves.

Dylan knew he was looking at Jack. “Stop!” Dylan yelled.

Of course, the guy didn’t slow down for a second. He heaved over the edge of the fence and ran.

Swearing, Dylan pumped his legs and headed for the tall chain-link fence.

* * *

“L
OOK
AT
ME
,”
Rachel said as William Harris’s blood coated her fingers. The wound was bad. So very bad. The ambulance was en route, but Rachel didn’t think it was going to arrive in time.

William blinked. His face was already ashen.

“Tell me who did this to you.” Because he didn’t have much time left to talk. He was their main lead right then. They needed William to hang on.

His throat worked, but no words came from his mouth.

“We know you hired him to kill Patterson. But he turned on you, didn’t he?” She’d seen the safe. Its door still hung open. “What if he decides to turn on your son, too? Do you want Chris to die?” It was the only card she had to play.

William’s lips moved.

She put her ear next to his mouth, struggling to hear what he said.

“J...Jack...”

Her stomach tightened. “I want his real name. Do you know it? Can you tell me?”

“P-played me...” The words broke on a gasp.

I’m losing him.

“Please!” Her head lifted just a few inches. She wanted to stare into his eyes, but his eyes were shut. “Help me to find him! He shot you...”

“My...own...g-gun... Almost...g-got h-him...”

So he’d been planning to kill Jack?

One double cross for another.

In the distance, she heard the scream of a siren. “The ambulance is so close,” she told him. “Just fight. Hang on.”

His breath slid out. “Not...en-enough...”

No, the ambulance wasn’t close enough.

“Taught him...t-taught Jack...all...”

He didn’t say more. His chest wasn’t rising any longer.

“William?
William?
” Her knees shifted as she edged closer to him, and that was when she saw the playing card that had been under his right arm.

A bloody Jack of Hearts.

* * *

D
YLAN
FOLLOWED
J
ACK
,
keeping his eyes on the baseball cap as the man weaved and dodged through the city.

The killer had dropped some cash in his frantic run. Dylan hadn’t stopped to pick it up. He didn’t care about the money. Only Jack.

The baseball cap vanished as the guy rounded a corner.

With a burst of speed, Dylan rounded that same corner and found himself in an alley.

There was no sign of Jack.
He has to be here, though.
Dylan’s gaze scanned the perimeter. There was no way that Jack had just vanished.

He advanced slowly. The alley stank of rotten food. There was a big garbage container to the right. And the back entrance to a restaurant was just a few steps away from that bin.

Did you think you could escape in there?

Dylan hurried forward. He yanked open that back door. Saw no one. Dylan advanced. When he burst into the kitchen with his gun drawn, a chorus of shouts and screams met his arrival.

All of the kitchen staff members were wearing white uniforms. They stared at him with fear and horror on their faces.

“Where the hell is he?” Dylan demanded.

His question was answered with more frantic shouts. He pulled out his ID, the nice, fake FBI ID that usually gave him a free pass in situations like this one. “I’m following a suspect. White male, six foot two, two hundred pounds. He was wearing a blue sweatshirt, jogging shorts and a baseball cap.” His gaze lasered around the room. “Where the hell did he go?”

But no one knew. They all said they’d seen nothing. No one...but Dylan.

Vanished.

Rage twisted inside him.

* * *

D
YLAN
BRAKED
HIS
CAR
in front of Rachel’s apartment building. Fury still rode him.

Fury and fear.

“I don’t think you should stay here tonight,” he said as he glanced over at her. Actually, Dylan figured that staying at her place was one damn bad idea. “He’s already broken into your place once.”

“And yours,” Rachel pointed out as she tilted her head to study him. “Besides, Thomas is watching the street in front of my apartment. He’s got guard duty. And Mercer told me that the EOD upgraded my security system.”

Yeah, they had. He killed the engine. “If you’re staying here, then so am I.” He had a duffel bag in his trunk, one that he kept ready because he never knew when the EOD would ship him out on a mission.

“You don’t...you don’t have to do that. I told you, Thomas has guard duty. I don’t need—”

“Maybe it’s about what I need.” And he
needed
to be close to her. “Besides, isn’t the master plan for the guy to think that we’re lovers? I doubt that he’ll buy the charade if we’re sleeping across the city from each other.”

Her lashes lowered. Night had fallen on the city, and the only light in the car came from the streetlamp a few feet away. That wasn’t nearly enough illumination to let him read her expression, and he sure wanted to know what she was thinking.

“A charade?” Rachel whispered. “Is that all it will be?”

The memory of their kiss—the kiss they’d had in that car—was suddenly right between them, he knew it was. He didn’t need to see her expression any longer.

But he did have to tread very carefully. “We can be whatever you want us to be.” It had to be her choice, he knew that. But once she did make the choice...

You choose me, then, baby, you will be mine.

“Let’s talk upstairs, then.” She fumbled with the door handle and hurriedly exited the vehicle.

He followed her. And he grabbed the duffel bag from the back of the car. His gaze trekked down the street. The pub was already busy. That place
usually
was, from what he’d seen. But he wouldn’t be going in that pub searching for Rachel that night.

I’ve got her. And I’m not letting her go.
Because he knew the truth now. Rachel wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

He put his hand at her back, then headed into the building with her. For anyone watching, it would look like they were just two lovers, heading in for the night.

They didn’t speak as they climbed the stairs. Rachel unlocked her door then reset the new alarm system. She turned toward him, and he caught the flash of worry on her face. “I have to check and make sure that he hasn’t been here...”

But Dylan was already moving. He dropped the duffel bag on the floor and went straight to her bedroom.

The covers weren’t disturbed this time. No playing card waited for her.

He heard her soft exhale behind him, and he turned back to look at her. Some of the tension had eased from Rachel’s shoulders.

If he could, he’d take away all her fear and worry.

I will. When I take out Jack.

“I need to shower,” Rachel murmured. She stared down at her hands now. “I just...I washed the blood away, but I can still feel it on me.”

He nodded. Dylan understood exactly what Rachel meant. He’d been there before on plenty of other missions. He also knew that while it was easy to wash the blood away, the memory wouldn’t fade anytime soon.

“William Harris hired Jack to kill Patterson. I know he wasn’t an innocent but...” She swallowed. “I wish things could’ve ended differently for him.”

So did Dylan. He could have made William Harris talk. They would have been closer to unmasking Jack. Instead—

He slipped away from me again.

Dylan cleared his throat. “Go shower. I’ll wait for you in the den.” Because if he stood there in her bedroom, with her scent around him any longer, he was going to crack.

He’d take her in his arms.

He’d kiss her.

He’d make her
his.

Dylan slipped past her. The image of Rachel wet, naked, in that shower was already making the tension flood through his body. He was so close to the one thing he wanted most. So close.

“Dylan...”

He stopped at her door. His hand curled around the door frame, his knuckles whitening. “Shower first,” he said, and was surprised by the gravel-roughness of his voice. “Then...”

Then I’m taking you.

He didn’t say that. But maybe, maybe he didn’t have to.

Dylan stalked out of the room before his control shredded. He wanted to be
in
that shower with her, but after what had happened, he knew she’d need a few minutes to herself. A man had died right in front of her. Hell, yes, that would shake anyone up—even a woman as tough as Rachel.

He found himself in her den. Pacing. A fast glance at the clock showed him that it was nearing 10:00 p.m.

And Rachel hasn’t eaten.
The sudden thought shot through his head.

He stilled. He hadn’t eaten. She hadn’t. They’d been too busy at the crime scene. Too busy chasing leads that hadn’t taken them to Jack.

He could hear the roar of the shower. Rachel was in there. Naked.
Wet.

He swallowed. She had to be starving. And, for what he wanted to happen between them that night, the woman would need her strength.

The kitchen wasn’t exactly his area of expertise, so Dylan entered the room cautiously. When it came to cooking, he was woefully behind Rachel. The woman usually took pity on him. She’d bring over dinner to his place at least three times a week. Lasagna or her killer spaghetti. Garlic bread that melted in his mouth.

He opened her refrigerator. It wasn’t going to be pretty and it sure wouldn’t be up to Rachel’s usual standards, but he’d have a meal ready for her by the time she exited the shower.

* * *

D
YLAN
F
OXX
WOULD
DIE
.

Jack stared at the lights in Rachel’s apartment. That guy was up there with her.

Jack should have been the one with Rachel. He was the one she loved. Not the EOD agent.

The EOD. They’d been a thorn in his side for too long. They actually thought they could stop him?
Him?
He was unstoppable. A force of nature.

The government had made him, honed him. Now he was the perfect killing machine.

And I’m ready to kill.

He knew there was a guard outside Rachel’s apartment building. Tagging the guy had been easy, even though the agent did a decent job of sticking to the shadows.

I’m a step ahead.

Always.

He didn’t need to get inside Rachel’s apartment in order to take out Dylan Foxx. He could take steps for the man’s execution from outside.

He just had to plan carefully, had to move all the players right in this little game.

Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a playing card. The Jack. That card was just for Dylan.

Because you’re next.

Jack rarely killed unless money was involved. After all, he wasn’t a monster. He was a businessman. Patterson had just been business.

Dylan Foxx...his death would be both for business and for pleasure.

You should’ve been faster in that alley. If you’d rounded the corner seconds sooner, you would’ve seen me scaling that restaurant wall.

Dylan Foxx kept underestimating him. That was a fatal mistake.

* * *

R
ACHEL
BELTED
HER
bathrobe around her body. She stared in the mirror. The woman who gazed back at her looked nervous, maybe even afraid. Her eyes were too big. Her lips trembled.

Rachel’s hands tightened around the belt.
Get a grip.
Women took lovers every day. Rachel faced down terrorists and madmen on a routine basis. Surely, she had this.

Her breath eased out. She opened the door. Paused.

Dylan matters. I don’t want to mess this up.

Her steps were swallowed by the thick carpeting. She crept toward the den. She’d worked up a semi-speech in the shower. Something that would sound fairly sophisticated. They were friends. Of course they could be lovers, too. They could enjoy one another.

No emotions. Just pleasure. That was the spiel in her mind. It was also a—

Lie, lie, lie.
Because when it came to Dylan, her emotions always seemed to be involved.

Mercer had given them the go-ahead for this charade. Only she and Dylan would know that they’d actually carried things to the next level.