Midnight Rescue: A Killer Instincts Novel (23 page)

“He left the Rangers a couple of years after the adoption,”
Abby said in a faraway voice. “He said he didn’t like leaving me alone. And then he got sick and—”

The sound of Kane’s phone ringing carried over the water and Abby’s mouth snapped shut.

Damn it. Annoyance thudded in his chest. Just when he was getting somewhere with her, they had to be interrupted.

Abby was already swimming off, and the exasperation in his body transformed into anger. No fucking way. He wasn’t about to let that bastard Devlin ruin another moment with Abby.

Kane moved forward, his long, strong strokes quickly propelling him past Abby. He reached the water’s edge before she did and, dripping wet, stalked across the warm grass toward the tree stump where he’d left his phone. He heard Abby running after him, protesting, but he ignored her. Enough. He’d had enough of Devlin’s bullshit.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” he spat into the phone.

There was a moment of silence, then a hard chuckle. “Good,” came Morgan’s dry voice, “because I was calling to talk to you.”

Kane stifled a groan. Shit. “Morgan?”

“Uh, yeah. Don’t you have caller ID?”

“I didn’t look at… Sorry. What’s up?” Next to him, Abby’s protests had died, and she was now warily listening to his side of the conversation.

“Trev just checked in. He thinks the meeting with Bahar was promising. I’m arranging for the jet to be ready in an hour.”

“We’re flying out?”

“Yep. So get your asses back here and gather your gear. We’re leaving for the airfield in forty.”

By the time evening rolled around, Isabel had had enough of Trevor Callaghan’s surly attitude. He’d been giving her the silent treatment since they’d returned to the hotel, and the distant look on his face was beginning to seriously annoy her.

She’d spent the last hour on her laptop, reading the dossier on Blanco that Morgan had e-mailed her, but it didn’t contain anything she didn’t already know. The man was a violent pervert. Big shock.

Closing the laptop, she glanced over at Trevor, who sat stone-faced on one of the love seats. She didn’t think he’d even blinked in the last hour.

Bristling, she suppressed an irritated sigh and got to her feet. Moving with purpose, she crossed the room and flopped down on the love seat across from Trevor. “Do you plan on sulking all night?” she asked cheerfully.

He slowly met her gaze. “I’m not sulking.”

“Okay, let’s call it punishing yourself, then.” She lifted her legs so she was sitting cross-legged. “Tell me—do you just say
It’s my fault
over and over again in your head? Sort of like a meditation mantra?”

Shock filled his dark eyes. “Pardon me?”

“You heard me.” She kept her voice casual, trying not to feel guilty about what she was doing. Fine, so maybe digging up painful memories wasn’t a pleasant experience, but she couldn’t put up with his pitiful attitude a second longer. “Morgan told me about your fiancée, you know.”

The shock turned to cold anger. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Normally, it wouldn’t be.” Her lips tightened. “But since I’m supposed to be your wife, I find myself very concerned about this. Your demons are going to get us both killed, Callaghan.”

His lips tightened too, a bitter slash across his face.

“Earlier, you were seconds away from breaking my hand so I’d stop touching you,” she said with a scowl. “You could’ve blown everything.”

“But I didn’t.”

She ignored his grumble. “What if Blanco wants to meet with us, Trevor? What if we have to spend the night at his estate? You heard what Abby said about the cameras. I can’t have you pushing me away because you feel it’s some ridiculous betrayal to your late girlfriend.”

“Ridiculous?” he echoed, his voice so chilly she was tempted to shiver. “Gee, Isabel, I’m sorry it’s hard for me to get over the
ridiculous
fact that the woman I was going to marry was shot to death.”

“That’s not what I said,” she said calmly. “I just think you shouldn’t be blaming yourself for something that was out of your control. And you shouldn’t feel like it’s a betrayal when your pretend wife touches your goddamn dick. It’s not like you’re the only one who’s ever lost someone, Trevor.”

“Yeah, and who’d you lose, Isabel?” he asked coolly.

“My mother.” Her voice went soft. “She killed herself when I was ten. I was the one who found her body, okay? So I know all about blaming yourself for not being able to save someone you loved.”

The ice in his voice thawed. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” she said lightly.

Silence stretched between them. She noticed his features were no longer rigid, and she could also see the reluctant curiosity in his eyes. He wanted to know more. She didn’t blame him. The tidbit of information she’d provided barely scraped the tip of the iceberg. Her past wasn’t something she spoke of often. She might have come to terms with it a long time ago, but that didn’t mean it was her favorite topic of discussion.

He cleared his throat. “You were raised by your dad, then?”

“Not quite. My father sent me to live with my grandparents in Jersey. He and my brother stayed in Brooklyn. Dad couldn’t leave the family business.”

Trevor must have heard the derision in her tone, because he frowned. “What kind of business was he in?”

“He owned an Italian bistro. On paper.”

“Mafia?” Trevor asked slowly.

“Number three man for one of the Five Families,” she said in a clipped tone.

“Where is your father now?”

“Prison. Life without parole.”

Trevor studied her. “And your brother?”

“Dead.”

She dropped her gaze to the laptop balanced on her knees and traced the manufacturer’s logo with one finger. The conversation had taken a wrong turn, leading her to a place she wanted no reminders of. Trevor must
have picked up on her discomfort because he gave a harsh laugh.

“Not so fun, is it, talking about your past?” His voice was low and mocking.

“My past isn’t hindering this mission,” she retorted.

He ignored the barb and let out another laugh, this one incredulous. “So you’re a Mafia princess, huh? I never would have guessed.”

“Hardly,” she said, her tone dry. “Actually, I was a Fed.”

Trevor’s eyebrows shot up. “You were with the FBI?”

“Noelle didn’t tell you?”

“I never met Noelle, and Morgan didn’t mention it.”

She leaned back against the cushions. “I was with the bureau for five years. When I first joined, the director wasn’t crazy about my Mob connection, but—”

“They decided to use you,” Trevor finished.

“Yep. But I resigned after the third time they sent me undercover.”

“Tired of playing with the Mob?”

“Hell, yes. When I signed up with the bureau, I was interested in violent crimes.” She smiled faintly. “My dream was to track serial killers all over the country. But the director decided my background made me the ideal candidate for the organized-crime unit. I didn’t like it, so I quit.”

“And went to work for an assassin,” Trevor finished ironically.

“I don’t kill for Noelle,” Isabel said, a little annoyed by the distaste in his voice. “I only do undercover work.”

“But you’ve killed before.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Then again, so have you.”

“More times than I’d like.” His face clouded. “And
sometimes you can kill someone without even pulling the trigger.”

She knew he was talking about his fiancée, but again she suppressed the impulse to ask for details. Instead, she shook her head and said, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that shitty things happen. You can’t always stop them. They just happen. And yeah, you can let them destroy you, but what’s the point? Might as well learn to deal with all those shitty things and move on.”

“Is that what you did?”

“Yes.” She paused. “And you will too. You just have to accept your loss and try your best to live out the rest of your life without letting the loss destroy you.”

“Easier said than done,” he muttered.

She laughed. “Who said life was easy?”

They’d been in the air for about two hours when Morgan slid into the seat next to Abby’s. Kane was across from them, his body still and eyes closed, but she wasn’t so sure he was sleeping. More like waiting. Ever since they’d boarded the plane, he seemed to be waiting for her to open up about the phone calls with Devlin. Like she would actually tell him anything with everyone else around. Luke and Ethan might be across the narrow aisle, but they weren’t out of earshot, and D had been glaring at her since the moment they’d boarded.

Maybe she shouldn’t have goaded him that day in the living room. His private demons belonged to him. Dragging them out in the open hadn’t been her best moment, or a very compassionate one, but then again, who ever said she was compassionate?

“I wanted to talk to you,” Morgan said quietly.

“Huh—yet you’ve been staying out of sight since the
moment your team rescued me from the prison,” she replied.

“I know.” Regret flashed across his face. “Seeing you again brought some old memories to the surface.”

“Of Jeremy?”

He nodded. “Among other things.”

She shifted in her seat to look at him. “You know, I never quite understood your relationship with him. You didn’t treat him like a father figure, but he kind of treated you like a son.”

“He was my commanding officer, not my father,” Morgan said curtly.

“Once, after you came to visit, he told me…” She hesitated.

“He told you what?”

“That you were looking for someone.”

Morgan stiffened.

“But he didn’t offer any specifics.” She paused for another beat. “Did you ever find who you were looking for?”

He released a breath. “No, I didn’t.”

“Are you still looking?”

“I never stopped.”

Curiosity rose inside her, but she forced it down. The expression in Morgan’s eyes told her he didn’t like where the conversation had gone.

So, of course, he quickly changed the subject. “Luke told me you spoke to Devlin.”

“I did,” she answered carefully.

“What did he want?”

“Nothing important.” She grinned. “Just to remind me that it’s become his mission in life to destroy me.”

Morgan cursed under his breath. “You shouldn’t have spoken to him.”

“Why not? He can’t hurt me over the telephone line.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Devlin was certainly succeeding in ripping open old wounds. Yet she knew that wouldn’t satisfy him for long. New wounds were what he was ultimately after. He wanted her dead.

Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t going to happen. She had her own plans for Devlin… once she figured them out anyway. If there was one thing she’d learned from Jeremy, it was that a divided focus always led to disaster. One battle at a time, he’d constantly advised. And the only battle that mattered at the moment was rescuing Lucia and the other girls. Dr. Silverton would be safe as long as Abby answered Devlin’s silly phone calls, but once the girls were free, all bets were off.

Maybe she’d take his other eye first, before she killed him… The thought brought a rush of satisfaction to her belly.

“You’re playing with fire here,” Morgan muttered. “The only reason Devlin hasn’t come after you yet is because my compound is virtually impossible to find. I wish you’d decided to stay there, Abby.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Kane promised I could be on the chopper when the girls are rescued.”

“So you can see with your own eyes that we got them out? Can’t you just trust us to do our job?”

“I want to be there,” she said firmly.

“And to hell with what anyone else wants, right? Fuck, you’re still the same stubborn kid I met twelve years ago.” Morgan cursed again. “You’ll be much easier to track down in Bogotá. Devlin will sniff you out.”

“Let him,” she said coolly.

A second obscenity sliced through the air. She glanced
over and saw Kane scowling at her. “Let him?” he echoed, practically seething. “Are you fucking serious?”

Abby faltered for a moment. How was he surprised? There had never been any doubt in her mind that she and Devlin would face off again.

“Of course,” she answered. “Devlin and I are going to finish what we started in that prison. It’s always been an inevitability.”

“He’s a killer, goddamn it.”

“So am I.”

Morgan’s head moved from her to Kane. He looked intrigued by the exchange. “Nobody is killing anyone,” he said sternly. “At least not until this extraction is behind us.”

“You’re not going near Devlin,” Kane grumbled, as if Morgan hadn’t even spoken.

Abby glared at him. “Is that an order?”

“It sure as hell is.”

From the other side of the cabin, Luke chuckled.

“You don’t give me orders,” she said to Kane, her hands curling into fists. “If I choose to go after Devlin, you can’t do a damn thing to stop me.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Is there a reason why you’re acting like a caveman right now?”

Kane shot her a saccharine smile. “Is there a reason why you’re acting like an idiot?”

Had he just called her an idiot? The soft whistle coming from Luke’s direction confirmed that he had indeed. Lord, you let a man give you an orgasm and suddenly he decided he ruled your life? Well, screw that.

“The subject is closed, Kane,” she snapped. “Seriously, this isn’t open for discussion anymore.”

She thought she heard him murmur, “That’s what you think,” but Morgan swiftly held up his hand to silence them both. “Enough. You’re acting like fucking children. The only thing any of us should be worrying about right now is how to get those girls out of Blanco’s compound safely. Understood?”

Abby sobered instantly. He was right. The whole reason Devlin had targeted her was because she’d risked everything to save Lucia Alvaro and those helpless girls. She cursed Kane for making her forget that.

“Understood,” she echoed. She turned away from Kane’s angry gaze. “I’m taking a nap. Wake me when we land.”

“Where the hell are you?”