Midnight Rescue: A Killer Instincts Novel (26 page)

He seemed perturbed by her confidence. She tilted her head to see a frown marring his mouth. “It’ll be fine, Kane. You don’t have to worry about me.”

With a frustrated sound, he tried to shift out from under the bedcovers.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

“To tell Morgan about this. We can hire some guards for Silverton, someone to watch over her, make sure she’s safe.” He frowned again. “You should have told me earlier.”

She slung an arm over his muscular chest, keeping him in place. “You can talk to Morgan in the morning. Devlin won’t do anything, not unless I don’t take his next call.”

Kane relaxed slightly. “Fine,” he conceded. “But we’re taking care of this in the morning.”

“Fine.”

They lay in silence for a while. Abby’s eyelids grew heavy. She was too sated, too exhausted to move, and at the moment there wasn’t anywhere else she wanted to be.

“Falling asleep in each other’s arms like normal people is nice,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he agreed roughly. “And stop saying you’re not normal.”

“But I’m not. I kill people for a living. How is that normal?”

“You also get yourself thrown in Colombian prisons in order to save the lives of innocent children,” he pointed out.

She burst out laughing. “How is that normal?”

“I’m talking about the motive, not the method. You saw those girls and your first instinct was to save their lives. Know what that means?”

She smiled in the darkness. “What does it mean?”

“That you’re a good person.” He gave a mock gasp. “Can you believe it? You’re actually a good person.”

“Not as good as you.” She slid her hand down his chest and rested it on his crotch. Almost immediately, she felt him swell beneath her palm.

“I thought you were tired.” His voice was a sexy whisper.

“I’m suddenly really alert.” She stroked him. “So are you, by the feel of it.”

“Why, Abby, are you trying to seduce me?”

“Yes. Is it working?”

Before she could blink, he rolled on top of her, his thick hardness pressing into her thigh. “Yeah, I think it might be working.”

Cupping the back of his head, she drew his mouth to hers and murmured, “Good.”

Devlin called early the next morning while Kane was out with Morgan to meet their helicopter guy. Abby was grateful Kane wasn’t around for this phone call. He’d left his cell at the house, after she made it perfectly clear that if something happened to Amanda Silverton because Kane was too protective to let her handle Devlin on her own, she would cut his balls off.

Apparently he held his balls in high esteem because he handed the phone over without so much as a protest.

“I apologize for being out of touch,” Devlin began cheerfully, “but I had to catch a flight back to Colombia.”

Suspicion crept up her spine. He’d left California? Without touching Dr. Silverton? That couldn’t be good.

“But don’t think the threat to the lovely doctor is over,” he added. “One phone call and Silverton will be the victim of an unfortunate mugging gone awry on her way home from the market.”

“What is the point of all this?” she asked with a sigh. “What do you think these phone calls are going to achieve?”

“They bring me pleasure, luv. I enjoy hearing that
adorable crack in your voice when we speak about your appealing childhood.”

“You’re really screwed up—you know that?”

“Who isn’t?” He laughed. “I finished listening to the last session on the plane. I enjoyed hearing you describe your plan of attack.” Another laugh. “Did you honestly believe you could kill Ted Hartford?”

Tonight she was ready for him.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered in the darkness, one big hand latching onto her thigh. “Remember what happened the last time you fought?”

Oh, she remembered.

She pushed the memory away and sank down at the edge of the bed. “I did at the time.”

“But you were too weak, weren’t you, Abby?”

“Yes.” It hurt her to admit it, but there was no point in lying. “But I grew stronger. I grew very, very strong, Devlin.”

“Jeremy Thomas.” He paused. “Did you screw him too? Was that what he required in exchange for getting rid of Hartford?”

“Jeremy never touched me,” she said through clenched teeth.

A shadow at the foot of the bed. The gleaming silver chain around a thick, corded neck.

“No,” she murmured, spitting blood from her mouth. “No, please…”

But she’d thought Jeremy would touch her, hadn’t she? When he’d pulled Ted off her, when he’d scooped her up into his arms. No matter how many soothing words he’d murmured in her ear, she hadn’t seen him as her savior. Only a new enemy.

The memory of Jeremy’s shaved head and gentle hazel eyes flashed in her mind. He hadn’t been her enemy, though. He’d helped her become strong. Helped her put the past behind her. She could never repay him for everything he’d done.

“You know, you can’t hurt me with this,” she said before she could stop herself.

She immediately regretted the slipup, cursing her stupidity. No. She needed Devlin to think he
was
hurting her. She needed to keep him distracted until they managed to free the girls.

“I’m starting to think you’re right,” Devlin said slowly. He went quiet for a moment, while Abby resisted the urge to kick herself for her foolish error. “Drat. I guess I’ll just have to find another way to hurt you.”

A loud click sounded in her ear. He’d hung up.

She experienced a rush of self-reproach. She’d been supposed to play along, to let him think his little forays into her childhood were truly affecting her. Now he’d be searching for new ammunition, something else to hold over her head.

Damn it. She’d messed up.

With a sigh, she dropped the phone on the bed and left the room, heading for the small, tidy kitchen. Her stomach had been grumbling for the past hour, and she decided to quit ignoring it. Her body didn’t feel as bruised and ravaged anymore, but her injuries weren’t going to heal if she didn’t give them any sustenance.

To her dismay, D was in the kitchen when she entered, leaning against the sink as he ate a bowl of cereal. A pair of black pants encased his long legs and the muscles of his chest rippled beneath his black muscle shirt. He truly
was a formidable-looking man, every inch of him hard and radiating danger. His gaze darkened the moment he saw her.

Abby squared her shoulders. Might as well get this confrontation over with. Kane had already noticed the deep animosity between her and D. The others would eventually notice too.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked breezily.

He made an unintelligible sound, which she decided to take as
yes
. She opened a few cupboards until she found a stack of bowls, grabbed one, then swiped the cereal box he’d left on the counter and poured herself a bowl.

“Look,” she said as she got a carton of milk from the fridge, “I don’t do this often, but I’m going to apologize, okay? I’m sorry about what I said the other day. It’s none of my business what may or may not have happened to you in your past.”

D didn’t respond.

She hopped up onto the counter and took a bite of cereal, then made a face. No sugary cereal in this house. Morgan apparently preferred tasteless lumps of bran. She chewed, then swallowed fast, trying to ignore the bland taste. “I get it,” she said when he remained silent. “You don’t like me. Most people don’t.”

D let out a harsh laugh. “Kane does.”

Discomfort climbed up her spine. “And that bothers you.”

“That you’re fucking our second in command? Yes, it bothers me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re distracting one of our best men.” He scowled. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s sad, really.”

“Kane is a professional. Sex isn’t going to cloud his judgment.”

“It already has.”

Annoyed, she gave up on trying to convince him otherwise. She ate quietly while he stood there on the other side of the kitchen, looking equally annoyed to be sharing the space with her.

Abby took one last bite, then jumped off the counter and proceeded to rinse her bowl in the sink. “I won’t hurt him,” she said softly, keeping her back turned.

“Whatever you say.”

She spun around. “I don’t care what you believe, D. I was planning on rescuing those girls on my own, but the plan changed, all right? You guys interfered and now I’m stuck on the sidelines. You think I like this? I could easily sneak away in the middle of the night and try to do this myself, but it’s too late. You guys are involved now, and I won’t do anything to jeopardize your lives.”

He looked at her dubiously. “If you expect me to believe you’re going to sit in this house twiddling your thumbs and miss out on all the action…”

“Believe what you want,” she snapped. “You think I’m a loose cannon—I get it. But you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” he said coolly.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated. She shoved the clean bowl in the dish rack, dried her hands with the little towel hanging off the stove, and then walked out of the kitchen, leaving him to believe whatever the hell he wanted.

“Remember,” Trevor said as the car neared the long driveway leading to Blanco’s estate, “we’ll be watched at all times. And just because Abby said there weren’t any microphones doesn’t mean she’s right.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve done something like this,” Isabel replied, rolling her eyes. “In fact, I’ve probably done more undercover work than you.”

“Probably,” he agreed. His dark eyes studied her face. “I’m annoying you, aren’t I?”

“Nope. Actually, I think the constant reminders are kind of cute.”

Cute
. Oh brother. Had she really said that? Funny, how a few days ago,
cute
would’ve been the last word she’d use to describe Trevor.
Asshole
, maybe.
Lifeless robot
, perhaps. But not
cute
.

She had no clue when it happened, but somehow, during the past couple of days, she’d actually started to like Trevor Callaghan.

Fortunately, Trevor’s cell phone began to vibrate before Isabel could dwell on the troubling thought. Trevor looked at the caller ID screen and answered the phone with a gruff “Yeah?” He listened for several moments, then hung up with a frown.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Trevor glanced at the partition separating them from the driver to make sure it was up. “That was Abby,” he said in a low voice. “She said Devlin is at the compound. She wanted to make sure I stayed out of his way.”

Isabel felt uneasy. “You said he wouldn’t recognize you if he saw you again.”

“He probably won’t. I look nothing like I did eight years ago, and I only met the guy once. I didn’t even go along on the mission Morgan took him on.”

“But there’s a chance he’ll remember you.”

“There’s a chance,” he conceded. “But I don’t think he will.”

Isabel hoped he was right. They couldn’t afford having
their covers blown. Not now, when they were so close. The car neared the guarded front gate of Blanco’s property. Four dark-skinned men in navy blue uniforms promptly marched out of the security booth, signaling for the driver to halt. Four men—not the two Abby had warned them about. Security
had
been tightened, then.

After the car came to a stop, one of the guards tapped on the driver’s window. “Out of car,” the guard barked in broken English after the window rolled down.

“Here we go,” Trevor murmured.

The two of them exited the vehicle along with their driver. The guards swarmed them, demanding to see ID, then patted down their clothing and mumbled to each other in Spanish.

One of the guards frowned as he discovered the handgun tucked into Trevor’s waistband. He held it up in front of Trevor’s face, demanding,
“¿Qué es este?”

Trevor shrugged. “Protection.”

The guards exchanged a look, and the one holding the gun disappeared into the booth with the weapon. Isabel saw him pick up the phone, his face expressionless as he informed the person on the other end of the line about the situation. A minute later the man returned, his eyes hard. “Gun stays here. You get back when leave.”

Trevor looked annoyed. “If you insist.”

The guard pointed to the car. “Drive. Park at house.”

Isabel smothered a sigh of relief as they were allowed back into the vehicle. Their driver started the engine, and then they continued up the long driveway until the main house came into view. Isabel had seen pictures of it, but the elegance of the sprawling hacienda still surprised her. It had pale cream walls and a green roof, with a large plantation-style porch and an enormous pillared entrance.
Abby had told them the house boasted two large wings—the east belonged to Blanco, and the west featured guest suites and the servants’ quarters. The prison was housed in a separate building at the other end of the compound, and beneath it would be the bunker where Blanco’s “merchandise” was being held.

Most of Blanco’s meetings took place on the rear terrace, according to Abby. Apparently the back of the property had a Playboy Mansion feel to it, the terrace overlooking a kidney-shaped pool surrounded by leafy palm fronds and a grotto that held a twelve-person hot tub. A tad over the top. Isabel preferred her surroundings to be cozy, simple.

Another uniformed guard greeted them at the end of the driveway. This one spoke English, and he was very polite as he informed them that his employer was waiting for them on the terrace. He was also very obvious as he scrutinized Isabel from head to toe, appearing very pleased with what he saw.

She’d chosen a skintight red dress for this meeting. The material barely covered her upper thighs, and her breasts practically popped out of the bodice. A pair of black stilettos completed the ensemble, and today she’d swept her hair up in a complicated twist. She barely glanced at the admiring guard as she linked her arm through Trevor’s and headed toward the front steps.

The interior of the house was as elegant as its exterior. Antique furniture and modern art made for an interesting combination, and the floor beneath her high heels was smooth white marble. When they finally stepped onto the terrace, Blanco was indeed waiting for them, and she was surprised by how short he was. Couldn’t have been taller than five-seven, yet he had a
commanding air to him that made him seem larger. His skin had that leathery look, hinting at too many years in the sun, while his robust body boasted of at least a couple of sins—sloth and gluttony.