“He does not,” Lucy said emphatically.
“I don’t know,” he said, suddenly exhausted. He pulled Lucy back down to him. “Just stay with me, Lucy. Please forgive me. I will never let you down again.”
She pulled back and for a minute he thought he’d lost her. She stared at him, her dark eyes full of something unreadable. He’d always been able to read her … but she’d changed. Something fundamental inside her had changed. For better? For worse? He didn’t know.
“Sean, we can’t make promises we can’t keep. Neither of us. If you put that weight on your shoulders, you will suffer for it. I will disappoint you. You will disappoint me. We will both say and do things in anger or sadness or pain that will hurt. But I know that you love me. That you take me for who I am. That you aren’t going to try and change me or fix me, but you’ll always pick me up and make me stronger. You will carry me when I can’t walk. And I’m just as much to blame for you lying to me about Jesse.”
“No, Lucy, that’s all on me.”
She smiled, just a bit. “Okay, most of it. But part of it is my responsibility. For the last two years, I have leaned on you for everything. I have depended on you for my sanity when things overwhelmed me. You have always been here for me. Always.”
“I wasn’t—not this week. When you needed me the most.”
“And that’s it—because you weren’t here, you thought you were protecting me by keeping this information to yourself, but I learned that even though this case was the hardest case I hope I ever have, and even though I wanted you here to lean on, I made it through. There were a few moments I didn’t think I could … but I did. That’s because of you. I am stronger because of you, but you don’t have to coddle me and nurse me back to emotional health every night. You enabled me to stand on my own feet, to take the good with the bad. To survive.”
He touched her cheek. This woman was incredible in every way. “You have always been a survivor.”
“Physically, yes. But emotionally, everything is locked up tight. And it needs to be, most of the time, so I can do my job. But I survived this week emotionally because of you.”
“I will try never to disappoint you.”
She smiled. There was a glimmer of light in her eyes. Just a small beacon of hope, but suddenly the weight of Lucy leaving disappeared. She wasn’t leaving him. She was here.
She’d stayed.
“That’s better,” she said. “We’re going to need to talk.”
“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?”
She climbed off his lap and pulled him out of the chair. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “We’re going to talk about how you gain parental rights.”
His heart skipped a beat. “Lucy—you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to be part of this if you don’t want to. I—”
She put her finger to his lips. “Of course I want to be part of this because it is your life. The good and the bad. We’re getting married in six weeks. For better or worse.” She kissed him. “Jesse is your son. He deserves to know you, to know Kane, to know the Rogans. More important, you deserve to be part of his life. We’re going to find a way to ensure you can see him.”
Sean pulled Lucy to him so tight he was afraid he’d break her. Except she wasn’t breakable. Not anymore. “I love you, Lucy.”
She took his hand and pulled him away from her office. Then she stopped and smiled. “I don’t have to be at headquarters until noon tomorrow.”
“Eat. Sleep.”
She lay back on the bed, pulling him down to her. “Make love. Then maybe food and sleep. And then repeat.”
She put her hands on his face and held him above her. He saw the truth in her eyes. She had changed. Something fundamental, deep inside. But she was here, she hadn’t left him even though he had screwed up. She hadn’t left him, and he would never give her another reason to even consider it.
“That sounds like the perfect plan.” His voice was rough around the edges.
“I’ve missed you, Sean. In every way.”
Sean kissed Lucy as if it were the last time.
Read on for an excerpt from
MAKE THEM PAY
by Allison Brennan
Available in March 2017 from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
CHAPTER ONE
Kane Rogan had been a Marine and a mercenary, and had devoted his life to Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid Protective Services. He was ruthless when necessary, but preferred clandestine operations to violent encounters. He wasn’t a soft man, but he wasn’t cruel.
Still, he had a deep-seated anger for those who hurt innocent people. And a violent rage against those who bought and sold human beings like property.
If Kane had known that the FBI had that bastard Angelo Zapelli in custody, then let him go, Kane would have taken him out before he crossed the border. He didn’t care about any rights Zapelli claimed to have, or a supposed illegal search and seizure—which resulted in saving dozens of lives. He didn’t care that Zapelli was a Mexican citizen or that he had been detained without probable cause or any of that other legal bullshit which separated Kane from some of his closest friends.
Angelo Zapelli had sold his pregnant girlfriend and her sister into the sex trade where they suffered at the hands of brutal men and women, all for sick thrills and profit. Zapelli didn’t deserve to live, he didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as the women he betrayed.
For the two weeks Kane Rogan watched him, Zapelli clearly felt no remorse for his actions. But it wasn’t until Zapelli started talking up a young and obviously underage girl that Kane knew the bastard hadn’t changed. That he would once again sell girls into the sex trade, or abuse them himself.
Neither of which was acceptable.
Which was why Angelo Zapelli now sat tied to a wooden chair in the middle of a decrepit barn outside Monterrey, Mexico. His face bled—from his mouth and a cut across his cheek and a gash on his forehead that would scar if Kane didn’t kill him. A tooth that must have already been loose lay in a ring of bloody saliva on the ground in front of Zapelli. Kane hadn’t tortured him, not yet, but Zapelli had put up a fight and Kane enjoyed taking him to the ground. Kane planned on killing him and he wouldn’t bring his team or his family into it.
Not this action. Not this time.
Zapelli tried to put up a tough front, but he was soft. Strong and powerful around young women he could manipulate, use, and bully; but he was weak inside, with clean hands and manicured nails. He fought, but now he cried. He’d lost his rage because he wanted to live.
Zapelli knew exactly who Kane Rogan was and what he could do.
“I swear,” Zapelli pleaded, “I’m not doing anything wrong!”
Kane remained silent. He sat on a chair in front of Zapelli, gun in hand. Silence drew confessions from the weak better than torture.
Kane rubbed his jaw. Zapelli had gotten in one left cross, but that was it. Sore, a little bruised, but the punch hadn’t even broken his skin. He stared at Zapelli. Sweat dripped down his face, mingling with the drying blood. He pontificated, lied, begged. Then lost it.
“Fuck you, fuck you!” Zapelli screamed. “You’ll be sorry. If I die, everyone in your fucking family will die. You think I don’t know who you are? Do you think I don’t know that fed is your fucking sister-in-law? Do you think she’s unreachable?”
Kane kicked the chair over. Zapelli fell hard, unable to brace himself against the hard-packed dirt. He was stunned into silence.
“You won’t do anything because you’ll be dead,” Kane said calmly.
His family had been threatened before; they knew the risks. Kane had read Lucy into the program, she had made many of her own enemies, she was cautious and she had Sean. A low-level prick like Angelo Zapelli wouldn’t be able to get to her.
But it wasn’t only Zapelli that Kane wanted.
Kane had spent the last few weeks putting together the players in the human trafficking organization that Zapelli fed. The Flores Cartel who
ran it were wiped out, their accountant was turning state’s evidence, all but two of the family members were confirmed dead, and their organization was decimated. Kane had someone on the inside making sure the youngest Flores brother didn’t start up the operation again.
But Kane understood this business well enough to know that there were others who would fill the gaps, and that the Flores Cartel was the head. Kane might have cut off the head, but those who answered to them would be taking over, and Kane wanted to make it clear that there would be no more black market babies. The sex trade was bad enough, but to use these women as breeders, sell their babies, put them back into the business … it was worse than cruel. It was evil.
Kane would not tolerate it.
He rose from his chair, walked behind Zapelli where he still lay stunned on the ground, and pulled up his chair. When he was sitting up again, Kane re-secured his restraints, then returned to his own chair. He had all day. Hell, he’d stay here all week and watch Zapelli die of dehydration.
“What the fuck do you want?” Zapelli sobbed.
“Your contacts.”
“They’ll kill me!”
Kane just stared at him.
Sweat dripped into his eyes and he blinked, full panic.
Yes, asshole, you should be very scared.
Zapelli continued to beg, swear, argue, threaten, plead … he tried every tactic and Kane sat there.
Kane wanted to kill him. He’d planned to kill him.
But he’d promised he wouldn’t.
He never made promises like that, and it bothered him on more than one level. Not only because it tied his hands in an operation, but because Siobhan Walsh had figured out his plan without him so much as saying a word.
Since when had the infuriating, sexy, too-smart-for-her-own-good redhead been able to read his mind?
“I know what you’re going to do, and I won’t stop you,” Siobhan said the night he left.
Kane stared at her. “You know nothing.”
“I want to kill him, too. Marisol wants to kill him. But remember what you told her, just two days ago? You can’t come back from murder.”
“He wouldn’t be the first man I killed.” He’d said it to scare her, but Siobhan didn’t scare easy.
“You need information, you’ll get it from him. But he’s not worth another piece of your soul.” She stepped toward him. He didn’t move. He didn’t dare move.
Siobhan whispered, “I still love you, Kane.” She kissed him. He stood rigid, willing himself not to respond to her. She stepped back and smiled, just a little turn of her lips, and he itched to take her to bed, right then, show her that he wasn’t the man she thought he was. That he took what he wanted, and he had wanted her for years.
But Siobhan wasn’t a one-night stand. She wasn’t a woman he could screw, then walk away. She was a woman who demanded lovemaking, not mere sex. She knew it, and still she pushed him. “I will love you no matter what you do in Monterrey. But you’re better than Zapelli. You’re better than all of them. I’m not letting you disappear on me again, not anymore. I will hunt you down and make you realize that you are the man I see, not the man you think you are.”
And then she walked away. Siobhan walked out of his bunk and left him shaking with a hard-on.
He didn’t want to love anyone; love was dangerous.
He especially didn’t want to love Siobhan Walsh.
It looked like he had no choice in the matter, because as soon as she walked away, he craved her even more.
* * *
It didn’t take long for Angelo Zapelli to break, and Kane Rogan didn’t have to say another word.
“Fuck you.” But there was no venom, no fight. He was resigned.
“Names.”
Zapelli gave up three names, and after continued questioning, Kane was fairly certain those were the only players Zapelli knew. Kane had heard of two of them. One he was certain was dead. The other in hiding when he found out Kane was looking for him. And the third … a new player? Or an alias?
Kane would find out. He stood.
Zapelli started to cry. “I don’t want to die. Please.”
Had the women he sold as sex slaves cried and pleaded for their lives? Zapelli hadn’t cared about them, and Kane cared less about the whiny, sniveling bastard in front of him. Angelo Zapelli was a waste of oxygen.
But he’d made a promise. Even though he didn’t explicitly say he wouldn’t kill Zapelli, Siobhan had walked away believing he had.
He should shoot Zapelli now to prove to Siobhan that he was unworthy of her and her love.
But Kane was tired. Tired of the violence and the heartache and the misery that he’d been fighting for well over twenty years.
“Is Jasmine alive?”
“I don’t know! I swear, I don’t. I … I think so, but I haven’t seen her, I swear! I’m out of the business. I only work for my dad now. I swear.”
He was blubbering, but Kane didn’t believe him—Zappelli wasn’t out of the business. Maybe this beating would change him, but Kane wasn’t holding his breath.
“If you want to live, tell me one thing.”
“Anything. Anything.”
“Who bought your son?”
Zapelli’s mouth opened and closed and no sound came out, until a gut-wrenching sob. “No. They’ll know it was me.”
Kane raised his gun.
“New York! That’s all I know, someone in New York, a business tycoon who has four daughters and wanted a son. He’s powerful and has money. My son will have everything, everything! Why do you care? He’s not yours! Marisol can’t give him shit, she’s nothing!”
Kane pistol-whipped Zapelli and he fell over again. He holstered his gun and took out his knife.
It took all his willpower not to slit the bastard’s throat.
Instead, he cut the binds at his wrists, leaned down, and said, “I will kill you if you ever threaten my people again.”
He rose and walked away. It might take the sobbing asshole a few hours to get out of his leg restraints, but Kane lived up to his promise. He didn’t kill him.
In fact, he lived up to both promises. He’d promised Marisol that he would find her son, and now he had a lead.
Time to call in the cavalry.
And time to go home.
Home.
CHAPTER TWO
Lucy Kincaid heard her fiancé Sean slip out of bed at four that morning. Monday. She groaned, then stretched and sat up.
He walked over and kissed her. “Go back to sleep.”
“I can’t.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“You didn’t.”
She hadn’t slept well as it was, and neither had Sean. On Saturday he’d received an email from his son Jesse and immediately knew something was wrong, but it was against the rules of witness protection for Sean to contact Jesse outside of the Marshals’ office. Then yesterday, Jesse’s handler in the U.S. Marshals service called because of the email—Jesse had violated the terms of the program by contacting Sean. Sean convinced Jesse’s handler to let him talk to Jesse, and they agreed that a face-to-face meeting might help the twelve-year-old understand the gravity of the situation.
If Jesse left witness protection, he would have a target on his back. And it pained Sean that he couldn’t protect his own son.
Sean sat next to her on the edge of the bed and took her hand. He played with her fingers out of nerves more than anything. “What do I tell him, Luce?”
“The truth,” she said. “He’s just like you, Sean. He’s a smart kid. Honesty is the only way to convince him to do what’s right.”
Lucy had met Jesse briefly before he and his family went into witness protection. It had been bittersweet—Sean had to say good-bye. He’d found his son and lost him in a matter of days, and now, only a month later, he was still having a difficult time accepting the situation. And, evidently, so was Jesse.
“I wish it didn’t have to be like this.” Sean was on edge,
emotional and in pain.
Lucy took his hand, kissed it. “Jesse knows this isn’t your call, Sean, but it’s for his safety. Just think how you would feel if you were in the same situation.”
“Helpless.”
“Yes, but also angry and betrayed and scared. He loves you.”
“He doesn’t even know me.”
“That doesn’t mean anything, and you know it. You saved his life. He wants to get to know his father, and right now it can’t happen.” Didn’t Sean see what she saw? “He’s been emailing you—against the rules—because he’s trying to see how far he can go. He doesn’t understand that the rules—at least, these rules—can’t be broken. It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t know how to fix this.”
“You’ll find a way.” She kissed him. “You don’t have a lot of time.”
“I hate traveling commercial, and they’re making me fly all over the damn country. I don’t even know where he is.”
Lucy didn’t have to explain to Sean why the Marshals were setting such protocols. They both knew it was to keep the Spade family safe.
Sean pulled Lucy into a tight hug. “I love you, Lucy. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
She smiled, trying to show a brave front for Sean. He didn’t need her worries and anxiety when he was so stressed himself. “It’s going to work out.”
He nodded, kissed her. “Twelve days.”
Her heart skipped a beat. They’d discussed eloping, considering everything that was going on in their lives. They’d even gone so far as to talk to Father Mateo about the prospect—the priest who would be marrying them at St. Catherine’s. He’d talked them out of it.
“You’ve earned this wedding. What you two have been through these last two years, you deserve this one day of joy and love in front of God, family, and friend. And Lucy,” Mateo added, “your mother scares me. She calls me twice a week about details, and if she can’t see you get married, she’ll probably curse or haunt me for the rest of my life.”
The wedding would be small and intimate, but those they cared about the most—friends and family—would be there. For the celebration. It was a new beginning, and they both needed that confirmation. That whatever life threw at them, they weren’t running away or hiding. That together, they were stronger.
The Lost Girls Page 39
