Take the Key and Lock Her Up

by LENA DIAZ,

  Devlin stared at Austin, stunned at the wisdom coming from someone so young and inexperienced. Unlike his brothers, Austin didn’t have a career, or even a job, since he was in and out of hospitals so much. And yet everything he was saying made perfect sense and had Devlin thinking—hard—about the possible answers.

  “Ask yourself if whoever knows all that about you also knows about the shortcut to Dad’s house, that turnoff down that same road. The turnoff you take every Friday if you’re in town. I mean, really, how hard would it be for someone to watch your pattern a few times?”

  If he were home, on leave between missions, he wouldn’t have been watching his back. He wouldn’t have thought it necessary. “Not hard at all,” he admitted, seeing no point in denying it. “I wouldn’t have had any reason to think someone was watching me. Maybe you should work for Matt. You’re just as good at figuring out this stuff as he is.”

  Austin grinned, clearly pleased with that comment. “I’m not done. Ask yourself if you really believe the guy calling the shots would risk his assistant being seen with Hawley unless he figured you would be the one to see him, and that you would try to stop him.”

  Devlin frowned. “Why me? Why not Pierce, or one of the others?”

  “Braedon’s too gentle. He couldn’t hurt anyone. Pierce is all about following the rules. Matt’s too unpredictable. But you? You’re trained in self-defense. It’s all part of your survival skills for your job. And you’re not in law enforcement, so you’re not going to care about rules. You’d act on instinct.”

  “You think the killer wanted me to kill his gofer,” Devlin said, his voice quiet.

  “Exactly. You’re six foot three and solid muscle. There’s no chance that other guy would survive a fight with you. None. Now add up everything I just said, along with the fact that your former lover was the victim in that basement, the one wearing Carolyn’s jewelry. In what universe is a coincidence like that even possible?”

  “None.” Devlin couldn’t deny the facts when they were laid at his feet so succinctly.

  Austin laid his hand on Devlin’s forearm. “Devil, I’ll go to my grave lying for you if you need me to. But I’d rather help you out of whatever mess you’re in.”

  Oh, hell no. He wasn’t about to involve his little brother in something that could get him killed. He gently moved Austin’s hand back to the railing. “You can’t help me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying you know who killed Shannon?”

  “Of course not. I didn’t even know she was missing, much less that she was one of the murder victims in that basement. I don’t have a clue who killed her.” Not yet.

  “Then why lie about knowing her?”

  “What do you think would have happened tonight if I’d admitted I knew her?”

  Austin shrugged. “O’Malley would probably have wanted you to go back to the police station and answer more questions. There’s no harm in that. You’re innocent. And if we can get the police looking at you, figuring out who wants to hurt you, that makes more sense than sending them on a wild-goose chase looking into Alex’s past. It could even help save the women who are still alive, the ones the killer abducted.”

  Devlin let out a pent-up breath. He wanted to help those women too, but it wasn’t that simple. There was much more at stake than Austin realized. If the killer were someone who knew Devlin and was trying to draw him out—which was seeming more and more likely—then he would use those women as bait. If the police got too close, there’d be no reason to keep the women alive. The killer would cut bait and run. And when the timing was right, he’d just abduct more victims to try to draw Devlin out again. But that wasn’t something he could explain without revealing his true occupation.

  “This is the same police department that almost put our sister-in-law in prison for murder when she was a victim,” Devlin said. “You do remember what happened to Madison, right? The Simon Says Die case?”

  Austin seemed to consider that for a moment. “Good point. But what choice do you have? Someone who knew Shannon is bound to know you two dated.”

  “It was a year ago, and I never met any of her friends. We haven’t spoken since.”

  “You don’t think she told anyone about you? Girls talk. This is going to come out. Things like this always do.”

  Yes, they did. But Austin was worried about the wrong things. He was worried about the police. The police were the last people Devlin was concerned about. This was way bigger than Detective O’Malley and any heat she could rain down on him. Far bigger, and far more deadly.

  And that was exactly why Devlin needed to get as far from his family as he could. Someone was after him, playing a game. Until he knew who it was and why, he couldn’t risk bringing any danger to the people he loved.

  Lines of worry wrinkled Austin’s forehead.

  “Everything will be okay,” Devlin reassured him. “I just need a couple of days on my own to find out what’s going on.”

  “What do you mean? You’re going to investigate a murder, the abductions? By yourself?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “Why not get Matt to help, or Pierce? Or me, since you said I’m good at this stuff. Let me help.”

  “No way. I’m not involving my family in this.” He winced. “Other than the lie I already involved you in. That’s it. It ends there.”

  “That’s just stupid. You might be just as much of a computer genius as Matt, but he’s better at solving puzzles than you, and has experience investigating crimes. He’s also got a ton of resources you don’t have in that lab of his. And Pierce isn’t exactly a hack as an FBI agent. For that matter, neither is Tessa. Whatever’s going on, they can figure it out.”

  Devlin didn’t doubt that Austin was right. But if his family knew Devlin was the one being targeted, they’d start digging into his background. The average person, even the average cop, wasn’t likely to get past his tour guide front—unless they had powerful incentive and a reason to believe it was all an illusion. But Pierce and genius-level Matt? If they ever felt the need to investigate him, they’d eventually figure everything out. They’d realize what he really did for a living, and that would lead them to EXIT.

  He couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t risk his family hurting the company, or his company hurting them if his brothers became a threat to EXIT Inc.’s mission. He had a duty to protect both his employer and the people he loved.

  He’d chosen his path after Arianna’s brutal murder. He’d known what he was about to do, what he was about to become, and he’d made his peace with it. The rewards were worth whatever price he had to pay. And if it came down to it, he’d pay for his sins with his life. But he would never allow one hair on the head of his brothers, their families, or his father to be sacrificed along the way.

  Austin was staring at him, waiting.

  “You’re right,” Devlin said. “I’m sure they could help. I’m sure you could help. And I’ll ask all of you for help if I can’t figure this out on my own,” he lied. “But I want to try it my way first. All I need is a few days without the cops looking at me, some time to check into a few things to find out what’s going on.”

  His gaze touched on the profiles of each of his family members inside the house as he wondered when he’d be able to see them again. He forced himself to turn away and jogged down the steps to the yard.

  Austin wheeled to the edge of the ramp on the left side of the deck. “You’re leaving? Just like that? What am I supposed to tell the others? What about Alex?”

  He hesitated. “Tell them . . . tell them I got called back to work, an emergency.”

  “An emergency tour? Yeah, right. Some wealthy couple suddenly decided they needed someone to take them down the Amazon River. And they insisted that you had to be their guide so you could fend off the local drug cartel.”

  Austin’s fake scenario wasn’t as far off as he thought. Devlin had been to South America on more than one “tour” that just happen
ed to coincide with the deaths of some very serious drug lords. But since Austin seemed to be waiting for an answer, Devlin shrugged. He was all out of answers.

  His brother stared at him, as if he could see the truth if he tried hard enough. “A few days, huh? You really think you can resolve this that quickly? And that everything will be okay?”

  Devlin was about to tell him yes, but he couldn’t stomach another lie. He turned and let the darkness swallow him up.

  Chapter Nine

  * * *

  JUST A FEW more lights and a handful of blocks to go and Emily could pull into her garage and settle in for the evening. She thumped her hands on the steering wheel, waiting for the traffic light to turn. It was almost ten o’clock. She’d been working solid since dawn and should have been more than ready to call it a day. But there were so many questions swirling through her mind she could hardly sit still.

  Who had killed Shannon Fisher? And why? Had Carolyn Buchanan really been the victim of a single-car accident, or had someone orchestrated her death? There was no evidence to suggest otherwise, but Emily was questioning everything, accepting nothing at face value—especially if it related to the Buchanans.

  Where were the missing women that Mrs. Hawley said were still being held prisoner? Were they in a remote cabin? A house? All Hawley remembered were trees, lots of trees, and driving down endless two-lane roads. Part of the time she’d been blindfolded, so her recollection of directions was unreliable.

  She’d heard the other women’s voices, but she’d seen only one of them face-to-face—the woman she’d described to the sketch artist. Had the killer wanted her to see that particular woman but not the others? Was it possible he’d intended for Hawley to escape so she could tell the police about the woman she’d seen? Was that why the killer always obscured his face when he was with Hawley? The idea that he’d wanted her to escape didn’t make sense, but it was within the realm of possibilities, so Emily stored the question with the others to take out later and consider. She might not have many answers, but there was one common denominator when she looked at what few answers she had.

  Devlin Buchanan.

  Everyone else seemed to accept that he was no longer a person of interest. But Emily couldn’t put him out of her mind no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately, part of the reason was the damn chemistry that zinged between them every time they were within ten feet of each other. She hated it, hated the way her respiration sped up, her pulse quickened, even how her breasts tingled the few times he’d touched her.

  Well, hate might not be the right word.

  He made her feel . . . good, really good—a first-crush/first-love, tingle-of-awareness kind of good that tightened her skin and set every nerve ending on fire just to hear the rumble of his deep voice or watch the fascinating flex of muscles in his arms. She longed to score his biceps with her nails and feel his muscles bunch beneath her hands, slide her fingers across that sexy scruff along his jaw. She wanted to pull his mouth down to hers and—

  The high-pitched whine of a horn sounded behind her. The light had turned green. She waved an apology in her rearview mirror and accelerated through the intersection. Her body flushed with heat at the realization that she’d lost all track of her surroundings while fantasizing about a man she barely knew. A man full of secrets. A man her intuition told her was dangerous.

  Was that sense of danger because she’d seen him in action, seen how efficiently, effortlessly, he’d killed Hawley’s abductor? She’d like to believe that was the only reason she had doubts about him. Because then she could pursue her heady rush of attraction for Devlin. He certainly hadn’t shown any reaction to either Shannon Fisher’s photograph or the sketch she’d shown him earlier tonight. That should have reassured her.

  It didn’t.

  The sixth sense that made her a good detective told her there was something sinister behind those secrets Devlin was trying so hard to hide. Her instincts were rarely wrong when it came to ferreting out the truth. So she wasn’t going to ignore them now.

  The only thing she was nearly certain about was that he’d purposely tried to steer her toward believing his father was the killer’s real target. As Shakespeare would say, he “doth protest too much.” Devlin’s warnings about his father being in peril made her even more suspicious that he was trying to redirect her investigation away from himself.

  The last light turned green, allowing her to make the final left turn down her street. Her one-story Craftsman bungalow normally shined white beneath the streetlight in front of her yard. Not tonight. The light was out. She’d have to notify the city tomorrow so they could replace the bulb. She pulled into her driveway and reached up to click the garage door opener mounted to her visor but paused with her finger on the button.

  What would she do once she was inside? Pace the floor all night thinking about the case? She was exhausted but keyed up at the same time. She had a feeling sleep wouldn’t come easy, if at all. Unanswered questions hammered at her skull, begging to be explored.

  She dropped her hand from the garage remote. Right now, more than anything else, she needed to know who Devlin really was. Because he sure as hell wasn’t a simple tour guide, no matter how extreme the adventure. Which meant the company he worked for, EXIT Incorporated, might not be what it seemed.

  The CEO, Cyprian, had been all flowers and sunshine when she’d begun her earlier phone call with him. Her assassin theory had evoked laughter and a humiliating request to quote her in their next brochure. He seemed to think clients would get a kick out of such a ridiculous notion.

  Yeah, that call had gone peachy. She hoped her boss wouldn’t hear about it.

  She hadn’t had time today to perform any in-depth Internet searches on the company. And even though her call with the CEO had been painful, it hadn’t raised any red flags. The company could be exactly what it claimed to be. But with her questions about Devlin still niggling at her, why not dig further into EXIT to see what turned up? She wouldn’t have to tell anyone she was researching the company, except maybe Tuck. He was her partner and she wasn’t going to keep her ideas from him, no matter how much he might tease her. Because too many times those ideas, after being vetted with him, had turned into nuggets that broke a case wide open. And one thing was for sure: this case needed to be broken wide open, fast, if anyone was going to save the missing women.

  She threw the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.

  COUGAR PEERED THROUGH the thick bushes beside the garage and watched the gray Ford Fusion drive away. With the streetlight broken, the yard was cast in darkness. Even knowing he wasn’t alone, he could barely make out the darker shadow that separated from the row of hedges by the front door and slid like a wraith beside the garage to join him.

  “Did she see you?” Ace’s gravelly voice held a lethal undertone that had Cougar straightening and turning to face him. This man wasn’t like his usual handler. He wasn’t someone he felt comfortable having at his back even though they were supposed to be working together.

  Cougar shook his head. “I don’t think so. She just sat there a minute, like she was thinking about something, then backed out of the driveway. Should we wait until she returns?”

  Ace’s dark eyes glittered in the sliver of moonlight.

  “No. We’ve wasted too much time as it is. We’ll return to the hotel. Make new plans for tomorrow.”

  Cougar hesitated.

  “Something bothering you, rookie?”

  The “rookie” label had Cougar stiffening. This wasn’t his first mission. He’d be off probation soon as a full-fledged enforcer. “She’s a cop, sir.”

  “And?”

  He wasn’t sure what to say to that. There were very few rules enforcers had to follow:

  Rule #1: Enforcers’ families are not to be harmed in any way.

  Rule #2: Never kill a fellow enforcer.

  Rule #3: Never kill anyone in law enforcement.

  The only exception to any of those rules was i
f EXIT itself was in danger, which usually meant an official EXIT order had been issued. Cougar hadn’t seen an EXIT order for the detective. Had she done something to compromise the company? Something that required immediate remediation rather than going through the EXIT order process? Cougar didn’t know and wasn’t even sure why they’d been watching the house. This new handler wasn’t much for sharing information.

  “I was just wondering, sir, what the detective did to endanger EXIT. Because if she hasn’t done anything that . . . well . . . the rules forbid us from, I mean . . .” He stuttered into silence as Ace drew closer, like a snake curling in on its prey. The frost in his obsidian gaze made Cougar shiver.

  “I’m well aware of the rules and the threshold for an exception. Your job is to follow my orders, unquestioningly.” He studied Cougar, as if sizing him up. “If you aren’t ready for fieldwork, I can call your usual handler and have someone else assigned to this mission.”

  Cougar straightened away from the wall.

  Ace hissed and shoved him back before glancing through the hedge toward the street.

  Chagrined at the reminder to be careful not to be seen, Cougar hunched down. “I am ready,” he whispered. “It’s an honor to be chosen for this duty. It’s just that, staking out a cop . . . surprised me, that’s all.” He laughed nervously. “I shouldn’t have questioned you, sir. It won’t happen again.”

  He waited, growing increasingly uneasy. Ace emitted a sense of danger so strong it made Cougar want to gag. He swallowed hard, barely resisting the urge to flex his fingers by the gun holstered on his hip. He tried to keep his expression carefully blank as he waited for Ace to say, or do, something. Anything.