by LENA DIAZ,
“Maybe. What was her connection to the prisoners? Do you know why she visited those specific men?”
“Some kind of profiling maybe? She knew she needed some muscle to do her dirty work so she could remain in the background. She could have done a little research to determine who was getting out of prison soon and met her qualifications—a proven track record of being violent but someone she could easily manipulate. Since the prisoners she visited were all friends, I figure she targeted one in particular and maybe he recommended the others to her. There’s something else too, about convicts or ex-cons. Devlin’s fiancée was killed by a felon on parole. The man Devlin went after today was in a picture at the prison, picking up that ex-con before Arianna was killed. Since Kelly is comfortable using ex-cons as her henchmen, it wouldn’t surprise me if she helped arrange Arianna’s murder.”
“This is a nightmare. Do you really expect me to believe my brother is an assassin?”
She shrugged. “All that matters is that we get there in time and make sure Devlin knows Kelly isn’t a victim so he doesn’t walk into a trap.”
His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “It does explain a lot, like why he was wearing a gun the night of the fire, and why he never went to the hospital afterward to check on Austin and the others. I imagine he won’t be happy that you told me all of this.”
“I’m sure he’ll be furious. Serves him right for leaving me behind.”
He grinned. “I’m beginning to understand why my brother likes you so much. You certainly aren’t boring.”
She shoved the gun into the waistband of her jeans. “What makes you think he likes me?”
“It wasn’t obvious the first time you were at Alex’s house, the night you told us about Carolyn. But the night of the fire, I saw how he looked at you. He wouldn’t have been that concerned if he didn’t truly care about you. Why? Do you doubt it?”
“How’s your father doing? And your brothers?”
“Changing the subject, huh? Point taken. Braedon’s fine. He’s already been released. Alex is doing great. The doctors are baffled about why he had a heart attack. There’s no sign of any heart problems to explain it. They’ll be monitoring him for a couple more days before he can go to my house or Matt’s, wherever home will be until the house can be rebuilt.”
Emily had a feeling Ace had done something to cause Alex’s supposed heart attack, but she and Devlin had never had time to discuss that. They’d been too busy running for their lives, and trying to rescue a woman who didn’t need rescuing.
“What about Austin? Devlin hasn’t mentioned him since that night. I think he’s trying not to think about him so it won’t distract him from finding the killer, but I know he loves his brother very much.”
His smile faded. “Austin is fighting for his life. He’s at the burn center, still touch and go.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He gave her a crisp nod. “How sure are you that Kelly Parker will be at this Jackson’s Island place? Or that where we’re going is the place you think it is?”
“Devlin said Jackson’s Island was north of town. I searched the property appraiser’s database online and this is the only place Gage owns in that location. As for why I think Kelly will be there, it just makes sense.”
“Because of the Jo Harper alias?”
“No. Because Kelly has already framed Devlin for killing Shannon and Nancy. It makes sense she’d finish up by framing him for his best friend’s murder. She knows about Jackson’s Island. And the remoteness makes it a perfect place for her purposes. All she has to do is call Gage and tell him some sob story about being held there and needing him to come to her rescue. He’ll walk into a trap.”
“Wait. Gage wouldn’t believe that since he lives there. He’d know that no one was holding Kelly hostage at his own house.”
“If he were living there, I’d agree with you. But according to his official address in the phone book, the Jackson’s Island location isn’t where he chooses to call home. Trust me—I’ve looked at this from every angle. This is what makes the most sense,” she said.
“And you think Devlin will go there too, looking for his friend Gage, the one he thinks is the killer.”
“Yes. Maybe not at first. Gage has several properties. But Devlin will eventually wind up there.”
“Well, let’s hope you’re right. And that we get there before my brother, so we can stop him. I still don’t feel right going in without backup. But you seem convinced Devlin wouldn’t want that. I can’t believe he’s still trying to protect the company he works for after they issued a contract on his life.”
Emily wasn’t so sure that Devlin was all that worried about protecting EXIT anymore. She honestly didn’t know where he stood on that. But she knew her main goal was to protect Devlin in every way—which meant keeping him alive and out of prison. If they brought cops in on this and caught Devlin trying to kill Gage, Devlin’s fate would be sealed.
She couldn’t help the wry smile that curved her lips. When had she crossed over the line so completely that she was actually trying to protect a man on the wrong side of the law?
Pierce turned down another side road. They were pretty far outside of town now and surrounded mostly by trees.
“How did Devlin get sucked into this?” he said, obviously still struggling to come to terms with what she’d told him. “The brother I grew up with never would have agreed to become a hired assassin.”
She wanted to brag to him about Devlin’s accomplishments, about how many people he’d saved over the years. But it didn’t feel right to tell Pierce all of that. It needed to come from Devlin, in his own words.
“Your brother is an honorable, good man. Don’t judge him until you know the facts.”
“Good advice, Detective. I’ll wait to hear the explanations from my brother.”
“Since we’re about to put our lives on the line together, maybe you could call me Emily?”
He smiled. “Ditto.”
“You want me to call you Emily too?” she teased.
“Uh, no. Pierce will do just fine. You know, you sound pretty certain about his character for someone who’s known him for . . . what, only a few days?”
She shook her head in wonder. “It doesn’t feel like just a few days.”
He slowed for a sharp curve. Trees crowded in close on both sides of what was quickly becoming little more than a one-car path through the woods. “Any idea why this Kelly Parker went to so much trouble to set him up? Why is she trying to destroy him?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? I have no idea.”
As for her theory that Devlin would wind up here, the proof was the SUV sitting on the side of the long gravel driveway Pierce had just turned down. The driver’s door was open and the back window had been shot out.
“He beat us here. And he’s already been in a gunfight. We might be too late,” Pierce said.
“Not necessarily. That window was shot out when I was with him earlier today.”
He winced and stopped the GTO beside the SUV, beneath the thick canopy of trees. Behind them, the woods stretched on seemingly forever. In front of them, nearly a full football field away, an enormous, two-story white farmhouse squatted amid acres and acres of knee-high green grass blowing in the warm breeze.
Emily studied the trees on either side of the GTO as she pulled out her pistol. “There’s no way to get to the house without being seen. This is going to be tricky.”
“A frontal assault could be suicide. It looks like the woods are closer to the house on the back side. That will provide more cover and less ground to cross if we have to run for it. If we split up, we can both perform reconnaissance and compare notes once we meet around back. Sound good?”
“Better than any plan I’ve got. See you on the other side.”
DEVLIN’S PAINSTAKINGLY SLOW belly crawl through the grass had finally gotten him within twenty feet of the front porch. Since no one had shot at him yet, he figured he’d be
en successful in not being seen. Thanks to a stop outside of town to pick up one of his stashed go bags in the wall of an abandoned house, at least he had the tools he needed to get the job done—including a pistol and another knife to replace the one he’d lost earlier. He trained his binoculars on the window on the right corner of the second story, where all the action was taking place.
From a distance, Gage’s house had looked deserted, but Devlin had shimmied halfway up a tall tree to see what he was about to get in to. After watching each window for a few minutes at a time, he’d focused on that last window and had seen both what he’d expected and dreaded to see: Kelly, sitting on the floor, her hands tied to a bedpost, her face bruised, blood running from cuts all over her body.
And Gage, pacing in front of her, holding a gun.
What puzzled Devlin was that Gage was almost as bruised and battered-looking as Kelly. Had Gage been keeping her somewhere else after abducting her and only recently moved her to this location? If so, maybe Kelly had managed to get loose from her bonds long enough to get a weapon and the two of them had fought before Gage got her tied up again. It was the only thing that made sense, given the evidence in front of him.
Judging by the cold fury on Gage’s face, Kelly wouldn’t last much longer. Devlin had timed his movements through the grass with Gage’s pacing, stopping every time Gage passed in front of the window. Now he was a short run from his goal. He checked his knife, sheathed on his belt, and his pistol, holstered at his waist, to make sure he hadn’t lost them during the crawl through the grass. Then he pulled his lockpick out of his pocket and waited. Gage passed the window again. Devlin jumped up and ran for the porch.
EMILY’S FINGERNAILS CUT into the bark of a tree as she watched Devlin’s mad dash from the tall grass to the front porch. He must have stopped to pick up his tools of the trade before coming here because he picked the lock on the door in a matter of seconds and disappeared into the house.
Above him, on the second floor, someone kept pacing in front of the window on the far right corner. But since Emily was in the woods on the left side of the house now, she was too far away to tell if it was a man or a woman. Was Gage inside? Kelly? Devlin would be on guard against Gage, but he didn’t know to watch out for Kelly, that she wasn’t the victim she’d pretended to be. Somehow Emily had to warn him.
She should keep circling around to the back as agreed and meet up with Pierce. But knowing Devlin was already inside had her feeling desperate. What was the point of being cautious if it meant not reaching him in time to help him?
If she took off running right now, how long would it take her to cross through the knee-high grass? The whole time she was running, she’d be vulnerable, exposed. Anyone looking out a window would see her. Belly crawling like Devlin had would take far too long.
“Pierce,” she called out in a voice barely above a whisper. She wasn’t sure how sound might carry out here and didn’t want to alert whoever was inside the house. “Pierce?”
No answer. He must still be too far away to hear her. She wasn’t willing to wait any longer. She’d have to make a run for it and take her chances.
She had just started to step past the line of trees when a loud crack sounded off to her left. Jerking back, she crouched down, sweeping her pistol out in front of her.
DEVLIN CREPT DOWN the upstairs hallway with his pistol in his hand, stopping at each door to listen before moving to the next. He carefully edged around a decorative, granite-topped table and hugged the wall again. So far, he hadn’t encountered anyone else in the house, but he was on the alert in case Gage had any of his ex-con friends lurking around. Or Ace. Anything was possible. But at least he didn’t have to worry about Emily. He knew she was safe and out of harm’s way, being protected by Pierce.
Muted voices sounded from behind the closed door at the end of the hall, but he couldn’t make out any words. He crept closer until he was just outside the door. Leaning back against the wall, he held his gun pointed up at the ceiling while he reached for the doorknob beside him.
“No, Gage, don’t!” Kelly screamed.
The dull thud of a fist smashing against flesh and bone reverberated through the room.
Kelly’s scream turned into a gurgle and a moan.
Devlin grimaced but didn’t go inside. Not yet. He wouldn’t do her any good if he were dead. Running in blindly, without knowing where Gage was standing, would be a foolish move. Steeling himself against Kelly’s whimpers of pain, he slowly, methodically, twisted the doorknob a fraction at a time, until it wouldn’t turn any farther.
Footsteps echoed hollowly against the wood floor, approaching the door. Had Gage heard him, or seen the knob turning? Devlin froze, not moving, barely breathing, waiting, listening. The footsteps moved away from the door.
He slowly let out a pent-up breath. No, Gage hadn’t heard him. He was pacing, probably going back and forth in front of the window again, which only proved how agitated, how unpredictable he was in his current state of mind. He was ignoring one of the most basic training tenets all enforcers lived by: stay away from the windows. If Devlin had carried a rifle with him, and if he’d been so inclined, he could have picked Gage off with one well-aimed bullet all the way back at the tree line. But he didn’t have a rifle. And he wasn’t so inclined.
He wanted to look Gage in the eye when he killed him.
After seeing the picture of Gage picking up Arianna’s killer at the prison, Devlin had been consumed with raw fury. All he’d wanted to do was find his former friend and avenge his murdered fiancée. But that had lasted only as long as it had taken to pull out of the garage. As soon as he started driving down the street, all he could think about was Emily. He’d left her alone once before, in the bunker, and it had nearly cost her her life.
He’d immediately called her to make sure she didn’t leave. And then, even though he’d made it a personal crusade never to involve his family in anything related to EXIT, he’d once again called Pierce. There was no one else he trusted enough to keep Emily safe. Then he’d spent the next ten minutes feeling guilty that he was thinking about Emily when it was Arianna’s memory he should have been honoring, now that he knew the horrible truth about her death.
Stop it. Don’t get distracted. Focus on the task at hand.
It was quiet inside again, except for the sound of Gage pacing. Devlin timed each footfall, counted the steps. Ten steps, turn. Ten steps, turn. He began to push the door open, slowly, timed with Gage’s pacing. Ten steps, push, turn. Ten steps, push, turn. Seconds ticked by like minutes until the door stood open a full inch.
Just as carefully as he’d turned the knob before, he gradually turned the knob back the other way, then gently pulled his hand back. So far, no noises to alert Gage. And no had noticed the slightly open door.
He leaned down and pressed his face close to the opening. Gage was mumbling to himself, holding his pistol down by his side. Kelly was sitting on the floor, her wrists tied with a white nylon rope to the bed’s footboard. Her jeans were ripped and torn, with dark stains that were probably blood. Her shirt—what was left of it—hung in shreds around her waist, leaving her in only a bra. The red welts on her stomach and arms told Devlin exactly why her shirt was shredded even before he saw the whip lying on the floor a few feet away.
What he saw sickened him and settled like a cold, hard knot in his gut. He’d never known Gage to be particularly cruel before. But then again, had he ever really known him? This man—who’d pretended to be his friend for well over a decade—had begun that friendship with a betrayal so heinous, so evil, that it defied understanding, and brought up questions Devlin had never thought would cross his mind.
Like whether Gage had acted alone when he’d had Arianna killed.
Like whether Carolyn had been murdered instead of dying in a car crash, all so Gage could hurt his family, dig the knife a little deeper.
Worst of all, Devlin still didn’t know why Gage would hate him enough to even want to hurt his famil
y.
Gage stopped his nervous pacing just past the window, turned to face Kelly, and slowly raised his gun.
Devlin shoved the door open and ran inside. “Drop it!”
Gage whirled toward him.
Kelly let out a startled yelp.
Devlin pulled the trigger. The shot was nearly deafening in the confined space, echoing against the walls and wood floor. The blast sent Gage’s gun flying across the room, skittering across the floor and stopping beneath the window. He screamed in agony, falling to his knees and clutching what was left of the bloody stump that had once been his hand.
His screams turned to whimpers as Devlin crossed the room and stopped in front of him. Gage’s pain-glazed eyes begged for the mercy he’d never given Arianna. He blubbered and sobbed, clumsily clutching his ruined hand against his chest.
“Devlin,” he choked out, “please—”
Devlin backhanded him with the butt of his gun. Bones crunched. Gage whirled around in a circle before crashing to the floor. His guttural screams filled the air. Devlin slowly crouched in front of him.
Mucus ran down from Gage’s broken nose, mixing with the blood on his torn lips. One of his front teeth had been knocked at a crazy angle and protruded through one of the cuts on his upper lip.
“Pweeze,” he choked, barely able to form a word. “Pweeze.”
Devlin pressed the bore of his pistol between his former friend’s eyes. “Just tell me one thing, Gage. Did Cyprian tell you to hire that bastard to kill Arianna or did you decide that on your own?”
His eyes widened. If he’d been afraid before, now he looked terrified. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he knew what was about to happen, and broke down into wailing sobs, cradling his shattered hand as if it were a baby.
Devlin pulled the pistol back and shoved it into Gage’s mouth so hard it rammed against the back of his throat.
