by Sheila Kell
Trying to get her brain to work before her emotions took over she realized two things. Brent hadn’t gotten off a shot and the person who had killed both men was still out there.
Rylee looked back to Brent and squeezed her eyes shut as a tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another. He’d blocked her from the shooter’s vision. If he hadn’t, she knew she’d also be dead. It was her fault he’d been here instead of back at the club. And he’d paid with his life.
She fought the racking sob welling inside her at the painful loss of her friend and attempted a few calming breaths. She couldn’t lose it; she had to move. Closing her eyes, ignoring the tears and what she assumed was blood staining her cheeks, she knew moving put her at risk. It might shift the limo and alert the killer to her presence. They’d left an unexpected witness. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t actually witnessed anything.
More gunshots broke the silence. She had a sinking feeling that the driver had been murdered too. What happened to Dave’s goons? They must not have followed. Unless that had been them. No, it couldn’t be because they knew she was here. So where were they?
What the hell did she do now? Obviously no one was riding to their rescue. She had no idea who had killed the men, and she’d be damned if she even attempted to chase them. She was a civilian, alone, and with a bleeding head. She released a deep, shuddering sigh. Without Dave, she had nothing to give the FBI about the girls except hearsay. Hell, they wouldn’t believe her that he was involved. Not after they’d cleared him.
The squeal of tires, a vehicle racing away broke the silence, yet she waited. With all quiet for minutes, she knew it was time. Rylee pushed aside the agonizing pain and crawled from beneath her friend. She said a short prayer and kissed Brent on the forehead before closing his eyes. Then, she emptied both men’s pockets.
When she found what she needed, Rylee ran.
DEVON HAMILTON STARED at the document in his hands and called himself every form of fool possible. All he had to do was sign his name. It wasn’t a difficult task. It was just a damn signature. He’d done it hundreds of times in his life. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to pick up a pen. He wasn’t a quitter and signing this document would shout, “I quit.”
The whole situation didn’t seem real. How could it? To him, it truly wasn’t. Yet, here in black and white, it was about as real as it got.
Fuck. He’d thought once he’d stepped back and waited, that things would’ve turned in his favor. But life had a way of surprising the hell out of you.
If only he could remember….
The sound of shuffling feet and men’s voices entering the room interrupted his thoughts. He slid the paper into his desk in the HIS war room for safekeeping. This document contained his problem… his decision… his secret. He’d have to deal with it later. Right now, he had a job to do.
The room filled and he confirmed all necessary personnel was in attendance. Well, all except Trent McKenzie, their half brother. Trent had another skin graft surgery two days prior. His physical healing was progressing well, but he’d forever be scarred. His emotional healing was another story. He’d sacrificed a lot to save Amber, their niece’s life from a terrorist bomber.
Dealing with his near fatal injury, and learning he was a Hamilton, the family had agreed to give Trent the time and space he’d requested to figure out what he planned to do with his life. No way though would Devon allow him to slip away and disappear like he feared the man planned.
The eldest Hamilton brother, Jesse, brought the meeting to order. Hamilton Investigation & Security, or HIS, had been Jesse’s idea. He’d wanted a family business that utilized each member of the family’s skills. Jess had built his as a U.S. Army Ranger and FBI agent. After Devon, the second eldest left the CIA, his brother approached him with the idea, but he’d scoffed at it thinking his brothers would never leave their alphabet agencies, even to work with family. His younger brothers had wanted those jobs since they were boys. That was his thought… until Matt left the Navy SEALs. The three banded together and created HIS and waited patiently for the rest of the family to join them.
Devon smiled to himself. After a while, each family member had left his or her employ, and it became the business Jess had planned with only one holdout for partnership—Trent. He’d been happy as a team member even after being shot to protect Megan, AJ’s wife, and almost killed saving Amber, Em and Jake’s daughter. But, he wouldn’t commit to joining the family owning the company. Hell, he’d been a surprise addition to the family and dealing with it had been hard on Trent.
A busy business it was. They had a team of eleven men, mostly from law enforcement and government agencies, and two K-9s, but they needed to add talented people to the team. He didn’t care as long as the brilliant men and women added value in the field. Value he couldn’t add.
He glanced at the pile of requests for their immediate services. These potential clients were damn lucky the planned assignment canceled at the last moment. Otherwise, HIS wouldn’t be available. Why the hell couldn’t people plan ahead? Most knew their boss’s travel schedule and knew he or she wanted a protection detail.
Devon worked hard to schedule jobs for the team to ensure each member had time to work with time to relax and play. Hell, it seemed that lately, half of the slotted time off had been used to protect his brothers’ new wives. He wasn’t complaining about that. He was glad they’d taken those steps or Jess, AJ, and Jake wouldn’t be married to great women… and happy. Christ, Jake might not even be home.
He wanted to slam his hand on the desk and shout in anger. It had almost taken too long to find their foster brother. And the FBI delay in retrieving Jake had cut it down to the wire. By not finding him until he did, Devon had almost failed the family in the worst way possible.
“Dev?” Jess questioned.
Catching the raised eyebrows of his older brother, Devon put an abrupt halt to that train of thought and joined in the conversation. He recounted the information the family needed to make their decisions. “As for priority, I suggest we accept the top two jobs. They’re both simple security details and won’t screw with future job timelines.” He shrugged and shook his head in exasperation at the potential clients piss-poor planning. “Last-minute travel plans for each. Taking these options would leave the team with a short break before we send them on their next scheduled assignment. We know the investigation requests could take longer than we have open on the schedule.” He waited to speak again until after the group looked over the material. “Now, the third job is interesting.”
Em perked up. “That one is mine while you’re away.”
As one of the newest partners, their baby sister, Emily Hamilton, or more recently Emily Cavanaugh, definitely hadn’t allowed her brothers to dictate to her. And they wouldn’t in this case either. As an accountant, it was right up her alley. A possible embezzling of funds.
She rolled her chair closer to him and elbowed him in the ribs. “Dev already agreed we could do it.”
Quite a few eyebrows were raised at him in question. Damn her impatience. He’d told her that he’d get the group to agree to allow her to run the case, but it would be done his way. He’d managed them long enough to know what would sway their minds to his way of thinking. Turning his attention to Jess, he smiled. “Well, it makes sense if the team takes the top two jobs. Em and I won’t really be needed.”
“You could come with us this time,” Jess suggested with a pointed look at Devon.
Panic clawed at him. Go out in the field? He hadn’t held a weapon other than at the range in what, four years? He almost snorted aloud in disgust. Like he didn’t remember the date Greg Donovan, a fellow CIA agent, had been killed.
“Nah.” Matt shook his head while he spoke, saving Devon from blundering through a response. “He might mess up those pretty hands.” His playful wink scoffed at Devon’s pride. “And then where would we be when we need that computer magic shit?”
Jess narrowed his eyes at Devon.
The assessment by his brother ripped into him. Sometimes he wondered if his brothers knew what had happened… why Devon had left the CIA. Yet, they’d never asked him to go out in the field with them… before today.
He’d made a deal with Jess when they’d started the business that he would be the logistics behind the operation, but he wouldn’t brandish a weapon with them. Sure, he’d ensure they had the latest in weaponry and security, but he participated from behind his computer. It made sense. They needed someone to take care of the administrative junk and find any information they could to be successful in each case. He’d been doing just that, and he knew he was damn good at it. The CIA had taught him well.
But, he’d also given in and still went to the shooting range with them regularly. It had been important to his brothers that he at least knew how to use a weapon to their satisfaction and they thought to teach him.
Jess eventually shrugged. “Okay. Let’s talk through these two jobs and get on the move.”
Devon released a sigh of relief. The burden he carried became heavier every time the team went out on assignment, and he stayed back. He worked hard on his end to overcome it, but it always remained in the background.
Kate, Jesse’s wife and an ex-FBI agent, cleared her throat from beside her husband.
Devon didn’t know why he’d purchased chairs for their war room. No one except he and Em sat and that was because they were in front of computers. The group stood, crowded close around an oval oak meeting table in the middle of the room. They left an opening to be able to view where he and his sister sat. No one appeared to notice the smart boards and screens on the walls. They wouldn’t look at them until their mission planning began. They preferred to review the potential jobs on paper. He went to a great deal of work to make the room interactive. He’d bring them to the twenty-first century if it killed him. Hell, wait until they saw the new meeting table he’d ordered with a touch-screen in it. Giddiness bubbled inside him just thinking about it.
When no one acknowledged her, Kate cleared her throat again. “I want us to take a case. It’s not in the pile. It’s for an old FBI friend of mine.”
“What type of case is it?” Matt, the peacemaker brother, glanced up from the papers in his hand. “Do we have time?”
“I’m not quite sure.”
Heads bobbed up from reading and turned to her in curiosity.
“Thing is,” she paused and bit her bottom lip, “she hasn’t said she needs help.”
Matt shook his head. “Then why are you asking?”
“Yeah. I remember how it went when another FBI agent I know didn’t feel she needed help.” Jess waggled his eyebrows at his wife suggestively, obviously reminding her of their time together.
Devon smiled at the two of them, remembering the hell of a ride Kate had given his older brother when her life had been in danger, and Jess had felt the need to step in as her protector when she’d told him she didn’t need it. That’d been right after Devon had returned from Las Vegas. His smile faltered, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Vegas. It’s been eleven months. You need to fix this, Devon. He had to push that away for the time being. He needed to focus on this meeting and getting the team squared away. They counted on him for that. Then, he could deal with that issue. “What’s going on that you think she needs our help?”
“Well, she called to tell me she was going off the grid but wanted someone to know where she was… just in case. I couldn’t get her to tell me why.” She shuddered a bit too dramatically. “It kind of freaked me out.”
“Maybe she just wanted to be alone.” Matt shrugged. “Doesn’t mean we need to ride to her rescue.”
The men wouldn’t brush off Kate. “Well, there’s more. About a month ago, an ICE agent—someone people thought she might be dating—was shot and killed.” She glanced around the group. “With someone linked to her last FBI case. She’s no longer in the bureau and is wanted for questioning. She and her stepsister, Madison, own a nightclub in Baltimore. Even Madison pleads not knowing where she is. This is the first time anyone has heard from her since the incident.”
Devon’s blood pressure began to spike. It can’t be. The notion of this woman, an ex-FBI agent at that, and her sister named Madison owning a club rang serious alarm bells in his mind. He wanted to whirl around and pound on his keyboard to find out everything the cyber-world had on the case. The urge almost overpowered him. And what the hell was this dating?
Tamping down that urge, he attempted to act nonchalant, as if it were just another potential client case. “Do you think she killed him and is on the run?”
Kate shook her head. “Not possible.” Looking to her husband, her voice turned pleading. “I really think she’s in trouble.”
Devon wanted to ask more, but his tongue was tied. If she was really in trouble….
“I get that you have that feeling, sweetheart, but these people”—Jess waved the printouts in his hand to emphasize his point—“are definitely in need of us and have requested our services.”
“I know that, but I want to go see her. I need to see for myself that she’s okay. Something doesn’t feel right to me. She’s not someone who runs and hides.”
Jess, the final decision maker of the group, dropped the papers to the table and placed his hands on her arms. “I’ll tell you what. These are short, simple jobs that won’t require everyone. While we’re on assignment, you can stay behind and visit her to set your mind at ease, and Dev and Em can look into the murders. It shouldn’t keep them away from the third assignment.” He turned and smirked at Em, but love and pride shown in his eyes. Focusing again on his wife, he continued, “Will that work?” He cocked his head questioningly. “By the way, which friend is it? Do I know her?”
“Of course you do.”
Devon’s heart beat double-time in anticipation.
“Her name is Rylee Hawkins. She’s—”
Devon surged from his chair. “I’ll go with you,” he blurted, stunning the room’s occupants to silence.
“JESSE will have your ass for booking us into first class for this trip,” Kate told Devon as he drove them in a rental car through the mountains of Colorado.
He glanced her way then turned his attention back to the road. “You wanted to get here fast, didn’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “There weren’t any economy seats until later in the day, and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper than grabbing a private jet like he tends to do. Besides, it was this or wait, and I had the feeling that wouldn’t have worked for you.” Truth be told, he’d already checked into a private jet when he’d had trouble finding a quick flight for the two of them. In his mind, there’d been no question on their immediate response, even if Rylee hadn’t asked for help. He’d done some quick research before they’d departed. Whether Rylee knew it or not, she was in a damn pickle. The FBI wanted her for questioning in the death of the government agent and one scum of society’s offspring. Disappearing screamed she had something to hide.
He couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t asked for help though. Did she plan to just hide out until it all blew over? She had to know that wouldn’t happen, especially as she knew how the bureau worked. Even if she wasn’t involved, she knew both of the victims too well in the minds of the investigators. They’d assume she knew something.
Devon kicked himself over and over again for not checking on what she’d been doing lately. When he’d received the papers, he’d been so taken aback, that his need to keep track of her had died out.
“You’re right,” Kate said. “Thank you.”
They slowed as a family of deer hopped across the road ahead. The large buck stopped and looked their way, almost menacingly, until the others were safe on the other side, sliding into the woods.
“So,” Kate dragged the word out, “tell me why you’re here.”
Too many reasons to count. Mostly, he had a nagging suspicion Rylee wasn’t hiding from the FBI but from who killed Brent and Dave. It ap
peared to be a professional kill. He assumed a hit. Had she witnessed it? If so, she should’ve asked for help. Then again, he didn’t really believe she’d ask him for anything. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, Devon Michael Hamilton.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her crossing her arms over her chest. He knew she’d tossed in his middle name to rile him. He’d seen her do it with her husband often enough. The woman had a stubborn streak that rivaled any he’d seen from his sister.
“I understand you don’t do anything unless it’s behind a computer. And, as far as I know, you’ve never met her. So, my question is why now?”
Hell, she’d find out soon enough. He was damn surprised she didn’t already know. Once he’d found out the two women were close, he’d expected a confrontation from Kate long ago. But it’d never happened.
He may as well unburden his soul while she couldn’t inflict damage on him without running the risk of him crashing the car and maybe killing her in the process. “Right before you and I met, I’d taken a trip to Vegas for a tech conference.”
“Rylee went to Vegas about that time also.”
He waited for her to process those two statements together.
“Wait. Are you saying you do know her?”
Devon glanced at her and hesitated before speaking, “Apparently, I do.”
“Apparently? What kind of bullshit is that?”
“Something happened while I was there, and I lost most of my memory of the weekend. All I know is that I’d been prepared to drop a boatload of money on new equipment, and then I woke up in the hospital not knowing what had happened the prior twenty-four hours.”
She relaxed her arms. “Is that when you met her? During the time you lost your memory? Has your memory returned then?”
“Yes and no. Jess arrived shortly thereafter. The doctor said I’d either been hit on the head or had fallen and hit it hard enough to knock me out. By the time we’d returned to the hotel, maid service had cleaned the room. Jess found out about a broken lamp the maid had disposed of. The question was still whether I’d been hit on the head or knocked it off the desk when I fell.”
