by Rita Herron
“If she did, the feds would already have found us,” Kat added.
Drake nodded in agreement and Jaycee seemed to calm. “I want you to show Stella photos of past assignments,” Drake said. “Jog her memory.”
Kat nodded and punched in some keys on the elaborate keyboard in front of her.
“Once you see these, you’ll believe me,” Drake said. “Then we can discuss your next assignment.”
“My next assignment?” Stella asked.
“Yes. You complete it, then we’ll get these charges dropped, and I’ll help acclimate you back into your old lifestyle.”
Back to being a traitor and a murderer.
“Have you taken care of the evidence?” Drake asked Katrina.
She nodded with a smile. “Done. The police don’t even know the gun is missing.”
Drake gave her an approving smile, then gestured for Stella to sit in front of the computer. “We have information that a reporter stumbled onto photos of you that could be damaging to us.”
“What kind of photos?” Stella asked. “What are you…we…doing here in Savannah?”
“We’re here to retrieve information from Nighthawk Island,” Kat interjected.
“You mean to steal their research?” Stella asked.
“There’s a lot of people who want information on their projects,” Jaycee added. “Some important people who are willing to pay well.”
The wheels turned in Stella’s mind, filing the possibilities, drawing conclusions about the people she apparently had worked for. They were talking about selling to foreign governments and scientists. Being traitors. The truth dawned. So, Drake made financial profits at any cost.
“Anyway,” Drake said, sounding impatient, “he supposedly has a disk which could be very damaging to your case. You must retrieve the disk before Devlin sees it.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Stella asked.
Jaycee cursed. “She’s a lost cause.”
“Sneak into his place and steal it,” Kat said in a flat voice.
Sneak into Luke’s place? “And if that doesn’t work?”
“Eliminate him,” Jaycee said. “We’ll find a way to dispose of his body so no one knows.”
Stella’s stomach churned. The memory of her lovemaking with Luke floated back, haunting her. Could she really kill Luke, even if it was to protect herself?
Drake traced a finger down her arm, a smirk on his face. “Or you could do what comes natural to you, Stella. You had him halfway there this afternoon.”
Once again, shame and humiliation clogged Stella’s throat. But how could she argue? She’d practically screwed Luke in Drake Sutton’s study, and all because of one wild, amorous kiss. But that kiss had been about passion, not seduction for deceptive purposes.
Hadn’t it?
“She’s not going to convince Devlin to join our side,” Jaycee said. “I’ve studied his profile. He won’t bend.”
Stella silently agreed. Luke Devlin wasn’t the kind of man to refute his beliefs for anyone. He had strong morals.
Something she’d obviously been lacking. “What’s on the disk?” she finally asked.
Drake’s eyes darkened. “Proof that you’re connected to the man you shot in the motel.”
Stella’s chest tightened. “So I did shoot him?”
“Yes.” Drake made a sound with his cheek. “It had to be done. Unfortunately you blacked out and didn’t get rid of the body.”
“Why did I kill him?” Stella asked.
“He was on the verge of exposing our organization.” Sutton’s words sank in fast, making a chill run down her spine.
It was suddenly very clear that if anyone chose to betray Drake Sutton, whether they were on the outside or inside of his operations, the same thing would happen to them.
LUKE WAS ALMOST HOME when his cell phone jangled again. He dug into his pocket and retrieved it while he maneuvered the turn onto Skidaway Island where he’d rented a bungalow. “Special Agent Devlin.”
“Detective Black. We just received the tox report on Stella Segall from the night of the murder.”
Luke sucked in a breath. “And?”
“There are traces of sleeping pills in her system.”
Which meant she might have been drugged. Other possibilities surfaced. Maybe she hadn’t been alone with Raul Jarad. She could have blacked out and someone else could have killed Raul Jarad, framing her for the murder. “What about the autopsy on the victim?”
“The M.E. should have the report in the morning.” Black hesitated. “We have another problem.”
“I’m listening.”
“The weapon that was used in the murder—it’s missing.”
Luke’s hand tightened around the steering wheel. “What do you mean missing?”
“We followed the chain of custody to the T, but Detective Fox called CSI, and they relayed that it’s not there.”
Losing the gun would make trying Stella more difficult.
“Dammit,” Luke muttered. “I have a hunch Sutton had something to do with this.”
“My theory exactly,” Black said. “We’ll keep looking, but I thought I’d give you a heads-up. You may want to meet us at the M.E.’s office tomorrow morning.”
Luke agreed and hung up, pulling a hand down his mouth. The gun was a key piece of circumstantial evidence. It would have probably cinched the case for the prosecution.
So why was a small part of him relieved to know it was missing?
Because it would give him time to work on Stella.
Stewing over the thought, he parked in front of the cabin, hopped out and strode up to the door. A sound inside jarred him, and he removed his gun, then silently inched around to the back door, crouching low as he checked the windows. A shadow flickered from his bedroom.
Someone was inside.
Instincts honed, he slowly let himself inside, treading softly so as not to alert the intruder of his presence. Seconds later, he moved to the doorway, poised his gun to fire, then slipped inside. The shadow darted to the closet, so he padded slowly toward the door, and tugged it open. The room and closet were dark, the swish of clothes filling the silence. Then a breath.
“FBI. Come out with your hands up.”
His pulse accelerated as a woman slowly emerged. Stella.
She held a gun in her hand, her arm extended as if bracing for fire.
STELLA’S HAND shook so badly she could barely control it. Had she always been this nervous on an assignment?
“Stella, lower the gun,” Luke ordered in a deep voice.
She bit down on her lip. There was no way out. If she didn’t recover the disk, Drake Sutton would consider her a failure. And he might see her failure as a betrayal. Then her life would be worthless. If he’d stolen evidence, he could probably make it reappear and see that she was locked up for the rest of her life. Or he’d pump her with more drugs until she followed his commands.
Who was she kidding? Her life was worthless anyway. If she gave in to Luke, she’d be arrested again and sent to prison. But could she live knowing she’d killed him?
The air squeezed inside her lungs. The room swayed. Darkness engulfed her. Sweat beaded on her brow. She was losing it. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
What was happening to her? “I can’t go back to prison, Luke. It’s too dark. Closed in. I can’t see. I can’t…breathe there.”
Memories, nightmares bombarded her. Of being held prisoner. Being strapped down. Metal probes attached to her body. Shock waves jolting her.
A sob welled in her throat. She saw herself as a child, struggling against the bindings. Being deprived of water. The ugly voices echoed in her head. Haunting her. Ordering her to obey. Reminding her that she had no choice.
A gun being shoved in her hand.
“Use it. Shoot now. You like to kill.”
No! She didn’t want to.
“Do it, Stella.”
She tightened her finger on the trigger.
&
nbsp; Luke cleared his throat. “Don’t do it, Stella. You don’t want to murder a federal officer, especially your husband.”
She blinked, desperately struggling to banish the images from her mind. Luke’s face shifted back into view. Those dark, enigmatic eyes. His steady gaze.
The memory of him touching her. Kissing her. Reassuring her that everything would be all right.
His fingers deep inside her.
She was so confused, her mind a wind tunnel of distant memories.
“You don’t look well, Stella. Give me the gun and let’s sit down.”
His gaze remained even, his dark eyes piercing her with suspicions. But something else flared in his tone, a moment of sultry invitation that reminded her of their earlier encounter in the study.
Another brief memory flashed—the two of them making love. Whispering promises in the dark. The hope of freedom.
Had she used Luke, or had she really been in love with him? Maybe she’d viewed him as her ticket out of the life she used to lead. The one she didn’t want to return to.
“I can’t be locked up again, Luke. I won’t survive….”
“Stella, I’m not taking you back to jail now. But you have to put down the gun and talk to me.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand…” Her voice broke, hopes shattering just as her nerves crumbled. “I…I can’t go back to Sutton’s. It’s a prison there, too. He drugged me.”
Luke swallowed, the movement drawing her eye to the long column of his neck. To his shoulders. The ones she’d clung to this afternoon.
Her hand wavered. Fear raced through her. He reached out his hand for the gun.
Suddenly a shot sounded. Glass shattered. Luke lunged toward her and grabbed the weapon.
They crashed to the floor just as another bullet pinged through the air toward them.
Chapter Eight
Stella covered her head with her hands while Luke threw himself over her to protect her. Another bullet zinged near her shoulder, one hit a lamp and sent it crashing to the floor, and more glass exploded. Shards rained down on their heads and arms.
“We have to get out of here,” Luke whispered. “Are you hit?”
“No.” She lifted her head just enough to see his face. He was all right, too. Thank God. “Who’s shooting at us?”
“I don’t know,” Luke hissed. “But follow me, and stay down.”
Stella hunched down low and practically belly-crawled her way across the room to the small living area. Luke extended his arm for her to wait as he scanned the interior. “It’s clear.” More shots blasted through the bedroom window, then a bullet zinged through the sliding glass doors in front.
Déjà vu struck Stella, and she reacted on autopilot, skimming the room herself. Had Sutton or Kat and Jaycee followed her here? Maybe they hadn’t trusted her to secure the disk or kill Luke.
And they were right. She couldn’t have pulled the trigger.
“Come on,” Luke said in a low voice.
He lurched to his feet, still crouching low, and dragged her up, then they raced through the room toward the door.
“I’ll cover you, but stay down.”
Stella nodded, but gripped her own weapon, ready to defend them as well.
He eased open the door, cut his gaze across the wooded area, then toward his sedan. “Now!”
Stella darted forward while he stepped onto the porch behind the wooden posts supporting the rails. She ran, zigzagging from side to side to dodge the bullets. As soon as she reached the car, she hurled open the door and threw herself inside.
Luke ran down the steps, firing, and she pressed the automatic window button, aimed her gun and shot a round to offer him cover. The realization that she’d done this before hit her as Luke circled the car.
Seconds later, Luke jumped inside, started the engine and tore down the driveway.
A bullet pinged off the bumper, another pelted the dash, and Luke yelled for her to get down. She ducked and fired back while he flew onto the main road away from the shooter.
“Damn it, that was an ambush. Who was it, Stella?”
She gaped at him, hating the accusations in his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“The hell you don’t. You showed up searching for something, held a gun on me, then suddenly all hell breaks loose.”
Stella glanced away from his damning eyes, contemplating how to reply. If she told him about Sutton’s operation, she would be admitting to being a killer. To murdering the man in the motel. Then Luke would have to arrest her.
If she didn’t —
“Jesus, Stella, you have to talk to me. Whoever shot at us back there wasn’t just trying to kill me. They fired at you, too.”
Stella stared at the scenery whirring past. Darkness engulfed her, the shadows of night resurrecting her nightmares.
Luke was right.
But who wanted her dead?
If she were the person Sutton had described, she might have dozens of enemies.
And if Sutton, Jaycee or Kat had followed her and sensed her hesitation over killing Luke, or thought she’d revealed their secrets, they would have no problem ending her life as well.
LUKE CHECKED the rearview mirror to see if they were being followed. So far, so good.
But he couldn’t relax his guard. The entire situation reeked of a setup. Had his pretty bride been in on it? She’d known how to handle the gun, had been a natural. She obviously had experience.
So why was the shooter trying to kill her, too?
Unless they suspected she knew too much, or that she was close to spilling secrets.
Sutton.
It made perfect sense.
Stella clutched the seat edge with a white-knuckled grip, perspiration breaking out on her lower lip. He had to find out exactly what had happened at Sutton’s.
And before that…he suspected there was more. A lot more to Stella’s story. Things she didn’t want to talk about or couldn’t remember. Maybe she’d repressed her entire life for a reason.
Or maybe you’re still looking for excuses to justify her actions.
Either way, the woman knew how to handle a gun. Had undergone training. Which made the reporter’s theory more believable.
“What were you doing in my cabin?” he asked.
Stella inhaled sharply and thumbed her hair from her eyes. Blood dotted her palms, and shattered slivers of glass had settled into her skin. The fragments glinted in the dim light from the street light outside. She didn’t seem to notice.
“I…came to talk to you.”
A bold-faced lie. “Try again, Stella. If you’d wanted to talk, you wouldn’t have pulled that gun.”
“I…thought you were going to shoot me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You pulled the gun in self-defense?”
She nodded.
He shook his head again. “I’m still not buying it. Now, let’s start over. Why did you come to my cabin?”
She twisted her fingers together as if struggling for a reply. Luke glanced up and noticed bright headlights race up on their tail.
“Dammit.”
“What?”
“Someone’s behind us. I’m calling for backup.” He grabbed his phone and punched in Black’s number.
Stella’s eyes widened in fear as he sped up. The next few minutes, he maneuvered the car over the mile-long bridge toward Catcall Island, hoping to lose the shooters. Stella held onto the dashboard, the tension mounting as the car zoomed up on their rear. The driver gunned the engine and slammed into Luke’s bumper. Luke swore and grappled for control. A shot pinged through the window. Stella ducked as he veered sideways. Back and forth, he swerved, dodging bullets. He darted over the drawbridge, hoping it might catch their tail. No such luck. The car kept up with him. But in the distance, a siren wailed. Help was on the way.
The car sped up again, rammed into his side and sent his car skidding sideways. He lost control, tires screeched and the car nosedived into the inlet. Water began
rising, the car sinking deeper and deeper.
“Get out!” he barked.
Stella tried to open the door, but it was stuck in the sludge.
He yanked at his own, but like hers, the door was wedged deep into the wet earth. They were trapped. He tried the automatic window buttons but the windows refused to budge.
Stella’s panicked gaze met his. Another shot hit the roof of the car.
He jerked his jacket from the back, wrapped it around his fist and smashed his window, hitting it over and over, targeting the edges now to free the jagged glass as water gushed inside the car.
“Come on!” He crawled through the opening, dove into the water, then held out his hand to help Stella. She slid through the window, sank beneath the surface, then broke, gasping for air.
He motioned for her to stay low, then they ducked beneath the surface again and swam along the embankment. He thought his lungs would explode before he surfaced, and when he did, Stella was nowhere to be seen. But a red swirl of blood coated the water in front of him.
Had Stella been shot?
Rage and fear knifed through him. He dove under the water again to search for her.
STELLA SANK deeper and deeper below the surface of the water. Her lungs felt tight, the effort not to breathe taxing her. Darkness swirled around her, empty, never ending. She was so disoriented. Didn’t know where she was going. Which direction to swim.
Tread water. Do whatever you have to do. Just keep yourself alive.
But her arms ached, her left one throbbing. The undertow sucked at her feet, pulling harder. Deeper. Like quicksand, it wouldn’t release her.
She closed her eyes, then blinked to orient herself. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. It was so dark, the light extinguished forever.
Suddenly she was somewhere else. Lost in her memories.
HOW LONG HAD she been in the dark? How many days had they left her here alone?
And when they returned, what would they do to her this time?
Give her more shock treatments. Turn up the heat until her body shriveled up and withered away. Until she’d perspired so much she could no longer sweat. Until her lips stuck together, and she could no longer beg for water.
