by Katie Reus
Evie inwardly cursed. Georgina had no reason to lie to her. So they were back at square one as far as she and Samara were concerned. Well, maybe not. At least they could mark Seamus off their suspect list. Not much, but Evie would take it. Now they needed to narrow their suspect pool way the hell down.
“Why not reach out to somebody at the Agency if you think your former team is being killed?” her friend asked.
“I did. But I don’t think I have all the details right now.” She was clearly missing some key piece to all this and she was going to drive herself crazy trying to figure out what.
Georgina sighed, her expression tightening as she sat forward. “Since I’ve got you here, off the record, we brought someone in for the bombing.”
Evie straightened in her chair as well, all thoughts of Seamus fading. The only bombing Georgina could be referring to was the one that had landed Evan in the hospital and killed others. Her heart rate kicked up at the thought of the guilty party being brought to justice. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah. It’s why I was here tonight. We’ve been pulling a lot of overtime. I can’t say with certainty that he’s the guy, but between us…he’s the guy, Bishop. We’ve got him, we just have to nail him to the wall.”
Evie wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. Could they really have caught the guy? She knew Georgina and her team were good. “How sure are you?”
“Again, off the record, it’s his signature. And the evidence we have… Let’s just say, it’s a lot. He had a beef with one of the people killed in the bombing. I can’t tell you more than that. I wish I could, but I’ve got to do this by the book and I won’t do anything that risks screwing it up. I’m not letting this guy go. We should be wrapping up this case very soon. Your brother and the others will get justice.”
Throat tight, Evie nodded. That was incredible news. She wanted to ask for the bomber’s name, but knew Georgina would never give it to her. She couldn’t share the news with her family just yet, but knowing that whoever had tried to kill Evan and had killed Isla’s dad and others would get what they deserved was a huge relief. Because whoever had set up the bomb had been skilled. They’d known exactly what they were doing when they’d bypassed security.
“Thank you, Georgina. Seriously.”
The agent nodded and gave her an appraising look. “By the way, how did you drag that fine-ass man in there with you tonight, anyway? I know who Dylan Blackwood is.”
Evie lifted a shoulder, half-grinning. “We have a history together and…he wouldn’t let me go alone.” And she was desperate to see him again, even if she was suppressing her need to get to him. To see with her own eyes that he was okay. “He better be unharmed.”
“You know better than that. He’s fine.” Sighing, Georgina shook her head as she continued. “I can’t stay long with you. We’ve got more interviews and paperwork. You know how it goes.”
“So are we being charged with anything?” Evie knew the answer but wanted it crystal clear.
“Hell no. None of this ever happened. There isn’t even going to be a record of you three being brought in tonight. And you better not say a word about Seamus—”
“Please! Give me more credit than that.” Georgina never would have told her anything at all if she hadn’t trusted Evie.
“I might if you hadn’t pulled that stunt tonight.”
“Like I knew he was undercover. So…he ‘left’ the Agency under a black cloud. I’m guessing that part was intentional?” Evie wanted to make sure she had all the details straight.
Georgina simply stared at her, not answering one way or another, which was an answer in itself. It probably meant that Seamus’s cover involved actually being who he was. They might have faked his firing under the guise of suspecting him of stealing a bunch of money. The CIA had done it before. So Seamus’s cover would be as a disgraced, greedy CIA agent. But that wasn’t her problem now. And she mentally wished him luck on whatever job he was running.
Evie stood, wanting only to see Dylan, then get Samara. “Pass on my apologies to him?”
“Will do. And I don’t want to see you skulking around Miami again.”
Evie made a sort of noncommittal sound because she certainly couldn’t make that promise.
And now that she knew Seamus wasn’t the one gunning for them…that created a new problem. One that meant she would definitely be “skulking” around Miami. She would do whatever was necessary to find out who wanted them dead.
And why.
Chapter 15
Andrew intently listened as the doctor spoke to the security guy at Dylan Blackwood’s residence. His heart pounded in his ears as he waited in the trunk, hoping they didn’t do a full check of the doctor’s vehicle. He’d been watching this place for days and so far they didn’t seem to check all vehicles. Not when they knew the people stopping by. It was why he hadn’t tried to sneak in using a delivery vehicle because of the thorough checks on those. And an entrance from the water was out—too much room for error.
Andrew had realized the only way he was going to get to Evie Bishop and Samara Sousa—who he now knew was staying here—was by breaking in.
It was risky but the man who’d hired him was willing to pay a lot. And that was what mattered to him. He would take out anyone for the right price. Except kids. He wasn’t a total monster.
A second later, the vehicle started forward with a jerk. After less than a minute, the doctor parked and the car went quiet.
He remained as still as possible as he turned on his mic. Earbuds already in, he waited and listened. He heard various guards talking, their voices ebbing and flowing as they walked the perimeter. Blackwood was rich as hell, owning a good portion of the property in Miami. It was no wonder he had security. His mistake was getting tangled up with Bishop. After that clip on the news of the two of them, the man who’d hired Andrew had sent him here. Said it made sense Bishop would be here. And his boss was convinced that Samara was with Bishop.
After surveying the house from a boat about half a mile out the last couple days, he had their security movements mapped out fairly well. He wanted to stay in the trunk longer, get a better feel for things outside, but wasn’t sure how long the doctor was staying.
He waited another twenty minutes until the perfect opening arose. And this was the opportunity he couldn’t pass up.
During a lull in the noise, with ski mask in place and gloved hands he silently popped open the trunk. He slipped out and silently shut the trunk, his dark clothes blending in with the shadows. It took him only a few moments to get oriented to where he was—west side of the house near the garage. Perfect. From here he knew exactly how to infiltrate.
He turned on a scrambler he’d created himself, knowing it would make the video feeds go all gray and fuzzy for the next minute. Enough time for him to do what was necessary.
On quiet feet, he hurried toward the multicar garage, stopping at the side door. It had a simple enough security panel so he placed a device on it and let it do its magic. Gone were the days of breaking into places using old-school methods.
He heard two male voices in the distance, growing closer.
He checked his watch. Come on, come on, he inwardly ordered.
Click.
He quickly popped the device off the panel and slid inside, locking the door behind him. An Aston Martin, an SUV and an old muscle car sat quietly, leaving one space open. A waste of money as far as he was concerned, but when you were as rich as Blackwood, why not own all these vehicles?
Now would get tricky, as he wasn’t familiar with the interior of the house. Not completely. He had the basic layout thanks to the architectural plans he’d stolen. Whereas the breaking in had been child’s play for someone like him, this would be a test. Luckily it was three in the morning and most people were asleep now. Obviously someone wasn’t, since the doctor had been called, but he was hoping everyone’s guard would be lowered this time of night.
Using his mic, he listened. Heard
nothing from the kitchen on the other side of the door. After another two minutes of silence, he tried the handle but found it was locked. The door handle was a simple enough lock, however.
Using his old-school lock pick, it took two full minutes. So maybe not so simple after all. But still doable. And he hadn’t seen any cameras in the garage so he was still feeling good about this.
Adrenaline pumping as he slipped inside, he quickly scanned the empty kitchen. Moonlight streamed in from a few high windows but the room was empty, as was the attached living room. The pool and Atlantic glittered beyond the windows of the living room, sparkling under the moonlight and city lights.
Instinctively, he adjusted his ski mask as he pulled his SIG out. He didn’t like messy jobs, but if he ran up against unexpected resistance, so be it. He was taking out Bishop and Sousa if they were here.
And anyone else who got in his way.
Keeping his earbuds in, he listened outside every room as he moved throughout the house, navigating through the long, winding hallways toward the bedrooms.
When he reached the east wing, he heard multiple voices inside one of the bedrooms. There was also the sound of a shower running and a woman giggling.
Perfect. They might be awake, but they wouldn’t be ready for him.
He tried the handle. Unlocked. Even better.
As he stepped into what turned out to be a gigantic bedroom, he saw clothes tossed onto the floor, and rumpled, expensive-looking sheets twisted on a king-size bed.
The door to the attached bathroom was cracked open, steam billowing out.
He heard another very feminine laugh as he approached the door, SIG up.
He wasn’t certain if this was Bishop or Sousa. Both were fine pieces of ass. Unfortunately he didn’t have time on this op to enjoy either one of them.
No, his priority was to eliminate both of them. For what crime, he had no idea. He just knew they had to die.
He eased the door open but froze at the feel of metal touching the back of his skull.
“Drop it,” a deadly male voice said, steel in the words.
He started to turn, then something slammed against the side of his head.
Training kicked in and he twisted, shoving up with his elbow as he turned. Dylan Blackwood dodged the blow, slamming his own fist against Andrew’s nose.
Pain exploded in his face as a female voice shouted, “Drop it!”
Evie Bishop stepped out of the shadows of the partially open closet door, fully dressed, pistol raised.
Son of a bitch.
Knowing it was over, he dropped his weapon, resisting the urge to wipe away the blood on his face. He knew Bishop wouldn’t outright kill him. No, she would simply call the cops or the Feds. And he wouldn’t stay in jail for very long. Hell no. The person who had hired him would make sure he got out immediately. He knew too much, and if anyone killed him, all that information would go public. So he’d take the loss now and live to see another day.
“You’re a moron for thinking you could break in here.” Blackwood’s eyes blazed with anger. “But thank you for putting yourself on camera. Now we have all the evidence the cops will need.”
He barely saw the fist coming before Dylan punched him in the face again. This time blackness engulfed him.
Chapter 16
“Got it,” Evie said as she quickly scanned the guy’s fingerprints into her mini biometric fingerprint scanner. She didn’t start the program to run his info just yet, however. “You know, we could just kill him and ditch the body.” She was joking. Mostly. Because she was sick of being targeted. Dylan’s security had scanned another heat signature in the trunk of Finn’s car—which was how they’d known the man was in there. So security had kept an eye on the vehicle and let the guy think he’d broken in. His tech had been impressive but not good enough.
Finn coming tonight had been by chance—since Samara had contacted him for what Evie was pretty sure was a booty call. Something she wasn’t even going to think about. Which told her that Finn had been under surveillance. So whoever was after her and Samara knew Evie was with Blackwood. Probably because of that stupid news clip.
Dylan narrowed his gaze at her as he bound the man’s hands behind his back. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding.”
She lifted a shoulder as Dylan secured his feet next. “Carlito is going to get really sick of hearing from us.” And she was tired of involving the cops in anything. It went against all her training and instinct in general.
“Probably so.”
Evie was silent for a long moment as she stared down at the man. “He looks familiar. I can’t figure out where I’ve seen him though. But there’s a good probability that my team has worked with him or hired him. It might come to me before we get a hit on the prints. And if he has worked for my former employer, then…chances are if I run his prints, whoever hired him is going to get wind of it.”
“They’re going to get wind of it once he gets put into the system,” Dylan said.
He’d be charged with a crime, his fingerprints run, and anyone who was keeping tabs on him would know he’d failed in his mission. “Shit,” she muttered. “Unless…”
“What?”
“Maybe we don’t call the cops. Maybe we call the FBI instead. I know enough people who owe me a favor to hold him for forty-eight hours before having to put him into the system. It’s a gamble. But I want to figure out who sent him, before whoever that is realizes he’s been arrested.”
Dylan was silent for a long moment then nodded. “Okay. Call your contact. I’m going to send Finn home.”
“Samara will be sad,” she murmured.
Dylan simply snorted and shook his head as he lifted the guy off the ground.
* * *
Less than ten minutes later, Evie stood next to Samara and Dylan as she stared at the computer screen on his desk, reading over Andrew Trent’s redacted file. The man Dylan had knocked out in his bedroom was a hired mercenary who did contract work for the CIA. She’d known he’d looked familiar. Trent took any job given to him, no questions asked. A freaking robot as far as she was concerned.
Leo had taken their prisoner and was keeping him secured under his supervision—though he wasn’t happy about it and he’d made sure Evie knew it. Not that she blamed the guy. She’d brought nothing but trouble into Dylan’s home.
“He’s been connected to a lot of operations.” She read over what she could, making notes of important things.
Samara’s jaw was tight as she reached over and scrolled down, showing the full list of names Trent had worked with, pausing on one in particular. His name had been highlighted more than once and there was an interesting pattern to their communications. Oh…this was not good.
Then Samara looked at Evie, eyebrows raised. “Could it be him?” she murmured.
Evie didn’t say anything, simply looked back at the screen as her anger rose. Stepping away from the computer, she pulled out one of her encrypted phones and called a familiar number.
Her longtime friend, and one of her mentors, Luca Ramos answered. “Yeah?”
“It’s Evie. Long time no talk. How’ve you been?” Lead settled in her stomach as she thought about the ramifications of what she was about to do. Her tone sounded light enough, masking the tension building inside her.
“Evie, good to hear your voice. Things are good enough. Working. Wife’s still putting up with me, thank God. You know how it is. How’s Miami? You settling in? Shit— Sorry, I didn’t even think about your brothers,” he said almost immediately after asking his first casual questions.
“Yeah, it’s been pretty tough. Things have a way of working themselves out.” She certainly hoped so anyway. No matter what, she would make sure Ellis never went to jail for a crime he hadn’t committed. She would set him up with a new ID if necessary. Get him established in another country with a new life. Whatever it took. He sure as hell wasn’t going to jail.
“Isn’t that the truth. What do you need from me? Yo
u need help with your brother’s case? That whole mess stinks of a cover-up. And I hear he’s gone off-grid.”
Of course Luca had. The man seemed to know everything. Well, maybe not everything. She rubbed at her temple, fighting off a headache. “No, I was just checking in, seeing when you’re returning to the States.”
“A month, give or take. Working on something big.”
“Okay, look me up when you get back. We’ll catch up over dinner.”
“Sounds like a plan. And let me know if you need help with anything revolving around your family. I’ll call in favors. Whatever it takes.”
“I will, thanks.” Shoving out a breath, she tucked her phone back in her pocket and turned to Samara and Dylan—the man she’d never stopped loving. “It’s time to bait a trap.”
They both nodded at her. She needed to explain a lot to Dylan, though by now he’d figured out she’d worked for the CIA. Considering the files he’d just looked at, he knew. But she would confirm it for him.
Part of Evie wanted to tell him that he could walk away at any time, that he didn’t have to be involved any further than this. But she knew if she did, it would insult him.
The truth was, she didn’t want to walk away from him, didn’t want him to walk away from her, from what they’d found together. She’d discovered that she liked working with him. It was exhilarating in an entirely different way than she was used to. As soon as this was over, she was coming clean, she’d decided. She’d tell him the truth: that she’d targeted him, watched him for a month and then used him as an asset to get an introduction to Rod Jensen.
Then she would let the chips fall where they may. Unfortunately she was pretty sure this was going to end with her heartbreak.
* * *
Five hours later, Evie shoved her laptop away at around the same time Dylan did, and pumped a fist into the air. They’d been going about things all wrong, looking in the wrong corners. After finding out who Andrew Trent had been working with on a regular basis, things made more sense and she’d had a much better idea who was after them.
