Keeping his true identity a secret

is the only way to complete his undercover mission...

Shannon Murphy has no idea her neighbor is a Homeland Security agent working undercover to break up a human trafficking ring. Ian McKenzie wants to keep it that way. Until the mission to rescue Shannon’s friend from the same abductors Shannon escaped goes south, plunging her into mortal danger. After keeping secrets, can Ian convince Shannon to trust him with her life?

LENA DIAZ was born in Kentucky and has also lived in California, Louisiana and Florida, where she now resides with her husband and two children. Before becoming a romantic suspense author, she was a computer programmer. A Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® Award finalist, she has also won the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense. To get the latest news about Lena, please visit her website, lenadiaz.com.

Also by Lena Diaz

Smoky Mountains Ranger

Smokies Special Agent

Conflicting Evidence

Mountain Witness

Secret Stalker

Stranded with the Detective

SWAT Standoff

Missing in the Glades

Arresting Developments

Deep Cover DetectiveDiscover

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Undercover Rebel

Lena Diaz

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90501-9

UNDERCOVER REBEL

© 2020 Lena Diaz

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Note to Readers

This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

 Change of font size and line height

 Change of background and font colours

 Change of font

 Change justification

 Text to speech

Thank you to all the wonderful readers enjoying this series, especially those who have sent me emails and messages about how much they love this special family of law-enforcement heroes. I hope Ian’s story warms your heart and leaves you with a smile on your face.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Ian spotted his target in the back-left corner of the truck stop’s massive parking lot, parked sideways as if poised for a quick getaway. Two empty spaces separated the white panel van from a garish bright yellow semi, one of dozens of rigs parked along the chain-link fence. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes at the cliché of bad guys in a panel van. Just once he’d like to come up against his prey driving something more original with a cool factor, like a sports car, or even a blacked-out Suburban if they had to go big. Then again, a fancy car would attract attention, and attention was the last thing they wanted. It was the last thing Ian wanted.

He hunched his leather jacket against the cold wind blowing down from the Tennessee side of the Smoky Mountains and started forward. A glance to his right revealed the fast-food drive-through was already beginning to bustle with people looking for a quick, easy supper. Harassed-looking moms and dads in SUVs placed their orders, kids in the back yelling, laughing or crying through the open windows. None of them seemed to notice what was really going on outside the reach of the restaurant’s neon glow. Few people ever did.

Rigs belched smoke behind the restaurant, pulling up to lines of diesel fuel pumps that seemed to go on forever. Others parked to catch a few hours of sleep before getting back on I-40 to head into nearby Gatlinburg or some other destination. The occasional achingly young woman or man hopped in and out of the various sleeper cabs, sometimes pausing to grab junk food right alongside the soccer moms and dads inside the restaurant. And no one thought twice about it. Which was why business thrived out here. Just not the kind of business most of the decent people in this part of Tennessee knew about. Or the average person in hundreds of other towns just like this one.

Sometimes Ian wondered why he bothered to fight anymore. The odds were overwhelmingly against him. More often than not, his missions ended in defeat rather than victory. But every time he was on the verge of quitting, the memories would slam into him. Dormant grief and anger would work their way through his system like banked coals igniting into a dangerous wildfire. And then a name would prick his conscience.

Willow.

That was his battle cry, a reminder of his greatest failure, the reason he persevered even when the odds of making a difference seemed pathetically out of reach. But it was a newer name that pushed him forward tonight—Maria. Although he didn’t know her, his friend and neighbor Shannon did. And the word on the street was that the men he was about to meet knew Maria too.

But they weren’t her friends.

Ian sent up a silent prayer that Shannon would be uncharacteristically patient, that she’d stay in his car as she’d promised when this opportunity came up. They’d been on their way to a pizza joint when the long-awaited call had come in. If he’d taken the time to drive her home, he’d have missed the meeting. And neither of them had been willing to risk that.

Up ahead, a twentysomething skinny white guy with dark greasy hair and ragged jeans waved at Ian from near the van’s front bumper. The kid had dubbed himself Wolverine. But something more passive, like Archie or Howard, seemed more appropriate. He didn’t exactly inspire fear. But he did have his uses—like setting up tonight’s meeting.

“Hurry up, Ian.” Wolverine wrung his hands and glanced at the trio standing beside the van’s closed sliding door. “The boss doesn’t have all day.”

Ian kept his steady, unhurried pace. It gave him time to size up his adversaries. According to Wolverine, their names were Butch, Jagger and Axel. Ian would bet the .357 Magnum Ruger GP100 that he’d left in his car for Shannon’s protection that those monikers were just as fake as Wolverine’s. But unlike Wolverine, these men’s nicknames fit them perfectly. And they didn’t give the impression that they were the least bit worried about Ian’s size.

At six-one, his height tended to be an advantage when facing an opponent. But it was his powerful biceps and muscular physique that usually gave him the intimidation edge. His leather jacket, spiky black-and-blond hair, and dragon tattoos peeking out from his neck and wrists completed his street image. But the bulked-up men calmly watching him approach had Ian thinking he should up his reps at the gym. A lot. If things went south in the next few minutes, he might end up in the fight of his life. And that was only if they didn’t kill each other in a shoot-out first.

“Lose the shades.” The biggest of the three gave the order. His red hair and pale, freckled skin probably got him teased when he was younger. No one would make that mistake now. He could have been the Incredible Hulk’s younger, less green brother, with a carrot top.

“And take your hands out of your pockets.” That from the middle guy. Ian half expected the dark-skinned giant to pull a sword from behind his back and go all daywalker on him like Wesley Snipes in the Blade movies.

Ian kept his hands in his pockets. He didn’t take off his shades. He looked to number three and jerked his head toward his fellow thugs. “I get the Incredible Hulk and Blade. But who are you supposed to be? Captain Jack Sparrow, on steroids?”

Jack’s eyes widened, and he looked to his boss as if to take his lead on a response. Ian chalked him up as a minion, like Wolverine. No one important. He focused his attention on the other two. It was Blade who straightened, tossing his dreads and baring his white teeth like a hungry pit bull. First lieutenant, then, the main man’s bodyguard. Definitely important. And dangerous.

“You think you’re funny or something?” Blade flexed his fists at his sides.

“What are you doing, Ian?” Wolverine sounded like he was ready to faint. “You tryin’ to get yourself killed?”

Zeroing in on the one he’d come for, Ian stopped three feet away from Hulk. He kept his left hand in his jacket pocket wrapped around the butt of his second-favorite gun, a Glock .22. Not as powerful or impressive-looking as his .357 revolver, it had the advantage of holding more rounds with less recoil. And it fit perfectly in his pocket. He could take out Blade and Jack without even pulling out the gun. But it would ruin a really nice jacket.

He stared directly at Hulk. “This macho drama is great if you’re trying to intimidate some green kid straight out of high school. But I’m not green, and high school was a long time ago. My buyers are impatient for some fresh product. I was told you were the guy who could get it. Either show me what you have or my money and I go elsewhere.”

“Ian, man. You’re blowin’ it.” Wolverine sidled closer to Hulk. “You need to show some respect and—”

Hulk held up his hand. Wolverine slunk to the front of the van again. Blade had moved forward when Ian had. But he stepped back at his boss’s signal, looking none too happy about it. Jack’s eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets as he glared at Ian. Apparently, he wasn’t a fan of Captain Jack Sparrow. That alone had Ian wanting to knock some sense into him.

“How fresh are we talking?” Hulk’s voice was deathly quiet, his dark gaze riveted on Ian.

“I don’t make deals with people I don’t know.” Ian slowly and deliberately pulled his right hand out of his pocket, then held it out toward the leader. “Ian Savage.”

Hulk eyed his hand for a long moment. Time seemed to stand still as Ian waited. In his peripheral vision, he watched for sudden movements from the others, calculating distances and reaction times as he sifted through various possible scenarios.

“The name’s Butch.” Hulk finally grasped Ian’s hand in a firm handshake. When he let go, he waved toward his lieutenant. “That’s Axel, and over there is Jagger.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “But I kind of like Blade and Sparrow. Might have to borrow those.” He chuckled and reached into his pocket.

Ian tensed. Butch noticed and hesitated. He mimicked Ian’s earlier slow, deliberate movements as he pulled his hand out of his pocket, revealing a stack of photographs.

“Product.” Butch’s mouth curved into a lecherous grin. “The freshest around. Your buyers have any particular preferences, fetishes?” He fanned out the pictures like he was playing poker, and held them up in the air. “Redheads, blondes, brunettes. Tall, short, skinny, fat. I’ve got ’em all.”

Ian flicked his gaze over each of the pictures. None of them matched Maria’s description or had the tattoo on her neck that Shannon had told him about. “Got any Latinas? Dark hair, dark eyes? Curvy?”

Butch shrugged, his smile fading. “I got a few. But they’re older, more...experienced. I thought your buyer wanted fresh.”

Ian made a quick course correction, forcing a grin as he worked to keep his worm on the hook. “The Latina would be a bonus, for me.”

Butch laughed, biting at the bait again. “If we deal, maybe I’ll throw two Spanish beauties in just for you. What about your buyer? What’s his preference?”

“Young,” Ian said. “Very young.”

“A man after my own tastes.” He winked.

The urge to slam the butt of his pistol against the pervert’s grinning mouth was nearly overwhelming. Instead, Ian schooled his features into a bland expression that gave nothing away of the turmoil inside him.

Butch pulled a smaller stack of pictures from his other pocket and made a show of licking his lips before turning them face out. “Young enough for you?” His brow arched. “I mean, for your friend, of course.”

Bile rose in Ian’s throat. The girls in the photographs didn’t look old enough to be in high school. Two were prepubescent. He tightened his grip on the pistol in his pocket. One little squeeze and he could rid the world of this piece of garbage. But that wouldn’t help the victims in those photographs. Until he knew where they were, he had to treat this animal like a human being.

Forcing a conspiratorial grin was beyond Ian’s abilities. “How fast can you deliver?”

“A couple of hours. If the price is right.”

Disappointment shot through him. He’d hoped the victims were close by, maybe hidden in the back of one of the big rigs. The whole mission could have been resolved in minutes. The young girls—none of them were old enough to be called women—could be rescued from this scum’s depraved clutches and given a new chance at the life they deserved. Instead, he’d have to keep up the facade a little longer.

He held out his hand to take possession of the photographs. “I need a closer look before I choose.”

“They’re all A1 prime. I take good care of my girls.” Another lascivious grin. “You pick the ones you’re interested in. Then we talk price and delivery.” Butch stacked the pictures together and held them out.

“Ian? Ian, is that you?” a man called out from behind him.

Ian froze. No. Of all people to recognize him from his other life, why did it have to be him? He was going to ruin everything.

He reached for the pictures.

Butch snatched them back, and suddenly Ian was looking down the bore of a pistol.

Chapter Two

Ian bit back a curse. “What are you doing, Butch? You threaten all your potential buyers?”

He’d been close, so close. He needed those pictures. He needed the trust of this monster pointing the pistol at him. And now a chance encounter with someone from his other life was jeopardizing months of undercover work, and the anticipated rescue of Hulk’s young victims.

“You a cop, Ian?” Butch’s knuckles whitened on the pistol grip. “’Cause that guy calling your name smells like a cop to me. You trying to pull something?”

Ian leaned slightly forward, curling his lip in derision even as he felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. “Don’t insult me by calling me names. I ain’t no cop.”

Hulk studied him as if trying to decide whether to believe him. He subtly jerked his head. Axel and Blade slid the side door open behind him and hopped inside the van. Wolverine jumped into the passenger seat up front.

“Ian!” the voice called out again, closer.

Think fast. You can fix this. You have to fix this.

Butch looked past Ian’s shoulder, then pocketed his gun. “That guy looks familiar. Who is he?”

Ian was seriously sweating now. Did Butch have a run-in with Adam in the past? Would he remember where he saw him? He went all in, and prayed his bluff would work. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“That’s the piece of crap who screwed my girlfriend. I’ll get rid of him. Then you and I can finish business.”

He whirled and strode toward Adam, half expecting to feel the burn of a bullet between his shoulders. He funneled all of his frustration and anger into an expression of pure malice as he glared at the man who was endangering everything. Of all the people to recognize him and interrupt his mission, why did it have to be Adam? He was two inches taller than Ian, if not more muscular. And, naturally, he was standing beside a cool blacked-out SUV that he must have parked when he saw Ian.

He didn’t stop until he was right in Adam’s face. “Punch me.” His voice was pitched low so no one else would hear. “Hard.”

“Punch you? Why would I punch—”

Ian slugged him in the jaw, spinning him around. He followed up with a solid left hook to the middle, making him double over.

Adam coughed, his eyes watering as he glared up at Ian. He slowly straightened and wiped a thin trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “You want to give me one good reason why I shouldn’t beat the crap out of you for that?”

“Nope.” Ian braced himself for what he knew was coming, and slowly drew back his fist again, giving Adam plenty of opportunity. The punch caught him in the shoulder like a battering ram, slamming him to the pavement. His head bounced against the concrete and his mouth filled with blood. Holy hell. He’d forgotten just how strong Adam was. The man was built like a bull.

Somewhere behind him laughter sounded. Some truckers watching the fun? Or Butch and his crew? An engine revved. The van. Ian’s stomach sank. He’d lost his opportunity to rescue the girls, at least tonight. He shook his head, desperately trying to clear his double vision as he pushed himself to his feet. Maybe Butch would give him another chance. Ian had to convince him this fight was for real, and that Adam wasn’t a cop. He had to keep this up until the van was gone. Even if it killed him.

He spit out a stream of blood and turned, then ducked just in time to avoid a fist to the face.

The white van pulled out of its spot, slowly passing them. Butch was definitely watching. Ian had to make this convincing.

He straightened, both fists in front of him as he tried to figure out which blurry image to hit. He made a half-hearted jab toward the middle one, then braced himself for the return punch. It was a one-two combo, making him double over from the first hit, then spin around with the second. He wobbled, the white of the van barely in his field of vision now. They were still watching. Was that a good thing? Or a bad thing? Were bullets about to fly or was Butch going to lie low and set up a new meeting later?

One more weak jab at Adam hit air as planned. Even knowing what was coming, he wasn’t prepared for the violence of the return punch. It slammed into his ribs, knocking the wind out of him and sending him flying backward.

He managed to cover his head with his arm this time before he hit the concrete.

Fiery lava shot up his left arm and zinged through his shoulder. The only thing that kept him from shouting was a mouthful of blood. He spit again, then coughed and rolled onto his stomach, trying to push himself up on all fours. His left arm hung useless at his side. He swore. How was he supposed to go up against thugs like the Hulk with a bum shooting arm? Maybe he should have slugged Adam for real. He might have lost more by throwing this fight than he’d gained.

“Ian, good grief. Stay down. I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No.” He coughed up more blood. “No ambulance.” At least, that was what he tried to say. He was pretty sure it came out something like “nolnce.”

The van sped off.

Thank God.

Adam crouched in front of him, a little unsteady himself, seeming to favor his left leg even though Ian didn’t think he’d hit it. “Be still. Quit trying to stand.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call—”

Tires screeched. An engine roared.

“What the—” Adam jumped back to avoid being hit by Ian’s black Dodge Charger.

Ah, hell.

“Hey, big bully. Back off. Now,” Shannon called through the open window. “Ian, get in.” The passenger door popped open beside him. “Stay back, jerk, or I’ll put a hole in you.”

Ian squinted toward the car. She was pointing his .357 Magnum at Adam. Things had just gone from bad to about ten levels worse than that. He wobbled to his feet just as Adam brought up his Glock.

“Drop it, lady,” Adam ordered.

Ian staggered between them, using his body as a shield, hoping they both didn’t start a shoot-out with him in the middle. He rarely wore a Kevlar vest while undercover, just in case a bad guy wanted to see proof that he wasn’t wearing a wire. Now he was reconsidering the sanity of that decision.

“Ergmrph.” He shook his head in defeat. Either his brain was scrambled or the cut in his mouth was garbling his words. Probably both.

“Ian, get out of the way.” Adam jerked his gun down.

Progress.

He forced his uncooperative legs to shuffle and fell back into the car.

Adam’s gun came up.

Ian threw himself against Shannon, once more acting as her human shield.

Adam swore and yanked his gun down.

“Go.” Ian’s order came out a pained grunt, but must have gotten the message across.

The car took off, the momentum slamming the passenger door shut. Ian couldn’t hold on and rolled back the other way, crunching his ruined arm between his body and the door before managing to twist around and fall back into the seat. His garbled curses were the last thing he heard before surrendering to the darkness.

Chapter Three

Shannon slammed the brakes, bringing the Charger to a bouncing stop in front of the emergency room doors. Muffled cursing had her wincing and looking at Ian. His normally handsome, chiseled features were almost unrecognizable beneath his blood-matted black-and-blond hair. He was slumped in the passenger seat, cradling his left arm against his abdomen, his deep blue eyes glazed with pain.

“We’re here.” She grabbed the massive revolver from the console and hid it in her purse just as a man in green scrubs ran out the sliding doors, motioning for her to move.

“Lady, you can’t park here. This is the ambulance entrance. We’ve got one on the way, five minutes out.”

“I need help!” she yelled through the open passenger window. “This man, he’s hurt. I...found him a couple of blocks away, lying in the street. I think he got mugged or something. His left arm may be broken.”

Ian grunted, the corner of his swollen mouth lifting in a half grin as he nodded. He approved of her lies. No surprise there. She was good at lying, had been doing it most of her life just to survive.

The man in scrubs leaned in, his eyes going wide when he saw Ian. He turned and motioned toward the doors to someone Shannon couldn’t see. A moment later another man in scrubs ran outside, pushing a wheelchair at a run.

“Sir, I’m Nurse Jack. I’m going to help you. Can you tell me what happened?” The first man eased open the door and crouched inside, checking Ian’s injuries.

For some reason, the nurse’s name seemed to amuse Ian. He chuckled and mumbled something that sounded oddly like “Sparrow.”

“What’s his name?” Jack asked.

“I’m not sure. He mumbled Ian, I think.”

Ian gave her a thumbs-up, acting loopy. He never acted loopy. Just what had that jerk at the truck stop done to him?

The two men struggled to lift Ian out of the car. But they managed to get him into the wheelchair without dumping him onto the concrete. The second one took off, pushing Ian toward the emergency room doors. Jack shut the car door and crouched by the window, motioning toward the parking lot to Shannon’s left.

“Park over there and come inside. We’ve got policemen here 24/7. One of them will want to take your statement.”

“Of course. Be right in. Thank you so much for your help.”

He gave her a tight, suspicious smile. “We don’t see enough Good Samaritans these days. That guy owes you. Thanks.” He backed up to the curb.

Feeling like the fraud she was, she smiled back, then pulled Ian’s car into the lot. With Nurse Jack watching, she parked in the first spot she came to, halfway down the row. She stalled for time by rolling up the windows one at a time. Then she grabbed her purse and cut the engine before slowly getting out of the car.

She could feel Jack watching her, so she kept up the charade. She smoothed her T-shirt over her jeans and strolled toward the emergency room.

Giving up his vigil, he jogged back to the hospital, convinced that his Good Samaritan was coming inside to talk to the police as instructed.

Like that would ever happen.

She ducked down the next row of cars, then took off running in the opposite direction. The next two hours were spent shuffling between fast-food restaurants and convenience stores, all within a few blocks of the hospital. Every time she stayed in one place long enough to start getting curious stares, she’d switch locations and start over.

Now, standing outside the ER once again, she debated the wisdom of going inside. Had she waited long enough to avoid the cops? Were they looking for her? What about Ian? Where was he? There was no way to know whether the doctors had already patched up his injuries. Emergency rooms were notorious for long waits. But he’d been in rough shape. Surely they would have taken care of him by now.

As she cautiously approached, she kept an eye out for Nurse Jack and the man who’d wheeled Ian into the emergency room. When she didn’t see either one, she straightened her shoulders and marched inside. One of the things that Ian had taught her since moving into the other side of the duplex that she rented was to hide in plain sight. Most people wouldn’t question a person’s right to be somewhere if they acted with confidence, pretending they belonged. Proving the point, no one stopped her or questioned her as she moved through the maze of rooms, gleaning bits of information left for anyone to take if they paid attention.

Like the sign-in sheet at the triage desk when the nurse turned away to talk to someone.

And the whiteboard with patient numbers instead of names, but with medical descriptions beside them: flu-like symptoms, fever, possible dislocated or fractured arm.

That dislocation or fracture could be Ian. Nothing else on the board fit. It still shocked her that he’d lost the fight so easily. She’d seen him take on four guys a few days ago outside their duplex because he was incensed that they were selling weed to the neighborhood kids. Those guys had left bleeding and bruised with their drugs confiscated. Ian had come away relatively unscathed. So how had he been beaten up by one lone man?

True, the guy was brawny and a few inches taller than Ian. But his shoulders weren’t as broad, his arms not as ripped. Normally Ian fought like a junkyard dog, scrappy and vicious, holding nothing back. Today he’d seemed sluggish. It didn’t make sense.

After a few more minutes of snooping and some unauthorized trips into areas off-limits to patients, she had a room number. He’d been taken to the fifth floor half an hour ago. From what she could understand from the medical jargon she’d sneaked and read, he’d been lucky. His arm was deeply bruised and sprained, dislocated and rotated back into place, but not broken. He did have a minor concussion. No surprise there. And he also had bruised ribs. Again, he was lucky they weren’t broken. The blood he’d been coughing up had come from a cut on the inside of his cheek. He’d be in a lot of pain for a few days. But at least he was going to be okay, or so she hoped. She wanted to see him for herself to be sure.

Ducking out of a restricted area into the main hallway, she swept her gaze back and forth, on the lookout for Nurse Jack or the cops he’d mentioned. The elevators were a little farther down. She just might make it. Then she’d find out if Ian was okay, and whether he’d been able to discover anything about Maria before that stupid bully had interfered.

She scanned the intersecting hallway just before the ladies’ room and the bank of elevators, then froze. Three impressively muscled, tall, dark-haired men in business suits were striding down the hall toward her. The one in the middle was half-turned, talking to the man on his right. He had the slightest limp, barely noticeable, as if his left leg bothered him. She’d seen that limp before. And she’d seen that profile, at the truck stop.

He was the man who’d beaten Ian.

She put on a burst of speed and ducked into the ladies’ room. The door had just swung shut when footsteps echoed outside. Had he seen her? Recognized her? She waited, pressing a hand to her chest as if she could force her pulse to stop racing so fast.

A toilet flushed in one of the stalls. She started primping in the mirror, finger-combing her black hair to make the blue tips lie flat against her shoulders.

An older lady in a yellow sunflower-print dress stepped to a sink two down from her, smiling politely even though her disapproving gaze shot to the tattoos on Shannon’s arms.

She’d probably faint if she saw the ones on her back.

Shannon hid a smile and grabbed a paper towel, pretending to dry her hands as she listened for sounds from the hallway. The footsteps had stopped. The elevator dinged. She tensed, her hand dropping to her purse, where the .357 rested inside. As soon as the elevator dinged again, she peeked out the door. The men were gone. She rushed into the hallway to the elevators. Only one was moving, the digital numbers above it marking its ascent.

Two. Three.

Keep going. Keep going.

Four.

Don’t stop, don’t stop.

Five. The elevator stopped.

Her stomach sank. The man who’d attacked Ian and possibly wrecked their plans to finally rescue Maria had somehow figured out where he was.

And he’d brought reinforcements.

Chapter Four

Ian awkwardly shifted against the pillows in his hospital bed as he clutched the phone to his right ear. While he listened to his boss, he watched the door at the other end of the room. He’d managed to keep his true identity a secret from the doctors and nurses so far. He aimed to keep it that way, at least until he discovered whether his cover had been blown with Butch.

“Did you get all that, Ian?”

“Yeah. Got it. Assistant District Attorney Cameron Ellison is a wuss. He wants me to drop my investigation. Doesn’t mean I will.”

A heavy sigh sounded in his ear. “We can’t run roughshod over the locals. We have to play nice in their sandbox. And he’s not asking us to drop it, just put it on hold for a few days, let things cool off. There were complaints at the truck stop. Several people saw the fight and called it in. That kind of exposure doesn’t help any of us.”

Ian’s hand tightened around the phone so hard his knuckles ached. “If those same people paid attention to the real trouble going on around them, maybe we wouldn’t have this human trafficking epidemic.”

“Ian—”

“Please tell me you don’t really expect me to back off. What do you think is going to happen to those girls if I do? I’m pretty sure I told you about ten of them were kids. We’re talking thirteen, fourteen, maybe. And two of them, my God, Nash. They were children. Little kids. We can’t sit on this. Don’t ask me to do that. I won’t. I can’t.”

Another sigh sounded through the phone. “What do you think you can do at this point? They saw you with Adam. They either suspect or know you’re in law enforcement.”

“Maybe, maybe not. They don’t know for sure what Adam does. Butch just got the cop vibe from him is all. And they wouldn’t expect a cop to pick a fight with another cop the way I did. There’s plenty of doubt there. I can build on that.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

“I go back to work, back to the shop. Stick to my routine. If they still want a deal, Wolverine will contact me again.”

“And if they think you tried to set them up, they may try to kill you.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to finish me off, and I’m still here. Nash, come on. Let me do this. Give me one more chance to set the trap and catch these slimeballs. For the love of all that’s holy, help me get those little kids back to their parents.” The phone went silent. “Boss, you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“What’s it gonna be? Let some local prosecutor call the shots and sacrifice dozens of young victims? Or do I get to wrap this thing up and make a difference for once?”

“You’ve rescued hundreds of victims since becoming an agent. You’re making a difference.”

“Doesn’t feel that way from where I’m sitting. I’ve spent months building my cover, getting that noxious Wolverine kid to trust me. We’re almost at the end. You pull me out now and bring someone else in, it’ll take them months, longer, to get back to this point. Maybe you end up with a prosecutable case. Maybe you don’t. Either way, it doesn’t help the victims we know are in or near Gatlinburg right this minute. Rescuing those in need comes before prosecution. That’s how we’ve always done things. A victim-centered approach. Or did our charter change while I was unconscious?”

“You know dang well it didn’t. Fine, fine. You win. Based on those photographs, we know there are approximately thirty victims in jeopardy—”

“Thirty-two. He mentioned two Latina women.”

“All right. Thirty-two. You and I both know how fast this scum likes to move their inventory, especially around a hub like you’ve discovered out here. If you’ve still got this Butch guy interested, maybe he’ll wait and give you one more chance. Forty-eight hours, Ian. That’s all I can give you. After that, we do it ADA Ellison’s way. Might as well try to put someone in prison after all these months even if we don’t end up rescuing the victims.”

He hated that his boss was right. If he didn’t make a deal in the next day or two, the victims were likely beyond their reach, already sold to the highest bidder. Bringing down the trafficking ring would be the only way to prevent others from becoming future victims. But he wasn’t giving up on the girls he’d seen in those pictures. The children. Not yet. Someone had to fight for them. It might as well be him.

“All right. Forty-eight hours. I still get Chris as my contact? Same signals, same setup? I don’t have time to train someone else, establish new parameters and routines.”

“Nothing’s changed from my perspective. It’s the scum you’ve been dealing with who may feel otherwise. If they even suspect who you really are—”

“They don’t.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

Ian’s mouth tightened. What could he say? He had no way of knowing for sure what Butch suspected, or didn’t suspect.

“I didn’t think so,” Nash said. “I’m adding a condition to your forty-eight hours. Every time you go out, you put on Kevlar.”

“Boss—”

“Nonnegotiable. Either wear the vest, or I shut this operation down right now.”

Ian swore. Kevlar added risk, especially with his contacts possibly spooked. But if something did happen, and he wasn’t wearing his vest and somehow survived—Nash would can him in a second. Then what would Ian do? This wasn’t just his career. It was his life. There wasn’t anything else.

Shannon. There was still Shannon.

He shook his head. Stupid dreams. There was no possibility of a future between the two of them. She thought he was simply the mechanic who lived on the other side of her duplex. Once she found out he was in law enforcement, he’d become enemy number one. He’d never see her again.

Of all the people he’d duped in his career, Shannon was the one he truly regretted. She wasn’t some criminal or thug. She was a genuinely good person, a survivor. She’d worked so hard trying to find her friend Maria, who was still trapped in the life that Shannon had escaped. That story had been shared with Ian over dinner and a few too many glasses of wine one night. It had also been the catalyst that had sent his investigation in an entirely new direction.

What Shannon told him about believing Maria might be in the area had eventually led him to Wolverine. She was a hero, and didn’t even know it. She trusted him, thinking he wanted to help her find her friend, because of the attraction they shared and because he was a good person.

He hadn’t faked the attraction.

But the guilt was eating him alive that he’d misled her about his motives, that everything else he’d told her was a lie. Almost. In order to gain her trust, he’d revealed his own extremely personal dark secret, a secret he’d never told anyone else. Which only went to show how obsessed he was with this case, or with Shannon. He’d always planned on taking that particular secret with him to the grave.

“Ian? You still there?”

He shook his head again, then winced when the movement jump-started the headache that had been threatening since the fight with Adam. Maybe he could bum an aspirin or something stronger off a nurse before escaping this place. “I’m here.”

“What about the vest? Do we have a deal?”

He blinked against the bright fluorescent lights overhead and longed to rub his aching temples. But with his left hand in a sling and the phone in his right, all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut. “We have a deal. My vest is at the duplex. I’ll put it on before I head to the shop in the morning.”

“You’d better. If these guys decide they can’t trust you, that vest is your only chance. First sign of trouble, use the nuclear option. I’ll have the cavalry in place to come running. Understood?”

The nuclear option meant blowing his cover, sending the signal for agent in distress. It would activate every asset in the area to come help him. But it would ruin his chances of rescuing anyone. He had no intention of using it. Ever.

“Understood.” Technically, he hadn’t made a promise. “What about the ADA?”

“Leave him to me. I’ll tell him you’re lying low, letting things settle. Don’t make me regret this, Ian. Be careful. See if you can figure out the location of the victims so we can set up a rescue operation. Then shut it down. Don’t try to be a hero and get yourself killed. The paperwork would be a nightmare.”

Ian laughed, then winced at the sharp jolt that shot through his cut cheek. His stomach clenched. The pain was making him nauseous.

“Ian?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll do what I can to keep you from all that paperwork. You’re going to pick up the hospital tab, right? My crappy car mechanic insurance won’t cover an ER visit without a hefty deductible.”

“I’ll take care of it.” The line clicked.

Chapter Five

Ian dumped the landline phone onto the side table and clutched his aching head. But he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of sitting there until the pain receded. He needed to leave. Now.

He stood, then had to grab the bed railing to keep from falling. When the room stopped spinning, he hobbled to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. A few deep breaths seemed to help with the nausea. He cupped his hands beneath the faucet and drank some water. Then, seeing the blood smeared on his face and matting his hair, he did a quick wash in the sink. Finally, looking more presentable and feeling less shaky, he went on a hunt for his clothes.

A few minutes and several curses later, he was fully dressed, minus his favorite leather jacket. It had died a tragic death beneath the scissors of a nurse trying to work it off his injured arm. It would have come in handy right now to hide the splotches of blood on his shirt. But he figured that was to be expected in a hospital. People would just assume it was someone else’s blood, that he’d helped a friend into the emergency room. He couldn’t imagine anyone would try to stop him, as long as he made sure the nurse assigned to him didn’t see him leaving the room.

He still felt naked without a gun. Shannon had his .357 Magnum and his car, which meant she presumably had his Glock .22 pistol, as well. Thankfully, his house key and wallet were in his jeans pocket, so he’d be able to hire a car to drive him home. And he wouldn’t have to kick in the door when he got there. Bonus. That was one tiny bright spot in what had turned into a wasted day.

The second bright spot was that Shannon hadn’t gotten hurt. When she’d pulled that gun on Adam, Ian had been terrified that she’d get killed. Hopefully, she’d gone home and was lying low. He didn’t think Butch or the others had seen her rescuing him at the end of the fight. The van had been gone by then. But he wanted her away from any potential danger, just in case.

He never should have taken her to that truck stop with him, even if it meant rescheduling the meeting. He should have ignored her impassioned pleas that he not delay, that he go directly to the rendezvous point. He shouldn’t have believed her promises that she’d stay in the car and wouldn’t interfere.

Then again, she had stayed in the car.

He grinned at the memory of her daring to call Adam a bully. The woman was just as feisty as she was gorgeous. But knowing Adam, he probably had a BOLO out on her and Ian, just on principle. Every cop in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, had likely been alerted to be on the lookout for the two of them. Which meant if they saw her, especially driving the Charger Adam had seen, she’d be handcuffed and thrown in jail.

In the few months that Ian had known her, one thing was clear—she had a deep-seated fear of law enforcement. If she ended up under arrest, the second she made bail she’d run. He’d never see her again. That shouldn’t matter. But it did.

He was halfway to the door when it started to open. He was mentally spinning a cover story to explain why he was dressed and walking when the nurse stepped inside. Except it wasn’t a nurse. And it wasn’t just one person. It was three.

Adam was flanked by Duncan and Colin. And they were looking at him as if they thought he was the slime stuck to the bottom of their shoes. Nothing had changed since the last time they’d all seen each other. When was that? Probably last Easter, a good seven months ago. Not nearly long enough.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Adam stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

Ian braced his legs and fisted his right hand at his side, fully expecting all three of them to take a turn trying to wallop him. One-on-one, even though each of them was a tad bigger than him, he’d normally have at least a fifty-fifty chance. But he wasn’t exactly at his best tonight. Still, he’d give it a good solid try if they pushed him. As ticked off as he was about this truly screwed-up day, it could give him the advantage.

“If you’re here for round two, Adam, be warned that I’m not throwing the fight this time. You’re the one who’ll be bleeding on the floor when we’re through.”

“I knew it,” Adam said. “You were pulling punches at the truck stop. I figured it was either that or you’d gone soft. Why did you pick the fight to begin with? And what in the world were you doing with those losers by that van?”

He shrugged, then pressed his hand against his protesting ribs. “Losers hang with losers, right?” The other two were intently watching him, but seemed content to let Adam do the talking for this little welcoming committee. “I’d love to reminisce about old times with you boys, but I have things that need doing.”

He stepped around Adam. As one, Colin and Duncan moved to block him, spreading their legs and bracing themselves against whatever he might try.

He blew out a deep breath. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh? You can’t butt out and let it lie? Fine. There’s still some fight left in me. But to be fair, let’s do this one at a time.” He motioned toward the sling on his left arm. “Just to even the odds.”

“Knock off the sarcasm.” Adam crossed his arms, his brow knitting into a frown.

“Who’s being sarcastic? I can take you guys.” He motioned toward Adam. “You first. Payback time.”

He rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “What did the doctors say was wrong? Do you have broken ribs? A concussion? They don’t typically admit someone for a broken arm.”

“What do you care?”

Colin shoved him. “Knock it off, Ian. What’s really going on? Adam told us about those pieces of scum that you were with at the truck stop. Associating with guys like that is low, even for you.”

“Even for me? Gee, thanks, Colin. That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Can’t wait to see what you write on my next Christmas card.” He tried to shove him out of his way.

Colin shoved right back.

“Leave him alone,” a feminine voice called out from behind the Colin-Duncan wall.

Ian groaned as Colin and Duncan turned around. Shannon stood just inside the door, holding his .357 Magnum revolver in both her hands.

In the blink of an eye, three pistols were pointing directly at her.

“Drop it,” Adam ordered. “Now.”

Her face turned chalk white. Her arms started to shake.

Ian moved between Colin and Shannon, once again playing human shield. He was really getting tired of that role. “Guys, dial it back. Shannon, give me the gun.”

“But they were—”

“It’s okay. Trust me. Please.” He held out his hand.

She hesitated, her hands shaking dangerously, her finger on the trigger.

He purposely kept his voice gentle and calming as he spoke. “Shannon, darlin’, I really need you to move your finger off the trigger and give me the gun. You think you can do that?”

Her blue-tipped black bangs had fallen into her eyes. She tossed her head, green eyes darting back and forth from the others to him. None of them had lowered their weapons. They’d simply shifted their stances so they could aim at her without him in the line of fire. They wouldn’t shoot him. But they didn’t know Shannon and weren’t taking any chances with her.

“Shannon—”

“Okay, okay.” She moved her finger off the trigger and turned the gun around.

He blew out a relieved breath as he took the gun. “Thank you. You did great.” He smiled encouragingly and shoved the revolver into his jeans pocket.

The others lowered their weapons and slowly put them away, as if they were worried that she might draw another gun.

Ian turned sideways so he could keep an eye on all of them. He smiled at Shannon again and motioned to the others. “Shannon Murphy, allow me to introduce you to the brute I allowed to beat the crap out of me at the truck stop. This is Adam McKenzie, a law enforcement ranger for the National Park Service.”

Adam nodded, but maintained a tense watchful wariness.

Shannon’s eyes widened, panic welling in them as soon as she’d heard the words law enforcement. He rushed through the rest of the introductions.

“The second one who looks like he could be Adam’s twin, but isn’t, is Special Agent Duncan McKenzie, also with NPS. Our last black-haired blue-eyed Irish lad is Deputy US Marshal Colin McKenzie.”

She swallowed, her haunted eyes zeroing in on him. “Why are they here, Ian? And why do they look so much like you?”

The knowledge was in her eyes. But she obviously needed to hear him admit it before she’d accept what to her was likely an unforgivable deception. He thought about lying. But there’d been enough lies between them already. And he knew the others wouldn’t go along with whatever story he wove, not without understanding why. All he could do was hope the fragile bond that he and Shannon had formed over the past few months survived the next few minutes.

“They’re here because they’re my brothers.”

She swallowed again, twisting her hands together. “I’m guessing that Ian Savage isn’t your real name. And you’re not really a mechanic?”

He glanced at his brothers, who were watching the conversation with riveted interest, before he met her tortured gaze again.

“I am a mechanic. I can fix pretty much anything with an engine. But I only work at the shop as my cover while working a case. My real name is Ian McKenzie. I’m a special agent for Homeland Security, specializing in the fight against human trafficking.”

A sob burst from her lips and she ran from the room.

Colin started after her, yanking open the door to give chase.

Ian grabbed his arm. “Let her go. She’s terrified of anyone with a badge. For good reason.”

Colin hesitated, then let the door close. “Special agent with Homeland Security, huh?” His voice was heavy with disbelief. “Since when?”

“Ian Savage?” Duncan cocked his head and grinned. “What a lame cover name.” He winked, letting Ian know he was teasing.

Normally Ian didn’t get Duncan’s jokes or appreciate the lighthearted way he approached life. But at this moment, he was Ian’s favorite brother.

“Let’s hold the twenty questions until Ian’s back in bed.” Adam firmly grasped his shoulders and steered him farther into the room.

“I must have hit you harder than I thought,” Ian mused. “You’re limping.”

“Old injury. You don’t get any credit for that. Come on. You’re about ready to fall over.”

“I’m only going to lie down because there’s no point in leaving now. You’ll just follow me and badger me with questions.”

Adam chuckled. “Right. It has nothing to do with how wobbly you are or that you look like you’re about to pass out.”

Ian stopped beside the bed. “You forgot something else.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m also about to throw up.”

Adam’s eyes widened. He jumped back just as Ian lost the contents of his stomach on the floor.

Chapter Six

“Four years, Ian?” Adam’s brows drew down in a thunderous frown as he dried his hands in the bathroom doorway. While he’d cleaned the floor moments earlier, and his shoes, the others had dragged extra chairs into the room. Now, as Adam took a seat, he and the others formed a ring around the bed, effectively boxing Ian in as if to keep him from trying to leave again.

“You must have gone to college after taking off and never told anyone about it. Then you joined Homeland Security shortly after you graduated.”

“Your deductive reasoning and math skills are extraordinary. You’re wasting your talents as a ranger.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

Colin swore. “Why all the subterfuge? We see you once, twice a year if that. And every time we ask about your life, you give a different story about your occupation. One time you were a bartender. Once you were a taxi driver in New York.”

“Don’t forget cowboy on a dude ranch in Montana,” Duncan chimed in. “That was my favorite.” He motioned toward Ian’s neck and arms. “Those tats real?”

“Why all the lies?” Colin demanded.

“I didn’t lie. I was all those things. And, yes, Duncan, the tattoos are real.”

Duncan waved toward his hair. “The blond streaks are new. Can’t say I care for them.”

Ian shot him an aggravated look. “Can’t say I care about your opinion.”

Duncan grinned.

Colin frowned. “Those were never real jobs. They were cover for whatever you were doing for Homeland Security.” He waved toward the other two. “It’s not like we can’t relate. We’ve all done undercover work. And we’re brothers in blue in addition to blood. We would have kept your secrets, been there for you over the years instead of—”

“Instead of judging me and telling me what a screwup I was all the time?” Ian started to cross his arms, but the sling stopped him. “Thanks, but no thanks. I got enough of that from all of you—and Dad—while growing up.”

Adam fisted his hand on top of the bed railing to Ian’s right. “That’s not fair. You were a screwup back in those days. You vandalized houses, stole cars, did drugs. All we ever did was try to help you.”

“Uh, no. You beat the crap out of me and tattled to Mom and Dad. And for the record, I’ve never done drugs. Not even while undercover.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “What are we? Ten? Let’s talk about this like grown adults. Or if we can’t do that, let’s speak to each other as the professionals that we are. Ian, if you’re in some kind of trouble, we can help.”

Ian snorted. “Of course you’d think I was in trouble.”

“Stop it.” This time it was Duncan who spoke up, sounding serious for a change. “I don’t think Adam was saying that on a personal level. He meant on whatever case you’re working. You told that girl—”

“Shannon.”

“Right. Shannon. You told her that you were working as a mechanic as your cover. That you specialize in fighting human trafficking. Is that why you’re in town? You’re after a trafficking ring? Where does Shannon Murphy fit into that? Who is she?”

Adam tapped the railing. “And what does it all have to do with Butch Gillespie? Has he risen from common pimp to running modern slavery rings?”

Ian straightened, then sucked in a breath and rubbed his aching ribs. “Gillespie? That’s his last name? You know him?”

“When I was a Memphis cop, I worked on numerous task forces. That included vice, specifically prostitution. Gillespie was arrested during one of our raids. The net was wide, mostly circumstantial evidence. He was one of the fish who got away. Not enough to hold him beyond the first twenty-four hours. No one was willing to turn on him, make any deals. He walked. But there’s no doubt in my mind that he was one of the ones behind the ring we broke up.”

“When was that?” Ian asked.

Adam considered it a moment. “Two, maybe two and a half years ago.”

“What did you find out about him? Did he run with anyone called Axel or Jagger?”

“Not that I remember. His right-hand guys went to prison. No way they’re out already. Are Axel and Jagger the other two big guys who were leaning against that van when I saw you?”

Ian nodded. “My thug contact, the scrawny guy by the front bumper, finally got me a face-to-face meeting after I’d been trying to talk deals for weeks using him as an intermediary. I’d hoped to make the bust tonight, rescue dozens of girls and bring down a major trafficking hub right here in Gatlinburg.”

Adam held his hands out. “Sorry, man. I had no way of knowing you were working a case. I didn’t even know you were in town. Maybe if you’d told us that you had—”

“Don’t,” Ian warned.

Adam let out a deep breath. “No judgment, all right? I’m just saying that had I known you were a special agent with Homeland Security, I wouldn’t have interfered. As for Gillespie, if you want, I can call some of my guys in Memphis and have them email me what they’ve got on him.”

Ian stared at him in surprise. “O...kay. Sure. I’d appreciate that.”

“You don’t have to act so shocked. We’re brothers, in and out of uniform. I’m always here for you, Ian. We all are.”

Duncan and Colin nodded as if on cue.

Ian was so used to being on the defensive around his family that he wasn’t sure how to react to this new uneasy truce, of sorts. He finally nodded his thanks, hoping that was enough.

Duncan thumped the railing. “Homeland Security, huh? Impressive. Tell us about it.”

It was surreal sitting in the hospital bed chatting with his brothers. That never happened. Since leaving home at eighteen, his return visits had been short and more for his mom than anyone else. He’d never once considered that the others might really care about him. Or did they?

After giving them a small glimpse into the kind of work he did, he said, “Tell me the truth. If I wasn’t in law enforcement, would you even be talking to me right now?”

Duncan considered the question, then rested his forearms on the railing. “Probably not. Your turn. If you weren’t still woozy and thought you could get past the three of us, would you still be here?”

He reluctantly smiled. “Probably not.”

Duncan grinned. “Back to your current case. You working alone?”

“Except for a liaison agent I meet at a pizza parlor every now and then so he can update my boss and provide resources, it’s just me. I’ve spent months following dozens of tips and leads through three states. Everything pointed to Gatlinburg being a hub, a distribution point. We’ve made some minor busts along the way. But here in Tennessee, I’m hoping to bring it all to a head. I want Butch and his men in handcuffs. But mostly I want to rescue the girls he’s currently holding. Unfortunately, I haven’t figured out where he’s keeping them or I’d have gotten them out by now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Adam repeated. “I had no idea about the damage I was doing when I confronted you in that parking lot.”

“Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve ever apologized to me?”

Adam snorted. “It’s the first time you ever deserved it.”

Ian’s jaw tightened.

“That was a joke. Not a good one, but an attempt regardless.” Adam smiled, but his look was wary. “I’m not Duncan. I don’t have the silly gene.”

“Hey, hey. Duncan’s in the room here, guys,” Duncan said.

Adam arched a brow. “Insulting you wouldn’t be any fun if you weren’t.”

Duncan grinned. “There’s hope for you yet, my serious brother.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “What’s your number, Ian? I’ll text you once I hear back from Memphis PD about Gillespie.” He pulled out his phone.

Ian hesitated.

Adam arched a brow. “What am I supposed to do? Shine the bat signal and hope you see it?”

The weight of all three brothers’ stares focused on him. Did they think that this civil conversation meant all was forgiven? That they could suddenly be friends? When they thought he was Ian the rebel, Ian the delinquent, they wanted nothing to do with him. But now that they knew he’d followed the family tradition of going into law enforcement after all, they suddenly wanted to be cozy?

Screw that.

They might consider everything that had happened as water under the McKenzie family bridge, but he wasn’t ready to throw out an olive branch. Especially since he hadn’t taken this job to make their retired-judge father proud. He’d taken it in spite of his father, to right the terrible wrong that Mighty McKenzie had done so many years ago. Not that anything could ever atone for what he’d done.

For what Ian hadn’t done, but should have done.

He rattled off a number and waited until Adam had saved it in his contacts. “That’s my boss’s line. His name is Barry Nash. You can text him about the case file on Gillespie. He’ll see that I get the information.”

Adam jerked his head up. “You gave me your boss’s number?”

“It’s the best I can do right now without risking blowing my cover. I don’t have an electronic trail in my real name here in town. I’m Ian Savage. Period. Mostly I use burner phones.”

Adam gave him a resigned look. “All right.”

Surprised at how easily his oldest brother had given in, Ian thanked him. “I appreciate you accepting my decision.”

“Oh, I’m not accepting it. I respect that you don’t want us interfering in an investigation. But now that we’ve found you again, I have no intention of letting you disappear like you usually do. Things are different now, Ian.” He held up his left hand. A gold band winked in the overhead lights.

“What the—You got hitched?”

“Last June. And both Colin and Duncan are engaged. They’re tying the knots in a double ceremony this Christmas. Are you going to miss every important moment in our lives because of your silly grievances against Dad and your resentment at us for not hating him like you do? Or are you going to finally grow up and work through whatever made you leave all those years ago?”

“Get out.”

Adam blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Get out. Forget about Gillespie. I’ll get the information myself. Forget about me and my silly grievances. I never asked for this little reunion, and I have no intention of growing up anytime soon.” He pushed the call button on the side of the bed.

Colin put his hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Come on. He’s not ready. We’ll come back later.”

“What exactly do you think Dad did?” Adam demanded.

“Nurse’s station.” A woman’s voice crackled through the speaker built into the bed railing.

“I have some guests who’ve overstayed their welcome,” Ian told her. “They don’t seem inclined to leave on their own.”

“Do you need me to call security, Mr. Savage?”

Ian arched a brow.

Adam swore. “This isn’t over.” He stood, jerked his suit jacket into place and strode to the door. Colin followed without a backward glance. Duncan gave Ian a sad smile and exited with them.

“Mr. Savage?” the nurse called out again.

“Never mind. They’ve left now. Thank you.”

He wrestled down the bed railing that Adam had raised after Ian had nearly thrown up on him. He swung his legs over the side and used the bedside phone to call Shannon’s cell. No answer. He left her a message, then called his own cell in case she’d answer that. She didn’t. For a day that had started out so promising, it was turning out to be one of the worst ones ever. And he’d had more than his share of bad days in his twenty-seven years.

Less than five minutes later, he walked out the emergency room doors without anyone trying to stop him. Not wanting to risk his brothers seeing him if they were still hanging around the hospital, he’d phoned for a car for hire to pick him up a few blocks away.

He was halfway through the parking lot to the agreed pickup place when he spotted a familiar black Charger parked in one of the spots. His black Charger. He hurried toward it, half expecting to see Shannon waiting there. His shoulders slumped with disappointment when he saw it was empty. He’d stupidly hoped she might have come back to give him a chance to explain. Where was she? Had she hired someone to drive her home, as he’d planned for himself? Maybe she’d left a note inside the car.

He’d just unlocked the door when tires screeched behind him. He turned to see an all-too-familiar white panel van, idling behind the Charger.

Ah, hell.

He kept his expression bland and nodded at Butch, who was driving. “I was going to call you to reschedule our meeting since we were rudely interrupted.”

“I’ll just bet you were, cop.”

The side door slid open to reveal Blade aiming a sawed-off shotgun at him. “Get in.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.