Such a delightful, sweet sound, her laugh, and it echoed in the valley ringed by mountains. It soothed him, made him smile and nearly forget the reason they were here.
Inside the cabin, they set about putting away groceries and the dog danced around them.
“Uncle Phil keeps dog food in the pantry for the abandoned dogs...” Kara opened a door. “Here.”
She poured kibble into a stainless-steel bowl and set it on the ground, and put water out for Darby. He drank the water, sniffed the kibble and then looked at her, tail wagging.
Kara laughed and opened a package of cooked chicken, sprinkling it on the kibble. The dog began eating with a voracious appetite.
Out of habit, he checked his phone again. Nothing. Jace picked up the phone on the table, heard the dial tone and replaced it in the cradle.
“No selfies here,” he mused and she laughed again.
He hadn’t seen Kara this relaxed in a long time. Maybe this could be a good thing, hanging here for a few days, the place to themselves... He plopped down on the sofa and crooked a finger.
“C’mere.”
She made her way to the plush sofa, but the dog beat her to it. Wagging his tail, Darcy jumped into his lap. Jace sighed as she laughed again.
“I guess he thinks he’s first in your affections. Poor baby is starved for food and love. We have plenty of both.”
Eyes shining, her soft mouth curving into a smile, she looked like heaven itself in the cabin. Jace took a deep breath. Yeah, a few days here might be exactly what they both needed.
Rafael Jones Rodriguez seldom underestimated an enemy. He’d remained alive in many situations because of this trait. When facing gunfire, he assumed the bad guys had more firepower, better ammo and a quicker exit. He always had a backup plan.
Even that hellish day when he’d lost Fiefer and Sanchez, two of his best agents, it hadn’t been because he’d underestimated the danger they faced. They’d failed due to promised backup that never arrived from local law enforcement. Outnumbered. Outgunned.
By the time the local LEOs finally got their act together and decided to save the day, Dave and Carlos were dead and Rafe had been lying on the ground, struggling for his life.
Ever since leaving rehab, he’d vowed to never get caught like that again. Two good men dead, their families left grieving. He’d go through hell and back again before it happened again.
Certainly wasn’t going to happen with Jace. Not Jace, his friend and a dedicated agent who hadn’t wanted this assignment, but needed to go through with the grueling undercover work, forfeit his personal life to get the job done. Jace, who always trusted him in the past, and didn’t trust him enough now with the cabin’s location.
That hurt.
Rafe paced in front of the bullpen as his team worked. They were close to discovering the real identity of Marcus. Dylan had given him a description, which they circulated to law enforcement.
Lance was in custody, but not saying a word. Maybe the president of the Southeastern division of the Devil’s Patrol was loyal.
Rafe doubted it. Guy seemed more terrified than loyal. Marcus had a long arm.
His cell rang. Tom, the agent he’d sent over to the local jail where Lance was imprisoned, to check on the prisoner. Rafe answered in a clipped voice.
The news made his stomach roil and his bad day worse. He told Tom to stay, find out what the hell happened.
The men and women in the bullpen looked up as he released a string of curses in Spanish that would make his beloved abulita slap him into next week. He heaved a breath.
“Lance is dead. Someone shanked him in the cell. He bled out before the guards could get to him.”
Over at the intel desk, Sally, a crack cybersecurity agent, beckoned to him. “I’ve got chatter, Rafe. The DP social media is saying Lance got what he deserved.” She glanced down at her laptop. “Not for getting caught by the Feds, but letting Jace slip away with the target.”
His mind whirled. The target... Kara. Not Jace. “You’ve got something there. Get Darkling on Teams.”
Someone dialed the connection and Darkling went online to participate in the brainstorming meeting.
Rafe went to the board and began writing on the whiteboard as he quizzed his team. “Right. So we’ve got Marcus, who wants Jace and Kara. Why not send an army of gang members after him from the start when Jace was easier to find? What’s his game plan?”
“No social-media chatter or anything on blowing up a target,” Sally called out. “No viable threats of domestic terrorism.”
“And yet he has enough makings for a bomb. Who is the target?”
“Killing Lance before he spilled anything else, like the real reason Marcus wants Jace,” another agent called out.
“Maybe Marcus isn’t after Jace for personal reasons,” Sally added. “What about the woman, Kara?”
Marker in hand, Rafe paused, his instincts surging, brain cells clicking like machine parts. He turned from the board. “Give me everything you have on Kara Wilmington. Everything. I want to know where she went to elementary school. Her best friend when she was five. Dammit, even her favorite breakfast cereal. There’s a connection here we’re missing between Marcus and Kara.”
It had to be Kara, because nothing about this made sense. Kara was the missing equation tying everything together.
From her laptop, Darkling called out. “I got it, Rafe. I know why Marcus wants Kara. It is personal.”
As she relayed what she’d found out, Rafe’s stomach roiled. This changed everything. This was personal and made Kara a target they’d never anticipated.
It wasn’t money.
It was revenge.
Biting back another string of curses, Rafe reached for his phone to warn his best agent. Jace’s cell went straight to voice mail.
