“Come with us,” Kate said. “Maybe you’ll understand why this is important.”
“I understand,” Evan said. “Are you going to have backup?”
Kate tensed. “You think I’m stupid? Or a maverick?”
“No, but-”
“No buts. You don’t trust me.”
“I think this case has blinded both of you.”
“I’m not going into this blind.”
Paige interjected. “I already talked to Jeff. He’s waiting for us to debrief him. I think we’ll get everything we want.”
“Jeff Merritt agreed to this?” Evan frowned.
“Of course.” Paige pouted. “I outlined the game plan.”
Kate turned to Evan. “Please, Evan. It’s important to me that you’re with me on this. If you don’t want to be involved, I understand. It’s not your case. But don’t turn your back on me.”
Evan touched her. “Oh, Kate. I’d never turn my back on you.”
Kate shook her head, ridding herself of the bittersweet memories. She typed in a series of numbers and stopped the computer from beeping at her.
Five days after that conversation with Evan, he’d followed her to the sting operation she and Paige had set up. Evan had informed Kate that there was no backup, Merritt hadn’t authorized it. He’d looked at Kate as if she’d lied to him. But she hadn’t.
She’d repeated what Paige had told her just that morning. She’d never thought to question her partner. She’d never thought her partner would put them in jeopardy.
Evan had died believing Kate had lied to him. It still hurt.
She glanced up at the screen just as Roger climbed off Lucy Kincaid, a crooked grin on the bastard’s face. The poor girl was crying, then the picture was cut off. Trask’s voice came over the speakers as another “best of” compilation began.
“Lucy wants to clean up after her first act. Wasn’t that fabulous? Lucy definitely has a future as an actress. So while she takes care of her business, here are highlights of our past shows.”
Kate didn’t watch, not this time. She was frantically trying to isolate a frequency. But as soon as the highlights began, Lucy’s feed was off the network. Kate was tracking phantoms.
She buried her head in her arms. She’d been so close, then he cut her off. Did he do it on purpose? Or was he trying to set her up, give her a false location like he had with Paige? Could Kate even trust her skills anymore? She was better, much, much better, than five years ago, but so was Trask.
Again, it was all about power. Trask had all the money he could ever want from his pornography trade. He didn’t need to kill women to increase his cash flow. And on top of the legitimate money, she suspected he had a number of illegal schemes going on.
So why kill? And why kill online? Why show the world what he was doing?
For five years the FBI had been trying to find Morton and Trask, but they didn’t even fully believe Trask existed. The Bureau wanted vengeance for the murder of two federal agents. They’d take anyone and everyone they could. Some believed “Trask” was an alias of Roger Morton’s, and no matter how Kate tried to convince them that they were two different people, they’d found no proof that Trask was a separate individual. Through her contact, Special Agent Quinn Peterson, she knew they’d raided Trask Enterprises, arrested and interviewed everyone on staff. But Roger Morton had disappeared, and no one else in the company had ever heard of an individual named Trask. They all believed it was just the name of the company, not related to a living, breathing person. Then, a new CEO was appointed by the board, a man above reproach-other than the fact that he ran a strip club in New York.
There was no evidence that Trask Enterprises had anything to do with Paige’s murder.
But Kate knew the truth, even if she couldn’t prove it.
SEVEN
THE DIVE BAR in the depressed border town of Hidalgo, Texas, was open from six a.m. until two a.m. Dillon suspected it had never been cleaned. Stale beer, cheap cigarettes, and sweat assaulted his senses as soon as he entered. He approached the bar, sat on a stool, the knowledge that he was far from his comfort zone hitting him hard. He should have brought Connor. He would have fit in better with this rough-and-tumble crowd. And Connor knew how to use a gun. Dillon didn’t own one, and hadn’t been comfortable with Connor’s offer of his backup piece.
The fact that he was the only Kincaid who didn’t know how to shoot wasn’t lost on him. What was he doing going after a renegade FBI agent? What was he doing trekking through dangerous Mexican territory, enlisting the help of the twin brother he hadn’t seen in eleven years?
Lucy. She would die if he didn’t do something, and even with all the gun power the Kincaids had-and their ability to use it-only Dillon could think like Trask. And understanding the mind of the killer might just be the key to saving Lucy.
“I told you to come alone.”
Dillon hadn’t heard Jack approach. He turned to face him. They were not identical, and at first glance one might not think they were brothers at all, aside from the fact that they were both six feet two inches tall. Dillon had light-brown curly hair that he tamed by keeping short compared to Jack’s black military cut. Dillon was fair-skinned, green-eyed, lean, and athletic. Jack was dark-skinned, black-eyed, and muscular-not a man you would want to encounter alone. How many men had Jack killed?
Dillon didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t know why the thought had even come to mind. Jack had been in the military for more than half his life, and in special operations for a decade. Whatever he did, he did with the sanction of the United States government. At least Dillon hoped that was still the case.
“Hello, Jack.”
Jack had aged, as evidenced by the lines on his face, the experience in his eyes.
“Deal’s off.”
Jack started to walk past.
“Don’t.”
Jack turned, stared at Dillon. “I told you to come alone.”
“I’m here alone.”
“Connor and Patrick are outside.”
“I’m surprised you recognize them.”
If Jack was embarrassed or guilty about that fact, he didn’t show it.
“This isn’t a family reunion,” Jack said.
Dillon was slow to anger, but Jack had always been the one to set him off. His voice was low and hard. “The bastard raped Lucy, and people paid to watch. Are you going to help her or protect your damn pride and ego?”
Jack flinched almost imperceptibly, but Dillon saw it. He’d hit a sore point. Good.
Dillon said, “I need Patrick because he’s a computer genius and Agent Kate Donovan has a setup on the mountain that’s trying to track the kidnapper’s satellite feed. And I couldn’t have kept Connor home if I’d tried.” He raised an eyebrow. “Connor’s a lot like you.”
He’d almost not been able to keep his future brother-in-law Nick Thomas back home as well. But Nick had undergone knee surgery three months ago and wouldn’t have done well on what promised to be a tortuous trek up the mountain. And they couldn’t go slow. Lucy had only thirty-nine hours left.
“You keep them out of my face and out of my business, Dillon.”
“Understood.”
Jack assessed him, dipped his head. “I have my team ready. We’ll escort you up the mountain, then you’re on
