Fear No Evil

His father, who had stolen his inheritance, who had humiliated him, who had told him he would be nothing.

Trask was something. He had more power than his pathetic father had. He had money, three times the wealth of his family-and growing. He was somebody. People feared him.

Then April was dead.

Trask watched Lucy dance, the anticipation building. He turned to Roger, who stood next to him. “I want the vote to go my way.”

“But everyone likes the blood,” Roger whined.

Trask glared at him, fists clenching and unclenching. “My money, my show.”

As Kate watched, the girl danced. The filmy white gown shifted and shimmered, revealing her naked body beneath. Lucy was elegant, poised, as if she’d danced her entire life. And maybe she had. If it weren’t for the anger on her face, the terror in her eyes, Kate would have thought Lucy was dancing because she wanted to.

Kate knew better. Trask had ways of forcing women to comply. And most women did what he demanded in order to save their lives. Not that it helped, in the end.

Kate stared at the data that had just come in. She didn’t believe it could be that easy to find Lucy. One minute, nothing. The next minute, the coordinates of the feed.

She searched the Internet for the coordinates to see if she saw anything from satellite photographs. The area was off the coast of Baja California, south of San Diego, where Lucy had been abducted. A string of islands, some with structures, some natural. Kate bit her lip. Was this a trick? Another ambush like two years ago?

It was too easy. She hadn’t done anything different from when Rayanna had disappeared, but she hadn’t found Rayanna’s location until an hour before she was killed. And the FBI hadn’t arrived for three hours after that.

Something was off. She should send Quinn Peterson the data, let him make the decision. Because if she was wrong and Lucy was on that island off Baja California, Kate would never forgive herself for not acting to save her.

But she wanted Trask. And she wasn’t confident that he was on that island.

Trust your instincts.

If only she had trusted her instincts before, Evan wouldn’t have died. She had believed Paige, maybe blindly. Jeff Merritt had told both of them to back off of Trask. Then the next day Paige said Merritt had agreed to their plan and was providing backup. Despite some initial doubts, Kate had believed Paige because she had wanted to. She hadn’t trusted her instincts and Paige had ended up raped and butchered.

Dammit!

She didn’t think Trask was there. But she couldn’t ignore the evidence, even after being wrong before. She typed a message to Quinn.

Either Lucy is here, or Trask has put out another trail of bread crumbs for me-or you-to walk into his trap. I’m sending out all my data and methodology. This one is in your hands.

K.

Mick Mallory watched Lucy dance. She was beautiful.

And she was as good as dead.

If he could have, he would have slit Trask’s throat in his sleep. The bastard deserved nothing less than death. If he could have, the feds would be all over this island.

But he had no fucking idea where he was, and no way to contact anyone. Deep cover? Hell, he’d been written off the planet.

Roger had always been suspicious of him, and Mick didn’t dare attempt anything. He had no phone, he was hired security. Had done one job, proven his worth at the expense of the life of another beautiful innocent girl.

He’d never be able to live with himself. Even killing Trask wouldn’t remove the stain of sin on Mick’s soul.

Roger had called him two days ago. Then the bastard had fucking drugged him at the rendezvous point. Brought him to the island to handle patrols.

Mick had no way of contacting anyone. It was just like the nightmare when Rayanna had died because he had done nothing.

Lucy would die over his dead body. And maybe, just maybe, his death would mean something.

But he’d much rather get off the damn island alive. Fuck orders. Saving Lucy Kincaid was more important than arresting Trask, or whatever his name was.

He’d wait until Trask and Roger were occupied. And that wack-job, Denise. She really creeped him out.

“Sexy bitch, isn’t she?”

Roger came up behind him as Mick stared at the monitor.

“Hm,” Mick grunted.

“Trask said you can have her next. Thinks you’re ready for the big time.”

Mick tensed. He’d never thought-

“What?” Roger said.

“You’re fucking with me.”

Roger laughed, slapped him hard on the back. “Trask doesn’t joke around, not with his bitches. You can have her at the twenty-four-hour mark.” Roger leaned forward, whispered. “Or maybe I’m right about you.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, asshole.”

Roger laughed again. “Yeah, you probably don’t. Be ready, Mick, or maybe we don’t need you around after all.”

Roger left the small observation room, closing the door behind him. Roger was in charge of surveillance, monitoring the security cameras that panned the island, the dock, the sky. Mick’s job was to monitor the cameras and alert Roger of a security breach. Now he looked for a landmark. Something, anything to give him a clue where he was. Only the sun told him he was on the West Coast, north of California. Probably off the coast of Washington based on the angle.

Thank fucking Uncle Sam he’d spent enough years in the military to learn something-like how to make a sextant.

He also had a 24/7 visual on Lucy Kincaid. He touched the screen. “I don’t want to hurt you, Lucy.”

But he didn’t see any other way. He’d be dead if he didn’t act the part, and if Mick was dead he couldn’t save Lucy’s life.

NINE

KATE HAD RECEIVED a one-word response from Quinn Peterson: Working.

She hated waiting. Her entire life had become a waiting game. She pushed away from the console and heard something.

Her gun was in her hand without another thought. She leaped from her chair, moving to the door, putting her back against the wall. The hum of her computers distracted her, the movement of Lucy dancing on the screen drawing her eye. She took a deep breath, focused. Listened.

Footsteps on the metal stairs.

Someone was here. It wasn’t Professor Fox. It was the middle of the afternoon and he’d be sleeping. And he wouldn’t come to her room. He always used the intercom to summon her, especially after Kate had almost killed him when he startled her that first time.

More footsteps. At least three people. Possibly four. Kate closed her eyes. Boots. Army? Hiking? She’d heard that Dominguez’s troops had been hiding out on the mountain after taking out a humanitarian aid convoy last month. The government didn’t take kindly to criminals who stole so blatantly, so Dominguez had a bullet with his name on it, from both his competitors and now the government. It was only a matter of time, not that Kate cared.