Fear No Evil

She could get off the mountain whenever she wanted-by air.

A knock on her door. If this was the FBI finally coming for her, they wouldn’t have been so polite.

“Kate Donovan? It’s Dillon Kincaid. I’m here to talk about my sister.”

Kate stopped in her tracks. The guy who said all those things online? Who, without knowing her at all, had seemed to get inside her head? How could Dillon Kincaid have found her? And how could he get to her in half a day?

“Kate, please let me in.”

“Who’s with you?”

“My brothers.”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“You have three brothers?”

“Yes.”

“And you all came up here because you think I can lead you to your sister? Think again. I don’t know where she is. Go home.”

The doorknob turned. It was locked.

“Go away,” Kate said. “I’ll send all the information I get to Quinn.”

But if I think I know where Trask is, I’m going after him myself.

“I’m not leaving,” he said.

“Then sit out there all night. It gets cold when the sun goes down, even in June.”

“I called in favors, traveled hours by plane, jeep, and foot, to find you. I think you know more than you’re saying. I know you can find Lucy. I brought my brother Patrick. He’s a computer expert, like you. He’s the one who isolated your transmission and located you.”

“Bullshit.” Was the FBI planning her takedown right now? She needed to get the hell out of here. No, dammit! Kate didn’t want to leave. She was so close.

“We’re here, aren’t we?”

“You’re jeopardizing everything!”

“I didn’t tell Agent Peterson where you were. He knows we know, but he didn’t ask, I didn’t tell. Please let us in.”

She closed her eyes. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want help, but she needed it. The Baja island-had she been right? Wrong? Was Trask there, or was it another trap? She didn’t know, couldn’t see the truth anymore.

She was so damn tired. She missed Evan, she missed Paige. She hated being alone, but she didn’t see any alternative.

She opened the door, kept her gun leveled at the man on her threshold.

Two guns were aimed at her head.

“Kill me and he still dies,” she said, staring into the green eyes of the man she assumed was Dillon Kincaid.

“Put the guns down,” Dillon said without taking his eyes from hers.

He was tall. Handsome. In shape, but no bodybuilder. He reminded her of Quinn, GQ good looks; a strong, square jaw; and intelligent eyes. Dillon stared at her, as if he could literally read her thoughts. She quickly appraised his dusty jeans, the dark green T-shirt, and his mussed-up sun-streaked, light- brown hair that, though short, fell in waves across his forehead. But it was the intensity of his eyes, their focus and strength, that took Kate’s breath away.

“Jack. Connor. Now.” Dillon stepped through the door, toward her gun, no fear on his face. “Kate, please.”

As soon as he entered, his eyes caught movement on the screen against the far wall. His expression changed, hardened. Worry clouded his face.

Kate lowered her gun, keeping her eye on the men Dillon called Connor and Jack. Brothers? Perhaps. Jack was all military, hard-edged. She knew the type. Connor had the same hard edge without the layer of dissociation. Cop, not military. Yet another man was behind them. Thinner, with fair skin and dark hair. His gun was holstered, and she instantly thought Patrick, the computer expert.

As soon as Jack and Connor lowered their weapons, she followed Dillon’s eyes to the screen. Her dance over, Lucy was being shackled to a straight-backed chair by two men. She fought them, the freedom of her dance over.

Dillon walked to the screen. “Which one is Trask?”

“Neither,” Kate said. “He won’t show himself on camera.” She paused. “I’m the only one who has seen him and lived.”

Dillon turned to her. “Did you work with a sketch artist?”

“You don’t understand.”

“You didn’t tell anyone? What if we can get his picture out?”

“The man I saw is a chameleon. Of course I gave a description, even while I was on the run from my own government. Do you think I’m so callous that I would let women die in order to protect myself? Because of me they have his fingerprints. Because of me they have a description. Lot of good that did catching him!” Kate turned to the screen, jumping when one of the men slapped Lucy across the face.

“And because of me my two best friends died.”

Dillon almost didn’t hear what Kate had said. He tore his eyes away from Lucy on the screen and touched Kate’s arm. All muscle. In her midthirties, her shortish hair was so blond it was nearly white, pulled into a haphazard hair band with loose strands falling out, tucked behind her ears. Her face was devoid of makeup, fresh and clean, worry lines creasing her forehead, her red lips dipping into a frown. This woman had so much pain and sadness in her face, taking the crimes of others as her own personal cross to bear.

Her computer beeped as Dillon was about to question her. Connor, Patrick, and Jack filed into the room. Jack remained at the door, on alert. Patrick sidled over to the computer system.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“A message.” She clicked on it. “From Quinn.”

We’re still checking your data. Hold.

“What is he checking out?” Patrick asked.

“The coordinates I sent about thirty minutes ago. But I think it’s a trap.”

Dillon asked, “What coordinates?”

Kate tensed, obviously feeling a touch of claustrophobia with all these men, these Kincaids, in her personal space. Dillon glanced around the functional room. It was large, but sparsely furnished. A bed in the corner. A nightstand. No personal effects anywhere. Two doors probably led to a closet and a bathroom. There was a whole wall of weights. And another full wall of computers and computer screens. Systems he didn’t understand, but by the expression on Patrick’s face, his little brother was impressed.

“Kate?” Dillon said softly.

In a move that surprised Dillon, Jack said, “I need to check on my men.” He walked out, shutting the door behind him.

“Who did you bring?” Kate asked, panicked.

“Jack-” What could Dillon say about his brother when even he didn’t know the truth? Dillon didn’t even know if Jack still worked for the government, or if he was truly a mercenary. “Jack’s a soldier down here. I contacted him and he and his unit helped us get up the mountain.”

“The terrain is dangerous,” Kate said, “but it’s safe this far up. The observatory is university property, and they pay handsomely for the land.”

“So what coordinates did you come up with?” Dillon repeated his question.

Kate motioned toward her computer. “Have a look.”