need to hire a gardener to tend to the landscaping, especially since he planned on spending a lot of time on the opposite coast. Frankly, he’d been too worried about Lucy to remember anything that day. He took the steps two at a time to his kitchen door. Unlocked it, entered, bolted it.
A smell hit him. Food. Had he left garbage in the house? He wouldn’t be surprised; he had left in a hurry and it had been four days.
He crossed the kitchen and opened the cabinet door beneath the sink and pulled out the small, lined trashcan he used. He was about to pull out the garbage bag to take it outside when he saw an empty can of chili on top.
He hadn’t eaten chili in ages. Someone had been in his house.
Quietly, he put the trash back under the sink. Every nerve was on alert and he listened to the sounds of his house. The silence. A creak.
The sound of someone breathing behind him.
Dillon slowly turned around. He didn’t see anyone.
Then Adam Scott stepped into the kitchen from the dining room.
He had a gun.
“Adam.”
“Trask to you.”
Dillon couldn’t get out the door; he’d bolted it when he entered. Out of habit. For security.
But that didn’t help when the killer was already inside.
“What do you want?” Dillon asked. He gave his kitchen a quick once-over. Nothing was out of place.
Except that his butcher block of knives was no longer on the counter next to the stove. Scott must have been here a while. Not just in Dillon’s house, but watching the Kincaid family. Anger ran through Dillon’s veins. The arrogance of this bastard! But that also told Dillon that Scott had another flaw, one he planned to exploit.
“Not you. You’re a means to an end. Thank you for being so predictable.”
Dillon dug deep into his training and well-honed instincts. Adam Scott was here for one thing: Lucy. Because Lucy was bait. For Kate. “You’ll never get to Lucy.”
Scott laughed. “You don’t know women very well, do you?”
Dillon knew exactly what Scott meant and he fumed. Lucy was intensely loyal, and an unscrupulous person could easily manipulate her guilt and fear. Scott would certainly not be above inducing a damaged woman to make a dangerous choice. He made his life out of it. Dillon wanted to believe Lucy was stronger than that, but right now she was too vulnerable.
“But you don’t really want Lucy,” Dillon said.
“Think again.”
“You want to bring Monique back from the dead.”
Scott’s face twisted in shocked frustration. “I knew that backstabbing asshole would talk.”
“I saw a picture of Monique, back when she went missing. She was beautiful. She looks very much like Lucy.
“How long did it take you surfing the Internet, manipulating teenagers, getting them to send their picture, before you found Lucy?”
“I’m not stupid, Dr. Kincaid. I know exactly what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. You’ve never met anyone like me, so your machinations won’t work. I enjoy what I do. But it’s all about the money.”
“I agree, money motivates you. Probably because your father disowned you and took everything that was rightfully yours. You were an only child, you wouldn’t have had to share with anyone, but-” Dillon recalled the notes Quinn had on the Scott family, “-he left his sizable estate to a museum.”
Scott scowled. “You’ve been working with the feds. They’re probably having a field day trying to figure out where I’m going.”
“They believe you were coming here to San Diego. You know you’ll never get to Lucy, even if there was some way you could contact her. She’s protected by a bodyguard, and the police are patrolling the house regularly.”
“But they weren’t watching your house, were they?” Scott snickered.
“But you really don’t want Lucy.”
“Right, right, I want the fictional Monique.” Scott attempted to look bored and amused, but failed. In his cold eyes, Dillon saw the truth.
“You want Kate.”
Scott laughed, but his hand tightened around the gun. “Kate. She’ll come to me on my terms.” He cocked an eyebrow at Dillon. “And how well do
Dillon would not allow Scott to bait him. “You want Kate because she outsmarted you.”
“Kate is alive by accident. I would have had her five years ago if that guy hadn’t run in and distracted me.”
Dillon shook his head. “Kate is smart. She took down your legitimate business. Forced you into hiding. Cost you money. But that’s not the real reason you hate her.”
“Really?” Scott tried to look nonchalant, but his complexion had reddened.
“You hate her because she reminds you of a woman who humiliated and demeaned you.” Dillon was taking a gamble, but he was ninety percent confident he was right about Adam Scott.
He said softly, “You were raped. Tied down and raped by a woman. The weaker sex. But you were weak. You couldn’t fight back. Maybe you didn’t want to. Maybe you liked it, and you hate that you liked it.”
“Shut up!”
Scott lunged for him. Dillon dove right, toward the breakfast nook. He fell over the table, but tripped Scott. The killer stumbled, but stayed upright. Worse, he kept hold of the gun.
Dillon turned and, using all his strength, pushed the table across the nook and into Scott’s body. Scott grunted, wedged between the table and the wall. Dillon jumped on the table and grabbed Scott’s wrist, slamming it on the table to loosen his hold on the gun.
He didn’t see the knife in Scott’s left hand.
Dillon screamed at the searing pain in his thigh and grabbed at the wound. Scott pulled out the knife, pushed Dillon off the table, and hit him across the face with his gun.
Dillon rolled over, panting, trying to assess whether the knife wound was serious. Hot blood coated his fingers. He tried to force his mind away from the pain and think like a doctor. He didn’t think it was deep.
He got up on all fours and Scott kicked him in the kidney. His vision blurred.
“You fucking shrinks know
Scott grabbed Dillon by his shirt collar and pulled him up, the gun cocked and touching the back of his head.
Dillon had no choice but to go where Scott led him, through his house and into his bedroom. He pushed him onto the bed and clicked a handcuff onto one wrist. The other end was hooked onto the headboard.
Scott smiled, but there was only sick humor in his face. “We have a call to make.”
“Don’t hang up or your brother dies.”
Lucy started shaking uncontrollably. Trevor Conrad was calling her. Why? Hadn’t he hurt her enough?
“Wh-what?”
“Listen. You have thirty minutes. Leave your house alone. Walk directly to your brother’s house.”
“Which brother?” Dillon, Patrick, and Connor all lived within walking distance.
“The shrink!”
Trevor had Dillon? That wasn’t possible. Why did he want her to come? To rape her? To kill her? She couldn’t do it.
What if Dillon was already dead?
“What do you want?” she asked, stalling.
“That’s none of your business, Lucy. But if you’re not here in thirty minutes, your brother will be dead. And if you tell anyone, he’ll die in extreme pain.”
