he didn’t know.
Though scared and facing an unknown situation, she held her ground, exuding confidence and control. Taking charge. She’d told Padre to stand back. Jack smiled. Lieutenant Frank Cardenas, Delta Force.
Her unexpected arrival had given him a few precious seconds to recover from the knife attack and had tipped the scales in his favor. A good gunner could do that, and she’d hit Jorge in the wrist without hesitation when he lunged with the knife.
God, he liked a woman who could shoot.
Beauty and brawn. What a combination.
He went to the bathroom to wash out the cuts that Blondie had tried to clean in the Jeep with her torn blouse and water. He wished she’d have gone lower than his abs with her soft hands …
The antiseptic wash burned enough to send all thoughts of the sexy fed and her roaming fingers from his mind.
“I’ll do it.”
Padre stepped into the bathroom and bandaged the cut. “Why’d you let him get so close?”
“Three against one.”
“You’re getting old, Jack.”
“I didn’t see you stepping up to the plate.”
“I would have if I thought you were in real danger.”
“Having my throat sliced and my nose whacked isn’t enough?”
“It’s a shallow cut, and your nose isn’t broken. What’s going on with Perez? Did he let Carlos take over?”
“Hell if I know, but I can’t worry about the drug trade or Perez or Carlos when Scout’s killer is out there.”
“What’s going on here? Serial killer? It doesn’t make sense. How did Scout get on his radar?”
“I don’t know. The feds may have the law on their side, but that’s not going to help them if a soldier has gone off the deep end.”
“You think one of ours did this?” Padre asked, shaking his head.
“I don’t know. I don’t know the other victims, but we need to find out how they connect to Scout. Because they do.” Jack lowered his voice. “We find out what’s been going on, then deal with it ourselves.”
“Then why’d you call your brother for help?”
“Because he’s the only one I could get information from about this so-called serial killer. Dillon thinks Vigo walks on water or something. Don’t know anything about the woman, but I’ll find out.”
Jack made it a point of knowing everything about the people he worked with. Even when he planned on ditching them.
The FBI wouldn’t be able to do squat about who killed Scout. They had strict rules, and all it took was one idiot and an entire conviction could be thrown out. They needed evidence, they needed to build a case, and while Jack believed in the system in principle, it didn’t always work. He’d make sure the system worked this time. No one would get away with killing Scout, or the others.
As a soldier for his country, Jack had fought on the front lines for the rights of criminals as well as victims. Fighting for a country he believed in never used to bother him because he was a patriot first. Even with all its problems, it was still the best damn country in the world.
But because what was broke couldn’t be easily fixed, Jack preferred his new approach: taking jobs where there was a clear bad guy, where he could make a difference- and he had the authority to do what was needed to protect the innocent.
And he was damn good at it.
After Padre patched up his neck and Jack took care of the minor cuts, he went back to his living area-kitchen, dining, and living all in one, with a bedroom and bath off to the side, and a loft upstairs where he preferred to sleep. Simple and functional.
Blondie had cleaned up well, he noted, using his kitchen sink. She’d taken off her blazer and her blouse, revealing a little creamy camisole that was too modest to be considered underwear, but sexy nonetheless, hinting at curves and peaks without showing anything. She’d taken her hair down from the twisty knot, and while she’d pinned the sides back, he was surprised at the length. Straight, very blond, and so silky it shimmered under the lights.
She caught him staring, and instead of blushing or averting her eyes she said, “If my attire bothers you, I’ll put on my blouse, but considering it’s wet-I washed out the blood before it stained-it might end up bothering you more.”
“Nothing you wear, or don’t wear, would bother me, Blondie.”
“Megan,” she said.
“Where are you from, Megan?” Padre asked.
“California. Sacramento.”
“Sacramento?” Jack raised a brow. “You’re a long way from home. I thought feds stayed in their own territory. Is this akin to doctors making house calls?”
“I had the third victim, but he was snatched from me by the military police. Because I have a familiarity with this case, and I have a background working serial murders, I was brought in to liaise with the individual FBI offices and the local police in order to collect evidence and track these killers.”
“Well, that’s-” He paused. “Killers?”
She nodded. “Two.”
“How do you know that?”
“Evidence. Should we start at the beginning, or are you just going to ask me questions?”
Testy. And tired. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. Agent Vigo put a cup of coffee in front of her and a bowl of Frosted Flakes with milk. “You don’t have a lot of food,” Vigo said.
“I’m rarely home.”
“You didn’t have to-” Megan began.
Vigo interrupted. “Just eat. You were given a decent jolt, you need to keep your strength up. Considering we skipped dinner when Dillon called, this is probably your first meal since last night.”
“I had something at the airport this morning,” she grumbled, but ate the cereal. She smiled. “I haven’t had Frosted Flakes since I was a kid.”
Jack felt mildly uncomfortable having his provisions teased. He strode over to the coffeepot, where Vigo had made a very strong brew. He poured a cup, added sugar, and drank.
Vigo asked Padre, “How far are we from town? Twenty minutes?”
“More or less. Why?”
“We need to get a room. While Meg fills you in, I’ll call for reservations.”
“I don’t know that you’re going to find a room in town; there’s only one motel I could even half-recommend. I’d offer the rectory, but it has only one guest room.”
“You’re all staying here tonight,” Jack said. “It’s not safe in town, though Perez is going to realize he made a huge mistake messing with the feds. I don’t know if he let Carlos bring in his thugs, or whether Carlos is just getting cocky. Did you really call in the Rangers?” he asked Megan.
“Damn straight. Did you really break into the victim’s house?”
“He didn’t catch me breaking into anything,” Jack evaded.
She said, “What did he catch you doing?”
“Walking on the grounds. He assumed I was going to break in.”
“But you did enter,” she said. “Before he got there. Why?”
He winked again.
Megan didn’t know what to make of Jack Kincaid. He was unlike anyone she’d dealt with. More arrogant than her brother, which was quite the feat, but just as loyal. He needed to be in charge, she saw, and had probably been a leader in the military, though Hans said Jack had been enlisted not a career officer. Started with the Army Rangers, moved to Special Operations, then the elite Delta Force. He’d been honorably discharged ten years ago, but still trained with the Reserves. And he was a soldier for hire, something Megan knew a bit about through her
