Navy, Air Force, the Marines. There was always a military link for Jack.
And besides, the EOD had a personal interest in the case.
They had Rachel.
“Can you handle this?” Dylan asked her. He had to ask the question as the team leader.
“Of course.” Her chin notched up. “I survived him before, didn’t I?”
The image of her—bloody, afraid—still haunted him in the darkness of the night.
“If he’s back, he’ll come for me.” Rachel spoke these words with certainty.
“Then he’ll have to get through me,” Dylan fired back, unable to hold those words inside any longer.
Her eyes widened.
He put his hands on her. He had to touch her. His fingers curled around her slender shoulders. “He isn’t going to have the chance to hurt you. I’ll stop him. That’s why Mercer has me on the case. He knows I’ll do anything necessary in order to make sure that Jack doesn’t have the chance to get to you again.”
“And what am I supposed to do?” Her body brushed against his. “Hide? Stay in the shadows while you hunt? That’s not who I am, Dylan. You know that.”
He did. He knew everything about her.
“Mercer sent me here.” She gave a slow nod of her head. “He wants me on the case, and I’m going to stay on it. Jack won’t get away with this.” A brief pause. “If this is Jack.”
He wanted to pull her flush against him. To kiss her. They’d worked together for three years, and he’d wanted her that entire time.
But he’d played by the rules and kept his hands off her.
Dreamed of her every night.
“They’re going to send hotel guards up soon,” Rachel murmured. “Maybe even a firefighter or two.”
He blinked.
“You can’t keep the elevator stopped forever.”
And he couldn’t toss Rachel over his shoulder and run away with her. No matter how badly he wanted to do just that.
So he stepped back from her. He started the elevator again, and Dylan focused on breathing. Nice and slow. But he had to ask her, “Do you still love him?”
“What?” Her voice rose, breaking a little on the one word.
That break wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear. His gaze held hers. “You loved him three years ago.”
“He tried to kill me.”
“I just want to make sure that emotions won’t be a problem for you.” His hands clenched into fists. “I have to know that I can count on you.”
The elevator had reached the lobby. A soft ding filled the interior then the doors slid open. Rachel brushed past him. He followed her. “Rachel?”
She turned toward him. “I don’t feel any emotion but hate for the guy, okay? So don’t worry about me. Nothing is going to cloud my judgment on this mission.”
Hate was dangerous. So was fury and fear. He’d have to watch her carefully. But what else is new there? He seemed to watch her all the time.
And Rachel didn’t know. She had no idea that she’d become his obsession.
“I won’t worry.” Lie. When she shifted away from him, Dylan put his hand on her back and steered her toward the hotel’s main desk. “We work this one together.”
“Just like always,” she murmured. But Rachel was tense beneath his touch. Far too tense.
The hotel manager stared at Dylan with nervous eyes. Dylan flashed him an ID. An official-looking piece that labeled him an FBI agent. The ID was just part of a cover provided by the EOD, but the manager would never know that. “I’m going to need access to every bit of security footage that you’ve got at this hotel.” The EOD would be confiscating that footage. Then their techs would review it, moment by moment, as they looked for the killer.
A killer who seemed to be back, hunting once again in the U.S.
* * *
H IS R ACHEL WAS still as beautiful as ever.
Her hair was a little longer. She used to wear it just to her chin, but now it skimmed her shoulders. It was still as dark, still looked as silky.
She was a bit thinner, and there was a new delicacy to her that hadn’t been there before. Probably
Reshonda Tate Billingsley