Without a Trace Read Free Page B

light of humor flashed in his eyes for the first time. “Don’t mention it.”
    Hot and bitter though it was, the whiskey helped. “My father is very ill, Mr. O’Hurley. Too ill to travel. He contacted Mr. Forrester but was unable to fly to Chicago himself. I went to Mr. Forrester in his place, and Mr. Forrester sent me to you. I was told that you’re the best man for the job.”
    Trace lit another cigarette. He figured he hadn’t been the best man for anything since he’d lain bleeding in the dirt, a bullet two inches from his heart. “Which is?”
    “About a week ago, my brother was taken, kidnapped by an organization known as Hammer. You’ve heard of them?”
    It was training that kept his face blank over a mix of fear and rage. His association with that particular organization had nearly killed him.
    “I’ve heard of them.”
    “All we know is that they took my brother from his home in Ireland, where he had continued, and nearly completed, his work on the Horizon project. They intend to hold him until he has perfected the serum. You understand what the repercussions could be if a group like that possesses the formula?”
    Trace tapped the ash of his cigarette onto the wooden floor. “I’ve been told I have a reasonably developed intelligence.”
    Driven, she grabbed his wrist. Because she was a woman in a man’s field, physical contact was usually reserved for family and loved ones. Now she held on to Trace, and the only hope she had. “Mr. O’Hurley, we can’t afford to joke about this.”
    “Careful how you use ‘we
.
’” Trace waited until her fingers uncurled. “Let me ask you, Dr. Fitzpatrick, is your brother a smart man?”
    “He’s a genius.”
    “No, no, I mean does he have two grains of common sense to rub together?”
    Her shoulders straightened again because she was all too ready to lay her head on the table and weep. “Flynn is a brilliant scientist, and a man who under normal circumstances can take care of himself quite nicely.”
    “Fine, because only a fool would believe that if he came up with the formula for Hammer, he’d stay alive. They like to call themselves terrorists, liberators, rebels. What they are is a bunch of disorganized fanatics, headed by a rich madman. They kill more people by mistake than they do on purpose.” Frowning, he rubbed a hand over his chest. “They’ve got enough savvy to keep them going and pots of money, but basically, they’re idiots. And there’s nothing more dangerous than a bunch of dedicated idiots. My advice to your brother would be to spit in their eye.”
    Her already pale skin was ghost white. “They have his child.” Gillian placed a hand on the table for support as she rose. “They took his six-year-old daughter.” With that, she fled the cantina.
    Trace sat where he was. Not his business, he reminded himself as he reached for the bottle again. He was on vacation. He’d come back from the dead and intended to enjoy his life. Alone.
    Swearing, he slammed the bottle down and went after her.
    Her anger had her covering ground quickly. She heard him call her name but didn’t stop. She’d been an idiot to believe that a man like him could help. She’d be better off attempting to negotiate with the terrorists. At least with them she wouldn’t go in expecting any compassion.
    When he grabbed her arm, she swung around. Temper gave her the energy that lack of sleep and food had depleted.
    “I told you to wait a damn minute.”
    “You’ve already given me your considered opinion, Mr. O’Hurley. There doesn’t seem to be any need for further discussion. I don’t know what Mr. Forrester saw in you. I don’t know why he sent me to look for a man who would rather sit in a seedy little dive swilling whiskey than help save lives. I came looking for a man of courage and compassion and found a tired, dirty drunk who cares about no one and nothing.”
    It stung, more than he’d expected. His fingers stayed firm on her arm as he