Fear No Evil (26 page)

He touched her chin. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“This way.” She motioned toward the thickest part of the trees, grabbing the backpack she’d dropped when helping Dillon up the rock face.

They ran low through the thick trees and bushes, which shielded most of the sunshine, making the island dank and cool. The branches and sharp leaves scraped their bare arms along the way, but they didn’t slow down. A branch hit Kate in the lip and she bit back a cry.

“You okay?” Dillon said softly, turning her around to face him.

She dabbed her lip with her finger, came back with blood. “Stupid trees.”

He pulled the corner of his T-shirt up, held it to her lip. His hair had turned even wavier in the damp air coming off the water. Without gel to tame his bangs, they fell across his eyes, making him look far more attractive than he had any right looking. Than she had any right even thinking about.

He was close, too close. Smelling of sweat and adrenaline, all male. That’s what this was, the excitement and fear of the operation. And she’d been alone for too long, and now…the first man she saw excited her. Reminded her that she was a woman, that she missed having someone hold her.

She stepped back, stumbled, and he caught her, his eyes staring at her, questioning, wanting, needing.

Or was that her own need reflected in them?

“What’s that noise?” he whispered.

She listened. A low hum. Faint. Steady.

“A generator,” she whispered back, heart pounding. “This is it.”

She pulled out her gun, instinctively taking the lead. Dillon followed right on her heels.

Mick Mallory was on his way to surgery when he regained consciousness.

“Stop,” he said, his words slurring.

“Sir, you’ve been shot.”

“I need to make a call.”

“You need surgery. Nurse! Ten cc’s of—”

Mick reached out and grabbed the doctor’s wrist. “I’m FBI. Undercover. I need to call in. I have information—” he started coughing.

The doctor hesitated, then pulled out his cell phone. “Can you use this?”

Mick grabbed the phone. His fingers didn’t want to work. He handed it to the doctor and told him what number to dial. “Hold it,” he said, motioning to his ear. His head pounded and his entire body felt like it burned from within.

The doctor held the phone like Mick asked.

“Merritt.”

“It’s Mick.”

“Where are you?”

“Hospital. No time.” He repeated the coordinates he’d sent to Kate Donovan. “He set a trap for Donovan, but she didn’t show. She must have gotten my message.”

“Why didn’t you send the message to me?”

“No time,” he repeated. “I don’t know what happened. Someone brought me to the hospital, but he didn’t tell me his name and he left.”

“Dammit. Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” He blinked up at the doctor but couldn’t really see anything.

The doctor pulled the phone away and spoke. “I don’t know who you are, but this man is going in for surgery. He has a bullet in his right kidney.”

“Where?”

“Bellingham General.”

Merritt ran to the roof while on the phone. “I need a copter, then a plane to Seattle. ASAP.”

Paige’s murderer was in Washington right now. Finally, he had a chance to make everything right. Finally, the hope of not waking to Paige’s phantom screams every night.

I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Paige. But I’m going to make it right. I promise.

Kate Donovan had better not fuck this up, or he’d have her head as well.

TWENTY-THREE

T
HE CABIN WAS
on a raised foundation, twelve stairs leading to a large deck. They’d circled it once, found one man patrolling while chain-smoking cigarettes.

Kate and Dillon communicated by hand signals and eye contact.

I’m taking him out.
Kate motioned toward the man who now stood against a tree, facing the opposite direction.

Dillon shook his head, but Kate ignored him. He tensed, not knowing what she had planned. He trusted her, but the stakes were too high and the chance of error too great.

She circled around and he almost lost her in the undergrowth. She moved like a cat, lean and low, limbs working in unison.

She came up to the man from behind, grabbed his neck, and twisted.

Dillon heard the crack forty feet away.

The man crumpled to her feet and she disarmed him. Behind a tree she checked ammunition, then returned to his location.

“Don’t feel sorry for him,” she said. “He raped your sister.”

“I don’t,” he answered.

She stared at him. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“No, you don’t.”

She couldn’t know. Even
he
didn’t know what he thought about the last two days. But nothing would surprise him, even Kate’s ability to kill a man without hesitation.

She’d been trained to do it. She didn’t do it for pleasure. Sometimes murder
was
justified.

“We don’t know how many people Trask has here,” she whispered. “We need to assume at least six. He couldn’t have gotten back from Mount Baker by now, but”—she glanced at her watch—“we’re getting into the window where he may show up.”

“We need to get Lucy to the boat as quickly as possible and over to the island where the copter is waiting.”

“Don’t wait for me.”

“Dammit, Kate!” She was still focusing on Trask. “We have enough on Adam Scott to stop him. Don’t do this.”

She stared at him, her eyes softening a bit. “I can swim, Dillon. We don’t know what condition Lucy is in. Get her to safety. I’m not going to be stupid. I promise.” She squeezed his hand. “Don’t wait for me.”

He touched her face. He needed to touch her. To give her a connection to something good and real and whole.

“There are people who care about you, Kate. Don’t forget that.”

She swallowed, nodded. Did she have tears in her eyes?

“Let’s go.”

They’d already decided that Dillon would get to Lucy and Kate would cover them.

They crept up the deck, keeping low, listening.

A sliding door opened.

“Ollie!”

A female voice.

“Dammit, Roger, I don’t know why he’s not—” the door closed and they couldn’t hear anything except muffled voices.

Dillon pictured Lucy as she’d been on the video. There was a window in the room where she was being held. The window had some sort of shade covering it.

Kate motioned for him to go left, around the back side of the deck.

They split up. He circled around the deck, looking at the windows for one that looked familiar. One entire side of the cabin, which he avoided, was a wall of windows overlooking a narrow inlet. Lucy must be in the rear of the cabin.

He rounded the corner, his heart pounding, completely focused on his sister. There were two shaded windows. He pictured the film. There had only been one window where Lucy was kept, based on the shadows and quality of light. Which one was Lucy behind?

Cautiously, he peered around the edges of the first window he approached. It was dark inside, the filtered afternoon sun casting shadows through the slit less than a quarter-inch wide.

A bed. A dresser. Nothing else. He listened. A female cry from the room next door.

Anxious, he treaded lightly to the second window. There was no slit for him to see through. He listened. Nothing.

Then, a woman screamed.

Lucy.

He swallowed his panic. Carefully, silently, he tried the window. Locked.

“Stop! No, no, no!” Lucy cried from inside.

Dillon quickly studied the window. One sheet of glass, double-paned. No gentle tap would break it.

He retrieved Connor’s gun from his pocket and slammed it into the window. Before it finished shattering, Dillon jumped through it.

Kate heard the scream followed by breaking glass.

She ran back to the main door, opened it. It was, surprisingly, unlocked.

Click.

“Kate Donovan.” The voice was low and husky.

She turned. Denise Arno held a gun aimed at her.

“Roger!” Denise called.

Kate swung her leg up without hesitation. She made contact with Denise’s hand at the same time the gun went off. The heat of the bullet brushed by her face.

She let her momentum take her around instead of fighting for her balance. She rolled out of the way a split second before a second gunshot came from down the hall.

She fired three times at Denise, then twice at the shadows in the hall. From the corner of her eye she saw Denise go down, blood coating her chest.

Gunfire rang out from the hall. Dammit, she hadn’t put Roger out of commission.

Who else was here? Where was Dillon? Where was Lucy?

Another gunshot, this time from the back of the cabin.

Dillon!

A man was naked and on top of Lucy.

Dillon heard himself cry out. The man looked up, startled and confused. He fumbled for a gun that was far beyond his reach, crawling off Lucy as he tried to stand.

Dillon strode over and kicked him in the face. The man grunted, rolled over, reached his gun in the corner.

Dillon aimed his gun and fired. Again. Again. He saw blood but didn’t make the connection.

The man screamed out and clutched his leg. “Fuck! Fuck!”

Dillon picked up the bastard’s gun and pocketed it, then brought out the knife Jack had given him before they’d split at the small airport. He slashed the ropes binding Lucy.

“Dillon, you’re here. You’re really here!”

“Lucy, we have to get out. Now.”

She nodded, silent tears running down her face.

Dillon pulled off his T-shirt and handed it to his sister. Shaking, she put it on. It hung to her thighs. She started for the door.

“No,” he said quietly. He picked up the camera and threw it against the wall, where it broke, pieces falling to the threadbare carpet.

He led Lucy to the window and eased her over the broken glass before following her out.

He didn’t want to think about the gunshots he’d heard moments before. He didn’t want to think that Kate was dead.

He had to get Lucy out.

He also had to find Kate.

Torn, he took one look at Lucy’s face and knew she couldn’t do it on her own. Kate was strong and trained. She was a survivor. He had to believe that.

Lucy was a terrified eighteen-year-old. He would get her to safety, then come back for Kate.

He helped Lucy over the deck railing. “I have a boat.”

She nodded, trusting him implicitly.

“You’re going to be okay, Luce. I promise.”

She nodded again, tears running down her face. Her entire body shook.

Dillon took her hand and they ran low through the trees. He heard no more guns. He heard no more shouts.

Each step was torture as he realized that he was running away from Kate. That she could be dead, dying, in need, and he was leaving her behind. Maybe she’d gone for the boat. She could run faster alone than he could with Lucy. She could be at the cliff already.

The thought propelled Dillon forward. Less than ten minutes later they reached the edge of the island.

Kate wasn’t there.

No time to go back. Dillon said to Lucy, “Trust me.”

Lucy only nodded, her large brown eyes looking left and right. Terrified.

He picked her up and tossed her into the water, away from the rocks at the base of the cliff. He followed. Together, they both swam to the boat and climbed in.

He scanned the cliff.
Dammit, Kate! Where are you?

“Who are you looking for? Were they following us?”

“Someone who’s been helping me find you.”

Kate was nowhere.

Dillon cut the lead rope and started the motor. He’d get Lucy to the copter.

Then he’d go back for Kate.

Kate checked Denise’s pulse. Nothing. She was dead.

The man outside was dead.

Gunfire was coming from two places in the cabin. One down the hall where she’d heard breaking glass. The other from the nook that turned into a kitchen.

She was behind a heavy wood table. She’d heard the scream, the gunfire, the breaking glass.

Please, Dillon. Get Lucy out now!

“Where is she?”

A man she didn’t recognize came out of the kitchen.

She needed to take her time. She had half a clip left. She couldn’t afford to waste the bullets. The gun she’d taken from the dead man outside had already been emptied.

Where was Roger Morton?

Roger emerged from the hall. “Someone took the girl. I’m going after them.” He ran past Kate’s hiding place.

The other man called out, “Where’s that bitch who killed Denise?”

“Hell if I know, she probably escaped with the girl!”

Roger left through the sliding glass doors and the second man hesitated, then followed.

Kate immediately left her hiding place and went to the room down the hall where Lucy had been held captive. Déjà vu hit her again as she stared at the broken camera, the broken window.
Paige.

A naked man, bleeding, crawled toward her in the doorway.

She shot him in the head, imagining that he was Trask and she’d been in time to save Paige.

She jumped out the window, saw movement in the trees. A naked chest. Heard the startled cry of a girl in a dark green shirt.

Dillon had given his sister his shirt.

She had to buy them time to get to the boat.

She ran around the deck making noise. She fired into the air, then ran into the second man.

He was young, couldn’t be more than twenty. The realization startled Kate. She’d been expecting Roger.

But being young didn’t make him less of a killer. He raised his gun.

She was faster. Three pumps into his chest. He didn’t get a round off.

“Richie?”

Roger’s voice came from around the cabin. He emerged from the direction Dillon and Lucy had run from.

He saw Kate. “You fucking bitch!” He raised his gun. “I should have known it was you.”

Kate dove for cover, off the deck and into bushes. Hot, burning pain hit her upper arm and she bit her tongue to keep from crying out.