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“When the hell were you going to tell me my old man works for you? Want to recruit my mother as well? She loves money.”
“Stop it, Jace.” Rafe’s dark gaze narrowed. “I didn’t want you to know because I knew you’d react like this. You’ve done a damn fine job inside, and I wasn’t going to compromise your safety.”
“Right.” Jace started for the door. “I’ve got a ton of paperwork. Rafe, next time you want to play mother hen on me, remember I’m a qualified, trained agent. If you coddle all of us, the criminals you want to put behind bars will never get caught.”
He slammed the door on the way out.
Though she was bone-tired, sleep proved impossible for Kara. The thought of Dylan locked up in a dingy jail cell, terrified and alone, made her stomach roil.
No use in hanging around the field office, but she couldn’t abandon Dylan. She promised to be there for him.
Jace had not.
She had showered and dressed in fresh clothing, too wound up to sleep. Kara looked at the television remote, shuddered and sat on the bed.
A knock stirred her from examining her conscience. Kara went to the door, peered out the peephole.
“Sorry, ma’am, there’s a matter of your credit card being denied.”
She started to reach for the dead bolt and stopped. Common sense overruled emotions. The man’s voice was too rough, too deep, to be the same desk clerk who’d checked her into the room.
“I’ll call the front office,” she told the man, not unlocking the door.
“We need to take care of this now.” The man jiggled the doorknob.
Kara’s heart raced, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Ironic how she and Jace had remained barely one step ahead of the danger constantly chasing them and suddenly now, as she was alone, someone had caught up to her. The sickly fluorescent light outside provided little illumination for her to properly see who wanted to get inside.
“Go away,” she said in a loud voice. “I’ll call the front desk and leave another credit-card number.”
No footsteps indicating the man walked off. Instead, he pounded on the door.
“Open the damn door!” He pounded on the door. “Bitch, open it now!”
She backed up. The flimsy door vibrated with a loud thud. It splintered and buckled as the man forcefully kicked it open.
Terror filled her as a hulking figure loomed in the doorway. The intruder was short, wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off. Ink covered his bare arms. Most prominent was a Devil’s Patrol tat on his left forearm.
His beer belly hung over a leather belt like a waterfall. And then she recognized him. Even though the lighting cast his face mostly in shadow, she knew.
“Lance,” she said, stumbling back. “What do you want?”
Heart pounding in her chest, she backed away from him, frantically thinking of exits. He must be searching for Jace.
The man’s face was a grotesque mask of anger and determination, his rough features twisted into a menacing sneer, accented by the scar on his cheek.
“You can’t run forever. Got you. Finally.”
Fear jolted through her. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape, but the window was too small. Her phone was inside her purse, just out of reach. She was trapped. Her gaze dropped to his waist. The Devil’s Patrol carried guns. But he made no move to withdraw a weapon.
Maybe he thinks I’m helpless. Let him think that way.
“What do you want with me?” she asked, trying to control her terror.
He grinned. “You. Someone special wants you.”
The man licked his lips. “He didn’t mind if I had a little fun first. Jace kept bragging about how you were a great lay.”
Adrenaline fueled her body. She ran for the bathroom, closed the door and locked it. It wouldn’t hold. It wasn’t designed to keep out huge, hulking monsters who wanted to assault her.
