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Blood drained from her face. “You mean everywhere I go, they knew where I was?”
“Exactly. It’s got to have a location tracker on it. Has your phone slowed down lately? Battery dying sooner than usual?”
She closed her eyes, opened them. “I didn’t even think about the possibilities and I’m always careful.”
“This business with Dylan threw you off your game. It wasn’t your fault. Or Dylan’s. But they must have installed a location tracker on your phone and that’s how they’ve been locating you. Lance at the motel after Dylan was arrested. The rest stop.”
Jace sucked down a breath. “You’re not getting a signal here in the mountains so they can’t pinpoint our location. But we have to leave. Right now.”
Kara ran into the bedroom and tossed everything into her pack. Jace didn’t bother, but grabbed the shotgun and loaded it. He glanced at Darby. It tore him up to leave the dog behind, but they stood a better chance on his bike...
He dumped two cans of dog food into bowls and placed them on the floor. Then he grabbed a steak knife from the drawer and stuck it into his pocket, just in case.
“Sorry, bud. Have to run.”
Kara picked up a helmet and went outside. After grabbing his keys, he ran outside to the bike, Darby barking in protest as he followed. Son of a bitch, this was bad, so bad...
“Well, hello there, Jason Beckett. And Kara.”
Jace skidded to a halt, staring at the black pistol pointed in their direction.
He blinked. “Oscar?”
His neighbor gave him a nasty smile. “Gotcha. At last.”
Kara’s pulse accelerated. Jace’s neighbor? All this time she’d feared the biker gang and this guy, he looked like an ordinary man, with his bristling crew cut and white shirt and trousers, except for the cruel expression...
“You’re Gerald. Aka Marcus.” Jace’s voice was flat.
Terror skidded through her. This was Marcus, the man who killed the teenagers at the clubhouse?
“Drop the shotgun or I’ll put a hole through her right now.”
Jace complied.
“And your sidearm.”
Silently Jace removed the Glock. Still clutching the helmet, Kara stared, too terrified to move.
Gerald/Marcus gestured with the pistol. “That way, in the back of the cabin.”
Hands in the air, they walked to the cabin’s back, Oscar following, the gun trained on them.
“You never knew I was a biker. I rode here, followed you. Parked my bike up the road and snuck through the woods.
“Typical FBI, all this time you never knew.” Oscar laughed. “I had you fooled good. The jewelry, the vague terror threat, it was all to throw you off, Jace. Soon as Lance told me he saw Kara at the Tiki Bar, and better yet, you used to be her boyfriend, I was gold.”
“Why me?” she asked, her voice tremulous.
“Ever since I got out of prison, I’ve been searching for you, you little bitch. A month ago I finally had the chance to find out who you were. Had enough money to bribe a courthouse secretary to unseal the records of the name of the juvenile who killed my father.
“All this time, it was you. Not your goddamn jewelry. Not your cousin, Dylan. Everything was about you and getting you in front of me so I could experience this moment. My father, Archie Turner. Remember his name? Remember?”
Kara reeled backward. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe.
The only son of the man whom she’d killed in the car crash when she was seventeen.
Panic set in as she stared at the gun in his hand, then her gaze traveled up to his cold, dead eyes. Brown eyes. Jace had blue eyes, as sunny as summer skies. Sweat dampened her palms as she clutched the helmet like a shield.
