Forged in Ash (27 page)

“So you admit you killed him?”

“Yes, I killed him—”

His admission shocked her so much she missed the rest of his sentence.

“—my fiancée. If I hadn’t taken him out first, he would have killed me, Beth, Amy Chastain, and Christ only knows how many others.”

“Liar!” The word emerged on a shriek.

Zane Winters winced, squared his shoulders, and took another step forward; but before he could say anything, another man pushed him aside and pointed a lean, tanned index finger at her.

This new threat was leaner than the other three, and older. His short black hair was graying at the temples. Eyes as black as a cloud-shrouded midnight locked on her.

“Lady, I’m getting pretty fucking tired of you calling us liars. You obviously don’t know a damn thing about your brother.” The thunderstorm masquerading as a man snarled as he repeatedly chopped the air with his extended index finger. “In Seattle alone he was responsible for the attempted hijacking of flight 2077, for the kidnapping and rape of Ginny Clancy and Amy Chastain, for the murders of Todd Clancy and Agent Chastain. Your brother was a Goddamn sociopathic—”

“Mac, you’re not helping,” the blond SEAL holding her hands behind her head growled.

The thundercloud wheeled on him. “She’s the one throwing the fucking lies around. Let her get a dose of the truth.”

“Look.” The blond leaned over the couch’s armrest behind her head and stared down. “We own taking out your brother. We had no choice. But we had nothing to do with what happened to your kids.”

“Right,” she sneered the word up at him. “And I suppose it was just a coincidence that the bastard who shot me and killed my”—her voice hiccupped and went watery before she infused it with venom—“was hanging around your lame buddy yesterday?”

Pure shock brought Cosky to his feet. “The hell you say?”

The woman who’d tried to kill him—twice—twisted beneath Rawls’s grip. Her good eye locked on Cosky. The wild, brown depths were brimming with rage. But there was something darker beneath the fierceness—the raw desolation of someone who’d lost everything and had nothing left to live for.

Christ, if she’d witnessed the murder of her kids, no wonder she was halfway to insane.

He gritted his teeth beneath his own surge of anger. If what she claimed was true, if that bastard had killed her kids…Christ, he deserved the slowest and most excruciating death imaginable. Cosky would be happy to hand it to him.

He thought back to her first attack on him. She’d been determined to kill him. Driven by hatred. Yet, she’d turned away from the perfect opportunity to take him out. He’d been down on the ground, defenseless. All she would have had to do was step around the pickup’s door and empty her pistol into him. Instead, she’d spun and fired across the parking lot.

It hadn’t made sense then, why would she target that chatty kid? Well, it made sense now. She hadn’t been aiming for Mr. Chatty. She’d been aiming for someone else entirely.

“This man who shot you.” Cosky left out the fate of her children. The reminder of her loss had to be unbearable, and he needed her coherent. He needed answers. “He was at the back of the parking lot yesterday, wasn’t he? He’s the one you were targeting.”

Her lips curled into a combination snarl and sneer. “You think I’m so stupid I wouldn’t recognize the bald bastard who shot me…and—”

Raw agony crumpled her face and darkened her eye. But almost instantly the agony bled into savage wrath. She shook her head and the ice pack took flight. She looked almost malformed at that moment. Her left eye was swollen shut and shadowed with blue. Her face twisted into a mask of primitive ferocity.

It took a few seconds for her description of her shooter to sink in.
Bald bastard.

Son of a fucking bitch.

“Goddamn motherfucker,” Mac said, his face livid. “Cos, give me that business card.”

Cosky dug into his pocket and pulled out the business card that antagonistic bastard of a detective had given him in the emergency room.

That bald, antagonistic bastard of a detective
.

“The world’s full of bald men,” Rawls said. When his captive suddenly slumped against the pillow, her muscles slack, he let go of her hands and bent to pick up the ice pack.

“Yeah, but this particular chrome dome was far too interested in what she”—Cosky jerked his chin toward the woman stretched across his couch—“said to me.”

“And he didn’t show up at either crime scene,” Mac said with his cell phone plugged to his ear. “What are the odds of that?” He lifted the business card and glared down at it. “Radar, I need another favor. Check with the Coronado PD. See if they have a Detective Alejandro Pachico in house. Get a description if they do, and buddy, keep this on the down low. Yeah, ASAP.”

Zane ran a tense hand through his hair. “If this guy’s a ringer, and he’s involved in what happened to her”—Zane said with a nod toward their captive—“then it’s a good bet he can lead us to whoever was behind that mess in Seattle.”

Mac’s lips stretched into a predatory smile. “Which will lead us to who financed McKay’s hit.”

Rawls perched on the armrest above the woman’s head and laid the ice pack across the left half of her face. “We can’t keep calling you her or she,” he said with a non-threatening smile. “What’s your name?”

She arched her neck to stare up at him, a frown wrinkling her bruised forehead. Suddenly she winced and her face smoothed out.

“Jillian,” she finally said, the delay so long Cosky didn’t think she was going to answer at all.

“And what’s your last name, Jillian?” Rawls persisted.

She pressed her lips together and glared. Caution registered on her face. Her gaze twitched from Cosky to Zane and over to Mac.

“Michaels,” she said grudgingly, apparently deciding that providing her last name wouldn’t give them an advantage.

Zane frowned, and took a step closer to their guest. “Was your brother’s last name Michaels too?”

“You know it wasn’t,” but her voice lacked heat.

She looked exhausted, lying there. Fragile. The half of her face not covered by the blue ice pack was a sullen gray against the rich mahogany of their leather couch.

“We knew him as Russ Branson,” Zane said, his voice quiet.

Cosky and Rawls exchanged glances and waited. Knowing Branson’s real name was the first step to tracking his bosses down. Although now, thanks to Jillian, they had another, even more promising lead. Before she had a chance to answer, Mac’s phone rang.

Mac lifted the cell to his ear. “Yeah. There is? What does he look like?” He listened for a moment, and scowled. Disappointment touched his face. “Fuck. Can you get me a picture? Thanks.” He lowered his hand and shrugged. “The description fits; he could be legit.”

Of course, the smart ringer would impersonate the person in the department who resembled him the closest in case someone called the department to verify his identify.

“Did Radar get a photo?” Cosky asked.

“He’s sending it to my phone,” Mac said. “We’ll know for sure in a minute.” He turned to Jillian. “Did she give up Branson’s name?”

“Not yet.” Zane turned toward the couch and scowled. “Damn.”

Jillian’s face had gone slack and her good eye was closed.

“She’s faking it.” Mac stalked forward and glared down at her as though he could get her to open her eye with sheer force of will.

“No, she’s not,” Rawls said. “She’s malnourished, dehydrated, and exhausted. The only thing keeping her awake is adrenaline and rage, but she can’t maintain that kind of intensity for long in her condition.”

Mac didn’t look like he believed the diagnosis. But before he could grill their sleeping hostage, his cell buzzed.

He lifted it to look. “Radar sent the pic.” A couple of finger punches later and he grinned, that predatory anticipation back in full force. “We have a ringer. And our first lead.”

“I need to let Kait in on this,” Cosky said, picking up his cell from the coffee table.

“Bullshit.” Mac made a chopping motion. “This intel is need to know. And she doesn’t need to know.”

Ignoring the order, Cosky highlighted Kait’s number and hit dial. She was in the thick of this fucking mess, thanks to him. No way was he leaving her vulnerable to that bastard.

“Goddamn it, Cos—” Mac’s voice rose.

Cosky flatly stared back, listening to his phone ring and ring and ring. “If he has a contact in the Coronado PD, which you can bet your ass he does considering how well informed he is, then he knows Jillian attacked Kait. I’m not leaving her vulnerable. That asshole could swing by her place at any moment to question her about Jillian.”

It bothered the shit out of him that they’d left her alone to deal with the cops. Damn it, someone should have stayed for support. Although, considering the way his body tightened in anticipation of hearing her voice, not to mention his sudden intense craving for his fingers on her smooth, hot skin, it was probably a good thing he hadn’t bailed from the van to help her out.

There was a good chance he’d still be in her bed.

The call quit ringing and her husky voice came on line. “Hello?”

Bingo, his dick jolted straight up.

“Hey—”

“You must have gotten my message,” she broke in.

He frowned in confusion. “What message?”

She snorted. “The one where I thanked you for dragging your mess to my door.”

Cosky drew back, the confusion deepening. She’d said something similar when she’d called him originally, back before they’d picked up Jillian. Before he had a chance to question her, she started talking.

“I’m fine. But your stalker got away again.”

“You have someone there with you?” Cosky asked, his confusion vanishing.

“Yeah,” she confirmed his suspicion in such a casual voice, it made him wonder how much experience she had in lying. Because she was pretty damn good at it. There was no tension in her tone, no hesitation, nothing to give the lie away.

“There’s a detective here now, as a matter of fact. But he says they still haven’t found her.”

Cosky froze, an ugly suspicion stirring. Ice broke out over his back, and prickled down the nape of his neck. “Would this detective’s name be Pachico?” he asked, the words coming out low and hard and dangerous.

For the first time she paused, and he could sense her surprise. “It would—”

He swore viciously, his heart slamming against his ribs like he’d just finished CQB training.

Damn it, he shouldn’t have caught her off guard. If Pachico was half the professional they suspected, he’d pick up on her surprised reaction.

Cosky’s own ineptitude had just put Kait in danger. Serious danger. A cold, black pressure rose inside him. He recognized it instantly. Fear.

He’d never had trouble caging it before, forcing it into the background. This time it insisted on taking the driver’s seat.

He forced himself to concentrate, and realized she was talking.

“But dinner alone isn’t getting you out of this,” she said in a half-laughing, half-flirting tone. She paused as though listening. “No, I’m not turning you down. I never turn down a free dinner.”

Cosky tried to calm his surging blood pressure. “You didn’t tell him anything?”

If Pachico knew they had Jillian, he’d know Jillian had told them about him. He could decide to grab Kait and use her as a bargaining chip. Previous experience proved the bastard’s pawns didn’t have the life span of a fruit fly after he was done with them.

Every muscle in Cosky’s body clenched. Not Kait. No way in hell was he losing Kait.

She laughed again, this time with an edge of irritation. “Of course not.” Her voice smoothed. “What time are you picking me up?”

“Get rid of him,” Cosky said tightly, aware that Zane and Rawls were watching him with absolute stillness. “We’ll be there ASAP. Do
not
go anywhere with him. Do
not
challenge him. Do
not
question him. Get him out of your apartment. Hole up inside until we get there.”

“Yeah,” she said dryly. “Like you have to tell me that. I’ll be here. Is your knee up to this?” Kait asked. The softness in her voice told him the question was out of actual concern, not window dressing for Pachico’s benefit.

His chest tightened. Christ, considering his abysmal treatment of her earlier, the last thing he deserved was her concern. She had a good heart, Kait did. Better than his, that was for sure.

“My knee’s fine,” he said gruffly.

She humphed beneath her breath. “Sure it is.”

He tried to breathe around the knot in his chest—around the tug-of-war of fear and something he didn’t want to examine too closely. “Call me as soon as you get rid of him.”

“I will.” She sounded exasperated. “I’ll see you in fifteen.”

The phone went dead.

He swore viciously, started to hit redial, but then his brain kicked in.

Calling back and keeping her on the line would be too fucking suspicious. He wasn’t supposed to know that Pachico, or whoever the fuck the bastard was, didn’t work for the Coronado Police Department, so there should be no concern for Kait’s safety.

Zane grabbed Cosky’s arm as he wheeled around. “I’m driving.”