now that Dylan did know Jack was back...his first instinct was to get Rachel the hell out of that city. He wanted her transferred to someplace safe and sunny while he hunted the maniac known as Jack.
Because Jack will go after her.
“It’s not him, is it?” Rachel asked as she rubbed her arms. “It has to be a copycat, right? I mean, three years ago, his exploits were all over the news. Everyone knows about him now.”
Jack. The man wasn’t a serial killer, at least not in the strict sense of the word. He was an assassin. One who killed for cash.
He was a man with far too much skill when it came to death.
“Tell me that he’s a copycat,” Rachel said.
He wished he could. Dylan took a step closer to her. He wanted to pull Rachel into his arms and hold her, but that wasn’t protocol. He was the team leader. They worked together, side by side. They fought together.
Their relationship was supposed to be professional.
To him, it was so much more.
“Dylan?”
“I can’t tell you that. At this point, I don’t know who we’re dealing with.”
“Jack vanished three years ago. After—” Her lips clamped shut, and Rachel didn’t say any more. But she didn’t have to. He knew her past as well as he knew his own.
Jack had been hired to kill Rachel. Quincy Langam had hired the assassin to kill Rachel and two others who’d been associated with Quincy’s case. Two of those people on Langam’s kill list had wound up with gunshot wounds to the heart.
Only Rachel had survived.
And Jack disappeared.
“We have intel... Mercer has intel that indicates Jack may have been killing in Europe during the past few years.” And leaving his trademark calling card behind. “EOD agents were sent over there—”
“I should have been told!” Now spikes of red color stained her cheeks as anger glinted in her eyes.
Dylan didn’t touch that one. He’d been the one to tell Mercer that Rachel shouldn’t know. “They weren’t sure. No one saw the killer to confirm his identity.”
“I’m the only one who survived Jack’s attack. I should’ve been there. I could’ve done something!”
Or Jack could have just come for her.
Again, Dylan found himself sliding even closer to her. “He eluded the EOD agents in Europe, and now...now it looks like he’s come home to do his hunting again.”
If they truly were dealing with Jack, the local cops wouldn’t handle the case. An international killer—sure, maybe the FBI or the CIA would want a piece of this action, but the EOD would be in charge of the investigation.
Because the targets Jack had taken out—the men and women he always hunted—were tied to military cases. Linked to the U.S. Navy, Air Force, the Marines. There was always a military link for Jack.
And besides, the EOD had a personal interest in the case.
They had Rachel.
“Can you handle this?” Dylan asked her. He had to ask the question as the team leader.
“Of course.” Her chin notched up. “I survived him before, didn’t I?”
The image of her—bloody, afraid—still haunted him in the darkness of the night.
“If he’s back, he’ll come for me.” Rachel spoke these words with certainty.
“Then he’ll have to get through me,” Dylan fired back, unable to hold those words inside any longer.
Her eyes widened.
He put his hands on her. He had to touch her. His fingers curled around her slender shoulders. “He isn’t going to have the chance to hurt you. I’ll stop him. That’s why Mercer has me on the case. He knows I’ll do anything necessary in order to make sure that Jack doesn’t have the chance to get to you again.”
“And what am I supposed to do?” Her body brushed against his. “Hide? Stay in the shadows while you hunt? That’s not who I am, Dylan. You know that.”
He did. He knew everything about her.
“Mercer sent me here.” She gave a slow nod of her head. “He wants me on the case, and I’m going to stay on it. Jack won’t get away with this.” A brief pause. “If this is Jack.”
He wanted to pull her flush against him. To kiss her. They’d worked together for three years, and he’d wanted her that entire time.
But he’d played by the rules and kept his hands off her.
Dreamed of her every night.
“They’re going to send hotel guards up soon,” Rachel murmured. “Maybe even a firefighter or two.”
He blinked.
“You can’t keep the elevator stopped forever.”
And he couldn’t toss Rachel over his shoulder and run away with her. No matter how badly he wanted to do just that.
So he stepped back from her. He started the elevator again, and Dylan focused on breathing. Nice and slow. But he had to ask her, “Do you still love him?”
“What?” Her voice rose, breaking a little on the one word.
That break wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear. His gaze held hers. “You loved him three years ago.”
“He tried to kill me.”
“I just want to make sure that emotions won’t be a problem for you.” His hands clenched into fists. “I have to know that I can count on you.”
The elevator had reached the lobby. A soft ding filled the interior then the doors slid open. Rachel brushed past him. He followed her. “Rachel?”
She turned toward him. “I don’t feel any emotion but hate for the guy, okay? So don’t worry about me. Nothing is going to cloud my judgment on this mission.”
Hate was dangerous. So was fury and fear. He’d have to watch her carefully. But what else is new there? He seemed to watch her all the time.
And Rachel didn’t know. She had no idea that she’d become his obsession.
“I won’t worry.” Lie. When she shifted away from him, Dylan put his hand on her back and steered her toward the hotel’s main desk. “We work this one together.”
“Just like always,” she murmured. But Rachel was tense beneath his touch. Far too tense.
The hotel manager stared at Dylan with nervous eyes. Dylan flashed him an ID. An official-looking
