Evidence of Passion (Shadow Agents #7)(15)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“I expected Rachel to be…hesitant,” Mercer began.

Dylan let his brows lift.

“But we can use your relationship with Mancini.” Mercer gave a firm nod. “It’s the most obvious tool that we have.”

Keeping the emotion out of his voice, Dylan asked, “Just what sort of relationship do you think I have with Rachel? Team members working in the field aren’t allowed to have…physical relationships.” That was the spiel they’d all been given when they joined the EOD.

“It’s not what I think that matters.” Mercer’s lips curled in the faintest of smiles. “It’s what Jack thinks. Rachel is the only emotional connection we know that the man has—”

“He may not have even realized that he could connect with someone.” Noelle spoke up as she slid off her glasses. “Not until he found her. And his connection to Rachel isn’t exactly the way a normal man would feel. It’s not, of course, the way that you feel—”

Dylan held up his hand. “Neither of you know anything about my feelings for Rachel.”

Noelle bit her lip.

Mercer just kept that faint smile on his face, then after a moment he inclined his head. “I know enough to realize that you’ll get the job done, won’t you? I believe your words were, ‘Bring it’, yes?”

Hell, yes. He wanted Jack to come his way. Because Dylan didn’t want Rachel afraid any longer. He knew she still looked over her shoulder, wondering when Jack might strike. She wasn’t going to be safe again, not until Jack was contained.

Or killed.

“It’s the appearance that matters,” Mercer told him. “Give Jack the appearance necessary to push him over the edge. Let him think that you and Rachel are lovers.”

His back teeth were grinding together. “What if this BS plan of yours backfires? What if he doesn’t come after me? What if he goes after Rachel?”

“Like I said before, that’s why the two of you are working so closely. You’ll guard her back. She’ll watch yours. That is the way things worked for you and Agent Mancini on your other missions.”

Yes, it was.

Noelle shifted slightly in her chair. “And Agent Anthony will be there, covering you both.”

Dylan glanced down at his hands. Rachel’s fingers had been clenched into tight fists. Her knuckles had been white as tension coursed through her body. He’d wanted to stroke her shoulder, to soothe her, but he hadn’t reached out to Rachel. Not with Mercer and Noelle watching them so closely.

“The EOD has taken a very personal interest in Jack.”

Dylan looked up at those low words. Mercer’s smile was gone.

“That interest isn’t just because of Agent Mancini, though I hope you know how much I value her.” Mercer stood. His chair rolled back behind him. “Jack has been killing for ten years. The very first man that he killed—the first we linked him to, anyway—worked in my military unit. Carson George survived wars, enemy camps and flat-out hell, only to be taken down in his own apartment just outside D.C.”

Dylan had read all of the files on Jack. “He always goes after military, either currently enlisted personnel or retired members.” No civilians, ever.

Why?

Noelle cleared her throat. “I think he’s ex-military, too. And he sees his victims…he sees them as more of a challenge. Going after civilians would be too easy, and Jack isn’t for easy.”

No, he was for blood. For death.

“I’ve known several of his victims. They were good men and women. Jack has to be stopped.” Mercer nodded toward Noelle. “The FBI is after him, too, so watch your step.”

“I have…associates who are eager to close in on him,” Noelle explained carefully.

“One way or another, we will take Jack down.” Mercer was adamant. “But I don’t want to lose any of my team members in this hunt.”

Rachel would not be lost. “Understood, sir.”

“Good.” Flat. “I knew I could count on you.”

Mercer and Noelle filed out of the room.

Dylan remained seated. Count on him? To take out Jack?

With pleasure.

* * *

BEFORE HIS DEATH, Hank Patterson had been planning to rule on a court-martial for Lance Corporal Chris Harris, a man who’d been accused of attacking a fellow marine—that marine had wound up in the hospital with three broken ribs and a broken arm.

Mercer had pulled strings and gotten Rachel and Dylan access to Chris Harris. A military guard was stationed a few feet away from the prisoner, and they were in a small, narrow room at the military holding facility.

Chris Harris, barely twenty-two, wore a smirk on his face as he glanced at Rachel and Dylan. “What do you two want?” His gaze drifted over them. “You’re not officers…”

“Not anymore,” Dylan agreed. He didn’t sit. Neither did Rachel. She was too tense to stay still, so she paced toward the left wall and prepared to watch the show.

When it came to interrogations, Dylan had a gift.

“If you’re not officers, then who are you?” Chris glanced at her. His eyes were a dull blue, his cheeks ruddy. And his hands were moving nervously against the table.

“We’re friends…of Hank Patterson’s,” Dylan answered.

Chris’s lips trembled. Rachel was staring right at him when he made that telling movement. The guy almost smiled. She was sure of it.

Dylan’s hands slapped down on the table in front of Chris. Dylan saw that movement, too. “You know he’s dead.”

Chris nodded. “Real shame.” His voice said it was anything but a shame. “My lawyer…he’s checking things for me now.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he is. I heard the trial wasn’t going so well for you.”

Chris shrugged. “Don’t think that matters now, does it? New trial, new judge.”

Dylan stared at him. “You’re sweating, Chris.”

“It’s hot in here.”

“No, it’s not…” Dylan glanced toward the guard, gave a nod.

The guard turned his back.

“Why’s he doing that?”

The guard walked away.

“Hey! Wait!” Chris yelled.

“He’s not going to wait. And you know what else, Chris? There’s not going to be any record of this little visit today…”

Chris gulped.

“Hank Patterson had a lot of powerful friends.”

“He was railroading me! He kept me locked up in here the whole time when I should’ve been out! My lawyer’s gonna get me out now—”