Evidence of Passion (Shadow Agents #7)(19)
Author: Cynthia Eden

William’s lips moved.

She put her ear next to his mouth, struggling to hear what he said.

“J…Jack…”

Her stomach tightened. “I want his real name. Do you know it? Can you tell me?”

“P-played me…” The words broke on a gasp.

I’m losing him.

“Please!” Her head lifted just a few inches. She wanted to stare into his eyes, but his eyes were shut. “Help me to find him! He shot you…”

“My…own…g-gun… Almost…g-got h-him…”

So he’d been planning to kill Jack?

One double cross for another.

In the distance, she heard the scream of a siren. “The ambulance is so close,” she told him. “Just fight. Hang on.”

His breath slid out. “Not…en-enough…”

No, the ambulance wasn’t close enough.

“Taught him…t-taught Jack…all…”

He didn’t say more. His chest wasn’t rising any longer.

“William? William?” Her knees shifted as she edged closer to him, and that was when she saw the playing card that had been under his right arm.

A bloody Jack of Hearts.

* * *

DYLAN FOLLOWED JACK, keeping his eyes on the baseball cap as the man weaved and dodged through the city.

The killer had dropped some cash in his frantic run. Dylan hadn’t stopped to pick it up. He didn’t care about the money. Only Jack.

The baseball cap vanished as the guy rounded a corner.

With a burst of speed, Dylan rounded that same corner and found himself in an alley.

There was no sign of Jack. He has to be here, though. Dylan’s gaze scanned the perimeter. There was no way that Jack had just vanished.

He advanced slowly. The alley stank of rotten food. There was a big garbage container to the right. And the back entrance to a restaurant was just a few steps away from that bin.

Did you think you could escape in there?

Dylan hurried forward. He yanked open that back door. Saw no one. Dylan advanced. When he burst into the kitchen with his gun drawn, a chorus of shouts and screams met his arrival.

All of the kitchen staff members were wearing white uniforms. They stared at him with fear and horror on their faces.

“Where the hell is he?” Dylan demanded.

His question was answered with more frantic shouts. He pulled out his ID, the nice, fake FBI ID that usually gave him a free pass in situations like this one. “I’m following a suspect. White male, six foot two, two hundred pounds. He was wearing a blue sweatshirt, jogging shorts and a baseball cap.” His gaze lasered around the room. “Where the hell did he go?”

But no one knew. They all said they’d seen nothing. No one…but Dylan.

Vanished.

Rage twisted inside him.

* * *

DYLAN BRAKED HIS CAR in front of Rachel’s apartment building. Fury still rode him.

Fury and fear.

“I don’t think you should stay here tonight,” he said as he glanced over at her. Actually, Dylan figured that staying at her place was one damn bad idea. “He’s already broken into your place once.”

“And yours,” Rachel pointed out as she tilted her head to study him. “Besides, Thomas is watching the street in front of my apartment. He’s got guard duty. And Mercer told me that the EOD upgraded my security system.”

Yeah, they had. He killed the engine. “If you’re staying here, then so am I.” He had a duffel bag in his trunk, one that he kept ready because he never knew when the EOD would ship him out on a mission.

“You don’t…you don’t have to do that. I told you, Thomas has guard duty. I don’t need—”

“Maybe it’s about what I need.” And he needed to be close to her. “Besides, isn’t the master plan for the guy to think that we’re lovers? I doubt that he’ll buy the charade if we’re sleeping across the city from each other.”

Her lashes lowered. Night had fallen on the city, and the only light in the car came from the streetlamp a few feet away. That wasn’t nearly enough illumination to let him read her expression, and he sure wanted to know what she was thinking.

“A charade?” Rachel whispered. “Is that all it will be?”

The memory of their kiss—the kiss they’d had in that car—was suddenly right between them, he knew it was. He didn’t need to see her expression any longer.

But he did have to tread very carefully. “We can be whatever you want us to be.” It had to be her choice, he knew that. But once she did make the choice…

You choose me, then, baby, you will be mine.

“Let’s talk upstairs, then.” She fumbled with the door handle and hurriedly exited the vehicle.

He followed her. And he grabbed the duffel bag from the back of the car. His gaze trekked down the street. The pub was already busy. That place usually was, from what he’d seen. But he wouldn’t be going in that pub searching for Rachel that night.

I’ve got her. And I’m not letting her go. Because he knew the truth now. Rachel wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

He put his hand at her back, then headed into the building with her. For anyone watching, it would look like they were just two lovers, heading in for the night.

They didn’t speak as they climbed the stairs. Rachel unlocked her door then reset the new alarm system. She turned toward him, and he caught the flash of worry on her face. “I have to check and make sure that he hasn’t been here…”

But Dylan was already moving. He dropped the duffel bag on the floor and went straight to her bedroom.

The covers weren’t disturbed this time. No playing card waited for her.

He heard her soft exhale behind him, and he turned back to look at her. Some of the tension had eased from Rachel’s shoulders.

If he could, he’d take away all her fear and worry.

I will. When I take out Jack.

“I need to shower,” Rachel murmured. She stared down at her hands now. “I just…I washed the blood away, but I can still feel it on me.”

He nodded. Dylan understood exactly what Rachel meant. He’d been there before on plenty of other missions. He also knew that while it was easy to wash the blood away, the memory wouldn’t fade anytime soon.

“William Harris hired Jack to kill Patterson. I know he wasn’t an innocent but…” She swallowed. “I wish things could’ve ended differently for him.”

So did Dylan. He could have made William Harris talk. They would have been closer to unmasking Jack. Instead—

He slipped away from me again.