Evidence of Passion (Shadow Agents #7)(43)
Author: Cynthia Eden

She pulled out the chair across from him, sat down and stared back at him. “Your name is Kenneth Cross.”

Anger flashed on his face. “I’m Jack.”

“You grew up in Montana. You lived on a ranch.”

He laughed. “Got a hit on my DNA, huh? Or was it my prints?”

“You were an army ranger, under the command of William Harris.”

He leaned toward her. “Don’t tell anyone.” His voice had dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “But I think he may be dead.”

She gazed into his eyes. “We know who you are now.”

Voice still low, he said, “You know nothing.”

She thought about the files that she’d read. “I know that the real Aidan O’Sullivan is dead. I’m guessing that his body will be found eventually, and he’ll have a playing card on his chest.”

His grin flashed. “He might.” Then his laughter came. “But wasn’t it a grand cover?” The Irish drifted back into his voice then. “I was in Ireland for over a year. Met Aidan there. He wanted me to kill his grandfather, but I don’t just take any kind of work.”

No. “You like to be challenged.”

He nodded. “An old man wasn’t going to challenge me. He would’ve been too easy.”

“That’s why you focus on ex-military, isn’t it?” Rachel asked him. “That way, you have more of—”

“A fight?” He shrugged. “I think it evens the playing field.”

“But…Brent Chastang wasn’t ex-military.”

His jaw tightened. “He was a jerk who needed to stay away from you.”

The guard stood, still as a statue, behind Kenneth.

Dylan moved toward the guard then. He whispered to him. The guard hesitated, but then made his way out of the room.

“Just us three?” Kenneth asked. He pursed his lips. “And of course, the ones watching in that little room next door.”

Rachel decided to gamble. “There’s a profiler in there. She told me that you were a psychopath.”

Rage ignited—plain to see—in his eyes. “The profiler would be wrong.”

“I don’t know…all the people you’ve killed. Your total disregard for human life—”

“I have regard for life. Your life.”

Now Dylan stood behind Kenneth.

“It’s the others that I don’t give a damn about,” Kenneth continued. He acted as if what he’d just said was perfectly reasonable. Probably because, to him, it was.

“Did you give a damn about your father?” Was Noelle right? Had he—

His grin flashed.

He had.

“He was a fool who spent too much time caring about the dirt beneath his feet. Like the land mattered. He wanted to hold me back, to keep me out there, when I was meant for more.”

“So you killed him,” Rachel said, voice hollow. Eighteen. He’d killed his father then.

“And I realized that I was very, very good at killing.” He glanced over his shoulder. “But I guess that’s something that Agent Foxx and I have in common, isn’t it? Shannon saw it. And you see it, too.” His focus shifted back to Rachel. “Don’t you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you’re anything alike.”

“You shouldn’t be so certain.”

Control. The word whispered through her mind. Kenneth was trying to control everything that was said in that room.

She had to stop him.

Rachel surged to her feet. “This is a waste of time. You don’t have any intel to give me.” She spun on her heel and marched for the door. “And I don’t have any more time to waste on you.”

“Don’t you leave me!”

She reached for the door.

“If you leave me, they’ll die.”

Rachel stilled. “Who will die?” This wasn’t supposed to be about new victims. She was supposed to be getting the names of all the people who’d hired Kenneth over the years.

Rachel turned to stare at him as she tried to decide if the guy was just playing her.

The smile was gone from his face. He stared at her, cheeks red, mouth tight.

“Who will die, Kenneth?” Rachel pressed.

“My name’s Jack!” He shot up.

Dylan’s hands came down on his shoulders and he pushed the man right back down.

Rachel didn’t advance toward Dylan and the killer. She just stood there, waiting. If he wanted to talk, he would.

And he did.

“Aidan O’Sullivan loved explosions. Loved to light up the night. He learned how to wire the bombs when he was a kid, at his da’s knee. But the grandfather… Oh, he was the law-abiding type. That was why he left Ireland. Left them all, and came here.”

She didn’t move.

“I already had some demolitions know-how, but Aidan taught me a few new tricks.” He looked back at Dylan. “I used one of those tricks on your car. It was small, though. Nothing at all when compared to what I’ve got coming.”

She couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. “You don’t have a target. You wouldn’t—”

“As much as I do enjoy you, sweetheart, you aren’t the only reason that I came back to the U.S. I had work to do. A job that only a man with my…talents could perform.”

“You killed Henry Patterson,” she said.

A shrug. “A side deal I picked up. Not my main ticket.”

Her heart raced, shaking her chest. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” His grin held a cruel edge. “Then by all means, waste a few more hours. When the fire hits the sky, you can believe me then.”

A bomb. Had he really planted a bomb in the city?

“Where is it?” Rachel asked him.

But he shook his head. “Doesn’t work like that. It’s more of a show-and-tell deal.”

Her gaze strayed to Dylan. There was still no expression on his face.

“I’ll show you where it is…or we can wait, and when all the people die, you can be the one to tell their families just how sorry you are.” When she didn’t speak, he exhaled on a long sigh. “Still don’t believe me, huh? Well, I’m sure the EOD agents are at the pub. Tell them to check downstairs. There’s a false wall behind my kegs. They’ll find some…leftovers down there. Enough to prove exactly what I’m saying.” He laughed. “Or maybe they’ll be the leftovers…the parts that are left of them after—”