Evidence of Passion Read online

  Growling in disgust, Dylan yanked open the door. “What do you want?” he demanded.

  The man on his threshold just laughed. “Ah, Dylan, always a pleasure, isn’t it?”

  No, it wasn’t. Dylan’s eyes narrowed as he studied Thomas “Dragon” Anthony. He and Thomas didn’t exactly get along, and a few months back, when Dylan had thought that Thomas might be the rogue agent at the EOD, he’d even...shot the guy.

  At the time, though, Dylan had been feeling barely sane. He’d just discovered Rachel, covered in blood, and Thomas had been at the scene. He’d ordered the man to stand down, but—

  “Don’t worry, man,” Thomas said, golden eyes glinting as he seemed to sense Dylan’s thoughts. “It was only a flesh wound.”

  Because Dylan had chosen for it to be. “If I’d wanted you dead,” Dylan growled right back at him, “you’d be in the ground now.”

  Thomas stepped forward.

  “What’s going on?” Rachel called out.

  Dylan glanced over his shoulder. Rachel had just slipped from his bedroom. She had on—

  She’s wearing my shirt. One of his old navy T-shirts. It seemed to swallow her, falling all the way down to her knees. She looked sexy as hell in that shirt.

  She also had a gun in her hand. His gun.

  “What’s happening?” she asked as she crept closer. Her suspicious gaze was on the door. She hadn’t seen Thomas yet.

  And, lucky for Thomas, he hadn’t seen her.

  “It’s okay,” Dylan said, turning toward her and making sure that he put his body in front of hers. Rachel had some truly gorgeous legs. Long, golden. Perfect.

  “You should get dressed,” he told her, aware that his voice sounded a little too thick. “Then come back out so we can talk.”

  “I heard voices. I thought you might need me so I grabbed the first thing I saw.”

  Hmmm...he wondered...had the first thing been the shirt? Or the gun?

  She craned her head so she could see over his shoulder. Her eyes widened. “Thomas?”

  “Looking good, Rachel,” Thomas murmured back.

  Dylan spun around, a snarl on his lips.

  But Rachel laughed. “Well, considering the last time you saw me, I was covered in blood and nearly unconscious on the floor, I guess I do look better.”

  Dylan didn’t like to think about that time. The rogue agent had targeted Rachel. Dylan had been so desperate during those long hours while she’d undergone surgery.

  So afraid.

  Before Rachel, he hadn’t feared anything. She’d changed him, and he wasn’t sure that change was for the better.

  “You weren’t the only bloody one,” Thomas told her. “Your trigger-happy team leader made sure I wasn’t a threat.”

  Dylan glared at him. “I told you to stand down. Maybe next time you’ll follow orders.”

  Rachel’s feet padded away from him. The bedroom door closed. Good. She was getting dressed. Thomas wouldn’t be able to ogle her legs.

  The way I was doing.

  “Come on now,” Thomas said as he shut the door behind him. “We both know what really happened. You thought I’d hurt Rachel, and you went a little...over the edge.”

  Dylan felt a muscle jerk in his jaw. “Why are you here?”

  Thomas shrugged. “Mercer’s afraid you might have another one of those little over the edge moments since this particular case is so personal. Since your usual backup—Cooper Marshall—is out of town on his honeymoon, the big boss sent me to keep watch on you and Rachel.”

  Great. Just what he needed. Thomas already seemed a little too interested in Rachel as it was.

  Thomas lifted his hands in the air. “Consider me part of your team from here on out.”

  Not what he wanted. Thomas had a reputation within the EOD. The guy was a martial arts expert, and that expertise had earned him the moniker of Dragon. His particular skill set made him the perfect killing machine—and Thomas had killed plenty of times. His specialty was hand-to-hand combat. He could kill an enemy instantly, and his prey never would have the chance to so much as whisper for help.

  Thomas had been captured behind enemy lines a year ago. By the time Dylan and his team had gotten in to free the man, Thomas had already killed all of his captors.

  And the man hadn’t even had a weapon.

  But Thomas had been injured. Grievously so. It had been touch and go on the chopper ride out of that place. Rachel had stayed with Thomas every moment. She’d applied pressure to his wounds. She’d kept the man alive, talking to him, telling him that everything would be okay.

  And Thomas had made it. He’d pulled through.

  Only, now do you have too much of an interest in Rachel? Dylan sure thought so. “Another agent will probably work better,” he said, giving a decisive nod. “I’ll talk with Mercer when we go in to the office today. Thanks, Dragon, but your services aren’t—”

  “You know that I owe her.” Thomas’s cool voice interrupted Dylan’s words. “Let me repay the debt.”

  The bedroom door opened behind them.

  Dylan glanced at Rachel. She’d dressed in fresh jeans and a T-shirt. She’d picked up a small overnight bag last night, right before he’d hustled her out of her place. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked younger. Vulnerable.

  But the truth was that Rachel Mancini really was far from defenseless or delicate. She’d been a marine, then a Marine Corps Judge Advocate. In the courtroom, she’d been a powerhouse. Then, when she’d joined the EOD, Rachel had proven herself time and again. She put her life on the line. She fought to protect her teammates.

  Now they would protect her.

  Sorry, Rachel, for what’s coming. But I won’t keep risking you. He’d created his own plan last night when he’d tossed and turned on that lumpy couch.

  “Thomas is our backup on this mission,” Dylan said.

  “The mission?” Rachel repeated.

  “Apprehending and containing the assassin known as Jack.” As Mercer had said, that was priority. He inclined his head toward Thomas. “Welcome to the team.” And if you mess up, if you put her in any jeopardy, you’ll answer to me.

  Thomas nodded back to him. Dylan knew that his message had been received. Loud and clear.

  Good. The Dragon’s reputation didn’t scare Dylan. If Thomas did anything to endanger Rachel, Dylan wouldn’t stop until he’d destroyed the other man.

  * * *

  JACK STARED THROUGH his scope as the three EOD agents filed out of Dylan Foxx’s building.

  The scope focused on them, one at a time. The man in front was new—dark hair, tall, muscled. He walked with the same too-aware tenseness that Dylan Foxx did. Ex-military. At the EOD, they pretty much all were.

  That didn’t give them an advantage.

  I’m ex-military, too. Only they didn’t know that because they didn’t know anything about him. To the EOD agents, he was a ghost.

  Well, he was a ghost to everyone but her. Rachel knew him for the flesh-and-blood man that he was.

  He focused on Rachel. Her hair was pulled back. He didn’t like that. He’d told her time and again to wear her hair down. He preferred it free around her face. She knew he was out there, and she should’ve worn her hair for him.

  The scope stayed on her. But then...then Dylan moved. The guy positioned himself right in front of Rachel.

  Jack’s back teeth ground together as he leaned in for the shot. It would be so easy. He could fire right then. The bullet would find its target, and Dylan Foxx wouldn’t be a threat any longer.

  But Rachel was too close to Dylan.

  Jack was a good shot, damn good, but Rachel was so unpredictable. She might lunge at the last moment. She might grab Dylan. Try to shield him.

  The bullet
could hit her.

  No, it was safer to wait. A better moment would come.

  Dylan and Rachel climbed into the back of a black SUV. The new agent hurried around to the front and jumped in the driver’s side.

  The vehicle rushed away.

  Jack put down his weapon. Next time.

  But his gaze tracked to Dylan’s building. Hmmm...just what could he learn inside that place?

  He put his weapon back in his car. To the rest of the world, it looked as if he were carrying around a guitar case. A little trick he’d learned from one of his favorite movies a long time ago.

  He slipped into the building. He’d scoped out this place a time or two before.

  He entered Dylan’s place through the front door. There was a fire escape, but going that way would just attract too much attention. The alarm began to beep, but a few fast strokes and some quick rewiring of the base pad had shut the system off.

  Then he turned and stared at Dylan Foxx’s home.

  Know your enemy. That was rule number one for him. Whenever he had a new target, Jack made it his mission to learn everything he could about that person.

  It was time to learn Dylan Foxx’s secrets.

  He walked past the couch and glanced around. No family photographs. No mementos. The guy was a soldier, through and through. No, a shadow.

  Are you trying to be a ghost, like me?

  Jack had on gloves as he quickly searched through Dylan’s desk. Again, no photos.

  The guy’s computer was password protected. Getting past that system shouldn’t be a problem, either, but he’d save it for a bit later.

  Jack entered the bedroom.

  Pillows and what looked like extra blankets were piled onto the bed. And...

  He stepped closer to the bed. It was faint, but he caught Rachel’s scent in the air. She’d been in the bedroom, in the bed, with Dylan Foxx. His breathing came faster as the blood within his veins seemed to boil.

  His gaze fell on the wall to the right. Framed, black-and-white photographs filled that wall. The photographs were of D.C. landmarks—the Ford’s Theatre, the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument. He stared at those images, caught by a pang of familiarity.

  Those were Rachel’s work. The angles of the images, the use of light, the stark white-and-black contrast—he’d seen her work before.

  She’d given the images to Dylan Foxx, and the man had put them up on his bedroom wall.

  The attachment is there. Dylan is more than just a teammate.

  Jack stormed toward the nightstand and yanked it open.

  And inside...he found a photograph. A framed picture of Rachel. She was smiling. She looked happy.

  In that picture, she was standing right beside Dylan Foxx. The guy had his arm wrapped around Rachel’s shoulders.

  Jack’s fist slammed into the glass, shattering it.

  * * *

  DYLAN’S PHONE BEGAN to beep. He yanked it up and cursed when he saw the screen. “Turn the vehicle around,” he ordered Thomas. “Now.”

  Thomas braked. The SUV jerked to a stop.

  “What’s happening?” Rachel asked as she turned toward him.

  Dylan looked at her. “I have a few backup security devices at my place. Someone just triggered one of those alarms.”

  Her eyes widened.

  Thomas spun the vehicle around.

  Dylan scrolled through the alerts that had just come through on his phone. “The main system is showing an all-clear signal, but the motion sensor in the bedroom says that someone is in there right now.”

  “Jack?” Rachel whispered.

  He thought so. Because Jack was good at getting past security systems. You just weren’t good enough this time.

  The tires squealed as Thomas raced back toward Dylan’s building.

  * * *

  JACK STEPPED ON pieces of the shattered frame. Dylan had just revealed too much.

  She was in his bed. He keeps her photograph close.

  Jack advanced toward the door.

  And his gaze lifted, just for a moment. He saw the small white box mounted in the corner of the bedroom, about a foot away from the door. A little, red light glinted on that box.

  Motion sensor.

  He smiled. Well, well. Jack wondered how much time he’d have before Dylan came racing back to the scene.

  Jack bent and pulled the knife from the sheath at his ankle. If Dylan got back too quickly, then Jack would handle him.

  Maybe today will be the day that you die, Dylan Foxx.

  Jack strode out of the bedroom.

  * * *

  AS SOON AS Thomas’s SUV stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, Rachel jumped from the vehicle. She ran toward Dylan’s building.

  Dylan grabbed her arm. His hold hauled her back around. “What are you doing?”

  Uh, her job? She had her weapon out, and she was ready to confront Jack.

  “We go in together,” Dylan said as his hold tightened on her. “We don’t know what we might find inside.”

  Her heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. Rachel was usually pretty cool in combat situations. As a marine, she had to be cool. Going in too hot or too wild would just be dangerous.

  But this wasn’t a normal combat situation. This wasn’t even a normal mission. This was Jack.

  Thomas joined them. He also had his gun out.

  It was a good thing Dylan’s building was fairly isolated. He was the only one on the second floor. The first floor was empty—and owned by Dylan.

  If any neighbors had been around, the sight of the weapons would’ve sent them all fleeing.

  “I lead,” Dylan said. “Thomas, you stay down here just in case he tries to run.” His gaze held Rachel’s. “You watch my back. I watch yours.”

  That was the way it normally was for them. Rachel nodded.

  They rushed up the flight of stairs that would take them to the second level. Her feet pounded in a fast rhythm that nearly matched her heartbeat. They burst onto the second floor.

  Dylan’s door was shut.

  He glanced at her.

  Rachel nodded.

  Dylan yanked on the knob—open—and he burst inside. Rachel was right beside him. They went in with their weapons up, and they cleared the place, room by room.

  Jack wasn’t there.

  No one was.

  Rachel paused beside Dylan’s bed. Her feet crunched on broken glass. She frowned. The glass was there, but she didn’t know where it had come from. “Dylan...?”

  “He’s gone.” He yanked out his phone and then, barely two seconds later, he said, “Thomas, he’s not up here. Start sweeping the perimeter because he couldn’t have gone far, not yet.”

  Rachel backed away from the bed as Dylan kept giving his orders. When he ended the call with Thomas, Dylan contacted the EOD office and asked for a forensics team to meet at his place.

  But Rachel doubted the team would find any fingerprints on the scene. Jack was too good to leave any traces behind. She turned away, determined to go and help Thomas with his search.

  “No.” Dylan’s sharp voice stopped her.

  She glanced back.

  “Not without me,” he said. “The guy’s close, too close, and he’s playing with us.”

  A break-in at her place. A break-in at his. Rachel wasn’t sure that Jack was playing with them, though. “I think he’s researching us.”

  A faint line appeared between Dylan’s dark brows.

  “It’s what he does,” Rachel continued. She’d made it her mission to learn as much as she possibly could about Jack and his victims. “He researches his prey. Learns their weaknesses, and then he goes in for the kill.”

  It wasn’t just a game to Jack.

 
It was life...and death.

  Chapter Three

  Rachel held her body perfectly still as she sat in the conference room at the EOD. Bruce Mercer had just walked into the room. She figured the EOD boss was pushing sixty, but he was still completely fit and incredibly intimidating.

  He’d intimidated Rachel from the first moment she’d met him. According to the whispers she’d heard, Mercer was the man pulling the strings in D.C. He knew all the secrets the politicians wanted to keep hidden, and he could expose those secrets at any time.

  But Mercer wasn’t the only one to enter that conference room. Noelle Evers followed him inside.

  Rachel tried not to let her surprise show. Noelle Evers—Dr. Noelle Evers—wasn’t EOD. Or at least she hadn’t been. A few months ago, Noelle had come in to do some freelance profiling work for Mercer. Noelle normally worked for the FBI. She was supposed to be one of the best when it came to creating criminal profiles.

  Mercer had originally used Noelle in an attempt to catch a rogue agent at the EOD. Noelle had created a profile to lead them all to the killer.

  But that case is over, so why is Noelle still here?

  Rachel was seated between Thomas and Dylan. Mercer and Noelle settled in the chairs across from them. Rachel noticed that Noelle’s hazel gaze darted toward Thomas.

  A quick glance showed Rachel that Thomas’s stare was locked right on the profiler.

  Interesting. Thomas didn’t make a habit of showing obvious interest in anyone or anything.

  “Our security team finished their sweeps.” Mercer’s voice filled the room. He had that kind of voice. Strong. A little too loud. He was obviously used to barking orders. It was only too easy for Rachel to imagine Mercer as a drill sergeant. She’d bet a hundred bucks he had been at one time.

  “The guy knows his B and E,” Mercer continued. “No prints, no trace evidence at your place, Rachel.”

  She’d expected that.

  Mercer’s focus shifted to Dylan. “But it looks as if things got a little more personal for him at your place.”

  Wait, what was that supposed to mean?

  Then Mercer reached into a small briefcase and pulled out an evidence bag. He pushed a frame across the table at them. “Unless you’re the one who smashed this picture, Agent Foxx?”