Gotten cover.
For the time being.
“Why are we going back to Last Chance?” Veronica asked him, and he saw her tense as she glanced out of the window and toward the smashed fence.
Had last night’s wreck reminded her of the hell she’d faced as a child? He wanted to ask her, but Jasper knew he’d pushed her too much already.
“Your brother had a contact at Last Chance.” This much was true. Jasper also wanted to make sure that contact saw him with Veronica. All the better to bait his trap.
“How do you know that?”
Lie, lie, lie. “Because I recognized him when I went into the bar last night.”
“Another army buddy?”
“Something like that.” More like a guy who’d gone AWOL and gotten tossed in the brig. A guy who knew how to deal dirty.
Jasper had been surprised to spot the man there, and if Veronica hadn’t been in danger, he would have pushed the guy for information before he’d left last night.
“It’s the middle of the day. No one is even gonna be in Last Chance now.” Veronica’s lack of hope was obvious.
But he knew something she didn’t. “The owner will be there.”
She turned her head. Frowned.
“He’s the one we want.” They were past the accident scene now. Good. It looked as though she was even breathing better.
Jasper glanced in the rearview mirror. No tails. Nothing but empty road.
“Why...why were you fighting last night?”
Ah, he’d almost forgotten about that little incident. “The guy thought he could get rough with a waitress.” His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “He thought wrong.”
“So you decided to beat the right thought into him?” She sounded censuring.
What response had he expected from her? “No, I told the guy to back the hell off, but when he took a swing at me, I swung back.” He glanced toward her. Found that bright stare on him. “I always swing back.”
“I know.”
He frowned at that.
“Cale told me a few things about you.”
He had? Jasper eased up on the accelerator. He wanted to hear this. “What did he say?”
“Mostly that I should stay away from you.”
So Cale had seen the way he looked at Veronica. One meeting. One two-hour dinner in Dallas on a night that felt like a lifetime ago. She’d been wearing a blue dress that made her eyes even brighter. Her hair had been pulled back. She’d smelled like honeysuckles then, too. He’d looked at her...
And wanted.
When she’d excused herself for a moment, Cale had leaned close. “She’s not for you.” That had been all he had said to him.
But it seemed he might have said plenty more to her.
“Why’d he tell you to stay away?” Because he was curious and annoyed. The chemistry between him and Veronica was so hot it almost burned him every time she got near. For her brother to keep shoving her in the opposite direction...
“He said you were too much like him. Too dark. Too wary of commitment. You weren’t the kind of guy who’d go for the picket-fence routine.”
Because he didn’t know what the picket-fence routine was. He’d sure never grown up in that perfect world of baseball games and barbecues. He didn’t know a damn thing about that life. So how could he ever give it to a woman like Veronica?
“You always do what Cale tells you to do?”
She didn’t speak for a moment; then she said, “I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”
Yes, she was. He wouldn’t let his lips curl in satisfaction. She’s a job. Don’t forget that. But he could feel himself starting to slide down the slippery slope that would lead to lust and sex and pleasure.
Want her.
He also had one more question for her. “Just how did you know that I was going to be at Last Chance?” Another long curve, and then he could see the bar and its empty parking lot, standing stark on the barren landscape.
“It’s a small town.” She shrugged. The seat belt slid over her shoulder. “Word travels fast.”
That fast?
She slanted him a look from the corner of her eye. “I actually saw you in Tom’s Diner, but you left before I could approach you. Since there is only one motel in town, it didn’t take me long to track you down.”
He waited.
“Once I, uh, ‘confirmed’ with the clerk where you were staying, it wasn’t hard to figure out that you’d headed to the only bar in the county.”
Then she’d put on her sexy clothes—damn sexy—and come calling for him. Made him an offer that he couldn’t refuse.
Interesting. The woman was resourceful. He’d remember that.
He pulled into the lot. Checked his rearview mirror once more. No one for miles.
“You’re sure the bartender’s here?” Veronica asked as she pressed her fingertips against the dashboard.
“I scoped the place last night.” He could be plenty resourceful, too. “There’s an apartment out back. We’ll find Reed there.” Reed Montgomery. Bartender. Bar owner. Broker of mercenaries. The guy was a jack-of-all-trades. He was also wanted in about four countries. No wonder the guy had set up shop in a place called Last Chance. Of course, he was using an alias. That alias was why Jasper and his team hadn’t realized that the guy was even in this game, not until Jasper had laid eyes on the fellow last night. Reed’s real name was Thomas Jensen. Jensen was still wanted by the U.S. government...that little matter of being AWOL wasn’t just going to vanish.
Veronica shoved open her door. He waited a moment, grabbed the backup gun he’d retrieved from his bag and tucked it under the waistband of his jeans. He pulled his shirt down to cover the gun, but if anyone looked close enough, that person would see the bulge of his weapon.
He shut the door, making sure not to slam it. Reed was a facilitator in the business. The kind of guy with too many contacts. One who loved providing work to down-on-their-luck cowboys and soldiers. Dangerous work.
Cigarette butts littered the ground. Through the small windows, he saw that the bar’s interior was dim and silent. He passed the bar, not slowing. Veronica’s quiet footsteps followed him.
“Are you sure he’s our guy?” she whispered.
Jasper grunted. “You hired me for my contacts, didn’t you?” Only she didn’t know that the contacts in question had actually come from the EOD. Sydney had done the intel on this one. Once Jasper had ID’d Reed, Sydney had linked the guy to Cale. For the past five years, Cale had always visited the bar just days before he went out on a mission. He never came into the bar any other time.
Just right before he deployed. Five days before each mission, to be precise. Like clockwork.
Sydney had riffled through Cale’s credit-card records in order to find that little nugget of information.
At the apartment door, Jasper hesitated. He didn’t want to leave Veronica out in the open, but he also didn’t want her to see just how hard he might have to push Reed.
I can’t take him down in front of her. It will blow my cover.
But he also wasn’t about to let the guy get away. Not if this little Q and A went down the way he thought it would.
His gaze flickered to her. She stared at him, then mouthed, I’m coming with you.
Well, situation settled. Nodding grimly, he lifted his hand and slammed his fist into the door. “Reed Montgomery, open the door. My name’s Jasper Adams. I need to—”
The door swung inward. Because it wasn’t locked. Because it wasn’t even shut all the way and the force of Jasper’s fist had sent the wood sliding in.
The interior of the apartment seemed as dim and silent as the bar.
“Reed?” he called out, raising his voice.
No response.
But he’d seen Reed’s motorcycle parked outside the apartment. Sydney had tagged the vehicle so that Jasper would know what ride to look for at the scene.
He took a step inside.
Veronica
grabbed his arm. “You can’t just walk in there,” she said, voice hushed. “That’s against the law! That’s breaking and entering.”
He exhaled slowly. “It’s not breaking if the door is wide open.”
She blinked.
“Besides, this is why you hired me.” No way was he about to let this perfect opportunity slip by him. He took her wrist and pulled her inside behind him. She shut the door, looking pale but determined.
Her first B and E, well, E. Cute.
He glanced around. All of the blinds were down, so they didn’t have to worry about anyone taking a shot at them right then. The shooter would never be able to get a clear hit without seeing into the apartment. Jasper began to advance, surveying the area. Everything seemed to be in place. No furniture overturned. TV turned off. Breakfast...
Still out.
Jasper froze. A half-eaten pancake with congealed syrup waited on the kitchen table. “Reed?” he called one more time even as his nose twitched. The smell in the place was off. The deeper he went into the apartment, the thicker that slightly rancid odor became.
He paused in front of a closed door. Had to be for the bedroom because the bathroom was right next to the little den. Before he turned the knob, Jasper took out his gun and cradled it carefully in his right hand. No sounds came from inside that room. Not even a whisper of sound.
He opened the door.
Because the dead can’t whisper.
Reed Montgomery was most definitely dead.
The man’s body was lying facedown on the floor. Blood had pooled beneath him. His hands were out by his sides, positioned deliberately.
Jasper knew that if he turned the man over, he’d find that the guy’s throat had been sliced. The killer had come up on the guy, walked silently up behind him, caught him off guard...
And used his knife on Reed’s throat. The man wouldn’t have even had the chance to scream. Not that a scream would have helped him.
Just like the others. Because Jasper had looked at a crime scene like this before. Three times before.
“Jasper.” Veronica’s strangled voice. He glanced at her, saw the horror on her face. The increased pallor of her skin.
Hell. Another dead body for her to deal with in less than twenty-four hours.
He blocked her view. “Go back into the den.” He needed to search the scene. He couldn’t risk her contaminating evidence, and he just...
I don’t want her having to stare at the body.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” She swallowed. “The man who owns the bar. The one you called Reed.”
He nodded.
“I...talked to him last night. He’s the one who directed me to you when I came in Last Chance.”
So Reed had recognized him, too. Jasper had suspected that the man remembered him. Reed would also have known that Veronica was Cale’s sister. No way would the guy not be aware of her, not after all of his dealings with Cale. So Reed had realized that Jasper and Veronica were hooking up; he’d probably figured that Jasper was helping to track Cale.
Just hours after he’d gotten that knowledge, he had been killed.
Killed...silenced.
The killer knew I was coming to talk to Reed.
So Reed had been taken out.
“He asked me...asked if I was sure I wanted you.” Her gaze was on his. “I was sure.” Her chin lifted. “Is he dead...because of whatever is happening with Cale?”
Why lie? Besides, the woman already knew the truth. “Looks that way.”
He gave her credit. She didn’t flinch. Her shoulders straightened, and she turned for the door. She’d taken two steps when she hesitated. “Did he suffer?”
“No.” The kill had been quick and clean. The work of a man who knew just what he was doing with a knife.
“Good.” Her breath whispered out. “My father...he suffered... No one should have to suffer.” She slipped from the room.
Swearing, Jasper turned back to the body. He yanked out his phone. Punched one button to get Gunner on the line. “I’m going to need a crime-scene team out at Last Chance,” he said, not bothering to identify himself. “Our guy’s struck again.”
A swift inhalation of air, and then Gunner demanded, “You’re sure it’s the one we’re looking for?”
“No sign of B and E.” Not from what he could tell. Just like the other scenes. “Looks like the victim let him in.” The kill had happened just hours before. “Then when the vic turned his back, the killer struck.” His fingers tightened on the phone. “The attack came from behind, just like the others. A slice right across the jugular. The victim bled out.” Had it been easy? Had he suffered?
He sure would never tell Veronica if the guy had. The last thing she needed to know was just how sadistic Cale could be.
“Get our medical examiner in on this.” They’d fly Dr. Sarah Jacobs in. No local with shaking hands would handle this kill. “I’m betting that once the crime-scene guys go over this, and she gets to see the body, all the results will be the same as before.”
The results...the info that the techs gathered about the killer’s height and weight and military training...all based on the kill method.
Height...approximately six foot three. Tall enough that he had to slice downward when his hand curled around the victims’ necks.
Weight...two hundred pounds. He’d left shoe imprints in clay outside one of the vic’s homes. The killer’s mistakes. Uncle Sam’s crime-scene team could do some damn incredible things with their technology. Like...
Determine the guy’s weight based on the depth of those impressions. Get the man’s height based on the length between his steps and the size of the shoe. A height that had matched dead-on with the M.E.’s estimates.
The killer had even left one other valuable piece of info behind in those shoe impressions. A few bits of clay that could be tracked back to only a handful of locations in the U.S....and one of those locations was right here in Whiskey Ridge.
The killer had screwed up on that second kill. When he’d gone after Julian Forrest, an ex-marine, the killer had counted on the forecasted prediction of rain to wipe away his footprints.
That rain hadn’t come.
Did you screw up this time, too?
He was about to find out.
Jasper exhaled. “The kill’s fresh,” he told Gunner. “We need our team searching the area. Cale Lane is here, and unless I’m wrong, it sure looks like he’s trying to cover his tracks.”
By killing.
Because Reed Montgomery wasn’t like the last three victims that had been killed in their homes. Victims who’d opened the door to the killer because they had known him.
They all knew Cale. In one way or another, those three victims had all traced back to Cale. One of the men had trained with him in Georgia. Another had been on a mission with Cale in Syria. One had worked with Cale for a month in an African desert.
All three of those victims had been EOD. They’d been executed.
Reed...he’d been executed, too, but not because he was EOD. He’d died for another reason. To protect the killer’s identity.
Jasper ended the call. He killed you because of what you knew.
Now Jasper just needed to find the evidence that Reed had possessed. Evidence that had been worth killing for.
* * *
CALE LANE WATCHED the house, his eyes narrowed as his fingers curled around his weapon. He preferred to use a knife on his kills. Much quieter than a gun. More personal. You were able to get right up to your target. With a knife, there would be no mistakes. No miscalculations on those up-close kills.
Jasper Adams knew all about close kills. The man had been killing for over ten years.
And now that man was with his sister. Cale had seen them go into the apartment together. Seen the way Jasper’s fingers lingered on Veronica’s arm.
He’d warned Jasper to stay away from her.
Jasper should have listened to him.
Now his old buddy was going to get
caught in the bloody battle. There was nothing Cale could do to change fate. Death was coming. No, death had already taken over Whiskey Ridge. He could feel its dark shadow all around him.
The only thing to do now... Cale had to make sure the blood that spilled didn’t belong to his sister. But anyone else...
Fair game.
Chapter Five
The computer was just sitting there. Okay, not so much sitting as hiding beneath a pile of papers. But as Veronica paced the small den, she caught sight of the laptop, and before she could think of the million reasons why she shouldn’t open it, she was on the couch, the laptop in her hands.
Immediately, the password screen popped up. Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t know Reed. Knew nothing about him except...
Last Chance. She typed the letters quickly, not looking at the keys. Her gaze darted back to the hallway. Jasper was still in there, with the body.
Her stomach churned. There had been so much blood.
Don’t think about him. Don’t. Build that wall of ice again. Don’t feel. Don’t. Feel.
Three dead bodies. At least she hadn’t seen the light go out of Reed’s eyes.
But she’d looked at him, at his long body, and for an instant, she’d seen her brother.
Cale isn’t dead.
And Last Chance wasn’t the right password.
Of course, would it ever be that easy?
Her gaze flew around the room. Looking for something, anything to help her. Most people used passwords that reminded them of things they loved. Kids’ names, hobbies, favorite books, favorite—
There was a big poster of John Wayne on the guy’s wall.
The Duke was the password that let her in to his system.
Her shoulders hunched as she curled over the screen. Her fingers typed, faster and faster as she searched through the material. Files had been deleted, recently, too, but the person deleting hadn’t known what he was doing. Sure, he’d sent the material to the trash, then deleted the trash, but...