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  Kane kicked the chair over. Zapelli fell hard on his back, unable to brace himself against the hard-packed dirt. He was stunned silent.

  “You won’t do anything because you’ll be dead,” Kane said calmly.

  His family had been threatened before; they knew the risks. Kane had read Lucy into the program, she’d made many of her own enemies, but she was cautious and she had Sean. A low-level prick like Angelo Zapelli wouldn’t be able to get to her.

  But it wasn’t Zapelli that Kane wanted.

  Kane had spent the last few weeks putting together the key players in the human-trafficking organization that Zapelli fed. The Flores cartel who ran it had been mostly wiped out; their accountant was turning state’s evidence and all but two of the family members confirmed dead. Kane had someone on the inside making sure the youngest Flores brother didn’t start up the operation again.

  But Kane understood this business well enough to know that there were others who would fill the gaps. Kane may have cut off the head, but those who had answered to the Flores cartel would be taking over, and Kane wanted to make it clear that there would be no more black-market babies. The sex trade was bad enough, but to use these women as breeders, sell their babies, put them back into the business … it was worse than cruel. It was evil.

  Kane would not tolerate it.

  He rose, walked behind Zapelli where he still lay on the ground, and pulled up his chair. When he was sitting up again, Kane resecured his restraints, then returned to his own seat. He had all day. Hell, he’d stay here all week and watch Zapelli die of dehydration.

  “What the fuck do you want?” Zapelli sobbed.

  “Your contacts.”

  “They’ll kill me!”

  Kane just stared at him.

  Sweat dripped into his eyes and he blinked, in full panic.

  Yes, asshole, you should be very scared.

  Zapelli continued to beg, swear, argue, threaten, plead … he tried every tactic and Kane sat there.

  Kane wanted to kill him. He’d planned to kill him.

  But he’d promised he wouldn’t.

  He never made promises like that, and it bothered him on more than one level. Not only because it tied his hands in an operation but also because Siobhan Walsh had figured out his plan without him so much as saying a word.

  Since when had the infuriating, sexy, too-smart-for-her-own-good redhead been able to read his mind?

  “I know what you’re going to do, and I won’t stop you,” Siobhan said the night he left.

  Kane stared at her. “You know nothing.”

  “I want to kill him, too. Marisol wants to kill him. But remember what you told her, just two days ago? You can’t come back from murder.”

  “He wouldn’t be the first man I killed.” He’d said it to scare her, but Siobhan didn’t scare easy.

  “You need information, you’ll get it from him. But he’s not worth another piece of your soul.” She stepped toward him. He didn’t move. He didn’t dare move.

  Siobhan whispered, “I still love you, Kane.” She kissed him. He stood rigid, willing himself not to respond to her. She stepped back and smiled, just a little turn of her lips, and he itched to take her to bed, right then, show her that he wasn’t the man she thought he was. That he took what he wanted and he had wanted her for years.

  But Siobhan wasn’t a one-night stand. She wasn’t a woman he could screw, then walk away from. She was a woman who demanded lovemaking, not mere sex. She knew it, and still she pushed him. “I will love you no matter what you do in Monterrey. But you’re better than Zapelli. You’re better than all of them. I’m not letting you disappear on me again. I will hunt you down and make you realize that you are the man I see, not the man you think you are.”

  And then she walked away. Siobhan walked out of his bunk and left him shaking with a hard-on.

  He didn’t want to love anyone; love was dangerous.

  He especially didn’t want to love Siobhan Walsh.

  It looked like he had no choice in the matter, because as soon as she walked away he craved her even more.

  * * *

  It didn’t take long for Angelo Zapelli to break, and Kane Rogan didn’t have to say another word.

  “Fuck you.” But there was no venom, no fight. He was resigned.

  “Names.”

  Zapelli gave up three names, and after continued questioning Kane was fairly certain those were the only players Zapelli knew. Kane had heard of two of them. One he was certain was dead, the other in hiding after he’d found out Kane was looking for him. And the third … a new player? Or was it an alias?

  Kane would find out. He stood.

  Zapelli started to cry. “I don’t want to die. Please.”

  Had the women he sold as sex slaves cried and pleaded for their lives? Zapelli hadn’t cared about them, and Kane cared less about the whiny, sniveling bastard in front of him. Angelo Zapelli was a waste of oxygen.

  But Kane had made a promise. Even though he didn’t explicitly say he wouldn’t kill Zapelli, Siobhan had walked away believing he had.

  He should shoot Zapelli now to prove to Siobhan that he was unworthy of her and her love.

  But Kane was tired. Tired of the violence and the heartache and the misery that he’d been fighting for well over twenty years.

  “Is Jasmine alive? Is she rebuilding Dom’s network?” Kane knew that Jasmine was alive. He wanted to see what Zapelli knew.

  “I don’t know! I swear, I don’t. I … I think so, but I haven’t seen her, I swear! I’m out of the business. I only work for my dad now. I swear.”

  He was blubbering, but Kane didn’t believe him—Zappelli wasn’t out of the business. Maybe this beating would change him, but Kane wasn’t holding his breath.

  “If you want to live, tell me one thing.”

  “Anything. Anything.”

  “Who bought your son?”

  Zapelli’s mouth opened and closed and no sound came out until a gut-wrenching sob emerged. “No. They’ll know it was me.”

  Kane raised his gun.

  “New York! That’s all I know, someone in New York, a business tycoon who has four daughters and wanted a son. He’s powerful and has money. My son will have everything, everything! Why do you care? He’s not yours! Marisol can’t give him shit, she’s nothing!”

  Kane pistol-whipped Zapelli and he fell over again. Kane holstered his gun and took out his knife.

  It took all his willpower not to slit the bastard’s throat.

  Instead, Kane cut the binds at his wrists, leaned down, and said, “I will kill you if you ever threaten my people again.”

  He rose and walked away. It might take the sobbing asshole a few hours to get out of his leg restraints, but Kane lived up to his promise. He didn’t kill him.

  In fact, Kane lived up to both promises. He’d promised Marisol that he would find her son, and now he had a lead.

  Time to call in the cavalry.

  And time to go home.

  Home.

  He hadn’t thought of having a home for years. He’d enlisted in the Marines when he was eighteen, but he’d always thought of the house where he grew up as home until his parents died. Since then, he’d had home bases and camps and occasionally a long-term apartment in some border city.

  But that all changed when he reconnected with his brother Sean, and then Sean and Lucy moved to San Antonio. Sean wanted him to live in the apartment he was building over the garage; Kane said no. Too close to civilization, to people. He needed his space. It was probably the only luxury he truly needed.

  Yet Kane felt that Sean and Lucy’s house was more of a home than anyplace he’d had in nearly twenty years. Lately, he’d been using Jack Kincaid’s place near Hidalgo. Last month, when Jack came to help get him out of a jam, Jack told him the house was as good as his.

  “I signed the property over to RCK. It’s as much yours as mine now.”

  The Hidalgo property was perfect for Kane—a lot of space, a gr
eat location, and secure. But home wasn’t just a piece of land. More and more Kane had been thinking of slowing down. Being more selective in the jobs he took. Spending more time with his family.

  Home wasn’t a place, it was the people, and for the first time in a long time Kane looked forward to seeing his family, taking time off, and spending more than a fair amount of time with a certain Irish redhead he hadn’t been able to get out of his head for months.

  Months? Try years, Rogan.

  Thirty minutes later, Kane drove the borrowed Jeep to the remote, unmanned airfield where he’d landed his plane. He called one of the few people he trusted outside of RCK.

  “Rick, it’s Kane. I have information about Marisol de la Rosa’s son.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lucy Kincaid heard her fiancé, Sean, slip out of bed at four Monday morning. She groaned, stretched like a cat, and sat up.

  He walked over and kissed her. “Go back to sleep.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “You didn’t.”

  She hadn’t slept well as it was, and neither had Sean. On Saturday he’d received an email from his son, Jesse, and immediately knew something was wrong, but it was against the rules of witness protection for Sean to contact Jesse outside of the marshals’ office. Then yesterday Jesse’s handler in the US Marshals Service called because of the email—Jesse had violated the terms of the program by contacting Sean. Sean convinced Jesse’s handler to let him talk to Jesse, and they agreed that a face-to-face meeting might help the twelve-year-old understand the gravity of the situation.

  If Jesse left witness protection, he would have a target on his back. And it pained Sean that he couldn’t protect his own son.

  Sean sat next to Lucy on the edge of the bed and took her hand. He played with her fingers out of nerves more than anything. “What do I tell him, Luce?”

  “The truth,” she said. “He’s just like you, Sean. He’s a smart kid. Honesty is the only way to convince him to do what’s right.”

  Lucy had met Jesse briefly before he and his family went into witness protection. It had been bittersweet—Sean had to say good-bye. He’d found his son and lost him in a matter of days, and now, only a month later, Sean was still having a difficult time accepting the situation. And, evidently, so was Jesse.

  “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.” Sean was on edge, emotional, and in pain.

  Lucy turned over his hand, kissed it. “Jesse knows this isn’t your call, Sean, but it’s for his safety. Just think how you would feel if you were in the same situation.”

  “Helpless.”

  “Yes, but also angry and betrayed and scared. He loves you.”

  “He doesn’t even know me.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything, and you know it. You saved his life. He wants to get to know his father, and right now it can’t happen.” Didn’t Sean see what she saw? “He’s been emailing you—against the rules—because he’s trying to see how far he can go. He doesn’t understand that the rules—at least, these rules—can’t be broken. That it’s too dangerous.”

  “I don’t know how to fix this.”

  “You’ll find a way.” She kissed him. “You don’t have a lot of time.”

  “I hate traveling commercial, and they’re making me fly all over the damn country. I don’t even know where he is.”

  Lucy didn’t have to explain to Sean why the marshals were setting such protocols. They both knew it was to keep the Spade family safe.

  Sean pulled Lucy into a tight hug. “I love you, Lucy. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  She smiled, trying to show a brave front for Sean. He didn’t need her worries and anxiety when he was so stressed himself. “It’s going to work out.”

  He nodded, kissed her. “Twelve days.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. They’d discussed eloping, considering everything that was going on in their lives. They’d even gone so far as to discuss the prospect with Father Mateo—the priest who would be marrying them at St. Catherine’s. He talked them out of it.

  “You’ve earned this wedding. What you both have been through these last two years, you deserve this one day of joy and love in front of God, family, and friends. And Lucy,” Mateo added, “your mother scares me. She calls me twice a week about details, and if she can’t watch you get married she’ll probably haunt me for the rest of my life.”

  The wedding would be small and intimate, but those Lucy and Sean cared about the most—friends and family—would be there. Whatever life threw at them, they weren’t running away or hiding. Together they were stronger.

  “Twelve days,” she whispered.

  She walked Sean to the garage, kissed him good-bye, and watched through the kitchen window as he drove off in his black Mustang.

  Once he was out of sight, Lucy started a pot of coffee, then went back upstairs to take a long, hot shower. She figured she’d go into FBI headquarters early this morning. She wanted to locate as many of the black-market babies as she could—sold in the human trafficking ring she’d helped stop last month—before she left on her honeymoon.

  But after her shower, she got caught up in reading the news while eating a bagel and drinking coffee and suddenly she didn’t have as much time as she thought.

  “Shoot.” Lucy rushed back upstairs to finish getting ready. Sean texted her that the first of his short flights was done, but he was turning off his phone and removing the battery per orders of the marshals. Truth was, he’d been told to not bring a cell phone at all and this process was a compromise.

  She sent him an emoji kiss.

  I love you.

  They’d had a recent setback in their relationship, and for a short time Lucy wasn’t even certain they would survive. But instead of the events tearing them apart, they found a way to not only stay together but also love stronger. For nearly two years, Sean had been her rock of support. She’d leaned on him, he’d carried her when the weight of her life threatened to bury her. Now she was strong enough to be Sean’s support when he needed it the most. Two years ago, she would have failed. Now, because of Sean, she could be the rock he needed.

  Lucy had just strapped on her gun when the doorbell rang. She pressed the security screen in the bedroom to see who was on the front porch so early. Sean was more than a little security conscious, especially after he helped the FBI catch a money launderer last month. As soon as anyone crossed onto the property the system alerted him and Lucy. It took Sean a week to adjust the sensors so every squirrel that scampered up a tree didn’t set them off.

  An attractive, impeccably dressed woman with long sun-streaked dark-blond hair swept into a loose bun stood waiting. She carried a large shoulder bag and a small suitcase. She looked familiar, but Lucy couldn’t remember meeting her. It didn’t help that she wore large sunglasses. A neighbor?

  While the visitor didn’t look suspicious or dangerous, after the past month Lucy had become edgy. It didn’t help that Sean was nervous; he rarely showed any stress, but this last month had been even more difficult for him.

  Lucy pressed the intercom speaker. “Who is it?”

  “Hello? I’m Eden. Eden Rogan. Sean’s sister.”

  Eden Rogan? Lucy stared again at the screen. She had only seen photos of Eden and her twin brother, Liam, most of them more than a decade old. It could easily be her.

  “I’ll be right down,” Lucy said. She grabbed her blazer and slipped it on as she walked down the stairs. She disengaged the alarm and unlocked the door.

  Eden smiled and pushed her large dark glasses up to the top of her head. Immediately Lucy saw the resemblance—the dark-blue eyes that Eden shared with both Sean and Kane stood out the most. But there were other little things, like her smile and her strong jawline, tempered by her femininity, and the way she tilted her head, just a bit, as she assessed Lucy, that were very Rogan-esque. “So you’re the girl who tamed the wild beast.”

  Lucy said, “Come in. We didn’t k
now you were coming.”

  “My baby brother is getting married? Of course I couldn’t stay away!”

  The wedding was still two weeks off—well, twelve days as Sean reminded her this morning. When they were going over the guest list this weekend, they’d taken Liam and Eden off—they hadn’t responded yes or no. Lucy had suggested that Sean call them—he said no.

  “I haven’t seen either of them in years. Something bad went down between Liam and Kane. I used to want to know what happened … Now? I don’t care. Especially since they couldn’t even RSVP. I’m staying out of it.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Lucy heard herself saying, though she wasn’t sure she was happy. With everything that Sean had been dealt this last month, he didn’t need surprise guests.

  Eden walked in and looked around the large foyer with a half smile that was so much like Sean it was a bit unnerving. She turned and assessed Lucy. Eden’s face appeared open, but her eyes were cool. Calculating.

  Lucy needed to stop being so suspicious.

  “So, you’re Lucy.”

  Then Eden walked across the wide, open hall and stepped down into the living room. She surveyed the high ceilings, the furnishings, the multiple French doors that opened to the pool. “This place is fabulous. I never imagined that Sean would settle down, but well, stranger things have happened.” She put her suitcase down on the floor and dropped her shoulder bag. “It’s Kincaid, right?” Eden smiled and shook her head almost in disbelief. “Is that how you met? Because of your … brother, right? New partner at Rogan-Caruso.”

  Lucy wouldn’t exactly say new. Jack had joined Rogan-Caruso Protective Services six years ago and they’d changed the name to Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid. Patrick had joined two years later.

  “Not so new,” she said.

  “Time really flies, doesn’t it? I haven’t been back to the States in years. No reason to, until now.”

  “Do you have a place to stay?”

  “Not yet—I wasn’t sure I could get away, so I planned this sort of last minute. I came here straight from the airport. I’ve been traveling nonstop for the last eighteen hours. Milan to Heathrow and then just waiting. Wishing I’d been as smart as Sean and got my pilot’s license. And then I was stuck in Customs at JFK for hours. I’m not a good traveler. I hate flying.”