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Now, it was Jericho’s turn to be surprised. Why the heck was Marla’s son calling Rachel?
“This is Rachel Franklin,” she spoke up. “Please put the call through.”
The dispatcher managed to do that fast. Only a couple of seconds passed before the young man came onto the line.
“Miss Franklin,” Jason said, and with just those two words, Jericho could hear the fear in the kid’s voice.
“Yes, Jason. I’m here. Are you all right?” she asked.
“No. I’m not all right.” Jason’s breath hitched. “I need you to come to San Antonio and get me. Miss Franklin, someone’s trying to kill me.”
Chapter Nine
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Rachel cursed herself, something she’d been doing the entire twenty minutes since she’d gotten Jason’s call. She should have realized he would be a target to a killer avenging his mother’s death. After all, Jason had been at the core of why Marla had been arrested in the first place.
“You can’t blame yourself,” Jericho said as he drove toward San Antonio. “Blame me instead. This is my job, to suss out this sort of thing. And I did consider it, but Jason’s surname is Cantrell, and with the exception of skipping over you for this last one, the killer’s been going alphabetically.”
Yes, there was that, and Rachel knew the “skipping over” was only temporary, that the killer hadn’t taken her off the murder list. He or she would still try to get to her.
Possibly now.
Possibly through Jason.
Jericho hadn’t spelled that out, but he’d shown his concern over the possibility of that in his preparations for the half-hour trip. He’d had her put on a thin Kevlar vest under her shirt. He’d done the same and armed himself with multiple weapons. Since she didn’t have a permit to carry concealed, Rachel wasn’t armed, but Jericho had assured her if there was an attack, there were weapons in his van she could use.
The vests and the weapons weren’t the only precautions Jericho had taken. He’d immediately called his brother, Slade, who was apparently some kind of deep cover operative for Maverick Ops, and Slade had immediately arranged a more secure meeting site than the foster house where Jason was now living.
Slade hadn’t personally been able to provide backup since he was on assignment, but he’d contacted Ruby, who’d tapped Marco for that since he was already in San Antonio. Marco was on his way to collect Jason and would have him at the safe location by the time Jericho and she arrived.
Shortly after the arrangements had been finalized, Rachel had called Jason not only to let him know about the new meeting place but also to text him a photo of Marco. That way, Jason would know this was someone he could trust and not a would-be killer.
“After we meet with Jason,” Jericho went on, “he’ll be assigned a bodyguard.”
“Thank you,” she couldn’t say fast enough, and Rachel refused to think of the expenses this was causing Maverick Ops. She was just thankful that Jericho and Ruby Maverick had taken this on as a personal mission.
Of course, the personal extended to more than just the killings. And Ruby almost certainly knew of Rachel’s history with Jericho.
A history that was racing right back into the present.
Later, after the danger had passed, Rachel figured she’d be giving plenty of thought to the kissing Jericho and she had done. Giving plenty of thought as well to the fierce attraction that was gaining ground, and fast.
Yes, she definitely needed to work that out.
But later.
After everyone on that list was safe and the killer was caught.
Jericho took the turn off the Interstate to go into San Antonio, but he didn’t head to the heart of the city. Instead, he drove to an outlying neighborhood that would qualify as nondescript. Modest houses in a well-kept subdivision. No security gate. No police presence. It just looked like an ordinary place to live.
She could say the same for the house as they approached it. One-story white with dark green shutters. There were no vehicles in the small driveway, but the moment Jericho pulled into the drive, the garage opened, and she saw Marco’s truck. Jericho drove into the empty space next to it, and the garage slid shut.
The door to the house opened, and Marco stuck out his head. “We just got here. And, no, we weren’t followed.”
Rachel figured that last part was practically gospel coming from Marco. She barely knew the man, but Marco appeared to be plenty resourceful enough to spot a tail.
Marco stepped back so they could enter the small house. Emphasis on small. The tiny laundry room threaded directly into a combined compact kitchen-dining and living area. Everything was clean but simply furnished, and it had a just-cleaned smell to it.
