He dragged a hand over his face, jaw tight as the reality settled in. If he failed, Hernandez wouldn’t simply get rid of him. He was as good as dead once the drug dealer got a hold of him, and there wouldn’t be anything quick about the way it ended.
Running crossed his mind, but it would be a futile effort. Hernandez’s reach stretched too far, his connections buried in too many places. Leo might make it to Canada, maybe even Mexico, but sooner or later, they’d find him.
No, running wasn’t the answer.
His grip tightened on the phone as hot anger pushed past the fear. It all came back to one person—Susan’s sister. She’d taken what wasn’t hers, and now he was the one paying for it.
Not for long.
He’d find her, and when he did, he’d make sure she answered for every second of this.
When Hernandez stopped his rant to take a breath, Simmons tried to placate him. “The guy at the motel said she’d already left. We checked the bus depot and then drove up and down the main strip. There’s no sign of her, but we’ll keep looking.”
“You’d better. This is your screw-up. Fix it!”
The call disconnected, and he stared at the phone for a beat, jaw clenched, the urge to hurl it into the brick wall of the convenience store pulsing through him. The place smelled like stale coffee and something faintly sour, the kind of odor that clung to a place that never quite got clean.
She had to be there.
A cop ran her license late last night in this small town after a minor accident with a few other women. That was the only reason they’d even found the lead. Leo and two of Hernandez’s flunkies had driven straight through the night to get here, headlights cutting through miles of dark highway, but now they were stuck circling a town that refused to give her up.
Kicking a discarded bottle, he sent it skittering across the asphalt, the hollow clatter echoing off the storefronts and earning him a glare from a man walking toward the store’s door. Leo ignored him. Frustration rode him hard as he strode back to the Cadillac, where the other two waited inside, the engine idling low.
He yanked open the rear door, slid in, and slammed it shut. “Drive,” he snapped, shoving the phone into his pocket. “She’s here somewhere.”
Chapter Two
Releasing a heavy sigh,KC turned off his vehicle's engine in the driveway of his uncle’s beach house. The small, blue house was trimmed in white and sported a quaint widow’s walk while resting just beyond the dunes of the pristine shoreline. Facing the Atlantic Ocean on the Outer Banks, the three-bedroom house sat on the edge of a sleepy little town named Whisper, North Carolina. Rather than a bustling tourist area, it was more of a small, tight-knit community where everyone knew everyone else. Not that it mattered to KC either way. He only needed a place to crash when he was on leave from “saving the world,” as his Uncle Dan proudly told everyone.
Whisper, about ninety minutes south of wherehis SEAL team was stationed in Little Creek, Virginia, was the perfect place to wind down and recharge his body and mind. He was so exhausted, he didn’t know if he had the strength to get from his vehicle to the back door and into his bedroom before falling fast asleep.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he forced himself to open the car door, grab his canvas duffel, and shuffle his way to the porch. He loved the smell of the salt water—fresh and crisp. It was part of why he’d joined the Navy instead of one of the other military branches.
Another reason was the impression a retired Navy SEAL had made during KC’s high school career day many years ago. He saw the proud, steel look in the man’s eyes as he described the intense training and commitment required of all SEALs, and KC knew right then he wanted to experience it for himself. With his uncle’s encouragement, he enlisted as soon as he graduated from high school, and five years later, he survived the grueling six-month SEAL BUD/s (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL) training program. He’d proudly served in the Navy ever since.
Putting his key into the lock of the back door, he felt the weeks of cumulating tension begin to purgefrom his body. This place was his comfort zone—his Eden. The house and the surrounding area always fortified him, and it wouldn’t take long for him to feel like a normal person again. It would temporarily rid him of the feeling of walking a very long tightrope, worrying if the current mission would be the one when he or one of his teammates didn’t come home alive.
He couldn’t pinpoint when the job had gone from an adrenaline rush to an extremely stressful career, but at thirty-five, he wondered if, maybe, his time in the SEALs was over. For the fourth or fifth time since he’d left the base, he contemplated taking the position of SEAL Training Instructor, which had been offered to him. He’d turned it down twice in the past because he was dedicated to his team and didn’t want to leave them, but now he was having second thoughts. Not about his team because, aside from his uncle and two brothers, the men in SEAL Team Six were family to him. However, the missions they’d been on lately had started to take a toll on him—mentally and physically. As things stood now, he was still up in the air about his decision, but he’d have plenty of time to think about it during his month-long leave. For now, though, he only wanted to climb into bed. In his current condition andmindset, he could probably sleep for at least forty-eight hours before his body finally rejuvenated itself.
Letting his military green duffel drop inside the door with a thud, KC relocked the deadbolt, flipped the light switch on, turned around, and froze.
What the?—
The last thing he expected when he arrived at his uncle’s place was to be confronted by a slim, auburn-haired woman. She wore nothing but a terrified look on her face and a thin white T-shirt, which reached midway down her shapely thighs.
She was also pointing a black and very deadly, semi-automatic 9mm at his chest.
“Who are you, and how’d you get in here?” the woman demanded. The strength of her voice was in total contrast to the fear in her eyes and the unsteadiness with which she held the heavy gun in her outstretched hands.
What the heck had he walked in on? Some transient who broke in, looking for a place to sleep? Well, if she was a transient, she was a darn cute one.
Damn, he really was tired if he thought an intruder with a gun was cute.
He held his arms out, palms open, to show her he wasn’t armed—well, he was, he just wasn’t prepared to let this crazed woman know it yet. Hekept his voice low and calm. “I could be asking you the same thing.”
“I asked you first.” Her weapon remained pointed at him as she inched her way to the left, putting several pieces of furniture between them.
He didn’t shift his stance or do anything to give her a reason to pull the trigger. “I’m KC Malone. This is my uncle’s place, and I stay here when I’m in town. Now, why don’t you lower that gun before someone gets hurt?”
