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Davenport only brought the innocent ones home with him.
What had Dylan most upset was that tonight it wasn't just some nameless victim inside that house. Tonight it was Hannah Martine. He hadn't been prepared for the protective anger he would feel on behalf of Davenport's newest victim.
The nagging guilt at not being able to do a damn thing to protect her mingled with his fury that Hannah would willingly go anywhere with Davenport. Dylan had tried to warn her about the kind of man Jake was; yet she'd ignored him. He hadn't felt this level of anxiety since his last mission overseas. That he could compare what was happening in a quiet Palo Alto house to having his platoon attacked and his Humvee blown up by an IED proved to Dylan how evil Jake Davenport really was.
The buzz of his mobile phone jarred him from his trip down memory lane. It was his brother calling.
"Derek, you'd better be calling to tell me we're moving on to plan B," Dylan said.
His older brother paused before replying. "Sort of. Lukus and I are in the car on the way to the airport. We're on a red-eye and will be there in the morning. Stay the course."
"Fuck staying the course. I thought we were going on offense when Z got out here last week, but all we do is sit around with our thumbs up our asses, watching while more women are getting hurt."
"We aren't sitting around. We're gathering evidence," Derek said.
"I haven't given you anything substantially new in a week. How many pictures do you need of this asshole? We either have the goods on him, or we need to go in and get more proof."
"Listen, you twerp. You're just one member of this team. We've dug up a lot of intel that we're about to use. Just shut up and do your job. We need to know where Davenport is at all times. Can you do that, or do we need to replace you?"
Dylan was about to say he'd gladly be replaced, but the front door opening distracted him. It was worse than he'd feared. It was hard to make out details in the dark, but he could see that Hannah was moving slowly, as if she was in pain. Davenport seemed to be dragging her along, his grip on her upper arm prodding her to go faster. She was barefoot and her long sandy brown hair looked as messy, as if she'd been riding on the back of Dylan's motorcycle for an hour.
Ah Hannah, what the fuck did he do to you, honey?
"Dylan! Are you still there?" Derek's voice boomed in his ear.
"Yeah, I'm here. I have eyes on the jerk and his newest victim."
"Good. Stay back. He's already had his goons put you in the hospital once. We don't need a repeat performance."
"I couldn't give a fuck about that. It's these women I care about. Every day that goes by, more innocents are getting hurt."
His brother sighed. "I wish this wasn't your first assignment with us. I admire how much you care, I do. But you have to stay detached. You can't make this personal or you'll make mistakes. It already got your ass kicked once. It's a job."
"You wouldn't say that if Davenport had Rachel... or Mom. I'm not like you, Derek. I can't make this impersonal. You aren't here to see how afraid some of these women are. You aren't here to watch them limp out after surviving God-only-knows-what fucked-up shit goes on inside his house or his warehouse."
"You're right. I'm not there... yet. But I will be by the morning. You've done good, but you're getting too close."
Davenport was pulling out and Dylan waited a respectable amount of time before following. He'd been trading in his rental car every day to keep mixing it up, but he suspected Davenport knew he was still under surveillance.
He returned his attention to the phone conversation. "Listen, he's moving in on women I know for a fact are innocent. He's been working on a bartender at the Four Seasons for a few weeks, and tonight she was his latest victim. I just had thepleasureof watching a beautiful young woman go into his house of horrors and come back out four hours later limping, her clothes awry, and looking like she's gone through hell. So am I getting too close? Fuck yeah. The question is, what the hell is wrong with you and Mitchell that you aren't?"
"You don't know shit about it," Derek said.
"So enlighten me. Why is this asshole even on your radar? He's in California. You all are in Chicago."
"Let's just say he has ties to Chicago and leave it at that. Follow. Take photos. Document. That's it. If you can't do that, just go back to the damn rental house."
Dylan merged into traffic, relieved Davenport appeared to be taking Hannah home and not to his warehouse. They may not know exactly what went on in his warehouse in the seedy part of town, but Dylan knew enough that a good girl like Hannah didn't belong there.
"Fine. I'll just follow, but things need to change tomorrow. We need a lot less watching and a lot more action around here."
"And you need to be patient."
"Fuck patience. I want vengeance."
"All in good time. Tomorrow." The call dropped.
Twenty minutes later, Dylan watched as Jake dropped Hannah off at her small duplex apartment. He pretended to be a gentleman by opening her car door and escorting her to the door. Dylan wanted to scream when Davenport pushed his way inside her apartment. He had his hand on the car door latch to jump out and follow the two inside when Davenport left a minute later to stalk back to his sports car and drive away.
