Kill Without Mercy

  The outdated kitchen was a world away from the high-tech offices Max had designed in Houston. It was cramped, the electricity was dodgy and the Internet service slower than molasses.

  But while Teagan stood in front of the computers lined up on the counter, muttering his opinion of wireless service that was from the Dark Ages, and Max was struggling to hear Lucas as the phone faded in and out, they’d both been in far worse conditions.

  Tough to beat a trench dug in the desert, with bullets flying just inches from your head.

  Ending his connection with Lucas, Max instantly called Rafe.

  “What’s up?” Rafe demanded.

  “Lucas is in the air,” he said, his gaze locked on the large map pinned to the wall. “He should arrive in the search zone in less than fifteen minutes.”

  “Got it,” Rafe said. “We just reached the convenience store.”

  From across the room, Teagan gave a sudden grunt. “I’m in.”

  “Hold on, Rafe,” Max commanded. “Teagan’s pulling up the pics from the ATM.”

  Max moved to stand beside his friend as Teagan clicked the mouse, fast-forwarding through the grainy video.

  It took several tense minutes before Teagan stopped the search, pointing toward the black truck that was clearly visible as it drove past the ATM.

  “Gotcha, bastard,” Teagan growled. “He went north.”

  Max spoke directly into his phone. “Did you hear?”

  “Yep,” Rafe answered. “I’m going to concentrate my search from two miles north of the store and three miles east. That will include the Roberts farm that Annie saw in her vision.”

  Max grimaced, but he didn’t bother to argue. Whether there was any truth in visions or not, they had to start the search somewhere.

  The Roberts farm was as good a place as any until they had better data.

  “I’ll let Lucas know,” he assured his friend before ending the connection and heading toward the map.

  Once he was certain of the GPS coordinates, he sent them along to Lucas.

  “That’s still a lot of ground to cover,” Teagan muttered as he moved to stand next to Max, lifting his finger to trace the area Rafe intended to search.

  Max nodded, keeping the phone clutched in his hand.

  It was that or throw it across the room.

  He didn’t easily show his emotion. When he’d been young he’d been bigger and stronger than most boys his age, which meant that when he lost his temper, someone ended up hurt.

  He’d learned to use his clever brain, not his fists, to settle conflicts.

  Today, however, his discipline was being severely tested.

  Not only because Rafe was out chasing a serial killer when he should be in a hospital bed. But because there was a clue gnawing at the edge of his mind.

  He’d seen or heard or picked up something by fucking osmosis that he sensed was important.

  But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  And it was driving him nuts.

  Trying to shake away the aggravating distraction, Max studied the map. Right now he needed his full concentration on finding Annie.

  Later he would go back through the evidence they’d collected and discover what was troubling him.

  “A large chunk of it is farmland,” he pointed out. “That should help narrow down the search.”

  Teagan nodded, his large body humming with tension. Unlike Max, the younger man rarely tried to contain his emotions.

  “I’ll pull up the property owners in that area,” Teagan said, abruptly returning to his computers. It was obvious he felt the need to keep busy. Max shared his frustration. “See if any homes are for sale or in foreclosure.”

  “Good idea,” Max said, leaning against the table as he watched his friend tap on one of the computers, working his magic.

  “Naturally,” Teagan agreed without glancing away from the screens popping up on his computer.

  Max gave a short laugh. Teagan never lacked for confidence.

  Then slowly his smile faded, his thoughts on Rafe and his grim search for the woman he loved.

  Christ, he couldn’t bear the thought of what it would do to Rafe if they didn’t track down Annie.

  It might just destroy him.

  “I hope we find her.” He spoke his thoughts out loud, absently noting Teagan’s shoulders tightening as he continued to work.

  “No shit. No one wants another woman to be added to the Newton Slayer’s tally,” Teagan muttered.

  “I mean for Rafe,” Max said, shifting so he could watch Teagan’s profile tighten. “I’m not sure he can survive if he feels he failed her.”

  “He’s not the only one.” Teagan’s expression was grim. “We all let Annie down.”

  “I didn’t think you cared,” Max retorted, surprised by Teagan’s response.

  They all knew that Rafe had it bad. Hell, he’d obviously been a goner from the minute he’d met Annie. But Teagan had been suspicious, to say the least.

  Teagan snorted. “Rafe is going to keep her, so she belongs to us.”

  Max crossed the small distance to stand directly beside Teagan. “I have to admit, I’m surprised.”

  “Why?”

  “You were concerned that she was going to be bad for Rafe.”

  Teagan sent him a wry glance. “She’s being hunted by a serial killer. What else was I supposed to think?”

  Max frowned.

  His friend had a point.

  There was no doubt that until the Newton Slayer was captured, everyone around Annie was going to be put at risk.

  “True,” he murmured.

  “But Rafe has made his choice,” Teagan said. “And that means we support him. That’s what friends do.”

  There was an edge in his friend’s voice that made Max suspect there was more to Teagan’s fierce urge to help Rafe than just friendship. “This has the feel of something very personal.”

  Teagan rolled his eyes. “You’re a nosy bastard, you know that, Max?”

  “And you’re not?” Max countered.

  “Not really.”

  Max tilted back his head to laugh. “Teagan, you’ve run enough computer searches on me to know that my parents are serving thirty years in jail for fraud, the number of my bank account, and the fact I just bought tickets to spend Christmas in Switzerland. Christ, you probably know the size of my damned underwear.”

  Teagan’s lips twitched. “Okay, I’m nosy.”

  Max narrowed his gaze. “So tell me what’s going on.”

  Teagan punched a key on the computer before he pushed away from the counter and moved to yank open the door of the fridge. Reaching inside, he grabbed a small bottle of orange juice. Tearing off the plastic top, he downed most of the juice in one long swallow. “Rafe doesn’t half-ass his emotions,” he at last said. “He has no filter for his heart.”

  “No shit,” Max instantly agreed. Rafe was impulsive and hopelessly addicted to his gut instincts. And he had the sort of generous nature that anyone could take advantage of. “He was broke two days after he got paid because every scrounger in camp knew he was an easy touch.”

  “And when he decided he wanted us to stay in contact after we returned to the States, he didn’t just set up a reunion in Vegas,” Teagan continued. “He started a damned business.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “When he’s in, he’s all in.” Teagan tossed the bottle toward the box that Rafe had placed next to the back door. Old Man Vargas hadn’t been big on recycling. Hell, it didn’t look like the old man had bothered to throw anything away, Max acknowledged with a shudder. Which meant that Rafe was still trying to separate the mess. “Especially when it comes to choosing the woman he loves.”

  Max held his friend’s gaze. “Isn’t that how love is supposed to be?”

  The golden eyes darkened with a pain Max suspected had been a part of Teagan for a long time.

  “Yep. And why we have to make sure that nothing, not even a damne
d serial killer, can tear them apart.”

  Well, well. Max studied his companion. The five of them might be as close as brothers, but they’d met in Afghanistan.

  Which meant that despite the fact they’d faced hell together, and of course, done the sort of intrusive background checks that only men with scary security skills could run, there were still large chunks of their pasts that remained a mystery.

  He couldn’t remember Teagan ever mentioning a woman.

  “Does she have a name?”

  Teagan’s face closed down, for once his expression impossible to read. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  Naturally it only made Max more determined to dig out the story.

  “The woman who ripped out your heart?” Max clarified. “She have a name?”

  “Fuck off,” Teagan muttered, then headed back to his computers.

  Max had a feeling his friend did that a lot. Surrounding himself in the cyberworld to avoid reality.

  “At least tell me she was pretty,” Max teased.

  There was a long silence before Teagan sent him a dark glare. “She wasn’t pretty. She was gorgeous.”

  Max widened his eyes. So there had been a woman.

  “What happened?”

  Teagan’s gaze snapped back to the computer. “It’s not open for discussion.”

  “Fair enough.” Max instantly backed down.

  Each of them might have done what was necessary to make sure they weren’t about to go into business with someone with open warrants or a shitload of debt, but they didn’t pry where they didn’t belong.

  Well, not unless they thought it was necessary.

  Then . . . all bets were off.

  Max returned to the table, pulling open the nearest journal to study the painfully precise script. It seemed unlikely that a man as smart as Martin Emerson would reveal his plans for returning to Newton, but there was always a chance Max could find some clue to his intentions.

  If nothing else, he might locate a name of a friend or acquaintance who might have helped Martin after leaving the clinic.

  He was reading through the news clippings when a sound from outside penetrated his concentration. With a frown he lifted his head. “Did you hear a car?”

  Teagan was already headed out of the kitchen and into the living room to peer out the front window. “Shit,” he muttered.

  “What’s going on?” Max demanded.

  Teagan glanced over his shoulder, his expression grim. “Sheriff.”

  Shit was right.

  “Stall him,” Max ordered in sharp tones, rapidly collecting the journals Rafe had taken from Martin Emerson, along with the pictures that’d been snuck out of the courthouse before it’d been burned to the ground.

  Sheriff Brock might be a blowhard, but he was the law in this small town.

  If he learned they had evidence that should have gone directly to the authorities, there wasn’t much that Max could do but hand it over.

  Something he had no intention of doing until Annie was safely back in Rafe’s arms.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Annie gasped as her fingers were squashed together in a grip that went well past painful to actual damage.

  “Martin.” She was forced to halt and clear her throat as she caught sight of the frenzied heat that smoldered in his eyes. God almighty, he was lost in his madness, completely unaware that he was crushing her hand. “Marty,” she pleaded in soft tones. “You’re hurting me.”

  Another long minute passed before Martin gave a blink, slowly returning from whatever hell had been tormenting him.

  With a sound of distress he abruptly released her fingers, stepping back from the cot with a jerky movement.

  “I’m sorry.” He wiped a hand over his forehead, which was beaded with sweat despite the chill in the air. “Forgive me, Annabelle.”

  She tucked her hand into her lap, pretending it didn’t throb. Martin didn’t need any reason to flip out. Not when he was clearly at the very edge of his control. “It’s okay.”

  He grimaced, lowering his hand to press against the center of his chest. Standing in a shaft of sunlight, he looked far younger than his years, and oddly vulnerable.

  Annie, however, wasn’t stupid enough to let her growing pity for her brother blind her to the fact he was a ruthless killer who’d murdered innocent women.

  “I’m frightened,” he at last breathed in a tortured voice.

  “Frightened?” She shifted on the cot as she tried to ease a cramp in her lower back. How long had she been in the basement? And more importantly, how the hell was she going to get out of it? “Of what?”

  “I won’t be able to keep you safe.”

  “But I am safe,” she assured him.

  “No.” He scowled, annoyed by her refusal to accept she was in danger. “I’ve seen her.”

  Annie licked her lips, pretending a calm she was far from feeling.

  “Marty, listen to me. That’s not possible.” She tried to soothe him. Maybe it would be better to humor him. He clearly didn’t like having her argue with him. But she didn’t want him sinking any deeper into his delusions. She was never going to convince him to unlock the handcuffs and let her out of the basement as long as he thought their mother was lurking in the shadows. “She’s dead.”

  He gave a sharp shake of his head, glancing toward the stairs. “She reaches out from her grave,” he said, lowering his voice as if afraid he would be overheard. “I didn’t understand until I came to see you.”

  “What?” She gave a shake of her head, baffled by his words. “You came to see me?”

  “Yes.” His expression lightened. “It was your tenth birthday.”

  Assuming that any visit had just been a figment of his twisted imagination, Annie froze in sudden horror.

  Her tenth birthday.

  That was when the killings had started.

  In fact, they’d heard the news of the first missing woman just the day after her birthday.

  She remembered it clearly.

  Which meant . . .

  None of those women would have died if it hadn’t been for her.

  “Oh my God.” A wave of guilt crashed through her. “You came to Newton because of me.”

  Clearly misunderstanding her horror, Martin lifted a hand.

  “I didn’t intend to bother you,” he hurriedly assured her. “I just wanted to see you. Maybe even pretend I was an old friend of the family so I could watch you blow out your candles.” His expression was wistful, as if he was just a young man wishing to spend time with his sister. “That didn’t seem so much to ask.”

  She battled through the darkness that threatened to overwhelm her.

  Later she could sort through her feelings of responsibility for creating the Newton Slayer. For now, it was all a matter of staying alive long enough to escape.

  Or for Rafe to find her.

  She’d take either one.

  “I don’t remember you at the party.” She managed to speak past the lump in her throat.

  He moved back to the cot, perching on the edge. “Because I realized that you were vulnerable,” he said, gently brushing a finger down her cheek. “Mother was all around you. I could sense she was preparing to hurt you.”

  Her skin crawled, but she forced herself not to jerk from his touch. “If Mother was there I would have known.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” His fingers clamped on her chin, his grip just shy of painful. “She was hidden in those women.”

  She held herself perfectly still. She sensed any sudden movement might set him off.

  “The women you . . .” Her words faltered.

  What could she say?

  The women you kidnapped, tied up, and murdered?

  Martin didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps his sickness allowed him to twist the heinous acts he’d committed into acceptable behavior.

  “They were evil. I knew as soon as I saw them,” he insisted, a trickle of sweat inching down the sid
e of his face. It was clearly an effort to maintain his composure. “So I watched and I waited, always protected by the shadows while they revealed their taint.”

  She shivered, wondering if he’d been hidden in the bomb shelter while she’d been playing in the yard, completely unaware she was being watched.

  The mere thought was going to give her nightmares for years to come.

  “Not all mothers are evil,” she muttered.

  His brows snapped together. “I know that.”

  “Then—”

  “You didn’t see it in their eyes, but I did.” He overrode her protest, his fingers tightening on her chin.

  Annie winced. “See what?”

  He leaned forward, their noses almost touching. “Mother had returned and I had to stop her before she could find you.”

  “Oh God.” She closed her eyes, unable to bear the madness twisting his features. “It wasn’t Mother, Marty.”

  As if sensing she was on the edge of panic, Martin released her chin and surged back to his feet.

  “It was. She was back,” he insisted, pacing the floor as he tried to contain his seething emotions. “But I was smarter than she was. I knew exactly how to get rid of her.”

  Annie forced her eyes open.

  It was unexpectedly difficult.

  A part of her wanted to keep them closed and pretend that she wasn’t handcuffed in a basement with her crazy-ass brother.

  Cowardly?

  Hell, yeah.

  Worse, it was dangerous.

  She wasn’t going to escape by pretending she was lying on a warm beach with a margarita, as tempting as it might be.

  “You thought you could get rid of Mother by kidnapping the women?” she instead asked.

  He nodded, as if relieved she was finally listening. “It was our secret game, you see.”

  “Game?”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Mother was very angry when I flunked my English test in school,” he explained. “She said I wasn’t trying hard enough, even though I studied and studied.”

  Annie lifted her brows. From what she was discovering about her mother, she wouldn’t have thought the woman gave a shit about Martin’s grades.

  It was a surprise he even made it to school.

  “I’m sure you did the best you could,” she assured him.