Traceless

“We’re going to assume the signal was momentarily lost.” Holt swore when a stray piece of wood from the broken door crunched under his foot. “Okay, let’s run through this. There was nothing on the guy outside or the one on the porch. No ID or obvious markings.”

She knew he meant tattoos and markings. More than once the team had tangled with some nasty international gang types during kidnap recovery, so the team clearly thought that was a possibility here.

There was no good answer, but trained mob assassins struck her as one of the worst possibilities. She rushed to give the team as full a picture as possible so they could assess. “There were four men here earlier.”

Connor froze in the act of typing something into his black watch. “What?”

The news she was about to deliver would get them all moving. It wouldn’t go over well but evading was never the answer with this group. “Actually, there were seven men altogether. Six back at the charity office, including the leader, when they took me. Then when I woke up—”

“They knocked you out?”

She nodded because the red wash of anger on Connor’s face and mumbled profanity she heard from the others said enough. She didn’t need to add to whatever was happening inside of him—or any of them—with more words about that.

“When I got here, I heard another voice,” she said. “A guy behind me, so I couldn’t see him. He seemed to be calling the shots and the one the leader from the attack on the charity office answered to.”

“We still have four hanging around at the charity. Or we did. They could be mobilizing and on the way here by now,” Shane said.

Holt nodded but his attention never wavered from whatever he watched outside. “We should assume that.”

“There are men over there now?” Panic surged through her all over again. She had protection. She had them.

“Were, but probably still are.”

Shane’s confirmation was enough for her. She turned back to Connor, made him focus on her over the emotions spinning through him. Touching him was like touching stone. Anger vibrated off of him as he held his body stiff.

She worked to keep the worry out of her voice. “We need to warn Marcel and the others to stay away from the office. I don’t want anyone else dragged into this, whatever it is.”

“Marcel is...?” Cam asked.

“Marcel Lampari. He runs the charity she’s working for.” Connor didn’t break eye contact with her. “He’ll be fine. Go back to the part about the other men who attacked you.”

This subject, Marcel, was a sensitive one. She knew Connor blamed Marcel for so much. When she worked overseas years ago and masked gunmen intercepted a vaccine shipment with her on board, Connor and his group got her out. That’s how they met. In a mix of adrenaline, heat and terror, which she should have seen as a sign of how their marriage would run.

But they’d put the kidnapping incident behind them long ago and fallen in love. Only one topic remained and bubbled up every so often to wallop them. Back then Connor unloaded on Marcel for his poor security and vulnerable distribution channels. The charity had fixed all those issues since then but Connor’s distrust of Marcel never faded.

Connor believed Marcel viewed her as more than a fellow worker. That he would leave his wife if Jana showed any interest. She never picked up on whatever Connor saw in Marcel and the man never made a move, but the attraction was very real in Connor’s mind and he didn’t try to hide it.

When she’d had to get away she’d wrestled with the idea of coming to Utah, fearing it would hurt Connor even more to have her leave and go to Marcel. But she had nowhere else to turn. She’d lost her father when she was twenty and her mother a decade before that. Her life with Connor had been so insular and her need to get away so desperate that without really thinking it through she ran right to the one man sure to infuriate Connor.

She never meant to betray him. She loved Connor and would never cheat on him, but in her haze she messed up. Only two weeks before, Connor confronted her about Marcel during one of their weekly telephone calls and Connor’s anger bubbled over. He told her his patience had expired and started a countdown to come get her. She’d hung up on him and now that decision haunted her.

If they had any chance of making their way back to each other they had to work out the Marcel issue, but now was not the time. “Connor, please.”

A charged silence lit up the cabin. Even Holt gave a quick look over his shoulder to see what was happening in the center of the room.

Connor finally broke the quiet but did nothing to hide the fury shading his voice. “Cam will warn everyone.”

Him not blowing up qualified as a small victory because this topic changed his otherwise steady personality white hot. She took that as a positive sign.

With one last glance at the photos on the cell, the pieces came together in her head. “Not that long before you guys crashed in, there were four people here with me. These two plus the one you talked with on the phone and another.”

“How did two get away without any of us seeing them?” Cam asked.

Connor continued to stare at her as he took Cam’s cell out of her hands. “Good question, but we’re talking about people with skills. These aren’t petty thieves. These guys look like professionals and the guy on the phone specifically asked for me.”

Shane blew out a long breath. “The news just keeps getting better.”

Her heart hammered and the thumping of the beat in her ears had her inhaling in an effort to calm down. She didn’t know what would happen next or how they would get out of the cabin, so she said one of the things she absolutely needed to share. “Thank you all for coming.”

“There wasn’t a chance we wouldn’t.” Cam reached over and squeezed her hand. “And not just us. We had to keep the Maryland team from heading out here, too.”

“You’re one of us.” Shane treated her to a wink before looking away again.

Connor moved into her line of sight. “Yes, you are.”

Some of the anxiety pinging around inside of her faded. “Connor, I need you to know—”

He put a finger over her lips. “We have a lot to talk about, and we will because I am done living like this, but all of that has to wait until you’re safe.”

She wanted to spill it all. Tell him how much she still loved him and spell out all of their problems and make him talk through each one with her.

Forget about the presence of his men and the danger. If this was it, if this was how it ended, she wanted him to know she had never stopped loving him and never would. He was hers forever.

But the closed look on his face and slight shake of his head told her this was not the time. Certainly not the place. “Okay.”

He touched her cheek. “Did you recognize the voice or face of the man who talked to me on the phone?”

“No.” And she had tried. She’d turned over every memory and all the bits Connor shared of his life before her.

“Folks.” Holt cleared his throat. “We’re going to have sunrise soon and we have some people to warn.”

“Right” Connor rubbed his hands together. “We need to get word out to your coworkers.”

She knew that cost him something and rested her forehead against his chin to let him know how much it meant. “Thank you.”

A strange red light flashed through the room. She spied a dot and watched it streak along the wall. Connor followed her gaze before his grip tightened.

“Get down!” he yelled as he knocked the chair over and dragged her to the floor with it.

She blinked and he had her on her stomach, wedged under his body with her head against the upturned chair’s wooden seat. The first boom had her lifting up in shock. Before she could say anything or even think, Connor put a hand on her head and pushed her down again.

She could see from their black shoes that Holt and Shane moved around. She heard shuffling off to the side and assumed Cam kept shifting and firing.

“Do not move.” Connor spoke right into her ear. He could have been yelling, but with all the noise crashing and thumping it barely registered as a whisper.

Then the weight against her back lifted. Turning, she watched him sprint toward the broken window he came through earlier. As he got there a bullet clipped the frame and wood splintered right by his face. He ducked but not before a piece clipped his cheek.

She bit back a scream as wood kicked up around her. She sat up and her shoes slipped against the floor as she skidded on her butt, looking for any square foot of the floor not covered by debris.

“Incoming.” Red lights raced over Cam and he ducked. “Jana, tuck in a ball.”

She shook her head as she watched Cam’s mouth move and heard his voice, but the words wouldn’t register. She was about to warn him about the lights when Connor’s body slammed into her. He skidded across the floor almost hitting the far wall. Glass crunched all around her as they slid.

One second he stood a few feet away. The next, he covered her, pressing her down as his body jerked and he grunted in her ear.

As fast as it started, the gunfire broke off again. She peeked over Connor’s shoulder and saw the front door had fallen over and both Holt and Shane were gone. Pieces of wood and shards from the wall and chair littered the floor.

Cam crouched next to her head. “Are you okay?”

She looked up, thinking to reassure him. But his entire focus stayed on Connor.

“What’s going on?” She tried to shift but the weight on her grew heavier and she only made it to her side. The pieces fell together as panic roared through her. “Connor?”

Cam put a hand on her shoulder. “Hold still a second.”

She grabbed at Cam’s hand, clawing in panic from the narrow-eyed concern on his face. “Is he hurt?”

Footsteps thumped on the hard floor as Holt stepped back inside. “We have four down... What’s going on?”

“Help me.” Worry edged Cam’s voice as he caught her hand in his.

Holt dropped to his knees on her other side. “What are you doing?”

“It’s Connor.” Cam cleared his throat. “We need this vest off so I can take a look.”

They wore matching flatlined expressions that had her heartbeat nosediving. She flipped over and moved, trying to get a better look at what was happening behind her.

She shoved at Connor’s shoulder. “Answer me.”

He swore as he rolled onto his side on the floor next to her. “I’m fine.”

He shifted up to his elbow, but Holt pushed him down on his stomach and held him there with a strong hand. The sound of Velcro ripped through the otherwise quiet room as Cam stepped over her and dug his hands underneath Connor’s body.

“You were shot in the back?” The words stuck in her throat as she struggled to breathe.

Cam carefully peeled the vest off and exhaled as he fell back on his butt. “We’re good.”

“Are you sure?” She struggled to sit up and look over the two broad backs in her way. She scanned Connor’s sweat-soaked T-shirt and the good news sunk in. “There’s no blood.”

Cam nodded. “The bullet went into the vest.”

“It held. Always nice when the equipment works.” Holt cuffed Connor on the shoulder then stood up.

Her legs refused to move. Relief hit her hard enough to send her slumping against the floor. “I can’t believe you were shot.”

One of Cam’s eyebrows lifted. “It was either him or you.”

The scene replayed in her mind. Her on the floor. Cam calling out a warning. The bright flash of red light she only now remembered. It cut through the air and then Connor smacked into her. That meant one thing.... He’d risked his life to save her.

If anything had been off, even by a fraction, he’d be dead. The air whooshed right back out of her lungs. “You could have miscalculated and been hit.”

Connor sat up, wincing as he moved. “I didn’t.” The room started spinning and a wave of dizziness set in.

“Are you hurt?”

“I bet he’s sore as hell.” Holt snorted. “When the bullet slams into you it hurts like a—”

A sharp look from Connor stopped whatever else Holt might have said. Stretching and rubbing his back, Connor stood up. “What do we have outside?”

That one made Holt smile. “A bunch of dead shooters.”

Connor reached down and helped her to her feet. She hung on just in case her knees gave out on her, which, with the crushing despair at the thought of Connor being shot still zipping through her head, was a distinct possibility. “You got them all?”

Holt shrugged. “The ones that didn’t run away.”

Of course they got the bad guys. That’s how the Corcoran Team operated. They protected and they won. She’d come to depend on that so much that she couldn’t conceive of any of them getting injured. It’s probably what kept her from living every hour in fear.

Davis and Holt followed Connor’s example and led without even trying. Pax, Davis’s brother, and Joel provided some of the team’s lighter moments back in Maryland but were deadly lethal when necessary.

She knew all of them except Ben. From her conversations with Connor about the battles Ben had taken on during his former job with NCIS, she had no doubt he fit in fine with the rest of them.

“I took photos of...” Shane stopped just inside the doorway. His gaze bounced around the cabin-turned-shooting-gallery. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing.” Connor tugged her closer and put a hand just below her belt.

No way was she forgetting what just happened. “Let me see your back.”

His hold didn’t lessen. “It’s fine.”

“Okay, well, I have more photos.” Shane glanced at Holt and a look passed between them before Shane handed the camera to Connor.

Jana couldn’t read the guys’ expressions but knew they engaged in some sort of silent conversation. She guessed she was the subject. Her or Connor, or both.

Connor started to hand the cell over then stopped. “I hate to ask—”

“I’ll look.” She took it before he could analyze and start frowning. “Huh. Well, I have bad news.”

“More?” Cam asked, the amusement evident in his voice.

Connor’s stern expression didn’t slip. “What?”

“I only recognize this one.” She pointed at the second photo. She scrolled the images back and forth. “These three were not part of the crowd when I got kidnapped.”

“So there are even more of them. Great.” Shane swore under his breath. “And for the record, I hate that you’re now an assignment.”

“She’s not.” Connor leaned into her and his breath caressed her cheek. “Which one was the leader?”

She loved the closeness but knew her answer would put him straight back into work-concentration mode. “None. The leader, the one who called you, isn’t here. He got away.”

“Which means?” Cam asked.

Connor’s shoulders stiffened as he stood up straight again. “We still have a problem.”

In her mind, that qualified as a huge understatement.

Chapter Four

Luc Pearson gathered his group under a towering rock pile near the charity offices. The storm had passed over, taking the kicking winds with it. Now the sky brightened as they edged closer to daybreak. That meant time was running out.

Even though the area had emptied out during the night, Luc wanted this part of the game wrapped up before people woke and started buzzing around. The last thing he needed was more witnesses. There had been enough death.

Which brought his mind back to the group. He looked around the semicircle of his remaining men. The Corcoran team had knocked out six trained shooters without breaking a sweat. He’d been warned about the team’s skills but this amount of loss wasn’t part of the deal.

Rich Stapleton shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You said there would be one, maybe two of them. We’re looking at a full team with a lot of firepower and impressive training.”

“We still have the advantage.” Bruce Harding’s flat tone rang out in the still night. “This isn’t their turf.”

Rich scoffed. “You think we’re winning this thing? I have a bunch of dead bodies that suggest otherwise. Bodies of good men who were told this would be a quick stint.”

Luc decided not to point out the obvious, about how those so-called experts died without putting up much of a fight. Truth was, the lopsided battle surprised him. He’d studied the files of all the hires for this job. All but Bruce. He was the boss’s pick and he acted as if he was untouchable. Probably because he was.

But Rich and his crew operated on another level. They didn’t have the boss’s protection or his trust. If he wanted them gone, they’d be terminated and that meant quieted so they couldn’t talk. Bruce had made it clear that was one of his duties. If the word came down, he’d handle it.

Luc had found Rich through contacts. Locating the right guy, one who walked away from the army edgy and frustrated, blaming the government for his failings, proved easy enough. With all the options out there, Luc had insisted on former military and disillusioned.

Turned out Rich knew plenty of the well-trained-but-done-with-rules and the so-called bright-lines-between-right-and-wrong types. Men whose loyalties could be bought. Rich had served with some of them and knew others by reputation.

Luc culled through potential additions to the group with Rich, framing just the right collection of men who had few ties to each other and a deep need for cash. Rich picked the squad but Luc had final approval. And now many of them were gone.

“Apparently Connor Bowen travels with reinforcements.” Bruce tapped the blade of his knife against his open palm but never lifted his head.

“Would have been nice to know that instead of being told he’d rush out here and make himself an easy target.”

One of the men offered the insight. Luc didn’t remember the guy’s name and didn’t intend to learn it. He preferred think about the men in terms of where they lived. That made this one Reno.

“How did they get the woman without any bloodshed on their side?” Rich asked.

That one was easy. Luc had explained the failure to his boss earlier and repeated it now. “Your buddies failed.”

Reno took a threatening step forward. “Watch it.”

Rich signaled Reno and another man to stay back. “Tread carefully.”

Luc watched a pickup truck ride the dirt road a few hundred yards away. When it turned and headed toward the town, or what qualified as one out here, he let out the breath he was holding. “Why? It’s not as if these guys can hit a target.”

“Why don’t I show you how skilled I am?” Reno asked.

“You think this is funny, Luc? That standing there relaying the boss’s orders means you’re safe from us?” Rich managed to squint and telegraph menace at the same time.

Luc’s hand slid to the gun slipped into his belt. He’d paid for their time but these guys weren’t exactly known for deep and abiding loyalty. “I think I paid for competence and I’m not getting it.”

“But we don’t work for you, now do we?” Rich’s men grunted in agreement with Rich’s comment. “Funny how you forgot to mention you were only the middleman—powerless—when you hired us.”

They didn’t have time for insubordination and Luc’s tolerance had hit its end. “You get paid from me, so I am your boss.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Rich shook his head. “Who else is working this?”

Luc’s hand inched closer to the gun.

Bruce beat him to it. “That’s enough.”

He morphed from bored and disinterested to battle mode in two seconds. He didn’t lift a weapon or even move a step. The grave delivery and sharp whack of his voice did it.

Luc had served with men like Bruce. They demanded attention and when they didn’t get it, they unleashed a wrath that destroyed everything. Luc suspected Bruce hovered about an inch away from snapping now.

No matter how clear the message, Rich appeared to ignore it. He hitched his chin in Bruce’s general direction. “Why should I listen to you?”

Reno nodded. “Good question.”

And there it was. Luc stepped out of the way just in time. The words had barely left Rich’s mouth when Bruce stepped right into Rich’s face with a hand wrapped around the back of his neck. With his other hand he pressed a knife against Rich’s throat. “Want to ask again?”

Rich thrashed until the knife pricked skin, then he went still. “What are you—”

“Do not move unless you want a deeper cut.” Bruce grabbed Rich’s bulletproof vest in his fist and dragged it right up to his throat, nearly chocking him. “Tell your friends to step back before I slice you.”

Rich didn’t hesitate. Didn’t move, either. “Listen to him.”

“Good.” Bruce leaned in even closer to his prey. “Now I have one word for you.”

“What?”

Luc had to give Rich credit. His voice stayed steady and he didn’t beg. He used his free hand to wave his men back and Luc guessed that one gesture saved a bloodbath.

“Deniability.” Bruce emphasized all six syllables. “We don’t want details. Details put you in danger. Makes you usable to guys like Connor and a liability to us. The kind of liability a sharpshooter might eliminate with a shot to the forehead.”

When Bruce shoved him away, Rich stumbled back. He came to a halt and tugged on the bottom of his vest. “You made your point.”

“Good.”

For one more beat, Rich held Bruce’s stare then turned to Luc. “So what now? We have them trapped in a shack. I say we blow it up.”

Tempting, but not the plan. If he had his choice, Luc would take that tactic and cut his losses. But his boss was a very angry man with a definite plan. A powerful man bent on revenge. “We need them to escape. To believe they got away and turn sloppy.”

Rich snorted. “Why?”

“The plan hasn’t changed.” Bruce jumped in before Luc could answer. “We want Connor and his wife on the run. The others are expendable and it’s time for them to go.”

The other men mumbled but Rich put the feelings into words. “You think this Connor is a guy you can mess with? Track down like an animal? No way.”

But Luc understood this part. He had a wife once. Lost her in an instant at the hands of a drunk driver. He knew what he would do to bring her back. What lengths he would have employed to protect her if he could only go back in time, including taking the killing blow for her. Worse, he was intimately familiar with how a man pushed to the edge was capable of anything.

“When he’s out on his own, without backup and trying to keep his wife alive, he’ll fold. If we have her we can make him do anything. Racing across the country was just the start.” Luc spoke with absolute certainty.

He didn’t have to guess or wonder. He didn’t even need to hear it from his boss. The fear in Connor Bowen’s voice over the phone said it all—his wife came first.

Rich didn’t look convinced. Even in the limited light, the frown lines and twist of his mouth were clear. “He didn’t strike me as the collapsing type. It’s more likely he’ll double down and become a killing machine.”

The grating sound of Bruce’s knife sliding into a metal sheath stopped conversation and drew all of their attention. “Let’s get back to the team and discuss what we do to get rid of them this time around. I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of losing men.”

“And we can’t afford to be down many more.” Last thing Luc could do was call in reinforcements. This job had a ticking clock and the countdown had started. “So we separate and destroy.”

If possible, Rich’s frown deepened even further. “Meaning?”

“I think explosion does have a nice ring to it.” Luc had the supplies piled in the back of his nondescript truck, just waiting to light up the sky before morning dawned. Nothing would trace back to him, not even the truck he bought for cash under a fake name.

Bruce’s dark chuckle echoed around them. “I like the finality of your suggestion.”

They could think whatever they wanted so long as they got the job done...this time. Luc scanned the dwindling group. “You have one assignment.”