She went to the truck. Dyson handed her a gun, nodded to Lucky that they were ready. “Eyes open, Red,” he said.
Ranger had already made sure the girls were both secured and unarmed. He squeezed Siobhan’s hand and said, “I’ll protect him.”
She nodded, even though she wanted to scream that this was too dangerous, foolhardy. Human traffickers were a dime a dozen, and even though Peter Blair was one of the worst out there—an ex-patriot who would do anything for money—they could find him another way.
They didn’t have to follow Blair into territory he knew better than they did, when he was surrounded by people loyal to him, willing to kill for him.
It’s too dangerous, Kane. Change your mind.
Lucky turned the ignition and drove away, down the mountain. The last thing she saw was Ranger following Kane back to the house that had once held these victims. Four dead men littered the ground; the fifth was injured and trussed up by the door. Kane dragged him inside the house; Ranger followed and closed the door.
Peter Blair had gotten away, an evil man Siobhan had been tracking for even longer than Kane. Yet, though she’d seen the brutal handiwork of Blair and his men time and time again, she didn’t want to know how Kane and Ranger would find out where he went.
Lucky sped off toward the setting sun and Siobhan prayed for Kane’s safety.
I love you, too.
Chapter Two
FRIDAY
SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS
Three years ago if Sean Rogan had seen two police cars and an unmarked sedan in front of his house, he would have driven by until he knew exactly what was going on. But now, his first thought was fear.
Lucy.
He immediately dismissed the thought that Lucy had been injured in the line of duty. Someone from the FBI would have called him. And while his son now lived with them, he’d dropped Jesse off at school not ten minutes ago, so these cops weren’t here because of something related to Jesse or the school.
Still, that twitch in his gut had him seriously wanting to pass by without a glance at his house, and he usually trusted his instincts.
He wished he’d trusted them now, but he clicked the garage door opener and pulled his Jeep Wrangler into his parking slot on the right. Lucy’s spot on the left was empty; she had left for work more than an hour ago. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the cops were here to talk to him. The uniformed officers were getting out of their cars, and two detectives emerged from the sedan.
He didn’t recognize any of them.
If it was one car, he wouldn’t be concerned. RCK—the security consulting firm his brothers had co-founded, and for which he served as a principal—worked closely with law enforcement on a variety of projects. At the end of last year, Sean had assisted in an SAPD case. Between him and Lucy, they knew several cops on the force.
But this was three cars and he knew none of the cops.
That worried him.
He walked around to the back of the Jeep, looked straight in the eye of the cop closest to him. Plainclothes. Detective. Six feet tall, blond hair, blue eyes. The other detective was female, younger, Hispanic, not a good poker face. She clearly didn’t like him, but Sean had never met her before.
“Can I help you?” he said, his voice sounding calm and chatty when that was the last thing he felt.
“Sean Rogan?”
“That’s me.”
The detective smiled, trying to put Sean at ease, but that only made Sean more uncomfortable, especially since the female detective stood there as if she was ready to draw and fire on him.
“Detective John Banner,” he said. He didn’t offer to shake his hand. He was keeping his distance, about twelve feet. “This is my partner, Kris Mendez. We were hoping you could come down to the station and answer some questions.”
“About what?”
“Mona Odette Hill.”
Mona?
Shit.
“Why don’t you come inside?” he said, motioning toward his house. “I’ll make coffee.”
“Ms. Hill was murdered Monday night and we’d like to talk to you about that. It would be better if you come with us.”
What the hell was going on? Mona was dead?
Monday.
Sean had gone to Houston on Monday and met with Mona. So these cops might have a witness who saw him near her condo. Fine. But that didn’t mean he would go down to the fucking station and talk. “No, thank you, I’m happy to talk with you here.” It took all his control not to tell them to screw off and call a lawyer. Something was going on, and Sean had the distinct impression that they thought he was involved.
Banner had said Mona was murdered.
They wanted him to come to the station.
Nothing good would come from him going to the station.
What did you get yourself into, Mona?
Banner glanced at his partner. They communicated silently for about two seconds, then Banner said, “Mr. Rogan, you’re under arrest for the murder of Mona Hill.”
Banner nodded to one of the officers, who cautiously approached Sean.
“What the hell?” he said, though he knew he shouldn’t say a word. “First you want to talk, now you’re arresting me?”
“Turn around,” the officer said. “Kneel, and put your hands on the top of your head.”
Sean didn’t move. He was being arrested for murder? He took everything in. The two detectives. Four uniformed officers. Coming to his house—after Lucy was gone, after he returned from dropping Jesse off at school. Did they know his routine? Did they plan it this way? How long had they been watching him?
“Mr. Rogan, please comply,” Banner said. “I know your wife is a federal agent, and you have friends in the department. I don’t want this to become a sticky situation.”
He had no choice.
“I’d like to call my wife.” He actually wanted to call JT Caruso, the head of RCK. JT would know exactly what to do and would get him the best lawyer.
You know what to do, Sean. Don’t say anything. Not one more word. You’re innocent, but that doesn’t mean squat. Keep your mouth shut and don’t piss off the cops.
“You’ll be able to make your calls as soon as you’ve been booked in Houston.”
“Houston? You’re taking me to Houston?” So much for keeping his mouth shut.
Mona Hill lives in Houston.
“Yes, Mr. Rogan,” Banner said. “We’re with Houston PD. The San Antonio officers are assisting us this morning.”
So they’d planned to arrest him from the beginning. They wouldn’t have brought the officers if this wasn’t the endgame.
“I’m armed,” Sean said. “I have a concealed carry permit in my wallet.”
“Thank you for that,” Banner said. “Are you carrying anything besides a handgun?”
“A knife in my right front pocket.”
He hated this. Everything about this. It was bullshit. He considered resisting, but that wouldn’t do him any good, and could get him shot.
You should have driven by when you saw the cop cars. You’ve turned soft, Rogan.
The SAPD officer repeated, “Turn around and kneel, put your hands on the top of your head.”
Sean didn’t like that his partner had his hand on his holstered gun. Did they think he was going to run? Fight? Shoot?