Chapter 15

T hey met Dylan at the campsite as planned the next afternoon, and never had she seen her cousin more scared.

Or relieved.

Dylan had cut his shoulder-length hair and dyed it blond. He looked much younger than his years, and vulnerable.

Jace treated him with courtesy but remained firm. Her ex in action seemed a totally different man from the casual biker who had given the impression of insouciant living and partying. He took Dylan formally into custody, read him his rights and called to have his motorcycle picked up and stored in a local impound lot, giving Kara the information to retrieve it later. Dylan handed Kara the rest of the jewelry, which she combined with the diamond necklace. Kara dropped the bag into her purse.

Nothing carefree about him now, Jace was all seriousness as they drove, Dylan riding quietly in the back. She had trouble reconciling the tough FBI agent with the biker who called her "babe." Maybe that was part of his persona, and what made him blend so well.

"Jace, you're headed the wrong way. Atlanta is southeast, not southwest."

"We're not going to Atlanta." He turned off the road and headed for the interstate. "I'm headed to the FBI field office where my boss is working this case."

"Rafael. Rafe. He's your boss. Your real boss."

"Boss and friend. Team leader."

She wondered about that. "You've known him a long time?"

He nodded.

"How hard was it to go this deep undercover with the gang?" she asked.

Jace's jaw tightened. "Can't really talk about it."

"I understand. It's got to be like living two lives—your real life with the FBI and the life with the motorcycle gang, and then the lives start to blend and intertwine until you aren't certain which one is real and which is not."

He threw her a quick, startled glance, telling her more than words.

"It is, but I'm not into the lifestyle of OMGs, Kara."

"I beg your pardon?"

"OMG is an acronym for Outlaw Motorcycle Gang, such as the Devil's Patrol." Jace switched lanes and accelerated. "I love riding a bike, and enjoy the company of other bikers, but partying and girls, and the drinking and drugs and certainly the outlaw lifestyle aren't me. Never were."

"You seem quite certain."

"Hell, yeah, I'm certain. I saw what it did to others."

Judging from the tautness of his jaw and the cheek tic, Jace didn't like the conversation. Now or ever. If she had a hope of pulling him from his dark place, she had to try.

"Level with me, Jace. I told you the truth about my family and what happened. Is your father the reason you never wanted me to know about your parents or any of your family?"

For a few moments they rode in silence. Kara held her breath. Maybe she'd pushed him too hard. Then he released a heavy sigh.

"Yeah. Basically it." He glanced into the rearview mirror. "I'll tell you more later. Promise. But business first."

Something inside her cried out to provide comfort at such a painful memory. Kara slid her hand over his right hand. He glanced at her again but did not pull away. Instead, he squeezed her hand slightly and then released it, his expression serious once more.

Two hours later, he pulled into the parking lot of a one-story office building with offices for rent.

Hand on Dylan's arm, Jace escorted him into an office with an FBI sign stenciled on the glass. Inside, a blast of cold air greeted them. A man sat at a reception area earnestly typing on a laptop. He glanced up.

"Special Agent Beckett?"

Jace nodded.

The man dialed a number and Rafael appeared out of the back, this time dressed in black slacks, a white shirt and a tie loosened at the throat. Rafael inclined his head and Jace led Dylan away. Before he did, she gave her cousin a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand.

Dylan looked terrified. She supposed they would formally charge him.

Kara regarded Rafe as if the man was an enemy. "I see you made a safe escape on Jace's bike after we left the warehouses."

Rafe didn't blink. "I was faster than the guys chasing me."

"I suppose I should be polite and say I'm glad to see you again, Agent Rodriguez, but I don't like lying. I will let you know I am here against my wishes."

He cocked his head at her. "It's Supervisory Special Agent, but please, call me Rafe. Miss Wilmington, you're under no duress. You are free to leave, if you wish. I'm not placing you under arrest. But the jewelry in your possession is evidence, I'm afraid. May I?"

With a gaze as hard as the diamonds themselves, Kara handed over all the jewels. Rafe opened the bag and removed the necklace. The agent sitting at the desk whistled.

"Sweet. What are they worth, at least six figures?" the agent asked.

Kara didn't bother replying, only kept eyeing Rafe. The temperature in this office probably dropped at least twenty degrees with her attitude, but she didn't care. She was too concerned about Dylan.

Rafe closed the bag and handed it to the agent, who walked away with it. "Thank you for turning over the evidence."

A casual shrug. "It's not as if I had a choice."

She stepped outside, into the humid Georgia air, to call her parents. Kara made her call brief, sticking to the facts, suggesting her father call his sister to give her the news.

Maybe, finally, her aunt would agree to receive the help her father had always offered. No matter. Her father, always concerned about his sister, would hire one of the best attorneys in Florida.

When she returned inside, she asked about Jace and was told he was meeting in the back with the suspect.

The suspect. Her cousin. Kara's chest felt hollow with grief. How had Dylan gone from a kid who only wanted to race his bike to being involved with a gang who stole and murdered?

She sat on the sofa in reception to wait for Jace. Kara scrolled through her phone, too anxious to focus. Jace had promised the prosecutors would take it easy on Dylan. Surely, he would deliver on that promise.

She banked on it. Finally, after about an hour, Jace came out of the back office, his mouth tight.

"Kara, I'm going to have someone drive you to a local hotel. I'm going to be here quite a while."

Her fingers gripped the purse straps. "What's going to happen to Dylan, Jace? Please. I can't leave here until I know."

To her relief, he sat, putting them on an equal level. "I promised I'd do everything I can and I will, Kara. But it's up to the US attorney. He's facing serious charges. However, he is also material witness to a double homicide, and our best bet for catching Marcus."

"And what about my cousin, Jace? He's all alone now. He needs me. I need—"

"You can't see him."

Clipped, curt words.

She stared. "You promised to help him..."

"I promised to try and I am trying."

Images haunted her—Dylan sitting alone in a jail cell, looking betrayed and hurt.

"Jace, I know you have to do what you must, but please, don't lock him up. I don't want him rotting in a moldy jail cell with a filthy mattress and bugs..."

For the first time, he looked impatient. "Kara, he's not going to rot in a jail cell. Stop being dramatic."

"He's not your cousin."

"He's not your responsibility," he shot back.

"But he is. He's family."

He glanced at his buzzing cell phone. "That's all I can relay for now. If I have solid news I can share, I'll let you know."

Jace signaled to the agent working on a laptop. "Wayne will drive you to a hotel. My expense account."

Hotel. Expense account. Jace dismissed her as if she was of no more use. I suppose I am not. He has what he was after—my cousin.

Kara stood and smoothed out her wrinkled trousers. "Not necessary. I'll procure my own lodging, and transportation. Surely they have an Uber in this section of backwoods?"

He stood, rammed a hand through his hair. "Kara, we can get you a room..."

"No. I don't want your hospitality. I've had quite enough."

She consulted her cell, messaged for an Uber. "Goodbye, Jace."

"I need to know where you're going..."

Kara summoned the iciest look she could manage for all the hurt swirling inside her. "I'm going to find a motel and sleep, Jace, and return in the morning when my father gets here with an attorney. Dylan needs good representation since you cannot deliver on your promise."

She couldn't reach the door fast enough. He made no attempt to follow or stop her. In fact, by the time the young agent named Wayne opened the door for her, Jace had vanished into the back once more.

Her cell pinged a message. Kara glanced down.

Babe, I'm sorry. Let me send an agent with you, please.

Kara ignored the text and put away her phone.

When the driver appeared, she asked him to bring her to the nearest motel.

The seedy roadside motel suited her mood. Kara paid with her credit card and took the key. Inside the room, she sat on the bed, staring dully at the walls.

Jace had betrayed her. He'd made a promise and his duty to the FBI came first.

She wasn't certain if she could ever forgive him again.