Chapter 22

L eaden light peeked through the window blinds early the next morning. Jace yawned and rolled over, watching Kara. So beautiful as she slept, her hair spilling over the pillow, a soft smile on her face.

Damn, he'd give anything to wake up to her next to him each day. Maybe they could make it work.

She woke, caught him and her smile widened. "Good morning, lover."

He took her into his arms again.

After they showered and made breakfast, Jace let Darby out for a run in the field. Ankle-high grass hid birds foraging for insects and a curious chipmunk sat up, watching them. The dog chased the chipmunk and then ran to the road, barking.

Sipping his second mug of coffee on the porch, Jace froze at the distant growl of a motorcycle. This was a quiet country road, yeah, and maybe the biker was enjoying the twists and turns...

Or not.

Maybe the Devil's Patrol had found them. Again.

After whistling for Darby, who came running, he ran into the house, the screen door banging behind him. Kara was tidying the kitchen.

"Kara, they may have found us."

She turned, her face pale. "Jace, how? No one knows we're here and this place is so remote..."

"They're tracking us. Or talked to someone in town after tracking us here."

It made no sense. He'd exchanged vehicles with Al, and Al couldn't have had a tracking device on his bike. But somehow, the gang had tracked them down. Unless they'd tracked them a different way...

Jace thought rapidly. Maverick, one of the DP, had worked as a software developer for a large tech firm before getting fired. He'd laughed about it because the criminal life was far more prosperous. Maverick had worked cleaning up people's computers and phones...sometimes placing the malware in the phones himself and then getting paid by the company to uninstall it when the user experienced problems. The company found out what he'd been doing and fired him.

A biker with experience in malware...

"Let me see your phone. This is the same phone you've been using since you spied on the DP the night your jewelry got stolen?"

Kara nodded.

"Have you downloaded anything, anything at all, in the past month? Photos, an app?"

"A game. That's all."

When she told him the name of the game and gave him her phone, he found the game Dylan had sent her. Jace swore.

"Please tell me you didn't download this app from a link Dylan sent you."

Kara's eyes went huge. "That game... I played it with Dylan sometimes in the shop on break and with everything going on...yes, it's the same one. He didn't tell me where he found out about it!"

"Son of a bitch!" He threw the phone at the sofa. "It's how they've been tracking you, Kara. Dylan told me he got the link for the app from Big Mike. Big Mike must have had Maverick install spyware in the app and you downloaded it to become a sitting duck."

Blood drained from her face. "You mean everywhere I go, they knew where I was?"

"Exactly. It's got to have a location tracker on it. Has your phone slowed down lately? Battery dying sooner than usual?"

She closed her eyes, opened them. "I didn't even think about the possibilities and I'm always careful."

"This business with Dylan threw you off your game. It wasn't your fault. Or Dylan's. But they must have installed a location tracker on your phone and that's how they've been locating you. Lance at the motel after Dylan was arrested. The rest stop."

Jace sucked down a breath. "You're not getting a signal here in the mountains so they can't pinpoint our location. But we have to leave. Right now."

Kara ran into the bedroom and tossed everything into her pack. Jace didn't bother, but grabbed the shotgun and loaded it. He glanced at Darby. It tore him up to leave the dog behind, but they stood a better chance on his bike...

He dumped two cans of dog food into bowls and placed them on the floor. Then he grabbed a steak knife from the drawer and stuck it into his pocket, just in case.

"Sorry, bud. Have to run."

Kara picked up a helmet and went outside. After grabbing his keys, he ran outside to the bike, Darby barking in protest as he followed. Son of a bitch, this was bad, so bad...

"Well, hello there, Jason Beckett. And Kara."

Jace skidded to a halt, staring at the black pistol pointed in their direction.

He blinked. "Oscar?"

His neighbor gave him a nasty smile. "Gotcha. At last."

Kara's pulse accelerated. Jace's neighbor? All this time she'd feared the biker gang and this guy, he looked like an ordinary man, with his bristling crew cut and white shirt and trousers, except for the cruel expression...

"You're Gerald. Aka Marcus." Jace's voice was flat.

Terror skidded through her. This was Marcus, the man who killed the teenagers at the clubhouse?

"Drop the shotgun or I'll put a hole through her right now."

Jace complied.

"And your sidearm."

Silently Jace removed the Glock. Still clutching the helmet, Kara stared, too terrified to move.

Gerald/Marcus gestured with the pistol. "That way, in the back of the cabin."

Hands in the air, they walked to the cabin's back, Oscar following, the gun trained on them.

"You never knew I was a biker. I rode here, followed you. Parked my bike up the road and snuck through the woods.

"Typical FBI, all this time you never knew." Oscar laughed. "I had you fooled good. The jewelry, the vague terror threat, it was all to throw you off, Jace. Soon as Lance told me he saw Kara at the Tiki Bar, and better yet, you used to be her boyfriend, I was gold."

"Why me?" she asked, her voice tremulous.

"Ever since I got out of prison, I've been searching for you, you little bitch. A month ago I finally had the chance to find out who you were. Had enough money to bribe a courthouse secretary to unseal the records of the name of the juvenile who killed my father.

"All this time, it was you. Not your goddamn jewelry. Not your cousin, Dylan. Everything was about you and getting you in front of me so I could experience this moment. My father, Archie Turner. Remember his name? Remember?"

Kara reeled backward. She couldn't think, could barely breathe.

The only son of the man whom she'd killed in the car crash when she was seventeen.

Panic set in as she stared at the gun in his hand, then her gaze traveled up to his cold, dead eyes. Brown eyes. Jace had blue eyes, as sunny as summer skies. Sweat dampened her palms as she clutched the helmet like a shield.

"I found out where you were crashing, Beckett, and rented the apartment next to yours. Changed my name and waited. Waited for a chance to grab her, but you were always there. Always, dammit. Her shadow."

This is all your fault. What you deserve. You deserve to die for killing your brother, for killing his father. You caused so much pain.

The little voice of guilt inside her head echoed the taunts Gerald now said, the cruel, callous words that hurt.

Jace, what had Jace said. It's not your fault, Kara. It was an accident. Conner should never have climbed into the back seat without telling you. Archie Turner should never have run that stoplight. There was nothing you could have done.

The niggling guilt inside her eased, replaced with an odd calm.

"I killed those kids because they overheard Mike telling me you were there with Kara and now was the time to come to the clubhouse. I got there and you weren't there, but they were and they told me it was too much, they signed up for fun and stealing jewels, but not murder. I couldn't leave witnesses. Your damn cousin escaped before I could get him."

"Let her go. It was an accident. It's me you want, Marcus." Jace stepped in front of her, shielding her with his big body.

"Oh, you, I'll deal with you, traitor. The guys will be happy to deliver justice. Right now they're planting a welcome-home gift in your parents' house, Kara. Too bad it will blow out half the neighborhood, but I figure they all deserve it, the rich snobs." Gerald laughed.

A scrabble of paws over rough rock, a furious bark and Darby rounded the corner. Snarling, the dog advanced and leaped at Gerald. Cursing, the man raised his gun. Fired.

Kara screamed. Jace stared at Darby, who was whimpering, lying on the ground.

"You shot my dog," he said. "No one shoots my dog."

This was a nightmare, and they were caught in it. No way out. Her terrified gaze flicked to Jace—Jace, who was calm and cool. How could he be so calm?

Gerald kept backing up, close to the porch and wasp's nest. Jace's gaze flicked to beneath the porch, where a few wasps flew around.

Gerald raised the gun again.

"Kara, be good." Jace's gaze flicked beneath the porch. "Be-e-e good."

She nodded. Her only chance. Please, let me do this ...

Pretending to go boneless with fear, she suddenly lurched forward, and tossed her helmet at the wasps' nest. Angry insects flew outward, landing on the first object of their fury.

Gerald.

Cursing, he fired, his attention shattered by the wasps flying in his direction. Wasps flew at her, stinging, but she barely felt the pain. Jace uncurled his body and struck.

The kitchen knife hidden in Jace's pocket suddenly sank deep into Gerald's shoulder. Clawing at the blade, he snarled at Jace. The two men struggled on the ground, wrestling for the pistol.

Gerald pulled the trigger. The sound was piercing to her ears. Blood blossomed on Jace's white shirt, but Jace curled his right hand around the knife handle and he yanked it upward. Gerald gagged, as blood spurted. Jace slammed Gerald's hand against the ground, loosening his grip on the pistol. The man struggled weakly as blood flowed like a burst dam.

"Kara, kick the gun away," he yelled, straddling Gerald.

Instead, she picked up the gun, and fired, straight into Gerald's leg. The man screamed.

Jace rolled off him, panting, his shirt stained red. Oh, God, so much blood.

"Watch him while I find something to tie him up."

He ran into the cabin and returned with lamp cord, winding it around Gerald's wrists.

Kara handed Jace the gun. "You're hurt, I have to..."

The sound of motorcycles thundered in the air. Kara's breath came in little gasps as Jace sank to the ground, the pistol trained on Gerald, who kept moaning.

Motorcycles.

Gerald's backup.

Bikers. They were toast. But she'd be damned if they didn't go down without a fight.

For Conner . For Jace, who only wanted to protect and serve.

She ran inside, grabbed Uncle Phil's favorite gun, the one he used for deer hunting. Bolt action, she'd used it once while hunting with Uncle Phil years ago.

The box of ammo spilled over the floor, cartridges rolling under the bed. Hands shaking, she loaded the .243 Winchester, praying she could at least give them a fighting chance to make it into the woods. Jace, oh, God, Jace, he'd been hit...

Kara ran to the front porch, steadying the rifle on the porch railing as she bent down and peered into the scope. A motorcycle roared down the incline leading to the field, others following. She had one shot at this, take out the head guy and maybe the others would realize they weren't sitting ducks after all...

Taking a deep breath, she trained the weapon on the first biker pulling into the field. Her finger trembled on the trigger.

Have to do this... I must...

Then she blinked.

Kara went still. Not the snarly face of Mike in the scope. She knew this guy, and behind the bikes she saw several black SUVs and the unmistakable shape of patrol cars...

Standing, she did not lower the rifle, but waited as the bikes pulled up in front of the cabin.

Rafe dismounted the first bike, pulled off his helmet. Clad in black leather and jeans, with a Devil's Patrol patch on the back, he looked the part. Three other bikers dismounted, and she realized from the flash of gold on their belts that they were agents.

He held up his hands. "Don't shoot. We're the good guys. Anyone else here?"

She set down the gun. "In the back. With Gerald, I mean, Marcus. And Jace is hurt!"

Men and women climbed out of the shiny black SUVs, and the local sheriff's office deputies were here as well. And clad in black leather, the woman who'd kissed Jace in the Tiki Bar what seemed like years ago. The woman had a gun in a leather holder on her bike.

"I'm a nurse. My name's Allison."

"Jace." A lump clogged her throat and she began to shake uncontrollably. "Gerald shot him, he's on the ground in the back."

Grabbing a kit out of her saddlebag, Allison ran to the back. Kara followed, her knees weak at the sight of Jace on the ground, lying so still...

Rafe shrugged out of his leather jacket, placed it around her shoulders. "Easy. You're suffering an adrenaline letdown. Allison will take care of Jace."

Gerald moaned. "I'm dying here. Screw him, I need help."

"Yeah, well, screw you, you ass. Priorities. You can bleed out." Allison began attending to Jace.

Rafe's face tightened. "Dammit, Jace, you have to live. Let Allison treat you."

Jace pushed her hand away. "The dog...my dog..."

Kara ran over Darby, who was lying on the ground whimpering. Rafe squatted next to her.

"Easy, boy," he soothed. He swept his gaze over the dog. "Looks like a bullet nicked him. He should be okay, but he needs a vet."

He removed the bandana from his head and bandaged the dog's wound. Rafe beckoned to a deputy, who lifted the dog with care and promised to take him to a vet who lived close by.

Allison wrapped Jace's arm and staunched the bleeding. Kara kneeled next to him.

"You got stung," he murmured, reaching up to feel her cheek.

Kara touched it. "Doesn't matter, as long as you're okay."

"Everything's gonna be fine, babe."

"Don't you dare die on me," she warned, her eyes filling with tears.

He managed a wink. "Not a chance. Bad-boy bikers never die. We're too tough."