No Mercy (19 page)

“Of course. Only Rod has been privy to this.” Dr. Nicholson glanced at Rod, who nodded.

Dylan gave his card with his contact information to the vet after she took off her surgical gloves.

“I am the only one who should be in contact with you about Joe if necessary. If
anyone
else attempts

to ask questions, call me immediately.”

She nodded. “I wil .”

Dylan looked at Joe, who was stil lying on the table. “I’l be keeping him with me after all. This

changes everything.”

Once Joe was ready and they had bought multiple cans of dog food before they checked out,

they headed out of the clinic, into the chil y air, and to Dylan’s truck. Joe didn’t limp even though the

wound might have been irritating him. Dylan helped Belle into the truck then instructed Joe to jump

into the back of the king cab. The dog did so and sat on his haunches on the back seat.

Dylan climbed into the driver’s seat, wishing he had his laptop so he could check out the contents

of the SD card now. Just as he started to call his RAC, his phone vibrated. When he un-holstered

the cell, the screen showed Sofia’s number.

He started the truck to get warm air blowing. “Dylan here.”

As usual, Sofia started without bothering with a greeting. “You need to find a secure location to

take Ms. Hartford. A rash of witnesses from various agencies needed to be taken to local safe

houses, so none are available.”

“Damn.” Dylan blew out his breath, then thought about a place he’d considered taking Belle to

last night. “I know somewhere I can hide her that will be safe.”

“Good. Any new developments?” she asked.

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***

about what had looked to be an SD card, only more high-tech.

“Trace is in Bisbee right now,” she said. “Call him and set up a secure location to meet.”

When Sofia disconnected, Dylan called Trace. They arranged to meet at a feed and tack store

in Palominas, between Sierra Vista and Bisbee. It wasn’t likely they’d be seen in a rural location,

behind a mountain of alfalfa hay bales.

They reached the store two minutes ahead of Trace, who drove up in his Ford Explorer. Trace

and Dylan parked their vehicles in the back near the feed loading area. Belle stayed in the truck with

Joe but raised her hand in a “hel o” gesture to Trace. He raised his hand in response.

Dylan walked up to Trace and greeted him as he handed him the bags. “Get these back right

away. We need to know what’s on it.”

“Screw waiting. Why don’t we take a look now?” Trace took the two bags as he spoke in his

drawl. “I’ve got my laptop. It’l be interesting to see what’s on this SD card.”

Dylan grinned. “It pays to know the right people.”

Trace opened the front passenger door of his SUV and pulled a laptop from beneath the seat.

He set it on the seat and lifted the lid. While the machine booted up, he grabbed a surgical glove

from a compartment, removed the card from its bag, and inserted it into a port.

Dylan caught himself holding his breath as Trace pulled up the screen that showed six folders.

“This isn’t your standard SD card,” Trace said.

“No kidding.” Dylan shook his head.

“There’s a hel of a lot of information on here that would never fit on a standard SD card.” Each

folder that had appeared was labeled with a number from one to six. Trace tried to open the first

folder and a box requesting a password popped up.

“Shit.” Trace tried the other five folders with the same result. “I think the passwords are

encrypted.”

Frustration in Dylan mounted. “Let’s get the card to our lead tech guy. Hope to hel George can

find out what is on it.”

Trace nodded. “Wil do.”

Dylan braced one hand on the Explorer. “Got a favor to ask.”

Trace closed the laptop and put the SD card back into its bag and sealed it. “Shoot.”

“I need to swap vehicles with you.” He jerked his thumb toward his truck. “I think whoever’s

behind this knows what my truck looks like. But that means you’l have to watch your back.”

“No problem.” Trace picked up the laptop. The keys were in the ignition, the SUV still running,

air coming through the vents to keep the vehicle warm.

Trace greeted Belle as they changed vehicles, before she and Joe climbed into the Explorer.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

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***

Trace touched her forearm and squeezed. “Take care.”

Dylan grabbed what he needed out of this truck and transferred it into the SUV. Trace moved

away from Belle and did the same with his belongings.

Trace left and pulled onto the two-lane highway, headed back toward Bisbee.

Dylan glanced at Belle. She looked exhausted. He needed to get her to their destination where

she could get some rest. He could use some sleep himself.

“What was on that card?” she asked once they were on the road. “Did it have anything important

on it?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Al of the folders are password protected.”

She let out a deep sigh. “I was so hoping that there would be something on that card that would

end all of this.”

He took his gaze from the road to glance at her. “You and me both.”

Dylan had decided on a little known, secluded bed and breakfast in Bisbee. Before going to the

place, he picked an isolated area in Palominas to change into other clothing from a duffel bag he’d

transferred from his truck. He traded his Stetson for a ball cap, his boots for a pair of running shoes,

and a Diamondbacks baseball jacket that hid his weapons.

Belle tucked her hair beneath one of his ball caps, slipped back into his leather jacket, and wore

an extra pair of his sunglasses. When they’d done their best to alter their appearances, they headed

to the small, new and barely known B & B. He made sure it wasn’t yet on the town’s website of local

accommodations before he called to make a reservation. The only room they had available was an

upstairs suite that was nearly twice the cost of their normal rooms. He took it and gave the credit

card number for one of his numerous undercover aliases.

The place was up in Tombstone Canyon, not too far from Main Street in Old Bisbee. It had once

been one of the nicer, older homes that had been recently remodeled and turned into a quaint place

to stay. Parking wasn’t great in that area, but Dylan found a space on a street with a fairly steep

incline.

Before walking into the B & B, Dylan pulled his ball cap low. Inside, with Joe sitting on the floor

beside her, Belle perched on the edge of a chair in the entryway. A fit man in his early sixties sat at

a small table that served as a registration desk. Dylan introduced himself under his alias.

“I’m Mitch Maddox and I’m the owner.” The man appeared tense as he gestured to Joe. “I’m

sorry, but no pets allowed.”

Dylan shook his head. “He’s a mental health service dog for my wife.”

Mitch’s body language changed and he looked more relaxed. “In that case, come on over here.”

The man showed Dylan the old-fashioned guest book and he signed in under the name of the

alias he was using. This persona said he was from Phoenix and he played it up. “We’re here to get

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***

“Used to live there myself. Twenty-six years.” Mitch’s expression screwed up with distaste. “Can’t

say that I blame you for wanting to get away from that rat race, even if it’s a short vacation.”

Mitch handed Dylan a couple of brass keys. Dylan thanked the owner and he, Belle, and Joe

started up the stairs.

Whoever was looking for them wouldn’t expect a dog, and both Belle and Dylan had changed

their appearances. He hoped to hell that would be enough to keep them from being recognized from

photos or by description, if anyone stopped by looking for them.

***

***

When Belle had first curled up on a bed in the suite in the B & B, she thought she’d sleep for a

week. Instead, her mind worked overtime, and the longer it whirled through everything that had

happened over the last thirty-six hours, the more wound up she got.

Fear that she’d managed to push aside now made her tremble, and despite the blanket covering

her, she grew cold.

The blackout shades had been drawn, keeping the late afternoon sun out. Soon it would be

nightfall.

They’d eaten takeout earlier. One of the agents Dylan worked with had picked up Italian,

including ziti, spaghetti, and garlic breadsticks. They’d fed G.I. Joe one of the cans of food they’d

purchased from the clinic.

Belle hadn’t expected to be able to eat, but after everything, she’d been hungry and had

devoured the ziti and breadsticks. She’d taken a shower and had practically fallen into bed.

Yet she couldn’t sleep. She shifted in the bed, pulling the covers more firmly about her as she

thought about everything. So much had happened, it nearly made her head spin.

When Dylan had referred to her as his wife earlier, it had caused her belly to loop despite her

exhaustion. What would it be like to be his wife? She could picture waking up with him, making

breakfast together, and kissing him goodbye when he went to work. Just the thought of doing little

domestic things together made her chest feel warm.

The warmth faded. He’d just been making sure Joe could stay with them when he’d referred to

her as his wife. She was so exhausted she probably looked like she needed the assistance of a

mental health service animal.

Footsteps came to the doorway of the suite’s bedroom, startling her, and she opened her eyes.

The room was dim but the light from the hal way il uminated Dylan’s big frame. She couldn’t make

out his features with the light behind him.

“Are you all right?” He spoke softly.

“Yes.” She swallowed then shook her head. “No.”

He moved closer and the mattress dipped as he sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out and

brushed hair from her eyes. His callused fingers were warm and gentle against her skin.

“Wil you lie down with me?” She hated how weak she sounded. “I—I need you.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “If it wil help you get to sleep.”

“It wil .” She nodded, her hair sliding into her eyes again. “Where’s Joe?”

“He’s resting in the living room, near the front door.” Dylan shook his head. “I think he’s on guard,

prepared to protect us.”

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***

vet gave him seem to be working and he doesn’t appear to be interested in chewing the stitches.”

He turned on the bedside light before he removed his weapon and laid it on the nightstand, and

then shrugged out of his shoulder holster. He unclipped his phone holster and set it next to the gun,

then pulled out his creds and placed the wallet on the nightstand, too. He toed off his shoes, pulled

off his socks, and then slid under the covers with her.

She had taken a shower and wore only the robe she’d found hanging on a hook in the bathroom.

He had taken a shower, too, but had dressed before making business calls in the other room in the

suite.

Now he faced her, and she was grateful he’d turned on the bedside lamp so she could see his

rough features as he reached out to run his knuckles along the line of her jaw.

“I’ve missed you.” The words came out before she could stop them.

He hesitated, and then trailed his fingers over her face, exploring it with his touch as if trying to

memorize her features. “I’ve missed you more than you’d ever believe.”

His words both sent warmth and sadness through her. Even though she’d left him, he’d stil

missed her. But the sadness came from the secret she’d kept so very long.

He brushed the side of her face with his fingers and ran his thumb over her lips. She shuddered

with pleasure at the intimate contact. Every stroke of his fingers, every touch of his hand sent spirals

of desire through her.

She didn’t feel tired any longer. Al she felt was the need to be in his arms and to have him inside

her again.

He slid his fingers into her hair and cupped the back of her head. “I should leave. I can sleep on

the couch.” His voice was hoarse, as if he was forcing out the words.