Bill sighed. “This is top secret, Dallas, but Ortega was murdered in prison. Murdered right after revealing that he would disclose information about a Sykes kidnapping in exchange for leniency. That’s a bold stroke, and highly risky.”
“Which is why you believe what Ortega said—that there really was a Sykes kidnapping.”
“Exactly,” Bill said. “But there’s more. Security was tight around Ortega. Damn tight. No one outside of WORR, the FBI, or UNODC should have been aware of the information he was providing,” he added, referring to the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, with which WORR worked closely.
“So you have a leak,” Dallas put in. He didn’t say that Bill himself was the leak, albeit an unknowing one. Dallas hadn’t realized it at the time of Ortega’s death, because he hadn’t known about Colin. Now that he did, Dallas understood what happened—Bill had told Jane. Jane had told Colin.
And Colin had arranged the kill.
Dallas fought the urge to close his eyes against the truth that pressing in against him. Sure, he could be wrong about Colin. About all of it. But more and more he feared that Colin was at the heart of it. And when Jane learned that her conversation with Colin led not only to Ortega’s death, but had also triggered WORR’s investigation into the Sykes kidnapping …
Well, it would rip her apart.
He had to tell her. But how the hell could he tell her?
Bill let out a frustrated breath. “A leak? Yeah, it sure as hell looks that way. And whoever wanted Ortega dead must have a solid network of eyes and ears looking for leaks about the kidnapping even after all this time. A network,” he reiterated, “and a powerful one at that. He was able to insert an operative to kill a witness. That’s someone dangerous.”
He met Dallas’s eyes. “And that’s someone that neither my group nor the FBI nor any of the agencies that WORR works with is willing to have on the street. Your kidnapping is our best lead to finding this person. Maybe we prosecute for the kidnapping, or maybe we prosecute for Ortega’s murder. But we are going to follow the evidence. And, Dallas, the evidence starts with you.”
“I guess this wasn’t ever intended to be a friendly chat,” Dallas said, his temper rising. He wanted his kidnappers caught—no question. But he fully intended to be the one who had the pleasure of bringing the Jailer and the Woman down.
He took a step toward Bill and felt a sharp stab of satisfaction when the other man sank back in his chair. “You just came here to tell me you’d shoved a knife in my gut and now you’re going to twist it.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Dallas. But I do want to find the person who did this.”
Dallas pointed to the door. “You know what, Bill? Why don’t you get the hell out of my house?”
Bill levered himself out of the chair. “Now wait a minute, Dallas, you’re being—”
The door opened, and they both turned as Jane stepped into the room, her eyes going wide as she assessed the situation.
Dallas started to move toward her, craving the comfort of simply touching her. But he couldn’t claim that now. Not in front of Bill. And so he stopped in place while the man he wanted off his property went to greet the woman Dallas loved.
The woman who had once belonged to Bill.
The woman Dallas had no right to have.
Dallas pressed his fingertips to his temples, fighting a building headache. The certainty that it was Jane who had tipped off Colin. The thought of Bill knowing the details of the kidnapping. Of learning that Jane had been a prisoner, too. The memories of what the Woman did to him—and the horror of knowing that Bill might learn that as well.
And on top of all that, the thought of Bill touching Jane. Of knowing her body as intimately as Dallas did.
And even more intimately, too. How many times had Bill been inside her? Filled her up and heard her moan. How many times had he—
Fuck.
“Bill was just leaving,” he said, forcing the words out through a clenched jaw and even more tightly clenched hands.
Jane glanced between Dallas and Bill, finally settling on the latter. “I’ll walk you out. Come on.”
Bill looked back at Dallas. “We’ll talk more later.”
“I have no doubt.”
Bill frowned, but turned away. Jane looked back at Dallas, though, and he saw the pain in her eyes.
“Why are you here?” Bill asked, drawing her attention to him and away from Dallas.
“Oh, they’re fumigating the townhouse. Apparently I have ants. And I’d heard that Dallas was having a party last night, and I wanted to see the debauchery for myself …”
Her voice faded as they stepped through the doors and out into the hallway. He heard their footsteps echo across the entryway, and then the sound of the front door opening and closing.
And only when he was surrounded by silence, did Dallas let himself drop down onto the sofa, lean forward, and bury his face in his hands.
Deliver Us From Evil