Trusting Zane Page 4

  What if he’d left them there alone? Would he have done that?

  He was a hard man.

  A smartass of the highest order.

  Angry.

  But he didn’t strike her as stupid. Not even a little bit.

  And despite all the things he was and how those qualities concerned her, he cared about the kids.

  She approached the front door and rang the bell while glancing back over her shoulder to make sure he hadn’t circled around to make sure she left.

  But a man like that, one with a commanding presence, expected his orders to be followed. It probably didn’t occur to him that someone might resist doing his bidding.

  “Can I help you, dear?” a sweet voice came through the intercom.

  “Yes, my name is Kinsley Scott. I’m here from Los Angeles County to check on Tyler and Brielle.”

  “I’m sorry. You’ll have to come back when Zane is here. I’m under strict instructions to not open the door for anyone,” she said, her voice almost as clear as Kinsley imagined it would be in person. Zane had one hell of a security system.

  She didn’t doubt for a minute that the woman on the other side of the door had seen the whole exchange in Zane’s yard and driveway. “Do you know when that will be?” Kinsley asked.

  “I expect him back by dinnertime.”

  “Thank you,” Kinsley said, taking a step back.

  She didn’t have time for attorneys. Her department didn’t have time. Zane didn’t know it yet, but he’d better count on one more for dinner.

  In the meantime, she had a report to file with her supervisor and a shelter hearing to get scheduled.

  Chapter 5

  Zane’s hands ached by the time he slid into a parking spot on the opposite side of the road in front of Fierce. He’d strangled the wheel for the past forty-five minutes as everything Kinsley said rolled through his mind over and over, stoking his simmering anger a bit more each time.

  How often had he gone toe-to-toe with his fucked-up sister, everything he had to say falling on deaf ears?

  He knew she resented it. Knew it only encouraged her to continue in her dysfunctional direction, but he couldn’t help himself.

  With every confrontation, he grew more and more desperate to get through to her. To drag her from the treacherous life she’d chosen.

  All while taking her powerless kids with her and making them pay the ultimate price.

  Pressuring and lecturing her hadn’t been the answer, but so help him, he couldn’t look her in the eye time and again across the dinner table at their parents’ house and pretend to catch up on their ordinary lives filled with promotions, home repairs, and vacation plans.

  The days of laughing together over silly party games and movie nights had ended a long time ago, when he’d come home for a brief time and told his family he was training to become a SEAL.

  The news had landed the first fracture in his relationship with his sister. She railed against his new career direction, convinced he would die.

  He almost did.

  And maybe he survived just to prove her wrong.

  How fucked up was it that here he sat, alive and well, and she still rebelled? Or maybe she had really gotten sucked into a pattern pride hadn’t allowed her to get out of.

  Despite it all, he still wanted to save her. If for no other reason than so he would never have to look those two wounded kids in the eyes and tell them their mother was gone for good.

  Lack of information had him spinning his wheels. Not that it had been long, but in cases like these, trails went cold within hours.

  Not that he had a trail. Nope, not even close.

  Waiting for the traffic to clear, he locked his door before jogging across traffic and taking the steps into the office two at a time.

  He probably should have called. Now, with the last few minutes of the lunch hour fading away, he wondered if anyone would be in the office.

  Worried life would interfere or that if they found out from Tex about the turn his life had taken, they might look elsewhere, he decided if he wanted this, he needed to go after it.

  And the more he thought about the center and its purpose—he wanted it.

  Needed it.

  “Hello,” he called as he pushed open the door.

  Silence greeted him, but a female giggle drifted out from a back office, followed by a man’s low growl.

  His mind jumped back to Kinsley.

  He hadn’t missed the curves she hid under her business suit. He’d welcomed that initial sizzle of attraction as he caught the tumble of her loose, sun-streaked, tawny hair as it fell over her shoulder.

  Then suspicion crept in.

  And the truth of who and what she was only had him ashamed of his initial interest.

  People tended to disappoint him at every turn. Fingers crossed, that wouldn’t be the case with Dylan North.

  The man he’d heard in the back stepped into view, his hand going to the door as though he planned to close it, but before he could, he caught Zane’s gaze.

  “Hi, uh, sorry about that,” the guy said as he put a good couple feet between himself and his guest. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Dylan North,” Zane said.

  “And you found him,” Dylan said as he walked up with his hand out.

  “I’m Zane Crew. Our mutual friend, Tex, called me and said you were looking for a security guy.”

  Dylan smiled and clasped Zane’s hand, giving it a vigorous shake. “Yeah, man. Wow. We are, but he said some personal matters came up, and there might be a bit of a delay.”

  Zane’s chest tightened, and his pulse kicked up. He prided himself on keeping his private life separate from his professional one. “No delay; I’m ready to work,” he said with a firm shake of his head.

  Dylan’s shrewd gaze, a look Zane recognized as Navy-issued, roamed over Zane, taking him in, measuring him up, penetrating him as though he could see right through to Zane’s eagerness to get to work. “Let’s talk.”

  Zane’s shoulders unclenched a fraction, no longer pulled tight like commercial rubber bands pulled past their capabilities on the verge of snapping. “Sounds good.”

  “This lovely lady is my wife, Harlow,” Dylan said with a hand to the smiling woman’s lower back. Or ass.

  Zane sure as hell wasn’t going to examine it further to find out which.

  “Harlow, meet fellow SEAL, Zane Crew. If we’re lucky, he’s the security genius who’s going to handle the recovery center.”

  “Nice to meet you, Zane. I’m beginning to wonder how many of you SEALs are hiding out around here. Every time I turn around, another one seems to pop up.”

  “It’s the ocean, ma’am. It keeps calling us,” Zane said, amazed when he managed a smile. Most of the Navy friends he’d made, and kept distant relationships with, had moved close to the water they both craved and hated.

  For some of them, the draw of oceans, lakes, and rivers became an abyss into the pit of hell as well as their salvation.

  Like it had for him.

  “I’ll remember that,” she said with a laugh. “My husband doesn’t hand out genius labels lightly. You must have really impressed him.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know how, ma’am. We’ve only just met.”

  Dylan’s inquisitive eyes turned solemn. “You may not like to hear this”—he said with hesitation—“but you’re a legend in the Navy.” Because of his injuries. That’s what it always came down to. All the years, the grueling work, the sleepless nights, the days upon days of hunger to the point of hallucination to get the job done, the damaged relationships and missed opportunities at a family of his own, and his career boiled down to one fucking incident and not even how he’d survived it, but what the sons of bitches who’d captured him had done to him with the blade. “You’re right. I don’t like it.”

  “It’s the last I’ll speak of it.” Dylan scooped his wife into his arms. “I’ll see you later.” He kissed her soundly on the mouth.

  Zane’s lips twitched, and heat crawled up his neck.

  “I’m counting on it,” she said, pushing his chest with her palm. She turned a bright smile at him that had her eyes crinkling. The roadmap of her makeup-free, glowing face hinted at a woman well-loved who spent the majority of her days with her face alight with laughter and happiness. “Zane, nice to meet you.”

  “And you,” he murmured, nodding, a part of him he thought long-buried reaching out to capture a bit of the light she exuded.

  Dylan waited for her to quietly close the door behind her. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks,” Zane said, unsure of how to play this. He’d come in, the example of professionalism, but in just a couple minutes, professionalism had been wiped away, leaving him confused and looking at Dylan as more of a friend.

  Dylan folded his hands on his desk, his hair falling over raised brows. “Out of respect for your privacy, I didn’t mention it in front of my wife, but… how are your niece and nephew?”

  Zane gnashed his teeth. “Tex has a big mouth.”

  “We watch out for our brothers, and from what he tells me, you have much bigger shit going on in your life than worrying about our security system.”

  “If I stopped my life every time my sister had a crisis, I’d be lucky to have five dollars to my name and would be living under a bridge somewhere. I have to make a living.”

  Dylan laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Lying right to my face.”

  “You don’t think I need the job?” Zane challenged.

  “From the background check I ran, you could easily go lie on a beach somewhere with cold drinks in your hand and beautiful women at your feet for the next fifty or so years and not even come close to running out of money,” Dylan said as he scrubbed a hand along his chin.

  Exposed and reeling from it, he forced himself to temper the combative words wanting to launch from his lips. “I’m not sure how to feel about you checking up on me.”

  Dylan smiled like the cat to the mouse in the quest for capture. “Yes, you are. It pisses you off. And you would do the same damn thing if you were in my shoes.”

  “True,” Zane admitted.

  “Why the urgency to get down here today? Not that I don’t appreciate it. But you knew the job could wait. Money isn’t an issue. What’s driving you?”

  “Survivors can’t afford to wait. This is something I can do.”

  “And you’re powerless to help your sister,” Dylan said quietly.

  Zane shifted in his seat, hating the fact that Dylan read him so well. “I’m sure that’s part of it.”

  “I understand the anger that’s simmering just below your surface. My team, we’re unique in the way that every last one of us has lived through our loved ones’ lives being on the line.”

  “Not many understand it. Hell, my parents don’t even get it.”

  “No, most civilians don’t. It’s that balance we try to find in everyday life after having been something so much more that keeps us trapped in a sense of urgency most can’t possibly understand.”

  Zane only nodded, unable to find words. These were his people. They understood him to the core even if he never uttered a word. Powerful bonds wove them together forever, even if they’d never laid eyes on one another.

  “Harlow’s brother had our daughter kidnapped. Later, he snatched her again and held a gun to her head.”

  Zane’s fingers twitched on the armrest, but he kept his mouth shut. Really, what was there to say to that?

  I hope you killed the son of a bitch?

  “He’s dead,” Dylan said

  “I’m sure you didn’t have a choice,” Zane said.

  “I’m not the one who shot him. My wife did.”

  Zane whistled low between his teeth. “Wow, okay.”

  How many of the men on Dylan’s team found women just as fierce as Harlow? He had a feeling he would find out soon enough. The idea of having backup again, something he hadn’t had in a decade, hovered there on the fringes, and with just a taste of what it might be like, became something he longed for the way a junkie craved his next fix.

  “So as you can see, we’ve been there. Now, let’s get down to it. I need security, and you’re the best man for the job. But I need your head clear. That’s not going to happen until your sister is found.”

  “Are you suggesting I can’t do my job?”

  “Not at all. But you’re doing a disservice to those kids if you spread yourself too thin right now.”

  The truth of Dylan’s words taunted him, but he couldn’t deny it. “Probably.”

  “Then let’s do something about it. Let’s find your sister,” Dylan said as he headed for a filing cabinet, more specifically a folder that sat on top.

  “You must like needles in haystacks,” Zane said, deadpan.

  “Love ‘em,” Dylan said, tapping the corner of the manila folder on his palm.

  “Tex is already working on it. What little there is to go over,” Zane said.

  “That’s good, and he should keep scouring. In the meantime, my doing a background check on you and noting your address might have given us a bit more to work. It just so happens I had a guy in that area last night doing some PI work. He made note of every vehicle that rolled through the area, vehicle descriptions, license plate numbers, and a dash cam video.”

  Zane slid to the edge of his seat.

  “Can any of that be a help to you?” Dylan asked.

  “Every last bit of it,” Zane said, reaching for the folder.

  Dylan held it back. “Let’s start with the video,” he said, aiming a remote at the flat screen on the far wall. “Tex said your sister was taken just after eleven. Do you know how she got there?”

  “I figured an Uber, Lyft, or taxi. She doesn’t have a car anymore,” Zane said, his foot tapping as he waited for the footage to come up.

  “What happened when she got there?” Dylan asked, cueing the footage.

  “She beat on my door like the hounds of hell were snarling at her ass,” Zane said.

  “So she was followed. We should see her hired car and whoever was following her just minutes before she arrived at your place. My guy, Cole, you’ll meet him later, he was parked on the corner of Jade Way and Keeton Avenue, the likely way your sister would have headed to your place if the map is any indication. Does that sound right?”

  “Yeah, especially with the construction on the other side of the development. Part of the road is gone where they’re digging drainage. Residents know it. Drivers for hire would likely know it, too,” Zane said.

  “Okay, let’s start ten minutes or so ahead of when she knocked on your door and see what we get.”

  Zane studied the grainy video still so much clearer than most cameras would capture, but he had something better, and so help him, if they managed to capture something on this footage that could help him get his sister back, he’d make sure they had a hundred of the high-tech night cams he’d designed for surveillance.

  Two cars rolled past and pulled down Jade Way. A few minutes later, another followed along Keeton and right past his street.

  Not that he minded, but his corner of Lake Forest didn’t have a whole lot going on which made screening video tedious, ratcheting up an already overabundance of impatience on his part.

  Next a sedan rolled through, and the streetlamp cast just enough glow on the side to reveal signage on the door, potentially the company name and number of a cab company. “Right there!” Zane said, pushing to his feet and heading for the screen. “Did you see that?”

  “Yeah,” Dylan said, making a note.

  “Pause it!” Zane said, getting as close as he could. “That’s the car.”

  “You’re sure?” Dylan asked, making another note and picking up his cell.

  “Yeah. I didn’t think about it until just now, but look. There. I thought it was the light that night, but it looks like there’s a dent in the rear panel near the door.”

  “Okay,” Dylan said, restarting the video. “And look at that, no plate.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah, but that’s more than we had—wait. He’s pulling over,” Dylan said.

  The guys stepped out and pulled black ski masks over their faces.

  But not before the camera caught both of their profiles. “Is it enough?” Zane said, his gaze locked on the paused screen.

  “It’ll take a bit of time, but yeah, it’s enough,” Dylan said with a confident nod.

  “I want them dead,” Zane said as hatred pumped like venom through his blood.

  Dylan nodded as he stepped up next to him. “That’s the likely scenario.”

  Chapter 6

  Zane pulled into his driveway and winced at the clock. By the time he’d met with Dylan and battled traffic both ways, he’d been gone for almost four hours.

  Before he’d left Fierce, he’d met two of the other guys who worked with Dylan, Evan and Slyder, and liked them both immediately.

  Without trying, without really wanting it, their tight circle had managed to pull him into their orbit. Zane had the distinct feeling that Dylan wouldn’t mind pulling him into the fold altogether, something Zane didn’t even know if he was capable of.

  Mindful of the kids, he quietly opened the door, the image of them huddling next to the couch all too fresh in his tired mind.

  “I’m home,” he said, the words awkward and ridiculous on his tongue.

  “In the dining room,” Grace called.

  He headed toward the back of the house and found them huddled together playing Go Fish with a cooling rack of cookies and partially full glasses of milk surrounding them.

  The light scent of warm sugar and butter lingered in the air. The timer on his wall oven counted down another three minutes.

  “Are you hungry? These are warm, but if you prefer them hot out of the oven, the last pan will be coming out soon,” Grace offered.

  Brielle looked toward him but refused to make eye contact. He’d swear she shook where she sat pressed against her brother.

  He didn’t do sugar, but if it could possibly ease her fear, he’d suck down cookies by the fistful.

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