“This is not your fault. This is mine. She told me what would happen.” His wife was a brilliant profiler and what had he done? He’d ignored her work because he’d been so much smarter. He’d arrogantly told her she was wrong on this one. “She told me not to do that interview. She told me to keep this little war between us private, but I thought I could get him to come out of hiding.”
He’d been an idiot, going on a national show and basically calling the man out as a coward. He’d been tracking Evans for years, and after the last clinic bombing took the lives of four people, Alex lost all patience. Evans’s latest target was in Alex’s backyard, right in DC. He’d felt impotent, useless, so he’d tried to call the man out. He’d been willing to try anything.
“He came out of hiding all right.” Warren shook his head, his face pale.
“I thought he would come after me, damn it. He was supposed to come after me.” His hands were shaking. He couldn’t stop shaking. He needed to get himself under control. “Michael Evans was supposed to want to kill me. I was the bait.”
But Michael Evans, homegrown terrorist extraordinaire, hadn’t gone for Alex’s throat. Oh, no, he’d gone for something much worse. The man Alex had been hunting for the majority of his FBI career had raped his wife and tossed her to the side of the road like garbage.
Evans is likely to play with his prey. He prefers to cause the maximum amount of pain to his enemies as evidenced in the brutal deaths of several men he believed to have betrayed him, but there is a certain honor to the games he plays. Up until now, he hasn’t come after you personally because you’ve kept this in the Bureau. If you do this interview, he’s very likely to come after you. He’ll see it as a declaration of war. Please don’t do this. You can find another way to catch him.
He could still hear her pleading with him. She’d been terrified that Evans would kill him. She must have been scared when she realized Evans hadn’t come for him. He’d come for her.
Warren turned his head up. “I’ve called Eddie. He said if there’s anything he can do, any way he can ease the way for the two of you, he won’t hesitate to call in a couple of favors. We can get her the best room in the hospital. We can make sure the press stays off her. We’re here for you.”
Warren’s brother was a senator. He had serious pull. There was talk of him going for the nomination during the next election cycle. But none of it mattered. Warren’s political pull wouldn’t make Eve’s pain go away. Nothing could. Alex felt his fists clench. “How long before she’s out of surgery?”
“An hour or so. Sit down, man. It’s going to be a while.” Warren gestured to the chair beside him.
He shook his head. He couldn’t sit. He couldn’t wait. He’d been waiting for days. He couldn’t do it anymore. He pulled out his cell. There was exactly one person who could put him at ease. “I’ll be back. I have to make a call.”
He stepped away. He felt calmer now. Sitting and waiting would only make him crazy. He needed to do something. He dialed a familiar number.
A low voice came over the line. “This is Taggart.”
His best friend. His rock. Ian had flown in the minute Alex called. He’d dropped everything and been in DC before dawn. He’d used his high-level contacts to get Sean a leave of absence as well. Apparently it paid to work for the CIA. Ian kept his connection to the Agency quiet, even from his brother, but Alex knew that Ian worked as a spy. He needed Ian now more than ever. “Ian, I have to find him. I have to bring him in.”
“Did you find Eve?”
“Evans tossed her out of a moving car. She’s alive, but she’s in surgery.” He would know all the gruesome details later. “Ian, you know I have to find him.”
He needed to start making up for his mistakes. He needed to make sure Eve was safe.
“I’ll help you.” Ian’s voice didn’t falter. Like the man himself, it was steady and firm.
His hands stopped shaking as Ian started to talk about his plans. This, at least, was something he could control.
Eve opened her eyes. The world was still groggy, hazy.
She stiffened immediately, waiting for the next blow.
“Eve, you’re home. You’re here. It’s Alex. I’m here with you, angel.” Alex’s voice brought her out of the last vestiges of her panic.
How long had she been with Michael Evans? According to the police, it was only a week. Seven days of pain and humiliation. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. It wasn’t so long when compared to a whole life, so how was it those hours felt like an eternity?
She’d been in the hospital for two days. She forced herself to count the time. It brought her back to reality. This was day three, the third day of the rest of her life, and she was home.
“Can I get you anything?” Alex shuffled his papers around. So many papers and phone calls. It was all he did anymore. He shuffled papers around and talked to people on the phone and sat by her bedside.
He wouldn’t get in bed with her. She was too fragile, he claimed. He didn’t want to jostle her in his sleep so he didn’t seem to sleep anymore.