“It’s all computerized, and on the end, where you hold it, is a sensor. If the person’s pulse is too elevated or the skin temperature is off the normal body heat by more than a degree, access is denied.”

Sam shook his head. “Your father was a paranoid bastard.”

“He liked to think he was careful and thought of every eventuality. He didn’t trust anyone. But he was also arrogant. He had such a tight security net around him at all times that he thought himself invincible. He didn’t think anyone could touch him.”

“Motherfucking God complex,” Donovan muttered.

Sophie looked up to see that Donovan and Garrett had gathered, as had the man she assumed was their brother Ethan.

She nodded. “In some ways he did consider himself a god. Not a deity. He wasn’t a religious man. He had no tolerance for what couldn’t be touched or seen. He considered religion a weakness, and he was all about strength or what he perceived as strength.”

“How the hell did you ever have the nerve to go up against him?” Garrett asked. “You said you shot him, but how?”

She looked down at her hands. “It’s nothing to brag about. I’m not proud of what I did. I did it for selfish reasons. I’m not a noble person.”

Sam’s hand slid under her chin and tilted it upward until she met his gaze.

“I disagree,” he said in a quiet voice that almost shook. “You’re risking your life for a woman you don’t know. That makes you pretty goddamn noble in my book.”

His hand tightened as if just saying the words were unbearable.

“You’ll find a way to keep me safe,” she said.

Those weren’t just words meant to reassure. She believed them. And she wanted him to know that.

Ethan stepped forward and put his hand down to Sophie. “I’m Ethan, Sam’s younger brother. I’ll be going with you to Rock Springs.”

She gingerly slid her hand into his. “I’m Sophie.”

He smiled, and it was startling to see someone who so closely resembled Garrett smiling.

“I know who you are. My brother’s told me a lot about you.”

Steele walked up and touched Sam on the arm. “We’re ready to move. Trucks are here, helicopters are waiting, and the jet is fueled.”

Her stomach balled into a knot, and she lowered her hands to her lap so no one would see how bad they shook. The key pressed into her palm, and the leather strip that had secured it to her father’s neck lay limply across her leg. Deep red splotches stained one side. Her father’s blood.

The key had been her insurance policy, but now it was the only thing that stood between Marlene Kelly and certain death. When she gave it up, unless Sam and his men were able to completely bring down her uncle’s network, she’d wear a target on her back for the rest of her life. However long it lasted.

Sam reached for her hand and pulled her up to stand beside him. His eyes found hers and he touched her cheek in a tender gesture.

Then he let his hand fall away and tugged her into the protective circle of his men as they walked out of the hospital.

THEY were climbing into the SUVs when a black sedan roared toward them. The clatter of guns was deafening as every single one of Sam’s men took cover and aimed at the approaching vehicle. It screeched to a halt a few feet from where Sam stood and Sam shoved Sophie into the backseat.

“Stay down,” he barked.

He drew his Glock as the door to the car opened and Resnick popped out, hands in the air. Without waiting for a summons, he strode determinedly toward Sam, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Goddamn it, Adam, I told you to stay the fuck out of our way,” Sam said through gritted teeth. He purposely didn’t order his men to put down their weapons.

Resnick was smoking like a chimney, and he yanked the cigarette out of his mouth. “I need five minutes of your time, Sam.”

“I don’t have five minutes. Get out of my way, Adam.”

“You’re on a goddamn suicide mission, Sam. Goddamn it, listen to me!”

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he lowered his pistol. “What the fuck do you know about where we’re going?”

Resnick blew out an agitated puff of smoke, then threw the still glowing cigarette to the pavement. It skittered away in a shower of sparks.

“It doesn’t take a genius. I have access to more sophisticated satellite imagery than you do. Mouton has moved a fucking army into West Texas. Your men are good, Sam. The best. But are you prepared to take on a goddamn army?”

“What are you proposing?” Sam demanded.

“I have two teams mobilized and en route to Del Rio. They’ll coordinate with you.”

“Look,” Garrett broke in impatiently. “If you’re going to talk, do it on the road. We’ve got to make tracks.”

Sam jerked a thumb at Resnick. “Get in.”

Resnick hurried around to the passenger seat and jumped in next to Garrett. Sam slid in next to Sophie, who was staring at Resnick like he was a snake.

Sam reached for Sophie and pulled her close as Garrett roared out of the parking lot. “Don’t worry,” he murmured in her ear.

Resnick turned in his seat to look at Sam. His gaze drifted over to Sophie, and a look of true regret sparked in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for what happened before, Sophie. I never intended to frighten you.”

Some of the tension faded, and she relaxed against Sam’s side.

“Now, what the hell have you got planned?” Sam asked Adam.

“You’d be walking into a massacre,” Resnick said. “A goddamn massacre. It looks like he’s pulled in all his men and maybe some mercenaries as well. Who the fuck knows what third world country owes him enough favors that they’d supply him with military power. There’s probably a dozen.”

“Son of a bitch,” Sam swore. “He’s got my mother. He wants to trade her for Sophie. That’s not going to happen. Our only hope is to go in and take him out.”

Resnick nodded and stuck a cigarette into his mouth, though he didn’t make a move to light it. He removed it at intervals just like he was smoking it, and his hands shook in agitation. He’d always been a high-strung son of a bitch.

“You know what I think of you and your men, Sam. But you can’t do this. You’re outnumbered at least four to one. You need to let me even the odds. I have two black ops teams staged and ready to go. They’re the best.”

“And what do you get out of this?” Sam asked bluntly.

Resnick found his gaze and met it head-on, his eyes glittering with determination. “I want him taken down by any means necessary. Who does it is of no consequence, and if I can aid in that goal, then I’ll do what it takes.” His gaze swept to Sophie and then back to Sam. “Alex is dead, isn’t he?”

Sam gave a short nod.

Resnick’s eyes narrowed. “Who killed him?”

Sophie stiffened beside Sam, but he didn’t react. “Does it matter?” he asked calmly.

Resnick shook his head and tore the cigarette from his mouth again. “No. No, it doesn’t matter at all as long as the bastard is gone.”

Sam looked at Garrett, who stared back at him in the rearview mirror. For a moment the two brothers didn’t say anything and then Sam finally turned back to Resnick.

“We’ll meet your men in Del Rio. They don’t go in, they do nothing without my say-so, is that understood? Everything goes according to our plan. My mother and Sophie are to be protected at all costs.”

Resnick nodded. “I understand. I got it. I’ll make the call.”

Sam relaxed and rubbed his hand up and down Sophie’s arm. “Thanks, Adam. We appreciate the help.”

“Don’t thank me. Just nail that bastard to the wall. That’s my thanks.”

THEY arrived in Del Rio at nightfall. The Kelly jet landed on a bumpy patch of flat soil that had been commandeered by Resnick’s teams. They flew in dark, and Sophie’s fingers left a permanent imprint on Sam’s hands. When they finally rolled to a stop, she sagged like a deflated balloon.

“Rio and Steele are on the ground already. I’ve notified them of the change in head count. They’re awaiting our orders,” Garrett said as he ducked through the exit and made quick work of the steps.

He waited at the bottom and reached for Sophie, who preceded Sam from the plane. Garrett set her on her feet and stared at Sam in the dark. Resnick, Donovan and Ethan followed close behind.

“Adam Resnick?”

The voice filtered through the small group like a ghost. They all turned rapidly, drawing their weapons.

“Kyle Phillips, United States Marine Corps, sir. My men are here and awaiting your orders.”

“Show yourself, soldier,” Resnick said.

There was only a slight shift in the air, and then a dark figure appeared next to Resnick.

Resnick didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“Phillips, this is Sam Kelly and his brothers, Garrett, Donovan and Ethan. You’ll be taking orders from them. This is their mission, but it’s your job to make damn sure they don’t fail.”

“Yes, sir.”

Phillips turned to Sam and extended his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Sam took his hand and gave it a quick shake. “I appreciate you and your men coming, Phillips. What information do you have for me?”

“If you’ll come with me, sir, we have vehicles waiting, a quarter mile over that hill. I’ll give you the report when we’re inside.”

Sam took Sophie’s hand and Garrett, Donovan and Ethan fell in, surrounding Sophie as they hurried after Phillips. When they reached the line of SUVs, Sam and Sophie got into the vehicle with Phillips and Garrett, while Resnick, Donovan and Ethan got into another.

“We’ve had the target under surveillance for the last six hours. There was a flurry of movement that ended two hours ago with what we believe was the arrival of his last influx of arms. We have two teams surrounding the house and they’re setting explosives now.”

“Have they seen my mother?” Sam asked.

“Negative, sir. There hasn’t been much movement in the house, and without a man inside, it’s tough to see. It was built with defense in mind. No large open windows, few doors, etcetera. Most of the movement has been on the perimeter. They’re preparing for war. I have three snipers. We’ll position them to do the most damage we can before going in.”

“War is what they’re going to get,” Garrett muttered.

“Excellent,” Sam said. “I put my two best sharpshooters for the meeting with Mouton. We could use more around the perimeter.”

“We’re damn good at what we do, sir. I want you to know that. We won’t let you down.”

For the first time since this whole bloody business had begun, Sam felt a kernel of relief. He lived and died by his faith in the U.S. military and special ops. There weren’t better men anywhere in the world, and he was damn glad to have them with him now.

“I’ll need you to brief your men on what’s going down,” Sam said.

“Yes, sir.”

“And I want whatever information you’ve got on the facility and the number of men and their position. I need to know every inch of this place before we go in. You’ll coordinate with Steele and Rio, my team leaders. They’ll have the field. My brothers and I are taking Sophie to make the exchange for my mother.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you, Phillips. I appreciate it.”

“No thanks necessary, sir. It’s my job.”

Yeah, a job. He wished that’s all it fucking was this time. Just a job.

CHAPTER 28

IT didn’t feel right. None of it felt right. Sam eyed his surroundings as the SUV rolled up the winding, dusty road that led to the front gate of Mouton’s spread.

Garrett drove and Resnick, who’d insisted on coming along and adding his manpower, rode shotgun. Sophie was squeezed between Sam and Donovan in the middle seat, while Ethan rode in the back.

He glanced sideways at Sophie’s pale features and saw grim determination in the set of her mouth. Over her thin shirt she wore a Kevlar vest that Sam himself had secured around her small frame. Hell, he’d wanted to cover her from head to toe with body armor. He wanted no part of her unprotected. What if something went horribly wrong? How could he ever forgive himself if something happened to her or their child?

He was sorely tempted to tell Garrett to turn around so he could take Sophie back. As if sensing his turmoil, Sophie slid her fingers through his and turned her head to gaze up at him. She squeezed and smiled, and that small reassurance hit him in the gut.

He was a damn fraud. It was his job—his duty—to protect his family, and yet it was Sophie who was determined to protect them all.

He squeezed her hand back, all the words he wanted to say trapped in his throat. He forced his thoughts to the situation at hand.