It was definitely her.

When she’d settled inside and the limo pulled out onto the street, Dakota followed. A few turns and twenty-one minutes later, the car stopped in front of a run-down building on a deserted street.

When Lucky Malone climbed out of the car, Dakota’s attention zeroed in on her. She had a killer body. Even the conservative dress pants couldn’t hide a backside like that. The equally modest blouse tightened over nicely rounded breasts as she moved. She said something to the driver before closing the door, then seemed to brace herself before entering the building.

Dakota slid out of his truck and hustled to the other end of the alley. It was quiet, until a low roar put him on alert. The roar grew louder until a dark sedan skidded to a stop between him and Malone’s limo.

The sedan’s front doors flew open. Two men bailed out and rushed Malone’s car. Dakota heard two unmistakable sounds. Silenced gunshots.

A new kind of tension ignited in Dakota’s veins.

A hit team. The driver was dead…and Malone would be next.

Damaged
Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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This book is dedicated to the sweetest little boy,

Dakota Bailey, and his awesome mom, Lynn Bailey.

I’m so glad you’re family.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Debra Webb wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain and within the confining political walls of Berlin, Germany, that she realized her true calling. A five-year stint with NASA on the space shuttle program reinforced her love of the endless possibilities within her grasp as a storyteller. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Debra has been writing romantic suspense and action-packed romantic thrillers since. Visit her at www.DebraWebb.com or write to her at P.O. Box 4889, Huntsville, AL 35815.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Dakota Garrett—Former military, Garrett is a member of the new Equalizers. His only concern is getting the job done.

Lucky Malone—Brand-new at the Colby Agency, a quick errand for Lucas Camp combined with a secret she must keep for Victoria Colby-Camp draws Lucky into a race for her own life as well as Victoria’s.

Dr. Lionel Byrd—He has turned the secretive Byrd Institute into a place that inspires fear. Only one person has ever escaped his special method of treatment. Byrd will do anything to ensure Dakota Garrett doesn’t escape again.

Victoria Colby-Camp—Victoria is facing possibly the biggest challenge of her life. Can she protect those she loves or will fate prove a foe she cannot defeat?

Lucas Camp—He is certain the new owner of the Equalizers is up to something dangerous…something that involves the Colby Agency. Can he find the truth in time to protect those he loves?

Jim Colby—When he sold the Equalizers to an unnamed buyer, he had his doubts. Has he made a mistake he will live to regret?

Ian Michaels and Simon Ruhl—The Colby Agency’s seconds-in-command.

Mildred Ballard—Victoria’s personal assistant. She never misses a day at the agency and Victoria has no secrets from Mildred. Mildred never imagined that a rare day at the spa would take her from the office at a time when the schemes of two men would coalesce into a dangerous game where Victoria’s life is the prize.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter One

Chicago

Thursday, June 2,

6:15 a.m.

Dakota Garrett waited in the darkness.

The garage smelled faintly of gasoline and oil. The mark evidently preferred servicing his vehicles at home. He didn’t look the type in his meticulously pressed suits and little bow ties. How many high-level accountants could, much less would, change the oil in the family sedan? Only one terrified of trusting another with any aspect of the family vehicle’s operation.

Darnell Raspberry manipulated and supervised every asset possessed by his boss, Devon Wallace—the single most powerful man in the Midwest. Wallace had built an empire of wealth and power during the latter half of his life. Too bad he’d started using innocent people as his stepping stones. One of those people had come to the Equalizers for help. Wallace operated above the law. And, thus far, no one had been able to stop him.

It wasn’t Dakota’s job to stop Wallace. He could care less about the man or his activities. At some point in the past half decade he’d stopped analyzing right from wrong. Dakota’s singular goal was to accomplish his mission.

Get the job done.

What else was there? For him…nothing.

Anger whispered through him, making his jaw clench. Dakota pushed it away. The past was the past. Dead and gone. Emphasis on the dead. He operated in the moment and only in the moment.

Justice could be served outside a courtroom. That was sufficient for Dakota’s conscience.

The door leading from the kitchen of the Raspberry home to the dark garage opened. Dakota braced for action.

Darnell Raspberry stepped into the garage and carefully locked the door behind him. The three quiet tones that followed assured him that he’d properly set the home’s elaborate security system.

The makers obviously hadn’t counted on someone like Dakota Garrett needing to get past their so-called state-of-the-art system. For him, cutting off the link to the home’s attached garage had been as effortless as taking his next breath. Raspberry had no clue that a cold, harsh reality waited for him just a few steps away.

Raspberry rounded the hood of his two-door hybrid, the one he used for traveling to and from work. Nothing pricey, not at all like the fine home attached to the double-car garage or the luxury sedan he’d purchased for his family. The garage’s overhead light as well as the interior one in the vehicle stayed dark as Raspberry climbed into the driver’s seat. The smart little accountant had thought of everything. He had a careful routine. Don’t turn on the light. Start the engine and hit the remote. Barrel out of the garage and close the door.

His goal was simple: protect his nice little family.

Didn’t matter that his boss ruined the lives of nice little families every day.

The hybrid’s engine started. Dakota pushed away from the wall. Until the vehicle shifted out of Park, both doors would remain unlocked. Dakota had the passenger-side door open before the unsuspecting man had time to blink or to shift into Reverse.

Dakota pressed the muzzle of his weapon to Raspberry’s pale temple. “Drive to the office as usual,” he ordered, “and we won’t have a problem.”

Raspberry’s eyes bulged with fear. The faint lighting from the dash allowed him a peek at Dakota from the corners of his eyes. “What do you want?”

Dakota breathed a chuckle. “To make an honest man out of you, Darnell.”

“I…” Raspberry swallowed hard. “I don’t understand.”

“Just drive.” Dakota applied a bit more pressure.

“No.”

The protest surprised Dakota. He hadn’t figured the man for the gutsy type. “Fine. We’ll just do this right here.”

A gasp imprisoned the accountant’s breath. “But…but my family…” “Still asleep in their beds.” Dakota knew precisely where each member of the Raspberry family was at the moment. East and west ends of the second floor. The master suite was actually on the first, but the wife didn’t like being so far away from the kiddies. She and the two kids didn’t rise until seven.

“What do you want?” Raspberry asked again.

“To take care of business without having to bother with the nasty business of killing anyone.”

“My family has nothing to do with my work,” the accountant argued, his confidence seeming to build since Dakota hadn’t put a bullet in his brain just yet. “They’re completely innocent.”

Impatience nudged Dakota. “True, but, as you well know, innocence matters little in the grand scheme of things. Now, let’s go.”

Raspberry’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “What if I refuse?”

Well, well, more of that unexpected bravado. “Then I’ll have to go in there and drum up a little motivation.” Dakota grunted his regret. “I never did like to frighten small children.” He leaned close to the man who was his mark. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t do my very best if necessary.”

“All right. All right.” Hand shaking, Raspberry tapped the garage door remote pinned to his sun visor and shifted the vehicle into Reverse.

“Very good, Darnell.”

As soon as he’d backed into the drive, Raspberry hit the remote again, closing the garage door. Once in the street, he pointed the hybrid in the direction of the Wallace Building.

“You’ll never get past security,” Raspberry charged. “The Wallace Building has the best security available.”

Dakota smiled. “I won’t have to get past security. We’ll enter the building from the parking garage, just like you do every morning. You arrive well before anyone else so it’ll be just the two of us.”

Raspberry shifted in his seat, fear and tension obviously making him uncomfortable. “What about the video surveillance? Security will see you in the garage.”

Dakota lowered his weapon, but kept a bead on the rattled man. “Details, details. You don’t need to concern yourself with those. All you have to do is exactly what I tell you.”

The fact was Dakota had planned for that nuisance. Security would indeed capture him arriving in the parking garage with Raspberry. And when the two of them boarded the elevator, Dakota would scan an authorized entry badge. Security might not know the face or the name, but they wouldn’t be able to deny the approved access. Questions would be asked later, but Dakota would be long gone by then.

“You’ll never get away with this.” Raspberry shook his head. “The police will have your description. Your face will be all over the news. You’ll be a wanted man.”

“Probably.” Dakota wasn’t the slightest bit worried. The face the security cameras would record was not one that could ever be connected to Dakota Garrett. His mother had never been a true mother to Dakota, but she had passed on to him an invaluable asset—the art of disguise.

A lifetime ago.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The bravado had vanished. If Raspberry’s voice had been any smaller it would have been inaudible.

“Not unless I have to.” No point lying to the man.

“What’re you going to do?”

Dakota leaned in close to the driver again, making him shudder in fear. “I’m going to take back what your boss stole from his clients.”

Raspberry seemed to chew on that for a moment. “One of Mr. Wallace’s competitors sent you,” he accused. “I should have known.”

“Nope.” Dakota relaxed into the seat. “I have no affiliations with any of his competitors.”

“You’re a thief.” A nuance of anger shadowed the words.

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Mr. Wallace will hunt you down and make you pay.”

“He’ll try.”

“He’ll kill me.” Raspberry’s voice quaked.

“Possibly.” Even the best resources were at times tossed away. Wallace wouldn’t hesitate to find him self another accountant. Finding one as talented as Mr. Raspberry might take some time though. “That’s why,” Dakota offered, “when we’re done I would rush home, pack up my little family and disappear.”

Raspberry shot him a look. “How am I supposed to do that? You can’t give me witness protection.”

Dakota shrugged. “True. But that nest egg you’ve been building all these years should take care of you and your family quite nicely for the rest of your lives. You’re a man of above-average intelligence, I’m certain you’ll find the perfect place to become invisible.”

Raspberry had no rebuttal for Dakota’s suggestions.

Downtown Chicago came into view. They were close now. Dakota checked his wristwatch. Right on time.

“This is insane. You’ll never get away with this.”

“I guess we’ll know soon enough.” The subject had grown boring.

“If he doesn’t have you exterminated like a bug,” Raspberry warned, “you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison.”

Dakota had to laugh at that one. “I don’t think your boss is going to call the police.”

“He…he…” Raspberry’s face turned as red as the succulent fruit his forefathers had no doubt grown, earning the surname. “He has friends in high places in law enforcement.”

“An official investigation is the last thing your boss would want,” Dakota countered. “I’m certain you’re aware of the extent to which he goes in order to cover his illegal activities.” Raspberry was a master at fixing the books. Wallace had experts all around him, shielding his every move. He wouldn’t like this one little bit, but unless he could resolve it without involving the police, he would take it like a loss in the stock market. This was the risk one took when gambling with the highest stakes.

“Who are you?” Raspberry braked at a light and dared to meet Dakota’s eyes.

Dakota could tell him that he was an Equalizer and that he was here to equalize the situation, but he wouldn’t. “I’m the man who’s giving you a chance to do the right thing, Darnell.”

“It’s probably the last thing I’ll do,” he mumbled.

Possibly. That, too, was the chance a man took when he chose the dark side.

Dakota knew this from experience.

Problem was, once a man crossed that line, finding his way back was not a straight or an easy path. The line was blurred, the way obscured.

And nothing ever looked the same through the haze that lingered after that waltz on the dark side.

Not even in the bright light of day.

Chapter Two

Colby Agency

6:45 a.m.

Lucky Malone stopped on the sidewalk and peered up at the gleaming building before her. Her pulse scrambled with the pounding in her chest.

She really worked here.

A smile spread across her lips.

The Colby Agency.

Her life was perfect now.

Absolutely perfect.

“You’ll get over that soon enough.”

Lucky turned to the man who’d spoken. Lucas Camp. The Lucas Camp. She recaptured the breath that had rushed from her lungs at the sound of his voice and her lips stretched back into that big smile without any prompting. “Good morning, Mr. Camp.” Good grief, she must look like a total idiot standing out here staring up at the building this way.

His wise gray eyes glittered with mirth but his lips never even twitched. “Good morning, Ms. Malone.” He gave her a quick once-over and nodded in approval. “You look fully prepared to launch into your second week on the job with Victoria.”

“I’m looking forward to the challenge, sir.”

For one long moment he studied her, as if assessing the comment.

Fear banded around her chest. “I mean the opportunity. I’m looking forward to the opportunity.”

This time Mr. Camp smiled. “I know what you mean.” He touched a hand to her elbow. “Come along and let’s see if Mildred has a pot of her famous coffee brewed already. Maybe Simon or Ian showed up with donuts.”

“That would be nice.” Lucky had to work extra hard to keep those donuts and pastries she loved from showing on her hips. There was nothing in the world like a warm, gooey, sweet donut with coffee.

She entered the lobby with Mr. Camp. Flashing a smile for security as she passed, she boarded the waiting elevator car. Mr. Camp stepped in right behind her and selected the fourth floor, then propped against the wall as the car bumped into motion.

A knot of fear abruptly twisted in Lucky’s stomach.

She would never, not in a bazillion years, be able to make a pot of coffee the way Mildred did. Lucky bit her lip. Maybe she could buy the coffee across the street at Maggie’s Coffee House and then pretend she’d made it.

Mildred Ballard, Victoria’s personal assistant, single-handedly kept the office running smoothly. She knew the assignments of every investigator on staff. Not to mention their birthdays, anniversaries and kids’ names. She worked magic with travel arrangements. And her coffee was famous.

Lucky would never be that good at any of those things.

Anxiety inched its way up her spine.

She wanted to keep this job.

If she proved good enough, maybe one day she would be a Colby agent. That was her ultimate goal. Meanwhile, she was starting out as Mildred’s backup.

The elevator doors slid open to an empty lobby on the fourth floor. Other than the top echelon of investigators, most of the staff didn’t arrive until seven-thirty—unless there was a special meeting.

As Lucky walked side by side with Lucas Camp along the main corridor, the realization that he had arrived at the office without Victoria took primacy above all the other thoughts whirling around in Lucky’s head.

“Mrs. Colby-Camp isn’t coming into the office today?” Lucky wouldn’t have to be so worried about making a mistake while shadowing Mildred if that were the case.

“She’s having breakfast with a friend this morning,” Mr. Camp said as he held open the staff lounge door. The fragrant smell of coffee greeted them.

Lucky nodded. “Oh.”

Being the consummate gentleman, Mr. Camp poured Lucky then himself a cup of Mildred’s amazing coffee. “You know, Lucky,” he said, his expression thoughtful, “I could use a small favor this morning.” He picked up his cup of coffee, sipped it and hummed his approval.

Anticipation zinged Lucky. “Absolutely, sir. Anything you need.” Slow down, Lucky. Don’t act like a fan-girl. She cleared her throat. “I’m happy to be of service.” Better.

“Let’s go to my office.”

Lucas Camp’s office sat directly across the hall from Victoria’s intimate waiting room. Mildred had told Lucky that the office Lucas now used had been an additional supply room, but one would never know it. Sophisticated was the first word to come to mind as Lucky entered the spacious office. A massive mahogany desk dominated the space. One wall was lined with distinguished-looking books, while another showcased numerous accolades, some of which were signed by the president himself. Like Victoria’s office, his desk sat before an enormous window with an inspiring view. Two upholstered chairs waited in grand style before his desk.

Mr. Camp unlocked his desk and retrieved a small package. About the size of a jeweler’s box, one made for a necklace or bracelet, the package was wrapped in brown paper. He passed it across his desk. Lucky shifted her coffee to her left hand and accepted the package.

She smiled. “A special occasion coming up?”

“You could say that,” he answered without the slightest hint of discernible sentiment in his voice.

Lucky didn’t make too much of his noncommittal tone or his unreadable expression. A man like Lucas Camp didn’t give away what was on his mind unless he wanted to. A lifetime of working under deep cover with the CIA had made him an expert in covert operations and interrogations and a lot of other stuff Lucky couldn’t begin to name, much less understand.

“I’d like you to take the package to an old friend of mine,” he explained.

Lucky’s pulse started that erratic race again. “An old friend?”

He scribbled something onto a notepad then tore off the page. “Here’s the address. My friend is expecting the package this morning.”

“I understand, sir.” She glanced at the address. It was not one she recognized.

“I’m sure the area is unfamiliar to you so take a taxi,” Mr. Camp suggested. “Have the driver wait. You’ll only be a moment.”

“Do I need a receipt as proof of delivery?” She wanted to do this right. Keeping Lucas Camp happy would be an important step up the ladder at the agency.

“There will be a verbal message,” Mr. Camp explained. “The message is the only receipt I need.”

“Yes, sir.” Lucky turned to go but then hesitated. “Your friend’s name is…?” She certainly didn’t want to make the mistake of leaving the package with the wrong person. Honestly, she didn’t want to make any kind of mistake at all.

“Jennifer.”

“Okay.” Lucky had just assumed the friend was another man. Good thing she asked. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

“Report back to me as soon as you’ve made the drop,” Mr. Camp said as she exited his office.

Lucky nodded. “Yes, sir.”

She crossed the hall to inform Mildred that she had an errand, but Victoria’s waiting room was empty, as was her office.

Lucky headed for the lounge to see if Mildred might be whipping up another pot of her amazing coffee. No Mildred in the lounge. Confused, she turned back toward Mildred’s office.

“Lucky, there you are.”

She kicked aside her confusion and posted a smile for Simon Ruhl, one of the agency’s top investigators. He and Ian Michaels served as seconds-in-command to Victoria and her son, Jim. “Good morning, Mr. Ruhl.” Wow, she was popular this morning.

Simon offered his usual friendly smile. “I just wanted to let you know that Mildred won’t be back in the office until later this afternoon. She dropped by to make coffee, but then rushed away more giddy than I’ve seen her in ages.” He smiled. “She’s having a makeover, compliments of Victoria.”

“Nice.” Lucky hoped that wasn’t something she was supposed to know already. Mildred hadn’t mentioned the appointment. “Is it Mildred’s birthday?”

Simon shook his head. “Her wedding anniversary is this week. Victoria wanted her to take the whole day off but Mildred insisted on stopping by and tying up any loose ends before leaving on her long weekend.”

Tying up loose ends was just another way of saying she wanted to make sure Lucky was prepared for her short absence.

“That’s really nice,” she said to Mr. Ruhl. All the more reason she felt immensely fortunate for having landed this position. The Colby Agency was like one big family. “I have an errand to run for Mr. Camp. Will my being out for an hour or so be a problem?” Victoria might not like having her assistant and her new assistant-in-training out of the office at the same time. The point of having a backup was to ensure Victoria always had an assistant on duty.

“We’ve got it covered,” Mr. Ruhl assured her. “Take care of Lucas’s errand. Let me know when you’re back in the office.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lucky started for the elevator again.

“One more thing, Lucky.”

She turned back to him once more. “Sir?”

He gifted her with another of those warm smiles. “The sir isn’t necessary. Nor is the mister. We’re very informal around here. Call me Simon.”

She nodded. That would take some getting used to. Where she was from, one always addressed their superiors and seniors in such a way.

Simon Ruhl chuckled as he walked away.

Lucky relaxed a little. She would be okay. Everyone seemed to like her so far. Then reality dropped down on her like a rock slide. She wouldn’t have Mildred to keep her straight when Victoria arrived. A lump settled in Lucky’s stomach.

Don’t borrow trouble, she told herself. She would be fine. Her boss would surely understand the need for guidance with someone so new.

This time she actually reached her destination without being waylaid. She pressed the elevator’s call button and took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to relax. They didn’t really help.

In the lobby she waved at the two security guards as she strode toward the front entrance. The weather was beautiful. If she knew her way around a little better she would walk to the drop point. But getting lost was not a risk she wanted to take. And she wasn’t actually sure of the distance.

She’d no more passed through the towering plate-glass doors when a big black car with the darkly tinted windows of a limo pulled to a stop in front of her. The parking area at the front of the building was rather small, mostly for short-term parking and drop-offs. Lucky made a sharp left to go around the car.

The rear window powered down. Lucky hesitated. Maybe someone needed directions. She, unfortunately, wasn’t the person to ask. Three months in the city and she still got lost all too frequently. Chicago was very different from Houston in climate and in the way the city was laid out.

“Good morning, Lucky.”

Her eyes widened. The boss. “Good morning, Mrs. Colby-Camp.”

“You must have read my mind,” Victoria mused. “I was about to call for you to come down. I’d like you to accompany me for an appointment this morning.”

“Of course.” Lucky’s job was all-inclusive when it came to the needs of Victoria.

A frown pinching her face, Victoria Colby-Camp glanced past Lucky. Lucky turned to see if someone else had exited the building. She saw no one.

“Why don’t you get in and I’ll explain on the way.”

A little confused—but that seemed to be the theme for the day—Lucky climbed into the limo next to her boss. “Is everything all right?” Victoria seemed a little nervous, which was completely out of character.

“Yes, everything’s fine.” To the driver, she said, “I’m ready now.”

He turned back to make eye contact with the woman in charge. “The clinic?”

“Yes.” The head of the Colby Agency folded her hands in her lap, keeping her attention focused forward.

Clinic? “Are we meeting a client?” Lucky ventured. She was aware that the Colby Agency went out of the way to facilitate the needs of clients, so it seemed a reasonable question. But hadn’t Lucas said Victoria was having breakfast with a friend?

Mrs. Colby-Camp turned to face her. “Lucky, you’re brand new at the agency. But I trust that what I’m about to tell you will go no further.”

Lucky’s heart rate jumped back into that crazy, frantic rhythm. “You have my word, ma’am.”

The woman Lucky admired so greatly stared forward once more. “I am not one to keep secrets from my husband and my son, but this is for the best.”

Her voice sounded distant, wistful. “Is something wrong?” Every cell in Lucky’s brain screamed at her that something was very, very wrong.

“Yes.” Victoria inhaled a deep, halting breath. “Something is quite wrong.”

Sweet heavens. Lucky choked back the worry rising in her throat. “How can I help?”

“There is a treatment that may possibly outmaneuver this disaster,” Mrs. Colby-Camp said softly. “It’s fairly simple. Only takes an hour or so. I’ll know within the week if it’s going to work.”

That was why they were going to a clinic. Lucky wanted to ask what would happen if it didn’t work, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice her fears. The need to flat-out ask the nature of the disaster had her pressing her lips firmly together.

“I see no need to put my family through the emotional drama if this simple procedure will take care of things.” Victoria stared at her hands a moment. “Still, I wasn’t looking forward to going to the clinic alone.”

Lucky wanted to reach over and hug her. “I’m glad you thought of me.” Victoria looked so desolate, so unlike the strong, powerful woman whose reputation had plowed a famous path all the way to Texas. Lucky had heard the stories about the Colby Agency and she had known that being a part of the agency was what she wanted above all else.

“When the procedure is over,” Lucky’s boss went on, seeming to gather her courage once more, “we’ll return to the office and this will be our secret until such time that it becomes necessary to share the details with my husband and son.”

At the mention of Victoria’s husband, Lucky thought of the package in her pocket. Lucas was depending on her to deliver it…but this, well, this thing with Victoria took precedence.

Maybe when Mrs. Colby-Camp was settled in for the procedure, Lucky could have the driver run her to the address Lucas had provided. She would be back in plenty of time. Victoria wouldn’t even know she’d been gone. Lucky would have accomplished both missions and neither would be the wiser.

That would work.

Lucky sat back in the lush leather seat. She couldn’t help stealing a peek at Victoria from the corner of her eyes. She looked so grim. Whatever was wrong it had to be bad. Lucky’s mother would say this was a good time to pray.

But Lucky had stopped praying a long time ago. And her mother wasn’t exactly a stellar role model.

Funny, for a woman with the name Lucky, she’d never had much luck. Not the good kind anyway.

Maybe Victoria Colby-Camp hadn’t had much either. Lucky had heard bits and pieces of the story about her son. Jim Colby had been missing for twenty years when his mother had finally found him. During that same time her first husband had been murdered.

Seemed like the lady could use some good luck herself.

Chapter Three

7:40 a.m.

“One last transaction.”

Darnell Raspberry glared up at Dakota from his desk. “Are you insane? Mr. Wallace is going to kill you, but first he’ll kill me. I can’t keep doing this!”

Dakota slapped the man on the back. “One more,” he prompted. “And then I’ll be on my way.”

Raspberry grumbled something about him being left behind to take the heat. Dakota didn’t bother reminding him that was the way it went when a guy chose to live a life of crime. When it was good, it was good, but when things went bad it was generally seriously bad.

Dakota recited the untraceable numbered account for Raspberry, then reached over his shoulder and entered the security code himself.

“Now.” Dakota grabbed Raspberry by the collar and hauled him out of his chair. “Let’s take a walk.”

“But you said you’d go,” Raspberry whined. “I did everything you asked!”

“Which way to the men’s room?”

Raspberry muttered desperate protests all the way to the men’s room. Good thing no one else was expected in the office for another half hour or so.

“Now.” Dakota shoved the man into one of the two stalls. “Take off your belt and sit.”

Hands shaking, Raspberry removed his belt and crumpled onto the toilet seat.

“Put your knees up and grab your ankles.”

The man’s eyes rounded in fear, but he obeyed.

Dakota threaded the belt beneath the backs of his knees and then cinched it, essentially squeezing his forearms and legs together. Getting loose wouldn’t be difficult, but it would require a balancing act and some finagling and it would give Dakota time to get the hell out of the building.

He patted the guy on the head. “You keep quiet and I won’t be back. I hear you yelling and I’m coming to shut you up.”

Raspberry nodded, his eyes wild with hysteria.

Dakota checked the corridor then exited the men’s room. Two minutes later he was out of the building and leaving the scene at a brisk walk. He’d parked his truck a block away then taken a cab to Raspberry’s residence. Planning ahead was the key to a successful mission. Before anyone arrived to find Raspberry wailing at the top of his lungs, Dakota would be long gone.

Once in his truck, he checked the status of the numbered accounts via his smart phone. A grin split across his face. “Oh, yeah. Now that’s what I call equalizing.”

Every single one of the innocent victims Wallace had cheated now had their money—with interest—in a special account waiting to be claimed.

Dakota peeled off the rubber nose and chin, then the meticulously groomed mustache and sideburns. He scrubbed a hand over his face to rid his skin of the adhesive residue and then started the engine. He shifted into first but before he could let out on the clutch his cell vibrated. Sliding his phone open, he eased out on the clutch and rolled into the street. “Garrett.”

“Stellar work, Garrett.”

The boss. “All in a day’s work.” Dakota made the statement with a nonchalance he didn’t quite feel. Though he wasn’t opposed to roughing up the bad guys, the rest was questionable. No matter that Wallace had stolen from the victims. To Dakota, stealing the money back was also a crime. It reminded him way too much of his mercenary days. And a few other incidents he’d just as soon not recall.

He’d walked away from that life…with good reason.

“I have another job for you.”

Surprised, Dakota said, “I’m your man.” That was his stock answer. Work was about the only thing going in his life these days, so the more of it the better. But the enigmatic head of the Equalizers had insisted that no one would be allowed to work back-to-back assignments. The cases brought to the Equalizers were risky in more ways than one. The assignments required exacting attention to detail and unfailing physical readiness. Dakota executed a swift mental and physical inventory. He was good to go. As long as he didn’t end up in jail, or worse, he had no problem with jumping right into the next case.

“A young woman will be delivering a package this morning,” Slade Keaton, the overly secretive head of the Equalizers, explained. No one had even known his name, much less seen his face until a couple days ago. “I want you to follow her. Get the identity of the person who receives the package and report back to me.”

Sounded easy enough. “What about the woman?” Just how far was Dakota supposed to go to ensure he accomplished his assignment? Waltzing into an operation already in progress with no background details wasn’t exactly his favorite dance.

“No contact,” Keaton ordered. “I don’t want her to know she’s being followed. The delivery is for a former spook, Lucas Camp. If he gets wind that his protégée was followed, he’ll be trouble.”

Lucas Camp. Dakota didn’t know the name. “Who’s this Lucas Camp?” Had to be someone significant to an upcoming or ongoing case or Keaton wouldn’t waste time on him. Not that Dakota or anyone else on staff at the Equalizers knew enough about their employer to make a reliable assessment. He merely measured the man by the cases he took and the orders he doled out. So far Dakota couldn’t call him a bad guy, just one who liked to bend and twist the rules.

“He’s irrelevant,” Keaton said, dismissing Dakota’s question. “Report back to me as soon as you have the identity of the person who receives the package. I’m sending a photo of Lucky Malone and her current location to your phone. She’ll be making the delivery soon.”

“Got it covered.” Dakota ended the call. Lucky Malone. The mule, likely nothing more. But this Lucas Camp had to be more no matter that Keaton had played off the question. Dakota checked his phone for the location Keaton sent and headed in that direction.

En route Dakota put in a call to an old contact from his military days.

By the time he reached the clinic where Malone was reported to be, Dakota had the scoop on Lucas Camp. Not just a former spook, the guy was the epitome of what the CIA had once stood for. Dark, dangerous and full of secrets.

This was no casual operation. Keaton was trawling deep, murky waters.

But Dakota had his orders. He parked across the street from the small parking lot fronting the clinic. The clinic was a posh place. Private. No insurance clients seeking treatment at this place. This was where the folks with money went for the caliber of treatment perhaps unobtainable anywhere else.

Malone had to be the daughter of some rich dude. She wasn’t old enough to be rich in her own right unless she’d inherited big money. Twenty-five. Five feet, four inches. Coal-black hair and big gray eyes. The chick was a looker and likely had the ego to go with it.

A woman matching Malone’s description exited the front entrance. Dakota sat up straighter. He watched as she strode toward a waiting car. It was big and black, though less ostentatious than most limos; nevertheless it left little doubt in regards to the financial portfolio of the backseat’s occupant. Malone hesitated at the car door, glanced around as if she feared being watched.

Definitely her.

When she’d settled inside and the car pulled out onto the street, Dakota waited until a full block yawned between them before following. A few turns and twenty-one minutes later and the car stopped at the curb in front of a run-down building. That was the thing about Chicago. One could be in the ritziest part of town and minutes later wander into an area where Mag Mile shoppers wouldn’t be caught dead.

Dakota parked half a block back. The street and sidewalks were deserted. To the best of his knowledge, none of the businesses that had once operated along this block as well as two or three around it remained open for commerce. The only tenants were squatters and they would be out and about panhandling for food and money during the daylight hours.

Malone didn’t get out of the car right away. If she hadn’t been here before, Dakota figured she wasn’t too happy about getting out now. While he waited, he used his phone and did a search on her name.

“That’s interesting.” He divided his attention between the car and his phone. Lucky Malone hailed from Houston. Her family had once been in the oil business but things had gone downhill a number of years back. Lucky had managed to get through college, with major loans, and she’d made her way to Chicago.

But that wasn’t the truly interesting part. At seventeen Lucky Malone had been charged with murder. According to the headlines from eight years ago, she’d shot her father in the chest with a twenty-gauge shotgun. The murder rap had later been changed to self-defense and she’d gotten off with only one night in jail. The media had hyped the case to near celebrity status. An alcoholic, abusive husband who beat his wife one time too many stopped by his daughter.

“Damn.” Lucky wasn’t so lucky after all. Headlines had played up that catch phrase over and over. “Definitely not a lucky lady.”

Not by a long shot.

The mother, still alive, resided in a home for the mentally unstable. She’d apparently gone off the deep end after her husband’s death.

Malone had no siblings. No close family mentioned. What she did have was a perfect academic record at the University of Texas.

Malone climbed out of the car. Dakota’s attention zeroed in on her. She had a killer body. Even the conservative dress pants couldn’t hide a backside like that. The equally modest blouse tightened over nicely rounded breasts as she moved. She said something to the driver before closing the door, then seemed to brace herself before entering the building.

She definitely had something in her hand. Something small and brown.

After another moment’s hesitation, she walked up to the door and knocked. The plate-glass door had been boarded up, likely where the glass was missing. She banged on the door a couple of times and nothing happened. Twice she glanced back at the car. Dakota wondered if she were wishing she could jump in and rush away. Strange, a girl who’d had the guts to kill her own daddy shouldn’t be afraid of a whole lot.

Finally, she braced both hands on the door and pushed. It didn’t budge.

Why would Lucas Camp send her here? Didn’t make a whole lot of sense. And what was her connection to Camp? Dakota scanned the area. Maybe the contact would arrive, take the package and split.

Still pushing on the door, Malone stumbled inward, evidently as the ramshackle entrance gave way. Dakota eased the door of his truck open and slid out of the seat. He closed it, careful not to make any more sound than necessary. Considering the driver remained in the car and it was pointed in the other direction, his movements weren’t likely to be noticed. With one last look at the building and the car, Dakota hustled to the other end of the alley on his side of the street and double-timed it until he was parallel with the limo.

Careful to stay close against the building on his right, he made his way forward. His position was directly across from the entrance to the building where Malone was to meet her contact.

When he’d come within twelve meters of the parked car, he hung back, watched and listened.

It was quiet, until a low roar brushed against his senses. He went on alert, listened intently. The roar grew louder and louder until a dark sedan skidded to a stop between him and the limo Malone had arrived in.

The sedan’s front doors flew open. Two men bailed out and rushed Malone’s car. Before the driver had noted the danger or could react, one of the men had dragged him from behind the wheel.

Two unmistakable hisses zipped through the air.

Silenced gunshots.

A new kind of tension ignited in Dakota’s veins.

A hit team. The driver was dead. Malone and whoever she’d come to meet would be next.

Dakota had palmed his weapon and was stealthily moving around the sedan belonging to the assassins before the two gunmen had made the sidewalk fronting the run-down building Malone had entered.

The second of the two whipped around, his weapon leveled on Dakota.

Too bad he didn’t have a silencer.

Dakota dropped the guy before he could pull off a shot.

The other man whirled to fire at him, and Dakota popped him in the center of his forehead.

The gun blasts echoed in the silence. Dakota surveyed the street. Still empty. The stillness resumed, the silence thundered.

Surely someone had heard his shots.

Where the hell were Malone and her contact? They had to have heard the shots.

He started for the entrance to the building when another gunshot rent the air.

This one from inside the building.

Dakota lunged for the door.

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