Midnight Rescue: A Killer Instincts Novel by Elle Kennedy

demanded. “Tell us what you’re up to and maybe we can help.”
    Help?
The second the word exited his mouth he wanted to kick himself. The look of disgusted disbelief on D’s face confirmed the error of his ways. What was he thinking, offering assistance? They’d been lucky to get in and out of Blanco’s compound unharmed, though he knew now that it was thanks to Abby’s violent assault on Blanco’s second in command. If she hadn’t thrown the entire compound into chaos, chances were they wouldn’t have been able to manage such a smooth rescue.
    But they
had
rescued her, and now it was time to wash their hands of it. Kane didn’t mind a bit of danger, and most of the others took risks like they popped vitamins, but Luis Blanco wasn’t a man you wanted to mess with. Blanco might not be on the same level as Devlin when it came to bloodlust, but the man was a power-hungry tyrant. Let his own government put him out of commission. As far as Kane was concerned, it wasn’t his responsibility, or his problem.
    “Forget it,” Abby mumbled, closing her eyes again. “I’ll figure something out.”
    Kane smothered a groan. Shit, getting answers out of this woman was like extracting teeth. They needed those answers, damn it. Morgan and Holden had stayed behind,risking their necks in order to figure out why Abby Sinclair had wound up in that prison, and Kane wasn’t about to lose anyone he cared about because this woman liked to keep secrets.
    A sprawling ranch house greeted them as the Jeep slowed at the end of the long dirt road. Acres of open land surrounded the area, as well as an ominous electric fence and a tall stone wall more suited for a medieval fortress than a ranch in Mexico. Or at least she thought it was Mexico. She’d heard one of Morgan’s men mention the location after they’d landed on the dusty airstrip a dozen miles back, but she could’ve imagined it. The fever had ebbed but her brain still felt foggy. She just hoped she hadn’t said something she shouldn’t have when she’d been delirious.
    Her entire body hurt. She didn’t know what was worse—the constant irritation from her clothes rubbing against the welts on her body, or the fact that she was too damn weak to go off on her own. Each time the Jeep hit a pothole her head spun like a merry-go-round. Each time she moved an inch her ribs throbbed relentlessly. If she tried to run, she wouldn’t make it three feet without passing out. That knowledge was the only thing that reined her in. She couldn’t flee in her condition. Too weak. Too wounded.
    You’re strong. A day or two and you’ll be back in Bogotá.
    Jeremy’s voice again. In her head. As always. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a coherent thought that didn’t manifest itself as Jeremy’s voice.
    The Jeep came to a stop in front of the large electric gate. From the driver’s seat D stuck his arm out, puncheda sequence of numbers into a keypad panel, and the gate swung open. She stared at his impressive biceps, studying the tattoo that covered his entire arm. Looked to be Japanese style, with a lethal samurai on his upper arm, fighting a snake coiled around the forearm. The background was filled in with black and gray wind bars and waves, giving the entire scene a turbulent feel.
    Derek Pratt aka D wasn’t happy with her presence—he’d made it clear on the plane that he wanted to be rid of her. There was something dark and dangerous rippling under his surface. He had a troubled past, as dark as hers, she suspected. In fact, out of all the men, she felt the biggest kinship toward D, despite his obvious hatred.
    She could read the other two pretty well too. The young one, Ethan, seemed almost out of place on Morgan’s team. He was handsome in a preppy sort of way, and way too polite for his own good. He’d told her on the jet that he’d served in the Marine Corps for four years before being recruited by Morgan. She couldn’t picture the kid ever being in