Page 23 of Tango (Hunt Brothers Search & Rescue #4)

Alice

“ H ere you go,” Dylan says as he climbs back into the car with a tray of coffees.

“You might be my favorite twin at the moment,” I tell him, sending a side-eye to Tucker, who glances back at me through the rearview mirror.

Ever since I came clean to him, Dylan’s been a lot friendlier with me.

Something that came in handy first thing this morning when Tucker tried to leave me behind.

“I told you it was safer on the ranch.”

“And I told you that you’re going to need me if you want any actual answers.”

He’d been adamant that leaving me behind was the best option. Honestly, the only reason I’m here is because he was worried I’d find my way here despite their warnings. That, and Dylan came to bat for me and said it was better for them to keep an eye on me anyway.

So here I am. Sitting in the backseat of Tucker’s rented truck outside Kara’s apartment, waiting for her to get home from work.

Work. I barely even remember what it felt like to wake up in the morning, drink coffee in peace, and head into work. The routine feels as though it was a lifetime ago.

I take a sip of coffee.

“So what’s the plan after she arrives? Are we going to follow her into her apartment and demand answers?”

“We don’t have to follow her since we know what the apartment number is,” Tucker retorts.

I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”

“We’re going to see if we can persuade her to come forward,” Dylan tells me. “If we can do that, we have a witness. One thread that will lead to everything unraveling.”

“But if Web Safe paid her to keep quiet—” I take another drink of coffee. “She’s not going to give them up easily.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Tucker replies. “Hopefully, she won’t take too much convincing.”

A white sedan pulls up into the spot labeled with her apartment number, and Kara climbs out, wearing a pencil skirt and a gray blazer.

Kara. Just seeing her makes my blood boil.

I know she hates me, but Ramiro was always kind to her.

How could she do that to him? How could she protect the real killer?

“That’s her,” I tell them.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay in the truck, can I?” Tucker asks. “You are wanted for murder.”

Dylan snorts and climbs out.

“Not a chance.” I shove the door open before he can put the child locks on me—because I don’t doubt for a second that he would—and climb onto the sidewalk. The air is warm, the sun beginning to sink, as we make our way up to the front door of her apartment building.

“Stay out of sight,” Tucker tells me as he reaches out and presses a button beside her name on the panel next to the main entrance.

I nod and step out of view of the camera.

“Yes?” Kara’s voice fills my ears. “Oh, hi, what can I do for you?” Her tone switches to flirtatious, and I have to clench my hands into fists.

Back off, I want to warn her. Which, of course, makes no sense. Tucker’s not mine. Not in any way, shape, or form. If he decides he wants to date a woman who frames people for murder, well—that’s on him.

And it’s that final thought that has me realizing just how ridiculous I’m being.

Get out of my head, intrusive thoughts.

“Hi, Miss Beverly. My name is Tucker Hunt, and I was hoping I could ask you a few questions. I’m trying to find information on a woman who used to work with you. Alice Sterling? I’m investigating her involvement in a murder.”

“Alice. Yes, of course. I’ll buzz you right in.”

“Great, thanks.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and jealousy churns in my gut.

What is happening to me?

A buzzer goes off. “Come on,” Tucker says.

I step out and notice how he’s blocking the camera with his body, just in case she can still see. We move into the building, and I climb onto the elevator first, keeping my head tilted down so the baseball cap I’m wearing shields my eyes.

With my hair tucked beneath it, and baggy clothes on my frame, it’ll be harder to identify me—but not impossible.

A few seconds tick by, and the three of us stand in silence until the elevator reaches the top floor. Dylan’s eyes are closed, his hands clenched into fists. There’s a bead of sweat on his temple.

Tucker looks just as nervous, though his gaze is trained on his twin.

I watch the exchange, Tucker’s words from a few days ago running through my mind. I’d commented on how different he and Dylan are, and he’d said they weren’t always that way. So, what happened? Was it the stint Dylan did as a POW that fundamentally changed him? Or something else?

The elevator doors open on the seventh floor, and Tucker climbs off first. Dylan holds the doors open and waits for Tucker to signal us forward. Then, we make our way down the hall before stopping just outside her door.

Both Dylan and I remain off to the side, so she can’t see us through the peephole.

Tucker knocks.

My heart begins to pound.

Is this the moment where I learn the truth? Or will she call the police and have me arrested before she says anything? Oh, man. Why did I insist on coming? Lord, grant me strength, please. Help me.

“Well, hello, Mr. Hunt. Please come in.” Kara’s flirtatious tone frustrates me further.

“Thank you, Miss Beverly. I have my brother and another member of our team with me. Is it okay if they come in too?”

She leans around the door, but I keep my hands in the pockets of my baggy jeans, my head tilted down to the ground. My guess is she only sees Dylan and is more than happy to invite the third stranger in because of the good looks the other two share.

“Absolutely. Come on in.” She steps inside, and Dylan follows first with me coming right behind him. Tucker manages to block my body somewhat as we move in, so she doesn’t get a clear look at my face. “Can I get you guys anything to drink? Beer? Wine? Something stronger?”

“No, thanks. We don’t drink,” Tucker replies.

“Like, at all?”

“Not a drop,” Dylan answers.

“Ooh, good boys. I like it.”

I roll my eyes, wishing I could face her and watch that flirtatious smile fall right off her face when she realizes who I really am.

“Miss Beverly, we have reason to believe that Alice Sterling is not guilty.” Tucker jumps right in.

Kara snorts. “She’s guilty.”

“You seem so certain—why?” Tucker asks.

“Because I know her. She grew up troubled. Her own grandparents didn’t even want her. Then she was in and out of foster homes—you know how that goes.”

Anger sings in my veins, and I have to clench my hands into fists to keep from giving myself up.

Kara continues, “I warned Ramiro to stay away from her, and had he not been so obsessed with her, he might’ve listened.

But she had him wrapped around her finger until the day she put a bullet in him.

And now she got Logan too. He was a tall drink of water, that one.

Too good for her.” She clicks her tongue.

“Yet he trusted her too, and now look where that got him—dead.”

That does it. “You’re lying!” I yell and whirl on her, ripping my baseball cap off as I do.

The anger pulsing through my veins is new—even for me.

I’ve had a temper before, but this—this feels feral.

And the satisfaction I feel when I see the horrified expression on her face brings me more joy than it should.

“You—you brought a murderer into my home!” she yells, lunging for her phone.

Unfortunately for her, Tucker’s faster. He withdraws a black box from his pocket and shows it to her. “Your phone and internet are down,” he tells her. “This is a signal scrambler. You won’t be able to call anyone.”

Kara pales, her eyes widening. “Wh-what are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing,” Tucker replies. “We just have some questions. Can we sit?” He gestures toward her couch, but her gaze flicks between me and him.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Kara,” I growl. “Besides, we both know I’m no murderer.”

“No, we don’t,” she snaps. “You killed Ramiro. I saw the video. We all did.”

“That you helped them make!” I yell, clenching both hands into fists again.

Anger gives a foothold to the devil. I repeat Ephesians 4:27 in my head over and over again.

But even as I have it memorized, I cannot keep that anger from burning through me.

My entire life is on the line here, and she had a part in my downfall.

My friends are dead, and she’s helping to cover it up.

As far as I’m concerned, she might as well have pulled the trigger.

Anger gives foothold to the devil, I think again, then take a deep, steadying breath.

“I don’t know what she’s told you,” Kara says, “but she’s a killer. And possibly a thief. I know that something was stolen from the server room the night she killed Ramiro. They won’t tell us what, but we’ve had to scour the systems, trying to find any other vulnerabilities.”

“They said something was taken?” I ask.

“As if you don’t know,” Kara sneers.

“Miss Beverly, we know it was you in that video.”

At Tucker’s words, Kara freezes in place, her face paling slightly.

Got you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kara crosses her arms.

“We know that Ramiro Caine is not in that video. The man who was shot in that video has a tattoo. Ramiro had none. We have all the evidence we need to take it to the police.”

“Then why don’t you?” she asks, tone dripping with venom.

“Because we’re not interested in what you faked,” I tell her, stepping forward. “I want to know why Ramiro was killed.”

“You tell me. You’re the one who shot him.”

I take another deep breath, trying to still the waves of fury within me. How can she stand there and face me down, knowing what she did?

“If you won’t talk to us, we’re going to be forced to take what we have to the police. You’ll be dragged in for questioning; then whoever is using you to help cover this up is going to get really antsy.” Tucker crosses his arms. “Do you think they’ll want to risk letting you tell the truth?”

Kara’s gaze switches to him. “Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now, you can leave my apartment, or I will scream as loud as I can. The phones may not work, Mr. Hunt, but I assure you, my lungs do.”

Tucker uncrosses his arms and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Just remember we gave you the chance to come clean,” he says then reaches out and straightens a photo frame on her shelf. “If you decide you want to talk, here’s my number.” He retrieves a business card and offers it to her.

She takes it, likely just desperate for us to leave.

“As soon as you’re gone, I’m calling the cops.”

“As soon as we leave, we’ll be contacting them,” I reply. “Even if I have to turn myself in to get them to take this case seriously, I will. Ramiro and Logan deserve justice.”

“On that, we can agree,” she sneers. “They both could’ve done better than you. Something I told them right up until the day they died. Tragic, really, that they both lost their lives.”

It takes all the strength I have to turn away and not slam my fist into her smug face. And as we walk down the hall to the elevator, then take it down to the parking lot, I repeat the verse in my head over and over again.

Anger gives a foothold to the devil.

Based on what’s happening to me now—I’d say the enemy is having a field day with me. But I refuse to let him win.

No matter what, I will keep my eyes focused on God.

For He is my light.

He is my shield.

He is my salvation.

“Fight, Alice.”