“Who?” The question was soft, the sound so nonthreatening Kenni watched Cord warily.

“Later, Cord,” Jazz said as the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive could be heard. “Slade’s here and I want to see that video. And I think the three of you need to do more than focus on who to kill. Focus on who’s alive instead.”

“They’ll pay, sunshine,” Cord promised, that too-soft, too-gentle voice sending a shudder racing up her spine. “I promise you, they’ll pay.”

CHAPTER 15

The DVR was still encrypted when Slade and Zack arrived.

“I want that program,” Slade growled as he handed her the device, his gray eyes gleaming with amused irritation, his expression rueful. “Or I want to play with cracking it.”

“Not hardly,” Kenni drawled, turning back to the table where her laptop was waiting and taking the chair in front of it. “Gunny spent two years building the security encryption just for me. I think I’m rather possessive of it.” Slanting a thoughtful sideways look for a second, she added, “I might give you a shot at cracking it, though.” Just to see how long it would take him.

Turning to her brothers Slade nodded warily, obviously waiting for Kenni to pull up the video.

Deacon and Sawyer moved around the table to see the computer screen, arms crossed over their chests, their glowering expressions giving them a savage cast.

They were furious. Kenni could feel the waves of rage pulsing around them. They were doing nothing to hide it, but it was Cord’s silent, icy expression that had everyone’s nerves on edge.

Even Kenni’s.

Once that expression would have meant Kin arriving from three different states then disappearing with Cord for days at a time. She understood now that the groups were more than just friends of her brothers or some ordinary hunting trip. No doubt, blood had been shed on each of those excursions.

It took only seconds for the computer to recognize the DVR’s hard drive and pull it up. Clicking on the decryption program, she opened the video file within it then sat back and watched the status bar as the file loaded. It opened with a request to choose the file needed.

Motion-activated indoor cameras automatically recorded until all movement had stopped for five minutes. Choosing the first recorded file for that day she watched as it opened, revealing the two black-garbed figures entering the back door of the rental house.

They began there, systematically tearing it apart with no regard for neatness, just as they began talking without considering who or what may be listening.

“Do you really think if she’s that Maddox bitch, she was stupid enough think she could stay hidden?” the shorter of the two man team murmured.

She knew that voice.

Frowning, Kenni watched their movements, the shape of their bodies, and their stride as they moved around the kitchen.

“Oh, she’s Kendra Maddox. The DNA tests confirmed it. Why do you think the boss is so desperate now?”

Kenni straightened in her chair. DNA?

A muted chuckle sounded then. “Wouldn’t Colter be pissed to know we have his lab contact? She keeps telling him the results haven’t come back yet. It’s all I can do not to thank him whenever I see him, for being the nosy bastard he is.”

Slade.

The blood she’d gotten on the kitchen towel at his house. Evidently Jazz hadn’t rinsed and bleached it as he’d led her to believe.

Behind her, Slade cursed under his breath, the sound rife with anger. Served him right for stealing her damned blood. But it didn’t serve her right, because his actions had been the catalyst for the renewed attempts against her.

“Before or after Cord let you know I wasn’t really Annie Mayes?” she asked her friend’s husband.

“After,” he growled. The knowledge that his lab contact had sold him out must not be sitting well with him. “The background you came in with actually satisfied me,” he added, the rueful irritation in his tone almost amusing.

“Marriage is making you lazy,” Cord accused him disgustedly. “It didn’t satisfy me for a minute.”

But then Cord had been born suspicious.

“She has cameras,” one of the men on the video stated as they entered the living room, staring at the picture she’d hidden the lens behind.

Striding across the room and reaching up, he jerked the frame from the wall. Thankfully the camera on the other side of the room activated and began recording.

Bastards. They snapped the camera from its connection before following the wires through the wall, busting drywall and pulling them free as they went.

“Damned bitch,” one of them breathed in irritation. “I have half a mind to feed her to my damned cat once she’s dead.”

Her eyes narrowed on the video. The way he’d spoken had triggered a memory not yet fully formed.

The silence behind her was deafening.

The threats continued as they traced the wires to the next camera in the bedroom, once again missing the backup there. Finding the decoy box they ripped it from the wall and packed it and the cameras into a black pack. Then they proceeded to destroy the bedroom.

“Don’t forget to destroy the clothes.” The order was given with an air of amusement. “Boss says it’s about the worst thing we could do to her. I guess she likes her pretty clothes more than most women.”

No, it wasn’t that she liked her clothes more than most; she just wouldn’t have had the cash to replace the quality of clothes she did have. Two years without being hunted like a rabbit and she’d managed to purchase a few of the more fashionable items she might have had if her world hadn’t exploded on her ten years ago.

They took a lot of enjoyment in destroying them as well. As they ripped, tore, and cut the material, they also found a lot of enjoyment in discussing the “boss.”

But what were they looking for?

Nothing in particular had been mentioned, though they systematically went through every drawer, looked beneath them, tore at the carpeting, checked the vents.

“Nothing.” The announcement was made as one of them exited the bathroom after destroying it as well. “She doesn’t have anything.”

“Boss says there’s rumors she’s been taking a lot of pictures,” the other reminded him. “She should have at least had a camera.”

“Or her cell phone?” the first retorted, scoffing at the idea of a camera. “You know what gossip is like around here. She probably said she wanted pictures and someone took it and ran with a camera.”

That was always a possibility, Kenni thought in amusement. Gossip in small towns tended to be like that.

“They were after your files,” Sawyer murmured then. “Any indication that you were investigating who was giving the orders or recognized anyone who’d been sent after you in the past.”

“Where were they hidden?” Deacon question softly, indicating the pictures and hard copy of the few files she’d printed.

“Beneath her box springs.” It was Cord who answered the question. “That’s where she used to hide everything. Then she hid under the bed herself.”

Well, one point for the older brother, she thought painfully. He’d paid attention when she was a child when she hadn’t thought he had. Had he been even remotely involved in the attempts on her life, he would have told whoever was sent to search the house to be certain to check there.

“All kids hide under the bed,” Deacon snorted doubtfully. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Not like Kenni. If there was something she valued she made a slit beneath the box springs and hid it inside there,” Cord stated softly. “She would hide under the bed herself whenever she thought she was in trouble. We let her think she was pulling it off. She never learned she wasn’t, evidently.”

“She learned. She was just out of options when you stepped in with the boob squad.” She nodded to Deacon and Sawyer. “I hope you at least use a muzzle whenever you take them out on jobs with you.”