Page 91 of Knife to the Heart

The conviction in her voice cut through the haze. “Are you sure?”

“It wouldn’t make sense to kill his leverage. He’s fucking with us, Cannon.”

Her theory steadied him enough to think over Jimmy’s second request for Clark and White to check in. Dare he hope Julia was alive?

“Malgor’s not in the dining hall,” Jimmy said. “Repeat, Malgor’s not in the dining hall.”

Hope made Cannon dizzy again. “How do you know?”

“I just spoke to Theodore’s daughter. When they went on that date that Cannon mentioned, she slept with him and learned he has a pacemaker.”

Cannon rose, pulling Rosalie up beside him. “Pacemakers are monitored remotely.”

Her eyes widened. “He’s been so careful to cover his tracks, but all this time, we’ve had a way to find him.”

“We've pinpointed his location,” Jimmy said.“Malgor’s in the guard shack at the camp entrance.”

Cannon looked toward the path that led down to the road. “Let’s go.”

“Ford.” Paul’s voice boomed into his ear. “Clark and White aren’t responding. Wait for the rest of the team to take position around the shack. Do you copy?”

Cannon ignored the directive and looked at Rosalie. “I’m not standing around and waiting for my sister to die.”

“If you die, you can’t save her. Taking that open path would be suicide.”

“Agreed. You in for some trailblazing, Snow Angel?”

Rosalie slappedher face shield down and forged into the forest, not caring that insubordination put her promotion, maybe even her job, at risk. She let Cannon take the lead. Somehow, it felt right that he led the way. The FBI had trained her to follow procedure and protocol. Her father had trained her to follow her gut. Everything inside of her knew this was the only way to end Malgor’s game.

Not alone, as she had sometimes pictured their standoff.

Not with the backup of a dozen agents.

With Cannon.

Together meant together, and she’d follow him into the bowels of hell.

Paul’s huff pounded through her earpiece. “Zenner, tell Ford to get his ass back up the?—”

Static vibrated through the airwaves. Dead silence followed. “Paul, do you copy?”

No response, not from Paul, Jimmy, or any of the team in the field.

Not good. Not good.

“Communications are down.” Unease skittered along the back of her neck. She could sense Malgor’s devious anticipation of executing his final play—forcing her to face him at her most vulnerable.

Who is more vulnerable than a woman in love?

A thick branch swung toward her face. Before she could duck, Cannon caught it in his fist. She murmured a thank-you and stared at the man moving through the dense trees like a possessed lumberjack. Even with his sister’s life on the line, he thought of her.

God, she loved this man. She’d make damn sure he lived to tell him.

Fifteen minutes later, they skidded down a steep embankment and barreled into a crop of boulders. She cursed as her arm cracked against stone.

Cannon slid to her side. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a scratch.” She felt, rather than saw, his raised eyebrows through his face shield. Through the trees, she eyed the guard shack that sat about thirty yards down a slope. “The team from Denver should have already been in position down there, but Malgor may have taken them out along with the comms system. And we don’t know Clark’s and White’s status. They could still be down from the explosion. I—wemay be operating alone.”

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