"Marrickville, I think. Just give me a second and I'll go and get the file."

A few minutes later, Pete was back on the phone. "Here it is. Yeah, O'Connor sold a house in Marrickville seventeen years ago. Must have hung onto it for a while after his parents died. Far as I can tell, there are no siblings."

Adrenaline pumped through Will's veins. "Pete, I'm sure Maranoa went to school in Marrickville. I remember reading it in his file. Surely, that has to be more than a coincidence?"

"Leave it with me. I'll have someone go back a bit further, find out where O'Connor went to school. Maybe the two of them go back that far?"

"One of the bartender's at the Black Opal said Maranoa and Max having a long history. Maybe that's the link? They could have been friends since high school."

"Okay, first things first. Let me contact the surveillance team and tell them to get their a.s.ses around the back. I'll go into the station early tomorrow and run a few more searches on O'Connor, see what I come up with. In the meantime, I think we need to a.s.sume our friend has talked to Maranoa about Savannah. If Max is involved, it would be stupid to a.s.sume Savannah's articles haven't been discussed. I can only imagine how Vince has reacted to them."

Fear tightened Will's gut. "I need to warn her. Tell her to keep a look out. Any chance of posting an officer outside her place?"

Pete sighed. "You know the system as well as I do. There's no way we're going to get approval for a protection detail without any evidence of a threat, but it wouldn't hurt to tell Savannah to be a little more aware of who's around her. Just do it as diplomatically as you can," he added dryly. "I don't want her too scared to step out of her living room. After all, we don't know anything for sure, yet."

"You're right. No sense in alarming her unnecessarily. If I wasn't so mad at her, I'd pull security detail myself," Will growled.

"It might be best if I-"

"It's fine, Pete. I'll call her when I get home." Will paused. "We're getting close, Pete. I can feel it."

"Yeah, let's hope so. It's time we nailed these a.s.sholes."

"You have that right. Oh, I almost forgot-Savannah told me earlier that she'd seen one of the security guards from the paper at the brothel. Apparently, he works there as a bouncer: just another coincidence."

"One too many, if you ask me."

"I agree. O'Connor and the paper are the link, Pete. Get back to me as soon as you can."

"Yeah, will do."

"Oh, by the way, do you know anything about a young bloke who goes by the name of Billy the Kid? He was here tonight with Maranoa. The barman said he was Vince's right hand man."

"What's he look like?"

"Can't really tell you. I only saw him from a distance and he was seated. Dark hair, young, well built. About all I could see."

"Doesn't ring any bells, but I'll run his name through the system. See if we get a hit."

"Sounds good." Ending the call with a sigh, Will switched on the ignition and turned his car in the direction of home.

Tired and drained from his long night and the thoughts of Savannah that continued to whirl around in his head, Will arrived at his condo, stepped out of his clothes and straight into the shower. Moments later, he collapsed into bed. The dials on his alarm clock read three fifty-five. His head throbbed from a lack of sleep and his eyes were full of grit.

He still had to call Savannah. Not that she'd be likely to listen to him. Hadn't she castigated him only hours earlier about his overprotectiveness?

Just like that, his anger resurfaced. He recalled the look she'd tossed him as she'd told him to call her when he was ready to talk to her rationally. h.e.l.l, the way he felt at the moment, rational might never be part of his vocabulary again.

He couldn't believe how helpless he'd felt when he'd been forced to stand halfway across the room and watch her being mauled by the head of Sydney's underworld. Her reckless stupidity ignited a fury that even now, continued to smolder.

And for what? She knew d.a.m.n well there was an extremely dangerous covert police operation going on and yet she'd blithely ignored all of that, including both his and her editor's order to stay away from the place.

Savannah didn't know Max was probably mixed up with Maranoa. Whether she agreed with her editor's reasons for vetoing any stories about the Black Opal or not, the fact was, she'd been told to stay away and she'd waltzed on into the brothel as if she'd had every right to be there.

Groaning aloud in frustration, he threw himself out of bed, unable to stay still a minute longer. Pacing up and down his bedroom, naked but for a pair of satin boxer shorts, he struggled to get control of his temper so that he could think rationally. He drew in a couple of deep breaths and flung himself back on his bed.

He scrubbed at his hair and grimaced. His fists clenched and he groaned again. A moment later, he sighed heavily and the anger seeped out of him. If they were ever going to make a life together they'd have to learn to work through their differences. Besides, he'd told Pete he'd call her.

He reached over to the nightstand for his cell phone and composed a text message.

Hi there. Bed feels v lonely without u. I'm sorry 4 things I said. R u ready 2 talk?

Pressing "send" on his phone, he stretched back out on the bed and stacked his hands under his head. Now that he'd had time to calm down, he could see why she'd been upset about the way he'd handled the situation. Or, more importantly, the way he'd handled her. Until yesterday, she'd been living her life on her own terms without having to consider anyone else-apart from her brother. She'd been looking out for herself and Dylan for a long time and had obviously managed it successfully.

He could almost understand how his order for her to stay at home might be unwelcome-even be perceived as arrogant. Who was he, after all, to tell her what to do? He sure as h.e.l.l wouldn't be pleased if she suddenly started giving him orders about what he could and couldn't do.

His phone beeped to indicate a new text message. He sat up in a hurry and reached for it. It was from Savannah. His heart leaped into his throat.

Thx 4 that. In bed wide awake. Thinking of u. Can I come over?

His heart accelerated. He quickly sent off a reply.

Sooner the better.

Dylan paced up and down the largely deserted platform of the train station and tried to curb his impatience. The train was late. He wanted to do it now, before his cocaine high wore off and the sun was up. With a bit of luck, Savannah would be home in bed. He already knew she was alone.

He'd spied her boyfriend at the Black Opal. The a.s.shole had been drinking at the bar and hadn't seen him. Dylan took it as a good sign: Tonight was the night.

The bright lights of the approaching train cut through the blackness of the tunnel. Relief surged through him. Savannah's condo was less than ten minutes away. With a bit of luck, he'd be in and out before her neighbors began to stir after their Sat.u.r.day night revelries.

The train screeched to a halt. The smell of engine oil and grease infiltrated his nostrils, turning his gut. The doors slid open. He stepped onto the train. Less than a handful of bleary-eyed pa.s.sengers filled the compartment. Not one of them looked up.

He took a seat furthest away from the other pa.s.sengers and turned to stare out the window into the darkness. His body pressed against the bulge in his jacket pocket. He took comfort from the presence of the gun.

It was the same one he'd used on the b.u.m. He'd pocketed it straight after they'd finished emptying the cellar. After the debacle of his last attempt, he wasn't taking any chances. Savannah and anyone who was with her, would be dead before daybreak.

Savannah read the text message from Will a second time and smiled. Her heart did a flip flop. She was still mad at the way he'd spoken to her, but now that she'd had time to think about it and had calmed down a little, she could see he'd only had the best of intentions when he'd told her to stay at home. He'd said it because he'd wanted to protect her and it made her feel warm inside that he cared enough to look out for her.

It had been a long time since anyone had wanted to do that. Even Jonathan had encouraged her to maintain her independence. When she looked back at it, she realized they'd lived almost completely separate lives, with the occasional sleepover thrown in. They'd been little more than friends with benefits. Now that she'd met Will, she couldn't believe she'd been willing to settle for so little. It was just a matter of teaching the new man in her life how to be a little more diplomatic.

After exiting the brothel through the back door, she'd breathed a sigh of relief when she'd reached her car without incident. She'd seen no sign of Angel and she worried now, wondering if the girl was all right-not that she could anything about it.

Sliding out of bed, she padded across the carpet to the bathroom. Thanks to the wig, her real hair was a mess. She sighed with resignation. She wanted to get over to Will's place as soon as possible, but with hair like that, she'd have to wash it before she went anywhere.

With a sigh, she pulled off her bathrobe and stepped into the shower. Closing her eyes, she lathered her hair with a generous amount of shampoo. She scrubbed quickly and then ducked her head under the steaming water. The door to the shower squeaked. She opened her eyes in surprise.

And screamed...

Dylan kept the gun trained on his sister. He should have just shot her in the shower. The job would have been over and done with and he'd have been out of there. Instead, he'd hesitated. The thought of the neighbors and later the cops staring at her naked, wet body had turned his stomach. Instead, he'd ordered her out of the shower and told her to dress.

Anxiety gnawed at him. She was taking way too long. Even now, she had barely pulled on underwear and a shirt. d.a.m.n it, he'd just do it. He'd aim the gun and pull the trigger. Half-clothed, unclothed-what did it really matter? Dead was dead.

He let off the safety and c.o.c.ked the gun. The sound of it was amplified in the silent room. Savannah spun around from where she stood at the door to her open closet and stared at him. Her mouth gaped open. It looked like she was trying to form words, but she made no sound.

"Hurry the f.u.c.k up, Savannah and get dressed. I swear to G.o.d, I'll kill you now if you don't get a move on."

Tears formed in her eyes. "Why, Dylan? Why? What have I ever done to you? I love you. I did my best to take care of you. It wasn't my fault Mom and Dad-"

"Shut the f.u.c.k up!" he yelled and waved the gun around. He refused to be moved by her tears. Okay, maybe it wasn't her fault their parents had favored her or that they'd had the stupidity to die too soon, but it was her fault she'd p.i.s.sed off Vince. No one had forced her into the Black Opal. No one had forced her to write those stupid stories.

After Vince had told him, he'd gone onto the Internet and had Googled the articles. He couldn't believe what she'd written-or how accurate they were. He could see why Vince wanted her dealt with. She was trouble. Killing her would send a clear message to anyone else with the audacity to interfere with his affairs. There was no other way. It was as simple as that.

She'd tugged on a pair of jeans and now sat gingerly on the edge of her bed. Every now and then, she threw a cautious look in his direction. Shock and fear shadowed her eyes. She shook her head, as if unable to believe what was happening.

Dylan grinned to himself. Oh yeah, it was happening, all right.

In sudden decision, he strode over to the bed and put the gun to her temple. She flinched and cried out. He laughed.

"Not so brave now, are you sis?" Too bad you didn't think about the consequences before you meddled in Vince's business."

She stared at him in shock. "Vince Maranoa? This is about Vince Maranoa?"

He smiled and nodded. "Of course. What did you think it was about?"

Savannah shook her head. "I-I don't know. I had no idea why you'd break into my condominium and threaten to shoot me. What kind of brother does that?"

He should have been overwhelmed with guilt, but the truth was, what little guilt he felt was fleeting. So what if he was her brother? Vince had ordered him to get rid of her. He was only doing his job. It wasn't his fault Savannah had stuck her nose into Vince's business and it sure as h.e.l.l wasn't his fault Vince wanted her dead.

It's just the way it was. Surely Savannah could see that? He thrust his bottom lip out.

"You f.u.c.ked with the wrong guy, sis. Vince wants you dead and what Vince wants, Vince gets."

Her lip curled up in disgust. "And you're the eager executioner, is that it?"

He squirmed under her regard. "Vince relies on me to get the job done. I haven't failed him yet," he boasted.

Savannah's eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you had anything to do with Malee's death?"

He frowned in concentration. "Which one was Malee?"

Her eyes widened in horror. "You mean there's been more than one?"

Dylan shrugged, trying hard not to let her reaction matter. "Maybe."

"Dylan! How could you? You're a hired killer. At least, I a.s.sume you get paid."

"Oh yeah. Vince pays well. That's one thing he does."

Savannah shook her head, disgust clouding her eyes. "Look at yourself. You're higher than the Centrepoint Tower, talking about murder like it was a Sunday School picnic. Where is the brother I know and love? Where is the brother who brought me flowers from the garden when I was sick in bed with the flu? Where is the brother who was there when I picked up food poisoning and who wiped my forehead when I vomited for the hundredth time? Where is-?"

"Enough!" Dylan spun on his heel and paced the length of her bedroom. He couldn't stand to listen to her a minute longer. The more she spoke about their past, the more the voice inside his head urged him not to do it.

But Vince wanted her dead. There was nothing else to it.

Vince wanted her dead.

The words reverberated in his head. He put his hands up over his ears to block them out, but still they echoed inside him until they slowed like a gramophone record winding down. A sudden thought illuminated his mind. Vince wanted her dead and he would have her dead. But it would be Vince who would be doing the killing.

It wouldn't be as quick or as painless as it would if Dylan did it, but it was better this way. This way, Dylan's conscience could rest easy, knowing it hadn't been him, her own flesh and blood, who'd pulled the trigger. He could text Vince and find out where he was. The a.s.shole would be pleased Dylan was bringing his sister in.

He swung around to face her. The color had leached out of her face. Apart from her wide-eyed fear, she looked like she was already dead.

"Get up. You're coming with me."

He strode over and seized her by the arm. He hauled her to her feet and marched her out of the bedroom.

"W-where are you taking me?"

"I'm taking you to Vince."

Dylan prodded her forward with the gun and kept it trained on her while he sent a text to Vince. A moment later, Vince replied. Dylan read the message and smiled. He dug into the pocket of his jeans and felt for the key Vince had given him when they'd moved the gear to the warehouse hours earlier. His fingers closed around it and he nodded to himself, pleased with his decision. Vince could kill her. A brother shouldn't be forced to kill his sister. It just wasn't right.

CHAPTER 28.

Will stared at the front door of his condominium and waited for the doorbell to ring. What the h.e.l.l was taking Savannah so long? She should have been there an hour ago.

She couldn't have been caught in traffic. There was hardly a car on the street. Perhaps she'd changed her mind? She'd sounded willing enough, but maybe she'd had second thoughts? But, why hadn't she contacted him?

He cursed under his breath and picked up his cell phone from the kitchen counter. No new messages. With an impatient sigh, he gave in and sent her a text.

Where r u?

Twenty minutes later, he still hadn't heard from her. With gritted teeth, he dialed her number. The phone rang out for what seemed like forever. It eventually went through to her voicemail. Will bit down on a curse and left a brief message.

"Hi, it's me. Um...call me."