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must have frightened her because she suddenly hurried toward the door.
    Damn, the woman had brains and guts. But she was too close to the truth for comfort.
    Instinct told him to kill her now, but rationale warned him to wait. He watched her as she sprinted down the drive and onto the road. She must have parked her car on another street, the reason he hadn’t seen it when he’d arrived.
    He rubbed his head, contemplating how she could have gotten her information. The only person who knew his identity was his handler. And he would
never
divulge the truth. He’d be a dead man if he did.
    So who had sent her those photos and given her his name?
    His training kicked in and he swept the cabin in search of a bug, then checked his phone as well. Thankfully the search turned up nothing, so he punched in his contact number, then left the coded message for his handler to call him back.
    Had someone discovered he was the Ghost? If so, what had the person hoped to accomplish by telling Annabelle?
    His home phone trilled, and he checked the caller ID box—a Tennessee number. And the name Valtrez.
    What the hell?
    He didn’t have any family…
    His heart racing, he snatched up the handset. “Yes?”
    “Quinton Valtrez?” a deep voice asked.
    “Yes, this is Quinton Valtrez. Who is this?”
    “My name is Vincent,” the deep voice said. “I’m your older brother.”

Chapter Five

    Quinton clenched his jaw. Was this some kind of joke? Or a trap?
    “I don’t have a brother,” he ground out. “In fact, I don’t have any family at all.”
    “That’s not true.” The man cleared his throat. “I know this comes as a shock, but I was a toddler when you were born, and our mother sent you away. I only recently found out about you myself.”
    Quinton didn’t believe him. This had to be a setup. Maybe the man who’d sent the tip about him to Annabelle was behind this.
    “I want to meet you, then I’ll explain everything,” Vincent said gruffly.
    Quinton checked his watch. He’d already had one visitor too many in his place. “I’ll come to you. Tell me where you are.” And he’d be ready and armed, prepared this time.
    “Eerie, Tennessee,” Vincent said. “It’s in the Smoky Mountains.”
    “I’ll be there tomorrow.” He jotted down the address, then hung up, his suspicions mounting. If he’d had a brother, the monks would have told him. But they’d sworn he had no family.
    No, he was an island unto himself. And he didn’t intend to let anyone invade his territory.
    So who was this man? One of the demons the monks had warned him about?
    He would find out. And if this man had fed Annabelle Armstrong information about him, or if he was a demon, Quinton would kill him.
    His pulse pounding, he strode to his bedroom, retrieved a duffel bag from the closet, and tossed in some jeans and shirts. Then he stripped and showered, but he was too wired to sleep. He’d trained his body long ago to do without, and now the adrenaline racing through his veins from his encounter with Annabelle and that bizarre phone call kept the questions ticking in his head.
    His cell phone rang again, and he checked the number—his handler, Keller.
    “Valtrez, good work on number 343.”
    For security purposes, they always referred to the targets by number, not name.
    “No problem.”
    “What’s going on?” Keller asked.
    Quinton explained about Annabelle’s visit. “How the fuck did she find out who I am?”
    “I don’t know,” Keller said, his voice edgy with concern.
    “You haven’t had any security breaches?” Quinton asked.
    “Absolutely not. If I had, I would have alerted you.”
    “Maybe you should check your contacts,” Quinton said. “Someone has leaked information to her, and I want his name.”
    “Right. I’m on it.”
    “I’ve got another problem, too. I received a strange call from a man who claimed to be my brother.”
    The roar of an engine, then a loud whirring sound cut into the background, and he realized