“He might be oblivious to the danger. A lot of people don’t realize crypto can be traced. Lloyd Zenko might assume wrongly that we’ll never be able to link him to the crime.”

Shane took another turn. They were getting close now. “Wouldn’t this Evi1Geni-us dude have warned him about that fact?”

“Presumably. Doesn’t mean Zenko believed him or listened.”

She was right. Criminals weren’t always smart and a drunk bomb tech probably wasn’t the sharpest blade in the knife block.

Yael turned to him, her eyes suddenly huge. “Do you think HRT are walking into another trap? Are they in danger?”

He shook his head. “Not this time. HRT operators and the bomb squad will clear the place before they move in. If the person inside doesn’t come out voluntarily, I suspect the FBI will manufacture a fire alarm or something else to get him out of there. They will be evacuating the units close by regardless.”

“Isn’t that a risk?” Her brows crinkled over those dark eyes of hers. “What if someone warns him? Or he sees people leaving.”

“Servare vitas.” He recited the Hostage Rescue Team’s motto. “Our primary objective is to Save Lives.” He shrugged. Making sure people were safe trumped bursting in on this guy. He’d come out eventually. Should a barricade situation develop, the negotiators could talk to him and maybe do a plea deal that led them to EG who was orchestrating the murders. Sure, it would sting if Zenko—the man who’d probably planted the bomb that killed his best friend—got a lighter sentence, but the guy was going to federal prison regardless. It wouldn’t be easy. It wouldn’t be fun.

“If he’s in that apartment he isn’t going anywhere, but I still have my doubts.” Shane believed Zenko was here, in this old family cabin.

They arrived at a pull in that had spaces for about six vehicles. His was the only one parked there probably due to the overcast sky, light snow on the ground, and the fact it was the middle of the week.

He reached into the back seat and handed Yael a green Kevlar vest. “Put it under your sweatshirt.”

Her mouth tightened in consternation as she took it from him and pulled off her sweatshirt. He forced himself to look away so he didn’t ogle her figure. She had curves in all the right places and smelled like his favorite dessert.