“You had dinner with Bobby the night of his murder,” Hector stated. “What did the two of you discuss? Besides your new daughter-in-law.”
“She is not my daughter-in-law.” Brenda lifted her wineglass, sipped. “But if you must know …”
“I must.”
“Nothing. First thing he did was introduce me to the girl, as if I would support his choice. As if I would accept her, an alien.”
Prejudiced bitch. Though Noelle had spent some time with Bobby, she’d had no idea his family-life was as harsh and unforgiving as hers. She could just imagine what the old bat had put Bobby through in his too-short life. The negative comments, the conditional love. If there had been any love at all.
Perhaps their mothers had been separated at birth. “Did Bobby mention where he met Margarete?” Hector asked.
“No.” An uncaring shrug. “But then, I didn’t care to know. I told him to marry that sweet Kerry Jones and finally give me a grandchild. He declined.”
“A travesty. I’m sure you would have been as maternal a grandmother as you were a mother,” Noelle said dryly.
“Yes,” Brenda said, deadpan, clearly unused to sarcasm.
“Did you hate your son?” Maybe she was asking for the case, or maybe she was asking because Brenda’s answer would mirror her own mother’s, and she was curious.
Another shrug. “I hated what he was doing with his life.”
Expected, but still disappointing. “Enough to kill him?”
“At times.” Brenda finished off her wine. “Does my answer surprise you? Well, it shouldn’t. He was an embarrassment, Miss Tremain, and he did the things he did just to strike at me.”
Yeah. That was why.
“Her name is Agent Tremain,” Hector snapped.
I won’t look at him. I won’t be thrilled about his ferocity.
Brenda paid him no heed. “I’m sure your own mother understands my predicament.”
“Bobby was in love with an otherworlder, Miz Marks. He wasn’t a murderer or a drug addict or a child molester.” She purposely omitted the part about his as yet unproven participation in otherworlder slavery. “What did you have to be embarrassed about?”
Haughty chin lifted, Brenda said, “A child is a reflection of his parents. So what did I have to be embarrassed about? Everything. But did I kill him? No. He cut me a check every month, paid my bills, whatever they happened to be. If I were capable of murder, I would have gotten rid of the alien.” As she spoke, a vein pulsed in her forehead.
Bitch was too kind a word for her.
“Now you have access to his entire fortune,” Hector said. “He left everything to you.”
A cruel smile flashed, the edges dripping with relish. “I know. And do you know the first thing I plan to do when his home is signed over to me? Take out the trash.”
The direction of Noelle’s thoughts changed. From forcing herself not to ponder Hector’s appeal to forcing herself not to kill the woman in front of her. “Speaking of the house, what time did you leave the night of your dinner?”
“I don’t know. Nine, maybe.”
“And your home is within walking distance of Bobby’s?” Hector asked.
“Yes. But I didn’t walk, I drove.”
Afraid of the dark? Or of the thousands of people who would have loved to gut her and leave her bleeding on a sidewalk? Either way, Noelle knew Hector planned to check the security feed from the neighborhood and see if the timelines added up.
The waiter arrived with the tray of food Noelle had ordered, but before he could place a single plate on the table, she said, “Box it up for us, Timmy, and have it carried to our car.” No way she could spend another second with her mother’s doppelganger. Their questions had been answered. Time to bail.
“Of course, Miss Tremain.”
“Oh, and add a couple slices of cheesecake to the order before putting everything on Mrs. Marks’s bill.”
“Of course, Miss Tremain.”
Brenda hissed, tried to protest, but Timmy had already hurried off, the delicious-smelling goodies disappearing with him.
Noelle’s stomach rumbled as she pushed to her feet. Hector stood as well, and she moved to his side. Her four-inch heels made her taller than ever, but still he towered over her.
“Thanks for everything,” she said. One little slice across the woman’s throat wouldn’t be so bad, would it? “We really appreciate the conversation and the meal.”
The old bat was still floundering to form a protest as Noelle and Hector stalked away.
Twenty-eight
HECTOR HUNG UP THE phone and forked another bite of smoked salmon into his mouth. He chewed, all the while watching Noelle. Trying to pretend he wasn’t aroused by her, that he wasn’t remembering every detail he’d confessed about his past.
His desk created a barrier between them, the food she’d ordered stacked on top of his files, equipment, weapon case, weapon cleaning case, and spread out like a picnic.
“Who was that?” she asked. She looked around, clearly trying to decide what to pick, finally settled on the dessert, and lifted its box and a fork. She snuggled back in her chair, crossing her legs and revealing her shoes.
And hell, they were bondage lingerie for her feet. Open toed, with diamonds encrusted on the strap around her ankles. Her hair was unbound, flowing down her shoulders, and just a bit mussed.
That white blouse she wore V’d so deeply he was always surprised she didn’t flash him when she moved. He’d had her lithe body under him, had sucked on her pert little nipples.
“Hector,” she prompted. “My breasts adore the attention, but if you don’t stop staring, my ass will have to file a complaint. It deserves notice, too, you know.”
A flippant tone, but he detected a note of sadness. His gaze snapped up to her face as his cheeks heated. Can’t have her. You fucking can’t have her. But oh, the things she said. Her mouth aroused him as much as her body.
Her mouth … which she’d once wrapped around his cock …
Shit. He buckled down and concentrated on the case before his arms started acting up. “That was Mia. A few new developments. First, the pin you mentioned before, the one that wipes footprints. They found it.”
Triumph bathed her features, making her glow. “God, I’m smart.”
His chest constricted. “Second, the witness is now detoxed and has been questioned. He says he never saw the Arcadian’s face, that the otherworlder always had his back to him, but he helped with a sketch of the shooter and the guy who handed him the gun. Those are being emailed to us right now, as well as being run through the database.” Every criminal ID was stored there.
Suddenly all business, Noelle whipped out her phone, pressed a few buttons, and frowned. “Are you kidding me? The sketch of the shooter is a cartoon superhero.”
Hector pulled up the sketches on his computer screen. Shooter had blond, wind-blown hair, his face blurred out. And he wore a suit so embellished with muscle ridges and color, the witness had to have been smoking crack when he—
Yeah. Okay. He had been.
The second sketch showed a hard, harsh face. Dirty, grungy. Dark hair, high forehead. Narrow eyes. Nose with a bump in the center. Wide cheekbones, a square chin. The kind of face kids probably saw in their nightmares.
This one was usable, at least.
“Seems surreal, having evidence finally fall into our hands,” Noelle said. “Should we give the non-cartoon sketch to the media? Someone might recognize him.”
“I’d rather wait. I’m too afraid Shooter will cut and run. And if he runs, we won’t find him. He’s managed to hide this long without even trying. He puts any real effort into it, and our case is cold.”
“You’re thinking like a poor man. If Shooter is rich and powerful, and judging by those gold coin buttons on his superhero suit, I’d say he is, he won’t want to start over. He’s killed to protect his empire, or whatever it is, and he’ll kill again rather than leave.”
Hector d
idn’t take offense to her “poor man” comment. To her, he was poor. And she was right. “If Shooter is willing to kill again, he might just kill Bruiser the moment the sketch goes live to keep us from finding and questioning him.”
“True.” A moment passed as she pondered their options, her face scrunching adorably. “What about leaking word that we’ve got the witness? We can use him as bait as we talked about with Dallas and catch whoever comes for him red-handed.”
“I still think that should be our last resort. Shooter won’t go for the kill himself. He’ll send his Arcadian or Bruiser, and I’d rather not go against the Arcadian just yet. Not until we’ve got precautions in place to counteract any ability he might have. Good news is, we’re close. That handheld I found at Marks’s place? Our tech hacked through the security program and discovered info on the sex ring.”
Her eyes widened. “We were right, then.”
“Looks like.” A flicker of rage, quickly contained. Sex crimes pissed him off. Hector had never been raped, but his will had been disregarded countless times. He knew the total devastation of feeling helplessness, the terror of being trapped in your body as other people hurt you. “Devyn was right. Someone will be after Margarete Marks. The guards watching her said there haven’t been any disturbances yet, but Mia’s adding a few more just to be safe.”
“You know, this is bad of me to say, but I really hoped Brenda Marks did it. I would have loved to lock her away. But okay, she didn’t do it. A flesh peddler did. How has he stayed in the shadows so long? Why hasn’t someone talked? Like a resentful wife who’s been cheated on? Or children who walked in on their dad banging the weird chick in chains in the basement?”
“Fear. Bobby was keeping a journal. He bought Margarete for a limited time. Fell in love with her. Time was running out, so he bought her for a little while longer. He never met with the seller directly, everything was online and by phone. But there’s no website.”
“If there’s no website, how’d he learn where and how to buy her?”
“From a friend, but he didn’t put the friend’s name in his notes. Maybe to protect him.”
So that was a dead end. For now. “How was Margarete delivered to him? She wouldn’t have willingly walked to his door.”
“Marks wrote that a tall guy with more muscles than should be legal delivered her. Again, he didn’t mention a name. My guess is he didn’t know it, that the guy was there as more than a deliveryman, but to intimidate the buyer into staying quiet.”
“Makes sense.”
“Also, there’s a caveat to every buy. If you want to tell a friend so he can get a female—or male—of his own, you have to get permission. If you tell anyone without permission, or how or where you got your companion, you die. You tell anyone about the transaction, you die.”
“So who’s disappeared in the wealthier circles, like that up-and-comer Devyn mentioned? As quiet as this entire operation has been kept, there have to be more than two victims.”
“I’ll do a search.”
“Meanwhile, let’s deconstruct the night of the murder. No one could teleport into Bobby’s house. So someone had to either come to his door,” Noelle said after swallowing another bite of cheesecake, “or sneak in. Since there’s no sign of a break-in, I’m guessing the door.”
“I’m with you.” Wrong words, he instantly realized. He gulped, trying to swallow back his sudden rise of renewed desire.
Oblivious, she licked her fork like it was a lollipop. Or his cock. At the sight of that gorgeous pink tongue, Hector experienced full-on arousal, no more of that almost/maybe/could be shit—and there was no stopping it. That tongue had given him those same kinds of so-delicious strokes, and he wanted to feel all that wet heat between his legs again. And again.
He shouldn’t have messed around with her, he thought darkly. Resisting her had become a whole lot harder. In every way.
Heat sizzled along the veins in his arms, and he set his food aside.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, reading his approaching panic before he did.
He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m fine.” Mind, out of gutter. “So someone comes to Marks’s door and, late as it was, Marks had to know him or he wouldn’t have answered. The journal doesn’t mention an Arcadian, so it had to be Bruiser.”
“Maybe the Arcadian was with him, though.”
“No, wait. Bruiser was waiting with the shooter, remember? So Bruiser couldn’t have been the one to pick Marks up. The Arcadian appeared with Marks, so the Arcadian was the one to go and get him.”
“Could this Arcadian be so powerful that he can teleport past Bobby’s shields?”
He’d never heard of such a thing, but then, wasn’t he living proof that the impossible was always possible? “I’ll have our techs look into it.”
A knock hammered at the door.
Interruptions were standard; someone had something to ask at least once an hour. Hector didn’t bother checking his ID screen. Frowning, he punched the code to allow the intruder inside.
The block slid open, revealing a smoldering Dallas. The agent didn’t enter. He took in the intimate scene and stiffened.
Nothing’s happened, Hector tried to project.
“You’ve got a visitor,” Dallas said. “And you’re not going to believe who it is.”
His frown deepened. “Who?” He wasn’t expecting anyone.
“Not you,” Dallas said, motioning to Noelle.
“Her.” “Who is it?” she asked, confused.
“Me.”
A tall otherworlder Hector recognized but had never met stepped beside Dallas. He was eerily handsome, with pale skin and violet eyes. Strength radiated from his leanly muscled body, an electric pulse seeming to waft from him. An Arcadian. A football star.
Corban Blue.
Noelle might have claimed to like a man in uniform, but there was no way she would scoff at the perfect lines of the perfect pinstriped suit the perfect bastard wore. I will kill him.
“If you’re here to file a complaint about the rumors,” he growled, “you can—”
“I’m not.” That violet gaze remained on Noelle, probably memorizing every luscious detail.
“Oh … shit,” she muttered, sitting up straighter. Hector’s hands curled into fists. Maybe Corban wasn’t here to complain, but he wasn’t here to thank her, either. One harsh word uttered in Noelle’s direction, and Hector would lash out, no matter that he could lose his job. When it came to Noelle’s protection, he was finding that there were no lines he wouldn’t cross.
“Good to see you again, Elle.” There was so much husky promise in the guy’s voice, the air practically thickened with sensuality.
“Uh, you, too, Blue.”
See her … again? When had they last gotten together? And who the fuck did the ball player think he was, using a nickname with her? They were broken up. And why the hell was she uncomfortable? Nothing made Noelle uncomfortable.
He opened his mouth to question the Arcadian, but when Corban shouldered Dallas aside to crouch just in front of Noelle, Hector’s mouth snapped closed. His questions could wait. Rage blistered through him. He stood, intending to physically force the man to back off. Mine, she’s mine, and I do not share.
Corban grinned, unconcerned by the animal he’d provoked. “So. I hear we’re having twins.”
Twenty-nine
DALLAS PASSED HECTOR A few fingers of scotch before downing his own. They both needed the alcohol. For different reasons, yeah, but need was need.
The pair of them sat in a shadowed corner of Wonderland, Hector’s favorite bar. The tables were made of metal, but they were painted to look like tree stumps. Evergreen-scented bubbles sometimes cascaded from the ceiling and floated through the air. Weird music always played in the background, the beat fast and erratic, and when you studied the walls hard enough, you could see little fairies peeping out from lush green bushes. Fairies with fangs, always a nice combo.
“So what do you think she’s d
oing?” he asked, miserable in a way he’d never been. And he’d been pretty damn miserable throughout his entire life!
“Who knows?”
“Well, I can guess.” Hector slammed his glass on the tabletop with enough strength to crack the iron. Noelle had left AIR with Corban Blue, oh, about six hours ago. No one had heard from her since.
A soft glow emitted from his bare arms, and the scowl he gave Dallas could have slain an army. “She better not still be with that Arcadian.”
“Dude, calm down. I’ve never seen you act that way.”
No one had. Except Noelle. She’d seen every side to him. Harsh, aroused, teasing, cruel. She’d liked him anyway. Until he’d pushed her away that last time. And now that he’d confessed about his past, she wouldn’t want him no matter how hard he tried to win her back.
Not that he could try to win her back.
“Usually you’re the guy with complete control of his emotions,” Dallas said. “Now you’re like Dragon Man, able to spew fire and burn an innocent man to ash.”
Closer to the truth than he probably realized. Hector pulled gloves out of his back pocket and stuffed his hands inside them, hiding his skin, his tats.
“So have you slept with her yet?” Dallas asked.
His scowl returned. “Came close before you told me about … Anyway, there’s hardly been the time since, has there? We’ve been working a case since the moment we left your place. More than that, I haven’t forgotten Devyn’s threat on her life. And most important, you’ll die, remember?”
Dallas’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I really am. I know you want her.”
Want. Too tame a word for what he felt for Noelle.
“Was she any—”
“Do not go there, Dallas,” Hector said after tossing back the rest of his scotch.
“You’re right. Bad form.”
Possessiveness was like a spiked collar around Hector’s neck. He wanted to hold the memories of what he’d shared with Noelle close. Especially since there could never be a repeat.
Dark Taste of Rapture Page 25
