Noelle’s heart lurched in her chest. Hector’s expression was one of pain, regret, and soul-wrenching sorrow. Not about the sex. That, she knew he’d enjoyed. But about the danger he’d put her in.
“I want you to follow me around like a puppy, doing everything I tell you to do,” she said.
“What else?”
Her lips pursed. “Tell me what you like about me.”
He blinked, clearly surprised by the topic switch. “Everything.”
There was so much conviction in his tone that he left no room for doubt. “Even if I told you that twice in my life I’ve hacked off Ava’s hair, just because I was mad at her?”
His brow furrowed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m confessing my sins so you can reevaluate what you like about me.”
“I won’t ever—”
“I’ve also done every drug out there except Onadyn,” she interjected. “And the only reason I’ve never done Onadyn is because it turns your skin blue for several hours, and blue isn’t my color. Also, I went through a pyre phase and torched a school, as well as my parents’ summer home. Oh, and I once stole a twenty from a homeless man. ’Course, he deserved it for kicking a robo-dog. Machines have feelings too, you know, but I still kept him from eating for God knows how many days.”
Hector’s golden gaze no longer crackled with tension, had softened with wariness. “Interesting, but why do you think any of that would make me reevaluate what I like about you?”
“It doesn’t?”
“No.”
Her heart fluttered, a thousand tiny butterfly wings in flight. “All right, then. What would you change about me?”
Another round of confused blinking. “Not a damn thing.”
More conviction. Much more. He meant that, liked her just the way she was. Wasn’t judging her. Further proof: he’d never tried to change her. He’d only ever tried to protect her.
She would have him. Fight for him.
In her mind, they’d just proven they could be together intimately successfully, but okay. He required more evidence. Problem was, he planned to push her away. Again. For her own good. Well, not this time.
She would do the pushing. Not away from her, but toward a commitment. She would have him, and that was that.
“Just so you know,” she said. “Nothing happened with Corban. I refused to let him inside my house, so he took me to a restaurant. We talked for an hour before I left his ass there. I went to my mother’s, went to a cocktail party with her, thought briefly about committing a murder/suicide, then stayed the night with her. The reason I was still in a dress was because I refuse to keep clothes at her house and had to buy something for the party. That was all I had to wear home.”
He listened, his shoulders sagging with relief. “Thank you for telling me.”
“That’s what people in a relationship do.” There. She’d said it, and he could deal.
He flinched. “Well, now I have to tell you something.”
Annnd, here it comes. The “it’s not you, it’s me” speech again.
“You know one of the reasons I pushed you away before. My arms. Here’s another. Dallas had a vision of the two of us sleeping together, as well as a vision of the two of you sleeping together.”
A searing flood of confusion. “A vision?”
“Yeah. He’s psychic.”
Psychic. “Okay.” Once she might have snorted at such a claim. Having worked with otherworlders, having dated one, and seeing their abilities firsthand, she’d pretty much believe anything. “I guess he got it right because I just slept with you.”
Hector’s nostrils flared. A return of his arousal? “The problem is, Dallas will either be destroyed or saved.”
“Destroyed or saved, because I slept with you?”
“Yes.”
“How will Dallas be destroyed? Or saved?” she added before he could correct her. Just like that, she understood why Dallas and Devyn, Dally’s best friend forever, had acted so strangely around her yesterday.
A muscle ticked in Hector’s jaw. “We don’t know.” “You just know it’ll happen.”
A stiff, grim nod.
“Because I slept with you,” she reiterated. “Don’t worry. Dallas gave his permission for us to be together.”
“Oh, well, if Dallas gave his permission, then by all means,” she said dryly. “Let’s get married and have a thousand babies.”
His teeth flashed in a scowl. “Look, I just wanted you to know where my head was at.”
So she’d back off and give him some space? Not gonna happen, darling. I’m coming at you guns blazing.
On her nightstand, her phone beeped, signaling a text had just come in. “Get dressed, and we’ll head to work,” she said, walking over and palming the device.
“We don’t have to decide anything about our definitely committed relationship right now.”
“Noelle—”
“Don’t even think about denying we are involved in a committed relationship, Hector. We are. Well, you are at least. I’m allowed to fool around with other people if I so choose.”
Silence. Good. Maybe he’d learn he would live a much fuller, richer life if he just sucked it up and gave her what she wanted, when she wanted it.
“You are not fooling around with anyone else,” he finally growled. “Not even Don Carlos.”
“Fine. But it’s on you if he kills himself over the sorrow of losing me.”
“Word on the street is, he’s already moved on and is dating someone else.”
“He is not. He loves me!” When she reminded herself they were talking about her imaginary lover, she forced herself to utter a put-upon sigh. “Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself. You just got exactly what you wanted. You and I are only seeing each other.”
As he strode into the bathroom, muttering under his breath about naughty girls who fought dirty, she read what Tits McGee had to say. Guess what? Fangs R in!
Ava and McKell forever, she thought, a sudden pang in her chest. She replied: Told U! She was happy for the lovebirds, she really was. And she wouldn’t feel sorry for herself, that Hector was intent on resisting her. She was better than that. Sometimes.
I bet U look hot! U doing well? she typed next.
Do look hot, but tired w/ a raging thirst.
Take it out on McKell.
Already on it!
Of course she was. Ava liked dishing revenge as much as Noelle did.
Tits McGee: So… U think anymore bout turning?
Took her a moment to decide on the proper response. Not yet, got case, miss you tho.
Miss you 2. BTW, case would B solved already if I were there.
Brat.
Slacker.
“Why are you grinning?” Hector asked as he exited the bathroom. His pants were in place, and he was tugging his shirt over his head. A shame to cover all that muscled perfection.
Better question: why wasn’t she jumping all over Ava’s offer? But then, she already knew the answer. Because of him, that’s why. A man who was determined to knock her burgeoning faith in romance down a peg. But he wouldn’t. Not this time.
“Ava just called me a slacker,” she said.
“And that amuses you? If I called you a name like that, you’d knee me in the balls.”
“Twice.”
His phone rang and he whipped the thing from his pocket. “Agent Dean.” A moment of quiet. His cheeks quickly paled, his gaze swinging to Noelle. “Margarete? Calm down. I can’t understand you.” Pause. “Stay there. I’m on my way.”
Thirty-three
HECTOR WALKED THROUGH THE Markses’ residence for the second time in two days. Once pristine, the home was now a wreck. Knickknacks were shattered on the floor. Furniture was overturned. There was a splatter of something wet and golden in the living room. Rakan blood, most likely.
There was no sign of Margarete, but he knew she was here.
On his way over, he’d had Noelle call the ag
ents guarding the outside. She’d told them Margarete claimed someone had broken in, someone she’d managed to fight off to lock herself in the hidden safe-room Bobby had built for her.
They hadn’t seen anyone enter. So either the Arcadian had teleported in despite the wall shields or the guy who’d gotten in was very good at remaining in the shadows. Either way was bad news for the investigation.
“I’ll do a sweep for prints,” Noelle said. The moment he’d explained what was going on, she’d gathered up a shirt, jeans, and boots in record time—and dressed in the car. He’d gotten peek after peek at skin he’d only just licked, breasts he’d sucked on, and a portal to paradise that had welcomed him with wet, greedy heat.
Mine. And he was hers. She’d said so.
“Thanks,” he said. They only needed one print, even a partial, and they’d have the guy’s identity. If he was human. Some alien races—like the Arcadians—did not have fingerprints.
Hector dialed the number Margarete had used to call him. He’d wanted her to stay on the line the entire time, but she’d hung up on him when he’d first entered the house, as if she didn’t want to hear any fight that broke out. She picked up after the third ring. “Whoever broke in is long gone. I’ve checked the entire house. Will you come out for me? You’re safe now, I promise.”
“Y—you’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“All r—right.” Click.
A minute passed, then another. Finally she rounded the far corner. Her golden skin was pallid, and there was a bruise on her cheek. The pink dress she wore was torn at the collar and thigh. Tremors rocked her slight frame, and she clutched a black glove to her chest.
Shouldn’t have left her here, he thought, pissed at himself. “Let’s get your injuries checked.”
“All right,” she said again.
“Sit here.” Noelle righted the couch, and clapped her hands in a job well done. “I’ll get one of the medics in here.” They were waiting outside, unable to enter without permission. Off she went. And she knew to threaten whoever she picked with bodily harm if they mentioned the Rakan.
Margarete padded over and eased down at the far corner. After everything she’d been through, Hector didn’t want to intimidate her, so he claimed the cushion at the other end.
“Can you tell me what your attacker looked like?” he asked.
She gulped, glittery tears cascading down her cheeks. “He was human. Tall with a body like yours. A crooked nose. Dark hair, dark eyes.”
Well, well. She’d just described Bruiser, the guy from the sketch. So the Arcadian hadn’t come. Which most likely meant he couldn’t teleport here. So close. We’re getting there. Going to solve this.
“Did he say anything to you?”
Before she could reply, Noelle walked in with a twenty-something medic following her. He was on the short and pudgy side, yet still possessed a brisk, confident stride.
“We’ll pick up where we left off when you’re done with medical,” he said.
The medic crouched in front of Margarete, looked her over, and pulled what he needed from his bag. “This might sting a bit.”
When he dabbed antiseptic on the cut on her hand, she flinched. That was the only reaction she gave, remaining stoic and silent as he bandaged her up and took her vitals. Entire process only took about twenty minutes, but because Hector wouldn’t discuss case details with someone other than an agent, even a medic, the wait was torturous.
Finally, though, he, Noelle, and Margarete were alone.
“Did your attacker say anything?” he asked again.
“He said… he said I belonged to his boss. He tried to inject me with something, like you did, but I kicked him just like Bobby taught me and got away. He… wore gloves. I—I managed to rip one off.”
“Where is the glove now?” he asked, even though he knew it was the one she’d placed in her lap.
Her arms shook as she extended the material in his direction. Hector motioned to Noelle, who had stayed close. She wore gloves of her own, and confiscated the evidence.
She’d scrape skin cells from inside and have an identity within the next five minutes, no print necessary now. Urgency rushed through him. So damn close.
“He came here before,” Margarete admitted softly. “Before you. That time, I hid before he spotted me, though, and he left.”
“Will you tell me now how you and Bobby met?” he asked. “The truth this time.”
Her lips rolled in, and she gulped. “He… bought me. The man who came today, he was the one who brought me here.”
Unnecessary verification, but damn, it felt good. “Why did you lie before?”
She looked down, ashamed. “Because Bobby told me never to tell. He said he would be killed and I would be sent away and given to someone else.” Her chin trembled. “I don’t want to be given to anyone else.”
“You won’t.” A vow. “Never again. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Don’t mean to interrupt,” Noelle said, glee bubbling in her tone, “but we’ve got him. Ruppert Gordman. Thirty-three, human. Picked up a few times for violence. No known address. If he’s got an appointment anywhere and it’s been logged into a computer, I’ll find it.”
The sense of urgency amplified. “Does that name mean anything to you?” he asked Margarete.
A moment of thought, then she shook her head.
The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. His brow furrowed as he visually searched a room he’d already physically searched. He felt as if someone were watching him. He found nothing out of place, though. No eyes staring from portraits, no cameras. “I want you to stay at AIR,” Hector said.
When she gave another shake of her head and opened her mouth to issue a denial, he held up a hand to silence her. “There are two other women there, and they’ve gone through the same thing you have. They were picked up by the guys who abducted you, and drugged. They were going to be sold.”
“I—no.” The glittery tears sprang forth anew, tracking down her cheeks. “I want to stay here.”
“You can’t,” he said, using a tougher voice. “Bobby didn’t change his will. Which means you aren’t in it. Sometime this week, his mother is going to take over the deed, and she’s going to kick you out. You’ll have no place to go. No protection. This way, you’ll be able to take what you want with you, and we can help you find a place when the one who wants to sell you is locked away.”
“You won’t have to worry about anything,” Noelle added gently. “I know a girl, who knows a girl, yada yada, and you’d be doing her a favor, watching over her house while she’s off planet. It’s a very safe place. I’ve been there myself.”
He seriously doubted she knew a girl who knew a girl off planet. Ava was her closest—and perhaps only—friend. Which meant Noelle was planning to pay for everything herself.
Sweet of her, and for most people, probably bewildering. Nearly everyone at AIR had called her spoiled at some point. Even when she was merely a trainee, she’d had food delivered to her desk—and she had only shared with Ava, no matter how much bitching people did. She went through cars like some men went through condoms. She drank champagne and ate expensive chocolate treats and sometimes left the office in a formal gown.
He thought back, some things about her finally adding up. No one had seemed to notice that when their computers broke down, they were somehow fixed the next day. Or when an agent’s kid got sick, she suddenly didn’t feel well so maybe her doctor should check them both out, make sure the brat hasn’t—and couldn’t—give her anything. The faker, saving everyone’s pride by making herself seem silly.
Bottom line, when something mattered, she took care of it. He realized that now. She just didn’t want anyone to know she’d helped.
Why? he wondered. Because people would expect more from her? Because they would realize she wasn’t… what had she called herself? A flake. Irresponsible.
Yeah, he thought. That was it exactly. She strove so hard to project t
hat kind of image, then hated that people couldn’t see through it. But then, she also held most people at a distance; that way, they couldn’t hurt her if they didn’t like her.
He did the same thing. He kept people at a distance so that they wouldn’t like him. So that he wouldn’t hurt them.
Remember that.
“Gordman has an appointment at Cirque du Culotte tomorrow,” Noelle said, her relish back full force. “Ten in the morning.”
Circus of the Panties? Shit. Hector was ashamed to note he knew the place. Located in the center of Whore’s Corner, the worst the city had to offer. “It’s a… massage parlor that specializes in, uh, happy endings,” he said, having heard the question in her tone.
Her lips curled in disgust. “Okay, that’s just gross.”
He ignored the sudden surge of bile rising up his chest. What would she say if she learned he’d been in that particular shop?
“Margarete?” he said, returning his attention to the Rakan. “What’s it going to be?”
Her golden head bowed. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll go to AIR.”
“Good.” No reason to mention he would have had her carted there with or without her consent. He pushed to his feet. “Grab some things, and we’ll escort you there now.” He and Noelle had a thousand things to do—and only until ten tomorrow morning to do them.
Thirty-four
HECTOR DIDN’T SPEND THE night with Noelle, but he did pick her up the next morning, as promised. Sweet progress, she thought. I’ll have him bagged and tagged by week’s end.
He hadn’t yet experienced the full measure of a Noelle Tremain seduction. No man had. Too potent. Of course. But Hector was about to be the first. He’d addicted her to the goods, and now he would supply her with more. It was as simple as that.
He’d nearly popped his zipper when he had first spotted her outfit. Another deeply V’d top—why mess with what worked?—paired with a tight black skirt. Both allowed for easy access to her fun zones. Not to mention, the skirt barely covered her underwear when she sat down. And they had a thirty-minute car ride to enjoy.
Dark Taste of Rapture Page 28
