Noble Brit

by P. T. Michelle

  “That wasn’t me, Den,” I say quickly, hoping he doesn’t think I’m this sexually free with every man I’m with.

  Lowering the cup, his brows draw together. “Was there some other woman in my bed last night?”

  When his gaze drops to my bare legs underneath his t-shirt, I quickly pull the sheet over them in an effort to regain some decorum after last night’s sexy adventures. “That’s not what I meant. I um…well I just wanted you to know that I’m not usually so forward—”

  “Do you regret it, Mina?”

  His crisp tone and tense jaw surprise me, but I don’t know how to answer him. If I tell him that I enjoyed everything we did—Every. Single. Decadent. Moment—will he respect me? Or will my honest answer put a fast end to whatever this is before it even gets started? Some guys can have weird double-standards about women who aren’t afraid of sex. They don’t mind fucking them, but that’s all they want. I don’t want to be his hot lay. I want to be the woman he’s proud of, the one he wants to show off, who also happens to be adventurous and uninhibited in bed. So how do I learn which kind of guy my stoic Noble Brit is without screwing this up? Honesty is best. If nothing else, he would appreciate that. “I was there, remember?”

  “The fact you’re giving me non-answers says you might.” Before I can respond, he holds up his hand. “We’ll talk later. For now, since I’ll be out of the office a fair bit today, you should probably stay here.”

  Who doesn’t have concerns or insecurities the first morning after? Even when—no, especially when—the sex was freaking fantastic? When more is on the line, because this person could truly break you, your response could detonate your new dynamic. “Den,” I reach for him, but he slides out of bed.

  Walking, in all his naked glory, toward the bathroom, he says in a low tone, “I have an early meeting.”

  The door shuts, cutting off our conversation and my view of his perfectly muscled ass.

  I spend the next couple hours, trying to finish my drawing and not let the distance Den put between us get to me, but of course my brain won’t stop churning. I finally close my notebook in disgust and pace the living room. The more I think about how he shut down and didn’t say much before he left, the angrier I get. No way am I letting him ignore me the entire day. The only reason I’m still here is because we don’t know who sent me those tea packages. For all I know, the tea is perfectly fine. Picking up my phone, I send him a text.

  I know we got off track last night, but did Travis get back to you about the tea?

  The teas had a mixture of marijuana and other drugs in them. The combination would definitely relax you, but it could also make you suggestible as well as hallucinate. Assuming you had some that morning, I believe the tea was the reason you seemed high from one glass of wine on Friday. Your building’s security cameras don’t store recordings more than forty-eight hours, so we won’t be able to determine who left the tea that way.

  I can’t believe someone tried to drug me! But his comment about possible hallucinations makes me wonder and I quickly send him another note.

  Did your friend say anything about nightmares?

  He didn’t, but if the tea can cause hallucinations, then it could also be the cause of nightmares. If you follow the pattern I’ve seen since we’ve been together, you usually drink a couple cups in the evening before bed.

  I’m pissed that someone drugged me, but I’m so relieved that those drugs could potentially be the source of my horrible nightmares the last several weeks that my gaze blurs with tears. Thankful to think I’m not losing my mind, I reply.

  I wonder if the peppermint ribbons were just a fluke and had nothing to do with my connection to Laura?

  I don’t believe in coincidence, not something this specific. For now, I’m having Elijah check for any other cameras that face your building. If he can find some that go back to the day you said you received the latest gift of tea, we’ll have you review them to see if you recognize anyone entering the building.

  Okay.

  When he doesn’t reply, I try not to let it get to me that he’s keeping our interactions all business. Maybe the woman I was last night was truly more than he bargained for.

  My heart twists at the thought, but I don’t want awkwardness to replace the wonderful rapport we had before mind-blowing sex complicated things. I miss my daughter, so for now, it’s probably best if I pick her up after daycare and bring her to his place tonight. Hopefully we’ll uncover the person who drugged my tea quickly, and then I can go back to my apartment, my job, and my single life with Josi.

  She and I were doing just fine without any men in our daily lives. It’s time to get back to just depending on me. Decision made, I dial the daycare.

  “Briarwood Daycare,” a younger woman says in a perky tone.

  She must be new. Where’s the older lady who usually answers the phone? “Hi, this is Mina Blake. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be picking my daughter, Josi, up at the end of the day instead of my father.”

  “I’m confused, Ms. Blake. I have the note you sent letting us know your mother would be picking Josi up today. She signed her out earlier.”

  What in God’s name is my mother doing? While ice cold worry rushes through my veins, quickly followed by mind-numbing fear, I try not to let panic come through in my voice. “Sorry about the misunderstanding. What time did my mother pick Josi up?”

  “Right before lunch. She said she was taking Josi to a place that used to be your favorite lunchtime spot. Can I help you with anything else, Ms. Blake?”

  I know exactly where Mom has taken Josi. “No, that’s all. Thank you for letting me know.”

  I hang up, then quickly pull off Den’s shirt and step into a pair of jeans. Tugging a sweatshirt over my head, I grab my jacket and purse. The moment I rush toward the door, I realize I don’t have a car. “Dammit!” As soon as my steps slow, I remember Den’s other car.

  Pivoting, I head for the built-in cabinet next to the fireplace and open the drawer I saw Den tuck the other set of car keys into. The last thing I expect to find is the braided bracelet Den had used in my hair. It’s lying on top of an eight-by-ten picture of a blue-eyed, curly-haired brunette and a young child about five years old with light brown skin and a mop of dark ringlets around her sweet face.

  My gaze snags on the bright colored bracelets they’re all wearing. His wife’s braided one is blue, red and white. Den’s is orange, green, white, red and black, and when I see his daughter’s bracelet has all the colors of Den’s and his wife’s, I realize that each bracelet must represent their nationalities’ flag colors. Did his daughter make them? My heart hurts for Den’s loss of his beautiful family. I want to examine every nuance of his wife and child’s features, to appreciate the woman’s smile who stole his heart so completely that he married her and had a little girl with an impishly pert nose and golden eyes like her father’s. But I have to get to my own child right now. Grabbing the keys, I close the drawer and turn toward the garage door with determined steps. My mother is going to wish she never came back from the grave for pulling this stunt!

  I’m surprised, but so very thankful the car starts up easily. Did Den really have an issue with it? I don’t have time to worry about why he wasn’t driving it. All I can do is hope it gets me to Central Park. As I back out of the garage, it hits me that I shouldn’t keep the truth about my mom to myself. Trying to deal with dodgy people on my own is what got me into the horrible Regan mess in the first place. She might be my mom, but she’s made her share of bad judgments, including the line she just crossed by taking my child without my permission.

  The last thing I want to do is pull Seb into this. I don’t want him to learn that my mother faked her death. Finding Simone needs to be his top priority so he can keep his family safe. I’ll call Den once I’m parked. No matter what’s going on between us, I know Josi’s safety matters to him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Den

  This morning, while Mina wa
s in the shower, I pulled the tins of tea from the cabinet I’d hidden them in and dumped most of the tea down the disposal in the sink, save the bit I gave to Travis to test. When I turned, intending to bury the tins under the rubbish in the bin, that’s when I noticed the logo imprinted on the bottom inside: Come back to Tara’s Trinkets & Teas to get your next tea fix!

  Standing outside of Tara’s Trinkets & Teas, I watch Laura open up shop and walk into work. According to Mina, Laura would never try to hurt her, but the tin in my hand tells a different story. The metal container bows as my fingers cinch around it. Determined to get answers, I start to walk across the street, when a text comes through. Mina’s asking for the lab results on her tea.

  It’s like the woman has a sixth sense. Shaking my head, I answer her question with Travis’ findings, but I don’t volunteer where I am. There’s no point in upsetting her unnecessarily. I need more information.

  My fingers hover over my keyboard. I consider telling her to be ready to talk tonight, but that might put her on the defensive. The conversation we needed to have was more than a five-minute one. I left to give her time to think. I can only hope allowing her space wasn’t a mistake. Putting my phone away, I head for the store.

  The bell rings when I walk in, and I instantly recognize Laura from working security at Josi’s christening. She looks up from doing paperwork at the register. “Good morning! Can I help you with something in particular?”

  I approach the counter and set the empty container down. “You can tell me why you tried to drug your best friend.”

  “Pardon me?” Once the shock of my comment fades, Laura takes the tin and glances down inside it. “Yes, this is one of ours, but I don’t know why you think I tried to drug anyone?”

  “I’m referring to Mina.” I cross my arms and give her my most intimidating look. “I’d like to know why you lied and told her you didn’t give her this tea, which was laced with a cocktail of marijuana and other drugs. Mina’s been through enough this past year. What exactly were you hoping to accomplish by drugging her?”

  The door’s bell chimes when a new customer enters. I turn and say to the young woman, “The store is still closed. Please wait outside until she tells you to come in.”

  Blond eyebrows hike and she points to the door. “But it had the Open sign—”

  “Turn it to Closed on your way out.”

  Her eyes widen, but she nods and scoots toward the door. “Um, okay.”

  “How dare you treat my customer like that!” Laura says the moment the woman walks out. Reaching for her cell phone, she glares at me. “If you don’t leave, right now, I’m calling the police.”

  I unbutton my overcoat and jacket, then slide my hands into my pants pockets, making sure she sees my holstered gun. “Be my guest. I’m sure the police would love to know the store you manage is selling drug-laced teas. No wonder you’re doing such brisk business.”

  “Who are you?” she says as she sets the phone back down with a shaky hand.

  “I take care of the Blake family. That’s all you need to know.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about with drugs in our tea. I mixed the batches myself, so I know for a fact, there wasn’t anything like that in it! And I would never try to hurt Mina in any way. I love her dearly.” Losing some of her bluster, she continues, “I can’t believe someone tried to drug Mina. Please tell me she’s okay?”

  I ignore her question and drill further. “Not only did this tin come from your store, but when it was left at Mina’s door, the packaging had a peppermint ribbon on it. So did the first package of tea she received in the same manner. Why don’t you tell me how these two things pointing to you and your unique connection to Mina would look to an investigator?”

  Laura’s gaze widens and her bottom lip starts to tremble. “Both packages had a peppermint ribbon?” When I nod, she shakes her head. “I have no idea who would try to point the finger at me, but I promise you, our teas aren’t laced with anything but tea and natural herbs that are listed on the label. Nothing else.”

  When she glances toward the door as someone knocks impatiently on the glass, I stare her down. “The sooner you help point me to the person who did this, the sooner you can re-open your store.”

  “Please tell Mina it wasn’t me. I feel so horrible.” Rubbing her forehead, she sighs and picks up the tin, her bangle bracelets clinking on her arm. “This particular batch was a seasonal one. It was for a special promotion we ran in the store. I believe I made ninety.”

  “I’d like the list of purchasers.”

  “Of course. Anything to help my friend.” Nodding, she taps on the computer screen, then looks up. “If you only had the other tin, I could—”

  I pull the second tin out of my overcoat pocket and set it down on the counter. “I want both purchase lists.”

  Elijah’s on the phone when I walk into his office. “Sometimes, you two have your own married couple’s language.” Snorting, he shakes his head. “Yeah, I can’t believe this fake name is stumping us. Maybe Regan really was being ironic. That place was the epitome of a dive hotel.”

  I step up to his desk and set the two lists Laura gave me on his keyboard in front of him. “I need you to compare these purchase lists and get me a name.”

  He raises his eyebrows and sighs into the phone. “Let me call you back. Den’s in my office, commanding my attention.”

  Sebastian’s grumble of annoyance comes through loud and clear as Elijah sets the phone back in its cradle. “Now that you’re here, you’ve saved me a trip.” He pulls out the phone I asked him to try to break into and hands it back to me. “I was able to decrypt the passcode, but unfortunately it was a dead end. All I got off the phone was a burner number that sent the person that picture of your car and license plate. And before you ask, I tried to trace the number, but the phone went dead after that day. The owner was probably smart enough to ditch it.”

  “What about this phone? Can you tell where the person had been?”

  “The phone was activated that day,” Elijah says, shaking his head. “There wasn’t any history on it to scrape. Oh, and one last thing, you had me check on Edgar Stewart.” Elijah taps on his keyboard and scrolls down. “There’s no Edgar Stewart listed as having arrived in the US. Does this have something to do with that phone?”

  I shake my head. “They’re unrelated. Please be sure to inform me the minute he steps foot on US soil.”

  “Will do. Though I have to warn you that when it comes to diplomats, they’re a bit harder to track.”

  “Understood.” If Edgar hasn’t arrived, he most likely isn’t responsible for the shooter. Since I haven’t made any enemies in the US that I’m aware of, it very well could be the sweep team from the hotel going after possible witnesses. “Thanks for doing that, Elijah.” I pocket the phone, then point to the two lists I laid on his desk. “When you’re not actively searching for Simone, this is next on your list. Someone on these two lists bought teas and dropped them off at Mina’s door as a gift. They were laced with drugs. These lists are from two separate purchasing days the teas in question were bought. I believe it’s the same person, and I could use your ninja skills to get me a name and hopefully an address.”

  “You know if they paid cash, they won’t be on this list.”

  I nod. “It’s still worth comparing the lists to see if a name pops up in both.”

  “Got it,” he says, then frowns. “Is Mina okay?”

  “She is, but whoever did this needs to be caught and charged.” Which reminds me, I pull my phone out and turn it back on to check in with Mina, when an alert pops up that she has left me a voicemail. I step outside Elijah’s office to let Talia enter and hit Play.

  “Hey, it’s Mina. I’m at Central Park. Sorry, but I had to take your car. I couldn’t wait around for you to come get me. In retrospect, I know I should’ve told you this sooner, but I didn’t know what to do with this information and now…” She sighs and continues, “The bottom l
ine is, my mother didn’t die in that explosion.”

  My gaze jerks to Talia who’s talking to Elijah. She’s saying something about Latin, but I glance away to concentrate on Mina’s voicemail.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but Mom’s very much alive, with a new face, thanks to Regan’s stolen Blake money. At least I know I wasn’t going completely crazy seeing a woman who looked like my mom. With sunglasses on, Mom can kind of pass for her old self, which she used to her advantage to pick Josi up from daycare today. That’s why I’m at the park. When I was little, Mom would take me out of school for a special lunch where I could feed the ducks. I’m sorry if I’m rambling. I’m not really sure why I’m telling you all of this. Yes, I’m a bit freaked out that she took Josi without my permission, but I truly don’t believe she would hurt her or me. I guess I just wanted someone to talk to about all of this when I get back with my daughter. It’s not like I can tell anyone in my family. Thanks for listening and I’ll see you later.”

  I immediately try to call her, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. My pulse races as I check to see how long ago she called. Ten minutes. Bloody fucking hell!

  Just as I tuck my phone away, Talia says, “Hey, Den, we think Regan’s fake name was in Latin, which roughly translates to ‘Elisabeth living.’ Care to join us on brainstorming what that could possibly mean?”

  “Can I talk to you?” I curtly nod toward her office, when what I really want to do is rush out the door.

  “Of course.” Talia follows me into her office and shuts the door. “What’s going on?”

  I glance toward the open doorway between her office and Sebastian’s. Once I hear him talking on the phone, I lower my voice. “My guess is Elisabeth living means Isabel is alive.”