Текст книги "Alone in the Dark"

Автор книги: Karen Rose

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 49 страниц)

Eleven

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 9.35 A.M.

Ken’s anger churned as he watched Demetrius pace the floor of his office.

‘Why are you still here?’ Ken asked coldly.

‘I’m trying to figure out what to do.’

Ken lurched to his feet and leaned forward, his hands braced on the glossy wood of his desk. ‘I told you what to do. Go and kill that sonofabitch O’Bannion, just like I told you to do nine fucking months ago!’

Demetrius paused his pacing long enough to shoot Ken a glare from the corner of his eye. ‘We didn’t need to kill him nine fucking months ago! He was out of commission.’

Which they hadn’t needed to lift a finger to accomplish. A bona fide serial killer had nearly done their job for them. ‘It appears he’s no longer out of commission,’ Ken said coldly. ‘He’s out there again – and in our business. Why didn’t we know this? I thought we were watching him.’

‘We were. According to Reuben’s reports, when O’Bannion got out of the hospital, he spent a couple of months recuperating at that mausoleum of his mother’s. Since then, he’s spent most of his time at the paper.’

Ken straightened, arms crossed over his chest. ‘He wasn’t at the paper this morning. He was in an alley with one of our assets. God only knows what the little bitch told him.’

Demetrius held up his phone. ‘I just read the damn article. Maybe you should too, before you start one of your rants.’

Ken drew a deep breath. ‘I am not ranting.’

‘Fine. We’re having a rational discussion.’ Demetrius’s eye roll indicated exactly what he thought of that. ‘Look, the article says that O’Bannion got there as she was bleeding out. She didn’t say anything to him.’

Ken sat back in his chair and scanned the entire article, but he wasn’t swayed. O’Bannion was slime. Dangerous slime. ‘So he says. The man lies more easily than he breathes.’

‘He’s the goddamn media,’ Demetrius spat. ‘Of course he lies. We can listen to more of the recordings from the wearer’s ankle tracker. She might not have told O’Bannion anything in that alley, but she told someone something. Enough that he met her there.’

‘Why weren’t we watching him last night?’

‘Because Reuben was short-handed. When he lost his two people in the accident last month, he proposed transferring the person he’d had watching O’Bannion to transporting shipments. We all agreed, including you.’

Ken ground his teeth, remembering now. He had agreed, dammit. ‘It was supposed to be temporary. Reuben was supposed to hire someone new.’

‘Reuben was supposed to do a lot of things,’ Demetrius said evenly. ‘It appears he was busy doing other things. Like our suppliers’ wives and daughters.’

Ken shook his head. ‘We’ve already gone around and around about Reuben. We’ve got a plan in place for him. Now we’re talking about O’Bannion. We should have killed him as soon as he got out of the hospital.’

Demetrius rubbed his palms together. ‘Will you stop saying that? We couldn’t kill him then. Not without risking the cops connecting him to McCord and his wife. And we couldn’t do the suicide thing again. Not so soon after we staged McCord’s and his wife’s suicide.’

They’d arranged for McCord’s death in prison – not terribly hard to manage. The man had been about to talk and he would have taken them all down. He’d been hanged in his cell and his jailers had called it suicide. His wife’s killing was a necessary snipping of loose ends. They had no way of knowing what she knew, but she’d been vocal in his defense and they’d shut her up as a pre-emptive strike, making it look like she’d OD’d on pills. Two suicides, both fully accepted because the authorities had been expecting it to happen.

The same approach should have been applied to O’Bannion.

‘Suicide would have worked after O’Bannion got out of the hospital. He was grieving his brother’s death. No one would have blinked.’

Demetrius sighed. ‘You’re right,’ he said quietly. ‘I was wrong. We were all wrong except for you. Happy now?’

Ken opened his mouth, a torrent of words at the ready, but he stopped them at the last minute before he could say something he’d truly regret later. ‘No, I’m not happy,’ he said, forcing himself to find his composure. ‘We’ve made some mistakes. We, Demetrius. That includes me too.’ Which he didn’t truly believe, but it was only important that Demetrius thought he did. ‘We need to fix them, starting with O’Bannion.’

Demetrius’s mouth curved. ‘You are so fulla shit, Kenny,’ he said, almost affectionately. ‘You don’t ever think you’re wrong. Why should I believe you’re starting now? But you are right in that we do have to fix this. O’Bannion needs to go. But I’m not willing to go to jail, not even for you. So let’s figure this thing out.’ He sat down in the wingback chair, studying his phone screen with a frown.

Ken reread the article. ‘Whoever shot the girl in the alley also shot O’Bannion in the back, but O’Bannion wasn’t injured badly enough to go to the hospital. Sean’s source says he was treated and released at the scene.’ Eyes narrowed, he looked at Demetrius. ‘Who shot the girl?’

‘Very good question,’ Demetrius murmured. ‘But a more immediate question might be “With what?” If we can pin down the kind of gun that was used, we can get one and kill O’Bannion. Then – as long as we make sure we get the bullet out of him – nobody will be able to prove that the same shooter didn’t come back for him.’

‘Will you do that?’ Ken asked.

‘You’re asking this time?’ A chuckle. ‘Maybe the boy can be taught after all. Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ve got a few favors floatin’ around down at CPD. I’ll collect some. All I really need to know is the bullet caliber. I’ll wait till O’Bannion’s alone. But that means you’ll have to take care of Reuben’s wife. If you’re not too rusty.’

Ken raised a brow. ‘I’ll take care of Miriam. You make sure O’Bannion doesn’t cause us any trouble. Any more trouble, anyway,’ he added bitterly.

‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Demetrius saluted smartly. ‘Since we’re back to not asking.’

Ken shot him a dirty look. ‘Don’t be an asshole, Demetrius.’ He rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. ‘Burton should have called by now.’

‘I know.’

Sighing again, Ken hit the speaker phone and dialed Burton’s cell phone. ‘Status?’ he snapped when Burton answered, his voice grim.

‘We have the Anders family, all three of them. They had to be restrained and . . . muted. None of them were able to get off a phone call for help, so at least we won’t have that cleanup.’

‘What about the tamper alert?’ he asked, already knowing the answer. He’d heard it in Burton’s grim tone. Still, Ken held his breath.

‘We found the cut trackers in the basement, which apparently had been the women’s quarters for the past few years. But both of the women are gone.’

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 9.50 A.M.

Scarlett Bishop. How long had she been standing there? What had she heard? Nothing damaging, Marcus decided. Worst case, she’d heard him rebuking Gayle for giving Jill access to her computer. Best case, she’d heard only Gayle’s worry that he’d been shot at. Again. He pushed the panic to the edge of his mind.

The edge of his mind was getting mighty crowded with all the emotions he was shoving over there. The ridiculous thought was enough to make his lips quirk up, so that when he spoke, his voice was only mildly irritated.

‘Stone?’ he called. ‘Escort the detective in, please.’

Stone shoved the door open. His brother looked just like a bar bouncer, his scowl one that would have scared most street thugs. But Scarlett was unaffected, her face serene. And so goddamn beautiful it was all Marcus could do to remember the fact that she’d eavesdropped on a private conversation.

‘Detective,’ Marcus said evenly. She’d changed her clothes. Gone was the sexy tank top and tight jeans that had hugged her body like a glove, a conservative blouse and slacks in their place. Sadly, a tailored jacket now covered the shoulder holster that he’d found so hot. The black braid that had hung freely down the middle of her back was looped close to her head in a clever spiral, and he wondered how many pins she’d had to use to make it stay that way. The image of his hands pulling those pins out one by one flashed into his mind. She looked good enough to eat.

‘She was listening at the door,’ Stone snarled.

‘There was no one at the desk and I got tired of waiting,’ Scarlett said with a shrug of shoulders he now knew were well toned and muscular in a very feminine way.

‘You didn’t call out for anyone,’ Gayle said indignantly. ‘I would have come right out.’

‘She has a habit of doing that,’ Stone said through clenched teeth. ‘Showing up and not announcing herself.’

Scarlett and Deacon had tricked Stone the first time they’d met him, walking into his house when he’d called ‘Come in’, thinking it was Jeremy’s husband who’d knocked. They’d announced themselves as police only after they were already through the door. Technically they’d violated Stone’s civil rights by barging in unannounced, but technically Stone was withholding critical evidence about multiple murders at the time, so they’d all let it slide. Now here Scarlett was barging in unannounced again. A repeat offender, as it were. Clearly she didn’t mind bending the rules when it suited her. Which shouldn’t have made Marcus want her even more, but he had to admit that it did.

Scarlett didn’t acknowledge either Gayle or Stone, continuing to regard Marcus with an unflappable calm. I should be royally pissed off right now, he thought. But he found himself intrigued instead.

Gayle came to her feet. ‘I’ll show the detective out.’

Marcus stopped her with a wave of his hand. ‘It’s all right, Gayle. What can I do for you, Detective?’

‘I came by to see if you were all right,’ Scarlett said, then arched one black brow. ‘Seeing as how you hadn’t returned my phone calls.’

He bit back a wince. What could he say? I ignored your messages because I was busy figuring out which threats would make me the least suspicious to you? He didn’t think so. ‘I’m sorry if I worried you. I’m fine, as you can see. Just busy earning a living.’

Scarlett scanned his office, her gaze lingering on the wall covered with the framed newspaper headlines his grandfather had collected over a lifetime. For a moment he thought she’d comment on the front page of the Malaya, but then she turned to face him and he frowned. The calm he’d seen when she’d arrived was gone. Now her expression was purposefully blank.

‘Earning a living by digging up news,’ she said quietly.

The sudden change in her demeanor rubbed him the wrong way. ‘We are a newspaper, Detective,’ he said sharply. ‘You’ve seen that I’m still unharmed, so if there’s nothing else?’

The flash of temper in her dark eyes irrationally soothed his irritation. ‘You promised me a list of those who’d made threats against you. I expected it hours ago.’ She turned her attention to Gayle. ‘I assume you’re Mr O’Bannion’s office manager. He told my partner and me that you keep a list of all the threats to his life made by those unhappy with your newspaper’s content. Since he is obviously too busy, can you print me a copy?’

The slight stiffening of Gayle’s spine was the only sign that Scarlett’s knowledge of the threat list had surprised her. ‘I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Detective . . . ?’

‘This is Detective Bishop,’ Marcus supplied. ‘Scarlett Bishop.’

‘Homicide,’ Scarlett added curtly.

‘Detective, this is Gayle Ennis. She manages my office.’

Gayle’s eyes widened as Scarlett’s name registered. ‘You investigated Mikhail’s murder,’ she said, her voice suddenly rough.

Scarlett’s expression changed again, gentling. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said respectfully. ‘You knew him?’

Gayle nodded, her throat working as she tried to swallow. ‘I was his nanny.’

Startled, Scarlett’s mouth opened, then closed. She let out a quiet breath. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ she murmured. ‘I’m working the murder of the young woman who died this morning. She has a family too, and they deserve to know what happened to her. Getting the list would be a major help to my investigation, and every second counts.’

Gayle glanced at Marcus uncertainly.

‘I’ll take care of this, Gayle.’ He squeezed Gayle’s shoulder, then crossed his office to where Scarlett still stood in the doorway. He had to fight the urge to lean in closer and sniff her hair. She smelled like wildflowers, just as she had when she’d sat by his hospital bed nine months ago. ‘Did you watch the videos?’ he asked softly.

She met his eyes. ‘Yes. Many times.’

‘And you still think you need the list?’

Understanding flickered in her eyes. ‘If you’re asking if I still think you were the target, the answer is probably no. But I owe it to Tala – and to you – to be sure.’

She’d scored major points with both Stone and Gayle with that answer. And with me, he grudgingly admitted. Shit.

‘All right. If you feel you really need to check it out, I’ll get it to you ASAP. Now if there’s nothing else, Stone will show you out.’

Stone no longer scowled, his anger having dissipated a little when Scarlett spoke to Gayle with such care. ‘Detective? This way, please.’

Scarlett’s feet didn’t move, her eyes locking with Marcus’s. ‘I can wait right here while the list is printed,’ she said firmly. ‘I have a few more things to discuss with you.’

Marcus’s eyes narrowed. ‘What things?’

‘The dog, for one. I may have a lead on identifying the dog and its owner. Since the photos I printed from the video files were rather dark and grainy, I’d like you to accompany me to see if you can identify it from a group of photos in my lead’s collection. You’re the only one who’s seen the dog live and in the flesh,’ she added. ‘Again, every second counts, so if you can spare the time this morning, I’d appreciate it.’

To spend more time with her or not to spend more time with her? Duh. Marcus had already mentally checked his calendar, but he glanced at his cell phone for show. ‘I can spare a few hours. Gayle, please clear my—’

‘If we get the exclusive,’ Stone interrupted.

Scarlett looked over her shoulder at Stone, exasperated. ‘Do you mind?’

Stone shrugged. ‘His time is worth money. Exclusives equal money. Besides, showing that there was a dog and that its owners are evil can only support Marcus’s story. He ran a risk calling you last night. People will assume he was in that alley with an underage girl for nefarious reasons, no matter what we posted this morning. Any chance we can get to reinforce the truth is a good deal for my brother.’

Her brows knit as she considered it. ‘Fine. You can have the exclusive, but you have to clear it with me before you print it. Just until we catch Tala’s killer,’ she added quickly when Stone started to protest. ‘I don’t want you publishing anything that will tip off the killer and mess up my case.’

‘Agreed,’ Stone said, as if Marcus weren’t even standing there.

‘What are the other things?’ Marcus wanted her attention off Stone and back on himself.

Scarlett leaned to the left so that she could see Gayle, who still stood next to Marcus’s desk. ‘What makes you so certain that Leslie McCord is no longer a threat to Mr O’Bannion?’

Marcus glared down at her. ‘That has nothing to do with your case.’

She looked up at him, unrepentant. ‘I didn’t ask you. I asked Ms Ennis.’

‘Don’t answer her, Gayle,’ Stone warned, the thug-scaring scowl reclaiming his face. ‘She deliberately eavesdropped on you two. Make her get a goddamn warrant.’

‘She doesn’t need one,’ Gayle said wearily. ‘She could find it online in a minute. Leslie McCord is dead. She took a bottle of sleeping pills, so the issue was closed. There was no point in burdening you with it.’ She slid past them and around Stone. ‘I’ll be at my desk.’

‘Satisfied, Detective Bishop?’ Marcus asked sarcastically.

Scarlett entered his office without asking, taking the chair that Gayle had vacated. ‘I will be when I get that list.’

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 9.50 A.M.

Ken focused on maintaining his heart rate. The other women Anders had kept at his house had escaped. Three assets gone in less than twelve hours.

Demetrius sank back into the wingback chair, giving Ken a stunned look.

Things had gone from sugar to shit in a big-time hurry. If Miriam hasn’t killed Reuben, Ken thought viciously, he’ll wish she had when I’m done with him.

With an effort, he kept his voice calm. ‘What do you mean, both women are gone?’ he asked Burton over the speaker phone on his desk.

Demetrius didn’t have as good a hold on his own temper. ‘Your men were right outside when the tracker alert was activated!’ he shouted. ‘How fucking hard is it to round up two fucking women?’

A moment of tense, defensive silence on Burton’s end. ‘I sent the men in as soon as I got the call from Sean. They had to break down a basement door and several interior doors to get in. Anders had armored his house with security doors and windows. They ended up having to shoot their way in. Anders was very well armed.’

‘Injuries?’ Ken asked.

‘One of my men took a bullet in the leg. Through and through. Will probably need stitches. Decker said he can do the stitches if we need him to. He was a medic in Iraq.’

‘Mr Decker seems to be multi-talented,’ Ken murmured, his calm now icy. If there had been gunfire, someone would have heard it and called 911. ‘What about Anders? I want him and his family unharmed.’

‘So that we can harm them,’ Demetrius growled.

‘Chip Anders is wounded, but only superficially,’ Burton said, then blew out a breath. ‘Not that you’d know it by listening to him. He’s whining like a stuck pig. His wife has a mark on her face. Decker slapped her after she bit him.’

Ken glared at Demetrius when his lips twitched. ‘And the daughter?’ Ken asked Burton. Because Miss Anders would likely be the best leverage against her father. ‘Did you mark her?’

‘Not on her face, but she was slapped as well,’ Burton said, grimly satisfied. ‘Her ass might be a little red for a few hours. Her fingernails are hard and sharp. She took off the top layer of my face, the bitch. We subdued them, restrained them, gagged them – thank God – then put them in the van, handcuffed to the doors and to each other.’

‘What about the authorities?’

‘I sent one of the men up ahead to watch for any approaching vehicles. Our guns were silenced, but Anders’s weren’t. Decker and I searched for the two women whose trackers were cut. We combed the woods behind Anders’s house. There was no sign of them. Best we can tell, there was a vehicle waiting. It’s been so dry, we won’t get any decent prints.’

‘A vehicle waiting?’ Ken frowned. ‘Who orchestrated their release?’

‘None of the three Anderses would cop to it. Even before we gagged them.’

‘Then bring them to me,’ Ken said quietly. ‘They will tell me.’

‘We’re about twenty minutes out. We’re taking the long way, just in case we were followed.’

‘Why would you think that?’ Demetrius asked.

‘I didn’t see anyone. Decker thought he did, but he admitted he might have imagined it. Still, better safe than sorry. Where exactly do you want them? Your house?’

‘Yes. Bring them down into the basement. Did you get their computers?’

‘Of course. Computers, cell phones, tablets. Wallets and car keys, too. There is a wall safe, but Anders wouldn’t divulge the combination, and we couldn’t stay there long enough for me to figure it out on my own.’

‘The combination will be just one more thing for me to convince Anders to tell me,’ Ken said, then disconnected.

‘How old is the daughter?’ Demetrius asked abruptly.

‘Twenty. Goes to Brown.’ Ken kept track of his customers. ‘Why?’

‘Because I have a buyer who’d be very interested in a pretty young Ivy League hellcat.’

Ken hadn’t considered that. ‘How much?’

‘Fifty. Or more. Depends on how pretty she is. I might even get another auction going.’

‘Let’s wait and see. Perhaps the threat alone will be enough to get one of them talking.’

‘Who do you think let the two women go?’ Demetrius asked.

‘My money’s on the daughter. The wife is a piece of work.’

Demetrius rose. ‘I’ll attend to O’Bannion. Save one of the Anderses for me.’

Twelve

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 10.15 A.M.

Marcus found his eyes locked on Scarlett’s ass as she sauntered past him as if she owned the place. He didn’t want to let go of the breath he held, still filled with the scent of her hair. Which was simple foolishness. He should be angry. He should be furious.

Just like Stone is . . . right now.Shit. Marcus registered the change in his brother’s breathing almost too late. Shifting, he put himself directly in Stone’s path and firmly held his brother’s gaze. And tried not to panic.

Because Stone was no longer looking back at him. Instead, Marcus saw nothing but rage and pain. And fear. Not now. Not in front of Scarlett. Please, Stone. Don’t do this now.

‘Stone?’ he said under his breath, hoping that Scarlett could not hear.

Stone’s eyes flickered wildly, his big chest heaving.

Dammit. I should have anticipated this. Why didn’t I anticipate this?

Because he’d been too busy gawking at Scarlett Bishop’s ass, that was why. And now there would be hell to pay unless he could calm his brother down fast.

Cops and blatant disrespect were a very bad combo in Stone’s world. And coupled with the emotional upheaval he’d been through so far . . . Scarlett had no way of knowing that cops in general were one of the triggers that set him off. But the way she’d practically skipped away from him, dismissing him as if he weren’t standing right there? That was the absolute worst thing she could have done.

Now standing with clenched fists, his face hardened with fury, nostrils flaring, Stone resembled a bull preparing to charge. Marcus could easily see his brother throwing Scarlett Bishop over one shoulder and bodily removing her from the office.

Marcus pressed his palm to Stone’s chest. ‘Easy,’ he murmured. ‘Take it easy.’

Stone’s teeth clenched. ‘She has no right to be here. Make her go.’

From the corner of his eye, Marcus could see Scarlett turning in the chair, her expression detached, yet curious. As if Stone were an animal in the zoo. The notion made him angry, but he kept his temper in check. All Stone needed to go nuclear was seeing Marcus upset.

‘I’ll take care of her.’ He moved the hand on Stone’s chest to his shoulder and gently gripped it, his other hand patting Stone’s cheek, like a coach with a boxer in the ring. ‘Breathe, buddy. Just breathe with me. In and out. Nice and slow.’

Stone obeyed, and after a few breaths he closed his eyes, visibly gathering his composure. ‘I’m all right, Marcus.’

‘I know you are,’ Marcus said softly.

Stone swallowed hard, eyes still closed. ‘Make her go,’ he whispered. ‘Please.’

The whisper was like a knife in Marcus’s heart, and just like that he was back . . . there. In the dark, Stone’s broken whisper the only thing he could hear. Make him go, Marcus. Please. Make him leave so we can go home. I just want to go home.

I will, he’d whispered back. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay. I promise.

Marcus cleared his throat. ‘I will,’ he said out loud. Confidently. He hoped. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.’

‘You promise.’ It wasn’t a question, but a flat statement of fact.

‘Yeah,’ Marcus said, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. ‘I promise. Now breathe with me. In and out. Just a little longer. That’s the way.’

Stone breathed along with him for another thirty seconds that felt like thirty minutes, finally shuddering out a harsh breath. When his eyelids lifted, Marcus could see his brother was back in control.

Stone’s mouth curved, his half-smile self-deprecating. ‘It’s okay, Houston. Self-destruct sequence aborted. Genie’s back in the bottle.’

Thank God. Marcus let himself relax, his arms dropping to his sides. ‘Good enough. Where’s Jill?’

‘In the back with Diesel. He’s watching her.’

‘That’s good, but you should probably give him a break. She makes him crazy.’

Another slow smile, this one real. ‘I know. That’s why I asked him to help.’

So relieved that his knees physically wobbled, Marcus laughed. His brother was back. All the way. For now. ‘You suck.’

‘You suck worse.’ Sobering, Stone leaned to the left so that he could see around Marcus. ‘Detective Bishop,’ he said coldly.

‘Yes, Mr O’Bannion?’ She sounded subdued, surprising Marcus into looking over his shoulder. She looked as subdued as she’d sounded. Subdued and sad. And utterly exhausted.

Marcus knew the feeling.

‘This office is private property,’ Stone said. ‘If we catch you trespassing again, we will report your ass so fast your head will spin. Next time you come, you’d sure as hell better have a warrant in your hands. Do we understand each other?’

Marcus held his breath, hoping Scarlett would just let this go, that she wouldn’t make this a pissing match. He was far too tired to play diplomat – or referee.

She nodded. ‘Yes, Mr O’Bannion. We do.’

Marcus waited until Stone had turned on his heel and walked away before letting the breath out. He closed his office door and leaned face first against it, his shoulders sagging like cooked pasta, focusing on getting his breathing regulated. Trying to figure out what the hell he was going to say to her. But she surprised him again by speaking first.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly.

He didn’t move away from the door. Didn’t turn to look at her. He wasn’t sure his body would have cooperated if he’d held a gun to his own head. ‘For what?’

‘For listening in. And for doing whatever I did to instigate . . . whatever that was.’

Suddenly too exhausted to move, Marcus used the last of his energy reserves to flip around so that his back was to the door, then let his knees fold, sinking to the floor. Forearms braced on his bent knees, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.

The creaking of the chair told him she’d stood up. She’s leaving. Dammit. He should look up. Ask her to stay. He needed to tell her that she hadn’t been the cause of Stone’s episode. That she’d only been the trigger. But his head felt too heavy to lift, so he stayed as he was.

A rustle of fabric was followed closely by the scent of wildflowers as she approached. He didn’t want her to go, but it was probably better for everyone if she did. Except . . .

Dammit. He had to work up at least enough energy to move away from the door.

But she surprised him again, sliding down the door much as he’d done to sit beside him, their bodies separated by mere inches. The door vibrated slightly as she let her head fall back against it. He thought she’d say something, but she didn’t, the silence broken only by the ticking of his grandfather’s clock and the sound of their breathing.

Her sigh cut through the quiet. ‘You’ve had a busy day,’ she murmured. ‘Did you sleep?’

‘No. Not yet.’

‘No wonder you’re exhausted.’ The words were nearly toneless. ‘I was hoping you weren’t returning my calls because you were getting some rest.’

He forced his back to straighten so that he leaned against the door beside her, turning his head so that he could see her face. With the exception of her closed eyes, her expression hadn’t changed. Subdued, sad. Totally wrung out. And still so goddamn beautiful that his chest ached. ‘Why are you here, Scarlett?’

A single weary chuckle. ‘I truly did come to make sure you were okay.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls. Things have been a little . . . hectic around here this morning.’

‘Yeah, I got that. But I really do need to talk to you.’ Her shoulders remaining slumped against the door, she rolled her head toward him and opened her eyes.

For a moment he could only stare. The eyes he’d thought were black were actually the darkest blue he’d ever seen. Like the midnight sky.

Those midnight-blue eyes narrowed. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

He flushed, embarrassed to have been caught staring. He considered lying, but he was too tired to think of anything convincing. So he told her the truth. ‘Your eyes aren’t black. I remember them being black. But they’re not.’ In his fantasies, her eyes had been stark black. Now he’d have to change his fantasies. Because not only were they not black, they weren’t stark. They could be soft. Expressive. Vulnerable.

A faint curve of her lips. Kissable lips, he thought. Maybe even biteable. He wanted to lean closer to find out for sure, but was jerked back into common sense mode by the slight wag of her head.

‘No, they’re not black,’ she said. ‘But most people think they are.’

He drew a deep breath, letting the scent of wildflowers fill him up. ‘I hope most people don’t get close enough to see the difference,’ he said softly, watching for her reaction, intensely satisfied when those eyes of hers warmed with the same desire he’d glimpsed in the alley when he’d taken off his shirt.

Her throat worked as she swallowed hard, then she broke the spell by rolling her head so that she looked straight ahead. ‘I came to be sure that you were okay and to warn you.’

The air between them chilled. ‘About?’

She shifted her body, pushing her shoulder away from the door and drawing her long legs up, crossing them so that she sat tailor-style. Her eyes were no longer warm, her expression smoothed to coolly professional, but her hands gave her away, gripping her bent knees so tightly that her knuckles were white. He braced himself for something bad.

‘Tala wore a tracker,’ she said. ‘An ankle tracker.’

His jaw clenched, fury rising, burning him from the inside out. ‘Like a common criminal.’ The man. His wife. They own us. ‘Or an asset. Not a person.’

Her nod was steady, but her knuckles were still white. ‘Yes. The tracker was sophisticated. We’re trying to trace its source. We do know that it could transmit sound. Digitally. I’m no gadget geek, but Deacon is, and he tells me that they could hear anyone around Tala and the range was limited only by the strength of the satellite signal.’ She took her cell phone from the pocket of her tailored jacket, tapped the screen and held it out to him, showing him Stone’s article.

His hackles rose in self-defense. ‘I told you I’d tell the story.’

‘I know. But in it you insinuate that you didn’t hear Tala’s last words.’

He frowned at her. ‘I thought that’s what you wanted.’