She recalled the theory she’d batted around with Hector. “He took a woman from you? Someone you love? You’re searching for her.”
The blue in his eyes darkened to black as he nodded. “If he’s dead, I’ll never find her.”
“If he’s locked up, you can talk to him any time you want.”
The corners of his mouth lifted with condescension. “You’ll never lock him up. Anyone who tries to take him in will die. But let’s say a miracle happens, because I can practically hear your thoughts and know you think it’s possible to catch him. He’d just escape. Believe me, I know. I’ve been watching and studying him for over a year.”
“Well, I haven’t yet had a crack at him.”
“Wouldn’t make a difference. He’s always a few steps ahead of you, keeping tabs on your progress.”
The words left him so easily, and yet each was like a rock slamming into her skull. “How? Do we have a mole in AIR?” If so…
“Not to my knowledge, but then, watching AIR isn’t hard to do. Anyway, right now Phillips isn’t sure whether you have his identity or not. He’s content, still doing business as usual. You approach, and that ends. He’ll want to know what you know, who you’ve told, and he’ll do anything to find out.”
“Even kill us all, yeah, yeah, you informed me of that already.”
Her flippancy irritated him and he scowled. “Maybe he’ll simply interfere with your investigation by getting rid of you and your partner and making everyone else too afraid to take on the case.”
“Kinda like what he does with his customers, huh?” As if she and Hector couldn’t handle themselves.
“Exactly.” His eyes narrowed, his gaze lasering into her. “So listen up. I know you’re planning to do something stupid tonight, like talk to him. Don’t.”
Trying to tie their hands, hold them back. “We’re not afraid of him, Mr. Anonymous. Someone has to take him down.”
“Yes, and that someone will be me.”
“You’ve had a year,” she reminded him. Merciless, like Hector. “Maybe longer. You haven’t exactly succeeded, now have you?”
“I’ve done a better job than you.”
“Ha!” Was she this annoying when telling people how much better she was? “We’ve had a week. Give us another, and Phillips will be behind bars and Big Daddy’s bitch.”
His fingers flexed before curling into fists. “You have no idea the shit storm you will unleash if you continue on this path.”
Whatever. Nothing she couldn’t handle. “Why not tell all of this to Mia? Why come to me directly?”
White teeth flashed in a sudden grin. “Big scary tattoo guy is more likely to listen to you than to her. And now, enough questions. I told you what I wanted to tell you. You tell Mia I want that list of names and descriptions of every female you’ve found.” The smile faded, leaving an expression of pain. “And tell her… tell her that Dare is back.”
Thirty-seven
BY THE TIME NOELLE returned to Hector’s side, the guy—Dare?—had indeed emailed her an address, which she forwarded to Mia with a note about what had been said. No reply had come in, but then, she hadn’t expected one. Mia wouldn’t contact her until she’d verified the information.
Frown fierce, Hector eyed her up and down. “I was about to start a search and rescue. Where were you?”
She grabbed another glass of champagne. “You’ll never guess what just—”
“Noelle,” her mother huffed from her left, cutting her off.
Damn it! Her family may not have followed her outside, but they’d sure as hell waited for her return, hadn’t they. And they were about to pounce, fangs and claws probably bared.
A quick glance, and she spotted her mother decked out in a regal black dress, diamonds glittering at her neck and fingers, her hair upswept. All three of Noelle’s brothers trailed behind her.
“Incoming,” she muttered. “There will be bloodshed. There will be casualties.” Before, she’d hoped to warn her brothers. Threaten or insult Hector and suffer. Too late. Her mother was a lost cause.
“Phillips?” he asked, on alert.
“Worse.”
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse arrived, forming a half circle around her and Hector. Carter, Anthony, and Tyler were taller than she was, but not taller than Hector, and that made her grin.
All three possessed the same shade of milk chocolate hair, but only Carter, the oldest, had Noelle’s gray eyes. Anthony and Tyler had brown. Like mud, she thought with a snicker.
“I’m surprised to see you out in public,” her mother said, chin in the air. “In your condition and drinking alcohol no less.”
Maybe this conversation wouldn’t be such a trial after all. Fighting a grin, Noelle drained her glass. “This is my baby we’re talking about. She’s been ready to party since the moment of conception. Maybe even before.”
Gasps of outrage, twitters of embarrassment.
“I should have put you over my knee a long time ago. Maybe then you wouldn’t enjoy hurting others quite so much.” Carter, the eldest and the Tremain heir, glared up at Hector. “Who are you?”
“The guy who will punch your f**king nose into your brain if you talk to her like that again.” Hector spoke without any menace, and that made the threat all the more real.
Carter paled.
Noelle stopped fighting and grinned. My man deserves a reward for that.
She made the introductions, and her mother—the warden of the Tremain household—gave him a look that said she’d seen better things on the bottom of her shoes.
“I always have the people hanging around my daughter investigated, Mr. Dean. Your yearly income is laughable, and you spend most of it on… on…” Madam Tremain lowered her voice, whispered disgustedly, “professionals. Who do you think you are, bringing that kind of filth around someone of Noelle’s pedigree?”
Going straight for the heart. Or groin. Wonderful. And the longer they hung around, the worse it would get.
“He’s the best man I know,” she interjected, praying Hector believed her. Because it was true! “Better than the bastards you raised.” When her brothers sputtered in offense, she glared them into silence. “You know you are. And guess what, Mother. Hector’s better than you. Now, if you’ll excuse us… I see guests in need of a good flashing.”