“Hector, what’s—” That’s when she saw the Arcadian standing behind him—the Arcadian who had teleported in, stabbing a needle into Hector’s neck. And now hers. A sting of pain, a flood of warmth.
In the background, she heard Ava’s scream of rage, heard the pound of booted footsteps, then her entire world went black.
Forty-one
HECTOR FOUGHT HIS WAY through a thick, cloying fog. He’d been shouting at Noelle, desperate to make her understand, aching for her, wanting to soothe the pain in her eyes, knowing he couldn’t, when … something happened.
A sharp tingle in his neck, a total wipeout of the mind. What the hell had happened?
He blinked open his eyes, and several moments passed before he was able to focus. He was sitting in a chair, upright though he couldn’t support his own weight. He was shirtless. And his—Oh, f**k no!
His bare hands were taped around Noelle’s neck, her skin warm and soft beneath his palms, her pulse racing.
Horror lit a match of understanding in his brain. Teleported out of AIR. Strapped to a chair, Noelle strapped to a chair in front of him. All of his fears manifested, right here, right now. He’d been so careful never to touch her. And now … now … He wanted to hack off both of his arms. Wished he had. They wouldn’t be in this situation.
Her hands were cuffed to the arms of her chair, her ankles cuffed to its legs. His gaze met hers. Rather than fear or pain, he saw anger in those silver depths.
“Are you—”
“I’m fine,” she said without any emotion.
“Oh, good. Everyone’s awake.” Xavier Phillips stepped into Hector’s line of sight, his expression smug, gleeful, his pale hair smoothed into place. Every inch of his gray business suit proved flawless, not a single wrinkle. He looked as if he were attending a meeting with the board rather than an execution.
And that’s what he had planned, no question. He’d watch as Hector burned his woman to death. Afterward, he’d shoot Hector in the head. Or maybe he’d just let Hector go, let him live with the awfulness of what he’d done.
“Pays to have Arcadians in your employ.” Phillips dusted an invisible piece of lint from his shoulder. “Makes gathering your enemies so very, very easy.”
From the corner of his eye, Hector stealthily catalogued his surroundings. They were in a warehouse of some sort, emptied out but for the chairs they were perched on. Besides Phillips, there were two other threats. The Arcadian who’d grabbed them and a dark-haired, blue-eyed man Hector had once seen … when? Where?
He slashed through the lingering mental fog, scenes forming, vanishing, and realized he’d seen the guy walking a dog outside of Bobby Marks’s home. And then again at the restaurant with Brenda Marks, which he hadn’t thought anything about at the time. Rich people lived in the same neighborhoods and frequented the same places.
Now, up close like this, he realized exactly who he was dealing with, and wanted to curse. Dare Snow. Noelle had noticed him at the restaurant, too, had said he was the one who’d approached her at the ball, but Hector hadn’t noticed the resemblance to Mia until now.
An interesting development, but not one that would help him. Dare, undercover with his own goal, wouldn’t blow everything he’d worked for to save Hector and Noelle. In fact, the guy might kill them before Phillips could, simply to keep his secret.
“How’d you know we’d be there, in the garage?” Hector croaked to Phillips, desperate to buy time, to think. He had to keep his emotions under wraps. Had to remain numbed out. Meanwhile, he also had to come up with a way to get Noelle the f**k out of there!
“One of my Arcadians stayed at Bobby’s crime scene and followed you home. The next day you switched cars with a female agent, the head of AIR, and he placed a tracker on yours. I knew where you were every minute of every day.”
Hector had felt eyes watching him so many times, but he’d never thought … never known. Some agent he was.
“I was content to leave you alone as you played at your investigation because I didn’t expect you to get very far. When you took Gordman”—the barest hint of anger—“I experienced a moment of panic, but you never came for me, never approached me, and I figured he had kept his mouth closed. Now I can only assume he gave you my name?” A question, rather than a statement.
Hector would not admit they’d stolen information from Gordman’s car. He didn’t want the guy forewarned for the future, taking precautions. Just in case Hector failed in his current mission. “Exactly right.” Gordman was slime, but he was currently under AIR protection, so he’d—maybe—be okay. No guilt.
“My mistake, then.” Phillips reached out, dug his fingers into Hector’s scalp, and forced him to face Noelle. “When my prized Arcadian failed to return the night of the party, I knew something was wrong and sent another. I was told your arms glowed blue and burned everything they touched.”
I’m so sorry, sweetheart, he tried to project.
She seemed to look past him. “So why are we here?” she snapped. “What do you want?”
“You’ve been a nuisance, and I’m tired of waiting for you to go away. Now you’ll share information with me or you’ll suffer. And I don’t think I need to tell you that you’re going to die today, no matter what. It’s how you die that’s up for negotiation.”
“Like?” she prompted. “What do you want to know?”
“Like, how did you know where I kept some of those women? Not Gordman. You raided several warehouses before you captured him.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “And if we don’t tell you?”
Damn it! Don’t poke the bear.
Phillips smiled fondly. “I must say, I enjoy bantering with you, Miss Tremain. In fact, I’ve wanted to meet you for a while. You’re very beautiful, elegant, if a bit of a wild card.”
“Can’t deny it. But if you’d bothered to check my dating profile—currently single,” she added with a dignified sniff despite her bindings, “you would have found out that I think slavers are pretty much the scum of the earth.”
Hector didn’t mean to, but he squeezed her neck in a bid to quiet her.
Phillips laughed, the sound as chic as the man himself. “All right, enough pleasantries. Let’s get this interrogation started.” When he extended his arm, palm out, the white-haired Arcadian gave him a syringe. “This is adrenaline”—a dramatic pause to ensure he had their attention—“among other things. You see, I did a little research on you, Miss Tremain, and discovered interesting facts about your father and what was done to you. What?” he said when she balked. “You thought that was a secret? Sorry to disappoint you, but acquiring information is a hobby of mine. Anyway, I found the methods for keeping you awake during your surgery quite interesting.”