Dark Taste of Rapture (34 page)

“Oh, no. Hector, do you have a tissue to mop up my tears?” Noelle released the woman and reclined in her seat.

Chin lifting, Brenda snapped, “Your mother
will
hear about this.”

“Please don’t forget to tell her I dropped the F-bomb, abused my family’s good name, and—I know this hasn’t happened yet, but it will—danced on the tables. I can have Timmy write everything down if you think you’ll forget.”

“You’re as reprehensible as I’ve heard.”

Hector spoke up for the first time since sitting down. “Talk about her like that again, and I’ll haul your ass into lockup on so many charges your attorney will be filing motions to dismiss for a year.”

Noelle’s eyes widened. He’d just defended her. Hardass Hector who let nothing and no one bother him had just defended her.

Damn it, he was giving her whiplash with his personality changes.

“Now then,” she said after clearing her throat. “What did Agent Smith ask you? And what were your answers?”

“Shouldn’t you know that already?” Brenda huffed.

“Enough lip. Talk.”

A beat of silence, a shake of her silver head. “He asked if Bobby had mentioned what he’d been working on lately. I said no. He asked if Bobby was dating anyone. I said yes, a filthy piece of gold-digging trash. He asked if I knew where the girl was. I said yes, Bobby’s home, since they were living together. And that was it, the entire conversation.”

Details they’d already possessed, but now the murderer knew them, too. And Noelle was now confident the caller was the murderer, and edging toward confident that the sex ring was at the center of everything.

“You had dinner with Bobby the night of his murder,” Hector stated. “What did the two of you discuss? Besides your new daughter-in-law.”

“She is
not
my daughter-in-law.” Brenda lifted her wineglass, sipped. “But if you must know …”

“I must.”

“Nothing. First thing he did was introduce me to the girl, as if I would support his choice. As if I would accept her, an
alien
.”

Prejudiced bitch. Though Noelle had spent some time with Bobby, she’d had no idea his family-life was as harsh and unforgiving as hers. She could just imagine what the old bat had put Bobby through in his too-short life. The negative comments, the conditional love. If there had been any love at all.

Perhaps their mothers had been separated at birth. “Did Bobby mention where he met Margarete?” Hector asked.

“No.” An uncaring shrug. “But then, I didn’t care to know. I told him to marry that sweet Kerry Jones and finally give me a grandchild. He declined.”

“A travesty. I’m sure you would have been as maternal a grandmother as you were a mother,” Noelle said dryly.

“Yes,” Brenda said, deadpan, clearly unused to sarcasm.

“Did you hate your son?” Maybe she was asking for the case, or maybe she was asking because Brenda’s answer would mirror her own mother’s, and she was curious.

Another shrug. “I hated what he was doing with his life.”

Expected, but still disappointing. “Enough to kill him?”

“At times.” Brenda finished off her wine. “Does my answer surprise you? Well, it shouldn’t. He was an embarrassment, Miss Tremain, and he did the things he did just to strike at me.”

Yeah. That was why.

“Her name is Agent Tremain,” Hector snapped.

I won’t look at him. I won’t be thrilled about his ferocity
.

Brenda paid him no heed. “I’m sure your own mother understands my predicament.”

“Bobby was in love with an otherworlder, Miz Marks. He wasn’t a murderer or a drug addict or a child molester.” She purposely omitted the part about his as yet unproven participation in otherworlder slavery. “What did you have to be embarrassed about?”

Haughty chin lifted, Brenda said, “A child is a reflection
of his parents. So what did I have to be embarrassed about? Everything. But
did
I kill him? No. He cut me a check every month, paid my bills, whatever they happened to be. If I were capable of murder, I would have gotten rid of the alien.” As she spoke, a vein pulsed in her forehead.

Bitch
was too kind a word for her.

“Now you have access to his entire fortune,” Hector said. “He left everything to you.”

A cruel smile flashed, the edges dripping with relish. “I know. And do you know the first thing I plan to do when his home is signed over to me? Take out the trash.”

The direction of Noelle’s thoughts changed. From forcing herself not to ponder Hector’s appeal to forcing herself not to kill the woman in front of her. “Speaking of the house, what time did you leave the night of your dinner?”

“I don’t know. Nine, maybe.”

“And your home is within walking distance of Bobby’s?” Hector asked.

“Yes. But I didn’t walk, I drove.”

Afraid of the dark? Or of the thousands of people who would have loved to gut her and leave her bleeding on a sidewalk? Either way, Noelle knew Hector planned to check the security feed from the neighborhood and see if the timelines added up.

The waiter arrived with the tray of food Noelle had ordered, but before he could place a single plate on the table, she said, “Box it up for us, Timmy, and have it carried to our car.” No way she could spend another
second with her mother’s doppelganger. Their questions had been answered. Time to bail.

“Of course, Miss Tremain.”

“Oh, and add a couple slices of cheesecake to the order before putting everything on Mrs. Marks’s bill.”

“Of course, Miss Tremain.”

Brenda hissed, tried to protest, but Timmy had already hurried off, the delicious-smelling goodies disappearing with him.

Noelle’s stomach rumbled as she pushed to her feet. Hector stood as well, and she moved to his side. Her four-inch heels made her taller than ever, but still he towered over her.

“Thanks for everything,” she said. One little slice across the woman’s throat wouldn’t be so bad, would it? “We really appreciate the conversation and the meal.”

The old bat was still floundering to form a protest as Noelle and Hector stalked away.

H
ECTOR HUNG UP THE
phone and forked another bite of smoked salmon into his mouth. He chewed, all the while watching Noelle. Trying to pretend he wasn’t aroused by her, that he wasn’t remembering every detail he’d confessed about his past.

His desk created a barrier between them, the food she’d ordered stacked on top of his files, equipment, weapon case, weapon cleaning case, and spread out like a picnic.

“Who was that?” she asked. She looked around, clearly trying to decide what to pick, finally settled on the dessert, and lifted its box and a fork. She snuggled back in her chair, crossing her legs and revealing her shoes.

And hell, they were bondage lingerie for her feet. Open toed, with diamonds encrusted on the strap around her ankles. Her hair was unbound, flowing down her shoulders, and just a bit mussed.

That white blouse she wore V’d so deeply he was always surprised she didn’t flash him when she moved.
He’d had her lithe body under him, had sucked on her pert little nipples.

“Hector,” she prompted. “My breasts adore the attention, but if you don’t stop staring, my ass will have to file a complaint. It deserves notice, too, you know.”

A flippant tone, but he detected a note of sadness. His gaze snapped up to her face as his cheeks heated.
Can’t have her. You fucking can’t have her
. But oh, the things she said. Her mouth aroused him as much as her body.

Her mouth … which she’d once wrapped around his cock …

Shit. He buckled down and concentrated on the case before his arms started acting up. “That was Mia. A few new developments. First, the pin you mentioned before, the one that wipes footprints. They found it.”

Triumph bathed her features, making her glow. “God, I’m smart.”

His chest constricted. “Second, the witness is now detoxed and has been questioned. He says he never saw the Arcadian’s face, that the otherworlder always had his back to him, but he helped with a sketch of the shooter and the guy who handed him the gun. Those are being emailed to us right now, as well as being run through the database.” Every criminal ID was stored there.

Suddenly all business, Noelle whipped out her phone, pressed a few buttons, and frowned. “Are you kidding me? The sketch of the shooter is a cartoon superhero.”

Hector pulled up the sketches on his computer screen. Shooter had blond, wind-blown hair, his face
blurred out. And he wore a suit so embellished with muscle ridges and color, the witness had to have been smoking crack when he—

Yeah. Okay. He
had
been.

The second sketch showed a hard, harsh face. Dirty, grungy. Dark hair, high forehead. Narrow eyes. Nose with a bump in the center. Wide cheekbones, a square chin. The kind of face kids probably saw in their nightmares.

This one was usable, at least.

“Seems surreal, having evidence finally fall into our hands,” Noelle said. “Should we give the non-cartoon sketch to the media? Someone might recognize him.”

“I’d rather wait. I’m too afraid Shooter will cut and run. And if he runs, we won’t find him. He’s managed to hide this long without even trying. He puts any real effort into it, and our case is cold.”

“You’re thinking like a poor man. If Shooter is rich and powerful, and judging by those gold coin buttons on his superhero suit, I’d say he is, he won’t want to start over. He’s killed to protect his empire, or whatever it is, and he’ll kill again rather than leave.”

Hector didn’t take offense to her “poor man” comment. To her, he
was
poor. And she was right. “If Shooter is willing to kill again, he might just kill Bruiser the moment the sketch goes live to keep us from finding and questioning him.”

“True.” A moment passed as she pondered their options, her face scrunching adorably. “What about leaking word that we’ve got the witness? We can use him as bait as we talked about with Dallas and catch whoever comes for him red-handed.”

“I still think that should be our last resort. Shooter won’t go for the kill himself. He’ll send his Arcadian or Bruiser, and I’d rather not go against the Arcadian just yet. Not until we’ve got precautions in place to counteract any ability he might have. Good news is, we’re close. That handheld I found at Marks’s place? Our tech hacked through the security program and discovered info on the sex ring.”

Her eyes widened. “We were right, then.”

“Looks like.” A flicker of rage, quickly contained. Sex crimes pissed him off. Hector had never been raped, but his will had been disregarded countless times. He knew the total devastation of feeling helplessness, the terror of being trapped in your body as other people hurt you. “Devyn was right. Someone will be after Margarete Marks. The guards watching her said there haven’t been any disturbances yet, but Mia’s adding a few more just to be safe.”

“You know, this is bad of me to say, but I really hoped Brenda Marks did it. I would have loved to lock her away. But okay, she didn’t do it. A flesh peddler did. How has he stayed in the shadows so long? Why hasn’t someone talked? Like a resentful wife who’s been cheated on? Or children who walked in on their dad banging the weird chick in chains in the basement?”

“Fear. Bobby was keeping a journal. He bought Margarete for a limited time. Fell in love with her. Time was running out, so he bought her for a little while longer. He never met with the seller directly, everything was online and by phone. But there’s no website.”

“If there’s no website, how’d he learn where and how to buy her?”

“From a friend, but he didn’t put the friend’s name in his notes. Maybe to protect him.”

So that was a dead end. For now. “How was Margarete delivered to him? She wouldn’t have willingly walked to his door.”

“Marks wrote that a tall guy with more muscles than should be legal delivered her. Again, he didn’t mention a name. My guess is he didn’t know it, that the guy was there as more than a deliveryman, but to intimidate the buyer into staying quiet.”

“Makes sense.”

“Also, there’s a caveat to every buy. If you want to tell a friend so he can get a female—or male—of his own, you have to get permission. If you tell anyone without permission, or how or where you got your companion, you die. You tell anyone about the transaction, you die.”

“So who’s disappeared in the wealthier circles, like that up-and-comer Devyn mentioned? As quiet as this entire operation has been kept, there have to be more than two victims.”

“I’ll do a search.”

“Meanwhile, let’s deconstruct the night of the murder. No one could teleport into Bobby’s house. So someone had to either come to his door,” Noelle said after swallowing another bite of cheesecake, “or sneak in. Since there’s no sign of a break-in, I’m guessing the door.”

“I’m with you.” Wrong words, he instantly realized. He gulped, trying to swallow back his sudden rise of renewed desire.

Oblivious, she licked her fork like it was a lollipop. Or his cock. At the sight of that gorgeous pink tongue, Hector experienced full-on arousal, no more of that almost/maybe/could be shit—and there was no stopping it. That tongue had given him those same kinds of so-delicious strokes, and he wanted to feel all that wet heat between his legs again. And again.