by Marie Harte
Interesting that big brother wasn’t the least intimidated by him. Hunter found himself respecting the large man even more. He’d been warily impressed by Cole’s knowledge and patience around Williams’ team. From the get-go, Cole had seemed to know he was being followed, but he’d let them go about their business, even slowing his pace so that Hunter’s men could keep up.
Alex, on the other hand, had proven predictable. She hadn’t necessarily seemed aware of her tail but did all of her work in Buchanan’s building, so her knowledge or lack thereof pertaining to the case had been inconclusive.
As Hunter wondered how to reply to Cole’s gauntlet, he couldn’t help glancing at Alex again. He’d been distracted since he’d met her, with those odd attacks on his senses. Just moments after she and her brother had sat in here, he’d gotten the strongest taste of coffee in his mouth.
Hunter didn’t drink coffee.
He forced himself to look away from her mesmerizing gaze and turned to her brother, only to see the same damned gray-green eyes. “I think you need to understand something. Westlake Enterprises is working in conjunction with the government. There are lives at stake. So if you find something that might help us catch the bastards taking these women, you need to give it to us.”
Cole glared. “Why do you think I let your agents follow me? I want Rebecca and the others found. I’m not interested in a pissing contest to see who’s in charge of what.”
“Good. Because I am in charge. I don’t want to have to watch out for you Buchanans running underfoot while I conduct this investigation. We’re running out of time. If you find anything we need to know, you’d better share it. Next time I won’t ask nicely.” He stood to leave, ignoring Cole’s profane response.
He stopped and, against his better judgment, faced the gorgeous Amazon now glaring at him. He sighed. “Hazelnut, right?” He looked down at her cup.
She blinked in surprise and answered warily, “Yeah.”
He left the shop without another word, aware of her with every step. Good one, Hunter. Now she knows you’re on to her mind games. He swore to himself as he started his truck and drove back to the office.
He’d spent a considerable amount of time dwelling on the odd sensations he’d been having since his last encounter with Alexandra Sainte. Lust aside, they shared a connection he planned on severing pronto. He needed all of his attention focused on this case. The fact that, in one month, seven women had disappeared, and no one had been able to find a trace of them, both angered and challenged him. His hunting instincts on alert, he could almost smell the scent of his prey in the air, just around the next bend as he followed the elusive kidnapper’s clues.
Between J.D.’s efforts and his own progress, they knew enough to set them on a course of action. But the knowledge didn’t comfort the way it should have.
Every one of the girls kidnapped came from a rich family and were alike—blonde hair, shapely builds, intelligent and well-spoken. Peter Omaney definitely had involvement with at least some of the women gone missing, including Rebecca Mitchell. However, Omaney only made up half the team that Hunter now pursued.
According to their sources, Wraith was likely involved.
Known to traffic drugs and illegal arms, Wraith had allegedly moved on to bigger and better things, namely attractive women to buy and sell for the right price. Who better to serve as Wraith’s contact than Peter Omaney, a respectable businessman apparently above the law, who had contacts in high places?
Hunter parked his truck and walked back to his office. Nailing Omaney would be a feat in itself. The man had absolutely nothing dirty that they could find. If not for J.D.’s wizardry with the computer, they wouldn’t have gotten as far as they had tying him to the disappearances.
Omaney’s connection to several of the missing women’s families wouldn’t be worth squat in a court of law. That he’d been present at the same places from where the women had gone missing could be chalked up as coincidence. The rich and famous certainly frequented many of the same circles.
Still, Omaney was only a stepping-stone toward the real villain—Wraith. In order to find those women and stop this rash of kidnappings, they’d have to take down a legend.
But then, perhaps they could use a legend to take down one. That thought in mind, he headed to Jurek with an idea.
Chapter Three
Alex stared after Hunter, trying to understand the heat that still sparked from his presence. Conscious of her brother’s frown, she tried to soothe his anger. “Just ignore him, Cole. He’s just a big gust of wind.” Yeah, like a tornado. “What’s the worst he can do? He can’t force us to go through him on every step of this case. Besides, I might just have an idea on how we can get the ball rolling a little faster.”
“Let’s go.”
She followed Cole out of the shop and drove them back to the office. As they rode the elevator, she outlined a rough plan, one that had real merit.
“No.” Cole shook his head as they exited on Max’s floor. “Absolutely not.”
“But, Cole, it’s a good plan. It’ll get us face time with Omaney, and it might just lead us to Rebecca.” She tried to catch up to his hurried stride.
He ignored her.
Angered at the stubbornness of men in general, she used her mind to trip him and received a glare for her efforts.
“Oh, fine then,” she huffed and moved around him. “I’ll just ask Uncle Max what he thinks.”
But as she drew closer to Max’s doorway, she slowed when she saw him comforting Mrs. Mitchell in his office.
Max urged the woman to dry her tears while he patted her back. He looked up with relief at Alex’s approach. Christine was nowhere to be found. “Thank God. Give me a hand here,” he sent Alex.
Hard on her heels, Cole entered the office as well, and the two sat quietly while Gina Mitchell composed herself.
“Gina, I’d like you to hear what we’ve got so far on the case.” He added to Alex, “Try to give her a little hope.”
Alex cleared her throat and spoke softly. “Mrs. Mitchell? I’ll give you the condensed version of what we know. Sometime last Monday night, your daughter visited Seneca’s nightclub with her friend Sarah Moreland. We think Sarah was involved in Rebecca’s disappearance.” She asked her uncle, “Should I tell her about Omaney?”
“Yes.”
“Peter Omaney has a part to play in her abduction as well, but we’re not sure exactly what yet.”
Gina Mitchell nodded, her face drawn. “Good, good. Know that if you need anything—money, support, anything—all you have to do is ask. I want my baby back,” she said quietly, though with a steely undertone that contradicted her frail appearance.
“Gina, have the Feds come up with anything yet?” Max asked gently.
She shook her head. “Not that I know of. I know Harlan’s been working hand in hand with them and Westlake’s group for a while now. But I truly believe that the more people we have working on this, the better.”
Max nodded. “You’re right of course. I know I don’t have to tell you to keep this quiet. Omaney’s going to be a hard nut to crack, but we’ll do it. We can’t afford to let him know we’re on to him.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Gina stood, and Max stood with her. “Please keep doing what you’re doing. I want to find Rebecca safe and sound.” Her eyes filled again, and Max escorted her to the elevator.
“That poor woman.” Cole shook his head.
“It’s so sad,” Alex agreed. “But she’s right. The more people working this case, the better. It’s too bad we can’t convince Westlake to work with us.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not too proud to share information if it will help us find Rebecca. Greye can go screw himself,” Cole muttered.
Max returned and sat behind his desk. “Thanks for that, Alex. Gina’s having a tough time right now.”
“About that, Uncle Max. I’ve got an idea that may get us closer to finding her daughter.”
Max glanced from
Alex to Cole, apparently seeing the disapproval on her brother’s face. He sighed. “This ought to be good.”
“We know Omaney is involved in this up to his eyeballs. Let’s throw him a ringer. Me.” She managed a sly grin, praying that just once, her uncle would view her as more than his dead sister’s baby girl. “Think about it. I had Remy give me what Jurek’s folks know. And you know what? I look exactly like the other women taken. We know Omaney took Rebecca from Seneca’s. According to his assistant, he’ll be in town this weekend. Why not put me in the crowd? I’ll get into his loop and give us an inside look at the man.”
Max remained silent.
“She wants to play decoy and get Omaney sniffing around her,” Cole growled. “I don’t like it. Sure, I can see Omaney interested. They all are.” He snorted. “But this is crazy. What are the odds he’ll grab her after taking Rebecca from the exact same spot just a week ago?”
Max assessed her. “Quite good, actually. Your sister is right. She and Rebecca look enough alike to be sisters. Just like the others taken. With the right background, she might work as bait.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Cole insisted.
She would have argued her point when her uncle interrupted. To her shock, Max took her side. “In two weeks time, Wraith is holding an auction. He’s going to sell the women he’s kidnapped to the highest bidder.”
“How do you know?”
“That information came from Luc. I’ve already informed Jurek.”
“Shit.” Cole rubbed his temples.
Max said quietly, “You have to let go sometime. I know this stretches way beyond Alex’s normal involvement in the business. But we’ll need to move fast if we want to find Rebecca alive.” He took a deep breath, then added in a flinty voice, “Cole, by the end of this week, I’ll expect you to have a job in Seneca’s, where Alex will work her way to Omaney’s side.”
Cole glared at his uncle, his jaw tight. Alex sensed an unspoken argument, and then her brother stormed from the room.
Alex faced her uncle, thrilled to be a part of things, for once. “I think it’s the right thing to do. I promise I won’t screw it up.”
Max nodded, his familiar arrogance oddly comforting. “You’re damned right you won’t screw it up. You’re my niece. You’ll do fine. But, honey, Cole’s right about this being dangerous. This is more than a typical information grab-and-go. Study the files Remy gave us. You need to know Omaney inside and out. You’ll be the key to getting us closer to Rebecca.” He cleared his throat. “Luc mentioned you might help us out on this one.”
That quickly, her excitement faded. “So the only reason you’re letting me do this is that according to Luc, I’ve already done it?”
“Yes.” Max made no apology.
“Glad to know you have such faith in me.”
“Oh, honey, this isn’t about faith. I worry about you. Miranda left you and your brother in my keeping. You’re my—”
“If you say baby girl, I’m going to seriously lose it. Dammit, why don’t you worry this much about Cole?”
“Who says I don’t?” he responded with a quirk to his lips. “Get over your mad, Alex. Read about Omaney. Remy’s put together a surprisingly thorough dossier.”
“I will.” And I’ll show you both I don’t need your smothering protection any longer. My gifts are just as strong as yours.
“Good.” When she didn’t move, his eyes narrowed. “Is there anything else on your mind?” He grew very still. “Has Greye been bothering you?”
Before this meeting, it had been on the tip of her tongue to confide in her uncle about her recent altercation with Hunter to get his perspective. But knowing he trusted more in Luc’s vision than in her ability to take care of herself, she kept quiet. Alex had no intention of jeopardizing her chance to work this case. Nor did she want to admit she couldn’t handle Greye. This was her opportunity to show her family she’d finally grown up. That her abilities were just as strong as Cole’s and her cousin’s.
“I’m just thinking about the case, Uncle Max.”
“Fine,” he said, but she had the feeling he didn’t believe her. To her relief, he scowled at his computer monitor. “Now get out and get busy. I have things of my own to do.”
She quickly left his office and returned to her own. Wanting to study the fat folder on her desk, she couldn’t help dwelling on her brother. According to Christine, he’d left the building, clearly upset.
She couldn’t blame Cole for being protective. Since the death of their parents sixteen years ago, Cole had been her rock. Max had taken them in and cared for them like a father, but Cole and she shared a special bond.
Cole felt responsible for her, though she’d been working very hard to make him see her as an adult. For a while, she’d thought about leaving the firm and working on her own. But having to hide her abilities all the time would stifle her. Alex kept thinking that the next case would be her big break. She’d been hoping for six years.
What would it take to make Cole back off? She had her own apartment, her own job as an investigator, and had reached the age of twenty-seven without suffering too much harm. Hadn’t she taken down those men in the warehouse last week?
She forced herself to admit that the security guards had been fairly weak. Against a stronger foe, a man like Hunter, she probably wouldn’t stand a chance. Physically, that is. Mentally, I could kick his ass.
Psychic ability ran strong in her family, on both her mother’s and father’s sides. Alex concentrated on a pen that had rolled to the floor. It suddenly lifted into the air and flew to her desk. A pen weighed little, a man much more. But in fight mode, Alex had learned to utilize all her defenses. While Hunter Greye might outmuscle her, she had a few tricks up her sleeve, and Alex played to win. The next time they met, she intended to have the last word. One way or the other.
TWO DAYS LATER, HUNTER stood grimfaced in front of a slate blue door and pounded again. He smelled lavender and clenched his jaw at the effort it took to focus on his present course of action. He knew the damned woman was home.
When no one answered after a few more minutes, he set to work. The lock proved no problem, her security alarm even less of one. He’d have a talk with her about that...afterward.
Hunter had tried, but he could no longer avoid the inevitable. This had to stop. He moved silently and swiftly through her open rooms, noting the tidiness of her apartment. Alexandra Sainte decorated sparsely but with a warmth that was inviting.
An eclectic mix of styles accented the cozy feel of a living room well used. A plush leather sofa and matching chair congregated around a teak coffee table covered with home design magazines and the occasional fitness rag. A few plants, all healthy and thriving, sat in her picture window, overlooking a common courtyard. The few bookcases along a far wall boasted an assortment of titles, none of which indicated her preference of reading material.
He entered her spotless kitchen. The counters appeared clean, as did her pristine white cabinets. The ceramic sink remained free of dirty dishes. Not even a speck of dirt in the drain. Dear God, did anyone actually live here? Then the scent of lavender hit him hard. Again. His pulse raced, his body tightened, and pure, sensual need spiked his blood.
Swearing under his breath, he continued his search for the feminine bane of his existence. He turned into a hallway off the living room and stilled. He could smell her there, could almost feel her delicate energy in the air.
Time to tie up a few loose ends.
Williams’ crew had given up their efforts at discreet surveillance and tailed Alex outright. Tonight, Hunter decided to take care of watching over Ms. Sainte personally. Professionally. Finally.
The sound of water splashing drew him down the hallway and through an untidy bedroom—a surprise inconsistent with the rest of the house. He walked through the doorway into her bathroom and froze.
Even though he’d been expecting it, the vision of Alex covered in bubbles struck him with the force of a physical blow.
Surrounded by lavender and warmed by the humidity in the intimate bathroom, Hunter was overwhelmed with a sudden need to touch her golden skin, wet and shining before him. Calling on every ounce of discipline he possessed, Hunter forced himself to remain still and studied the sleepy beauty he couldn’t get out of his mind.
A man would have to be blind not to appreciate her looks—golden hair streaked with honey, exotically slanted eyes that hinted at mystery, and full lips promising everything a man might want. Her body curved in all the right places, yet had a toned toughness that told Hunter she wouldn’t break, even under a bit of rough handling.
The thought aroused him into taking a step forward. Desire engulfed him, and he literally ached, needing to touch her, to be inside that glorious body and discover just what it was about her that captivated him. Only one woman had ever come this close to making him lose control, and look at how that had turned out.
Angered at reminders of the poor choices he’d once made, he locked down his traitorous body and forced himself to handle this—her.
“All right, Sainte. Enough is enough,” he growled.
She shrieked in surprise and sloshed in the tub, allowing him glimpses of slick flesh while she tried to gain her feet. Forcing himself to ignore the impulse to reach out and touch, he handed her a towel.
She grabbed it from him and hastily wrapped it around herself. “What— Who—” She took a deep breath. “How the hell did you get in my apartment?”
He frowned. “You need to update your security. Pretty sad that I managed your locks in less than a minute.”
Slicking her hair back, she regarded him with caution and kept a firm hand on the top of her towel.
He forced himself to look no lower than her chin. “We need to talk.”