Dark Taste of Rapture (Alien Huntress 6)

“Why are you grinning?” Hector asked as he exited the bathroom. His pants were in place, and he was tugging his shirt over his head. A shame to cover all that muscled perfection.

Better question: why wasn’t she jumping all over Ava’s offer? But then, she already knew the answer. Because of him, that’s why. A man who was determined to knock her burgeoning faith in romance down a peg. But he wouldn’t. Not this time.

“Ava just called me a slacker,” she said.

“And that amuses you? If I called you a name like that, you’d knee me in the balls.”

“Twice.”

His phone rang and he whipped the thing from his pocket. “Agent Dean.” A moment of quiet. His cheeks quickly paled, his gaze swinging to Noelle. “Margarete? Calm down. I can’t understand you.” Pause. “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

Thirty-three

HECTOR WALKED THROUGH THE Markses’ residence for the second time in two days. Once pristine, the home was now a wreck. Knickknacks were shattered on the floor. Furniture was overturned. There was a splatter of something wet and golden in the living room. Rakan blood, most likely.

There was no sign of Margarete, but he knew she was here.

On his way over, he’d had Noelle call the agents guarding the outside. She’d told them Margarete claimed someone had broken in, someone she’d managed to fight off to lock herself in the hidden safe-room Bobby had built for her.

They hadn’t seen anyone enter. So either the Arcadian had teleported in despite the wall shields or the guy who’d gotten in was very good at remaining in the shadows. Either way was bad news for the investigation.

“I’ll do a sweep for prints,” Noelle said. The moment he’d explained what was going on, she’d gathered up a shirt, jeans, and boots in record time—and dressed in the car. He’d gotten peek after peek at skin he’d only just licked, br**sts he’d sucked on, and a portal to paradise that had welcomed him with wet, greedy heat.

Mine. And he was hers. She’d said so.

“Thanks,” he said. They only needed one print, even a partial, and they’d have the guy’s identity. If he was human. Some alien races—like the Arcadians—did not have fingerprints.

Hector dialed the number Margarete had used to call him. He’d wanted her to stay on the line the entire time, but she’d hung up on him when he’d first entered the house, as if she didn’t want to hear any fight that broke out. She picked up after the third ring. “Whoever broke in is long gone. I’ve checked the entire house. Will you come out for me? You’re safe now, I promise.”

“Y—you’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“All r—right.” Click.

A minute passed, then another. Finally she rounded the far corner. Her golden skin was pallid, and there was a bruise on her cheek. The pink dress she wore was torn at the collar and thigh. Tremors rocked her slight frame, and she clutched a black glove to her chest.

Shouldn’t have left her here, he thought, pissed at himself. “Let’s get your injuries checked.”

“All right,” she said again.

“Sit here.” Noelle righted the couch, and clapped her hands in a job well done. “I’ll get one of the medics in here.” They were waiting outside, unable to enter without permission. Off she went. And she knew to threaten whoever she picked with bodily harm if they mentioned the Rakan.

Margarete padded over and eased down at the far corner. After everything she’d been through, Hector didn’t want to intimidate her, so he claimed the cushion at the other end.

“Can you tell me what your attacker looked like?” he asked.

She gulped, glittery tears cascading down her cheeks. “He was human. Tall with a body like yours. A crooked nose. Dark hair, dark eyes.”

Well, well. She’d just described Bruiser, the guy from the sketch. So the Arcadian hadn’t come. Which most likely meant he couldn’t teleport here. So close. We’re getting there. Going to solve this.

“Did he say anything to you?”

Before she could reply, Noelle walked in with a twenty-something medic following her. He was on the short and pudgy side, yet still possessed a brisk, confident stride.

“We’ll pick up where we left off when you’re done with medical,” he said.

The medic crouched in front of Margarete, looked her over, and pulled what he needed from his bag. “This might sting a bit.”

When he dabbed antiseptic on the cut on her hand, she flinched. That was the only reaction she gave, remaining stoic and silent as he bandaged her up and took her vitals. Entire process only took about twenty minutes, but because Hector wouldn’t discuss case details with someone other than an agent, even a medic, the wait was torturous.

Finally, though, he, Noelle, and Margarete were alone.

“Did your attacker say anything?” he asked again.

“He said… he said I belonged to his boss. He tried to inject me with something, like you did, but I kicked him just like Bobby taught me and got away. He… wore gloves. I—I managed to rip one off.”

“Where is the glove now?” he asked, even though he knew it was the one she’d placed in her lap.

Her arms shook as she extended the material in his direction. Hector motioned to Noelle, who had stayed close. She wore gloves of her own, and confiscated the evidence.

She’d scrape skin cells from inside and have an identity within the next five minutes, no print necessary now. Urgency rushed through him. So damn close.

“He came here before,” Margarete admitted softly. “Before you. That time, I hid before he spotted me, though, and he left.”

“Will you tell me now how you and Bobby met?” he asked. “The truth this time.”

Her lips rolled in, and she gulped. “He… bought me. The man who came today, he was the one who brought me here.”

Unnecessary verification, but damn, it felt good. “Why did you lie before?”

She looked down, ashamed. “Because Bobby told me never to tell. He said he would be killed and I would be sent away and given to someone else.” Her chin trembled. “I don’t want to be given to anyone else.”

“You won’t.” A vow. “Never again. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Don’t mean to interrupt,” Noelle said, glee bubbling in her tone, “but we’ve got him. Ruppert Gordman. Thirty-three, human. Picked up a few times for violence. No known address. If he’s got an appointment anywhere and it’s been logged into a computer, I’ll find it.”