An iron gate surrounded each as well. Even this one. Bypassing Marks’s gate had been difficult—his was more advanced than most—but not impossible. As Hector’s presence at the door had proven.
This was the kind of neighborhood Hector had assumed Noelle would live in. While she’d renovated her place, she wasn’t situated in the best part of town. But then, she was only ten minutes away from Ava’s apartment, so … there you go. He liked that about her. Her sense of loyalty.
That’s why he’d finally decided to trust her, to tell her the truth about his arms. Once, he’d thought a man would never know where he stood with her. She enjoyed her storytelling a little too much. Not to mention her silly-girl façade. But Hector was beginning to understand her.
You could always tell with her. She’d said she had only just noticed that he carried his emotions in his eyes. Well, the same was true for him and her eyes. You looked deep enough, and you saw how much need and vulnerability those silver irises radiated. And when she smiled wickedly, you were in trouble. But when she smiled sweetly, something he’d only ever seen her do for Ava—and now him—her faithfulness had no boundaries.
Shouldn’t need another reminder to CONCENTRATE. Mad at himself, Hector carried his tools to the garage door around the way and hacked through the security system. Living on the streets finally paying off, he mused.
The door lifted slowly but steadily, revealing a black BMW, the windows tinted so darkly no one would be able to see anyone inside at any time, and a silver Viper. There was also a golf cart and a four-wheeler.
What were you trying to blow the lid on, Marks? Hector wondered.
Inside the house, he found reinforced steel walls painted to look like stucco. The kitchen was clean, nothing out of place. The living room, also pristine. The office, emptied out. There were no computers. No electronic files. There was a desk and a file cabinet, but nothing inside either of them.
Had Marks cleaned up—or had someone else? Someone wanting to keep that lid sealed on certain information? Hector did a print sweep, but found only Marks’s. He was about to head out to search the rest of the home when he felt the tile beneath his boot give the slightest shake.
Loose, he thought. No way a man as wealthy as Marks would have let such an imperfection slide.
Hector bent down and pried at the tile. Took some finessing, and a few hard jerks, but he finally got the piece to lift. A cubby. With a small handheld resting in the center. Hello, pretty lady.
Excitement rushed through him as he carefully placed the device in his tool box.
Upstairs, he found the media room. With two rumpled blankets on the couch, the area looked like a favorite. And one Marks had recently used to entertain a guest. The TV hadn’t been turned off, and a daytime soap played across the screen.
Marks had been single, and there were no reports of him dating anyone. Four guest bedrooms, empty and sparkling. Then he found the master bedroom. The king-size bed was unmade, both sides clearly well used, judging by the indentations in the mattress. But unassailable proof that Marks had entertained a woman? The clothes hanging in the closet alongside his.
Dresses, both formal and casual. Sparkly shirts, and jeans with swirling designs stitched up the sides. The wearer had been more than an overnight guest. She’d stayed. Often. Maybe even lived here, though he’d caught no other sign of her. Only one way to find out the identity of his mystery girl, then. Hector set his toolbox down, straightened. DNA testing on her dirty clothing.
Behind him, he heard the quietest rustle of footsteps.
Palming the pyre holstered under his arm in less than a second, Hector spun around and aimed. A female had been approaching him with a vase lifted over her head. She swung it at him, missed as he jumped out of the way. Gasping as her momentum twisted her, she tried to catch herself and launch at him a second time.
“Not another move or I shoot.” Only his reflexes had saved her from being shot the first go-round.
She froze in place. He could have pulled the trigger anyway, but he didn’t. He was too curious, wanted answers now rather than later.
She was a Rakan, he realized as he considered her. A rare species that hardly ever ventured to earth. She possessed long golden hair, golden eyes, golden skin, and besides Noelle, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
His mystery girl, he would guess.
“Put the vase down,” he instructed calmly. She’d meant to brain him, no question.
Nervous, she licked her lips. Even her tongue was golden. Glittery tears filled her eyes as she stuttered out, “P—please, do not h—hurt. This is my home. Y—you must leave.” Heavy accent. He’d bet she hadn’t been here long.
“Put the vase down,” he repeated, more harshly this time. “I don’t want to shoot you, but I will. And if I shoot you, you’ll be helpless. Do you understand what that means?” He could do anything he wanted to her.
Slowly she obeyed, sitting the “weapon” on the floor. When she straightened, a tremor shook her entire body and the tears broke free of the dam, cascading down her cheeks.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“M—margarete. Wife.”
He arched a brow. “To Bobby Marks?” There’d been no wife on file. But then, a marriage to an otherworlder wouldn’t exactly be legal. And Margarete’s claim explained why Marks had stopped dating. Also explained why he’d never taken Margarete out in public.
Not everyone was pro-otherworlder. And as Rakans were hunted, often de-skinned and cut into pieces for their gold, Marks wouldn’t have wanted to put her continued health in jeopardy.
“Y—yes. Bobby.” She nodded, her hair dancing around her delicate shoulders. Dressed in a flowing ice-blue sheath, she appeared as innocent and truthful as an angel.
Wouldn’t take him long to learn whether the image was true or false. “I want you to walk over to the bed and sit down,” he said, and a sob parted her lips. Damn it. He had to be more careful with his phrasing. Bed most often equated to rape in this situation. “I’m not going to hurt you unless you challenge me. I’m an AIR agent, and I’m going to ask you some questions. That’s all. When you’re sitting, I’ll lower my gun.”
Hesitantly she obeyed, the tears flowing continuously now. As promised, he lowered the gun. Surprise filled her golden eyes. Keeping his gaze on her, he crouched in front of the toolbox and flipped the voice recorder on. Then he straightened, squared his shoulders.