Frustrated at the sudden end to that line of inquiry, Max focused on another. “Sophia says the victim was high profile enough that he was known outside business circles?”
A quick nod that sent her glossy hair swinging. “It was part of his job description to wine and dine human and changeling businessmen and women. As a result, he occasionally found himself in the society pages.”
Max felt Sophia glance at him with those amazing, perceptive eyes, knew she’d made the same cognitive leap he had. “Would it be fair to say he’d made some personal connections within those groups?”
Nikita took a moment to think about it. “Not in the human or changeling sense. However, certain individuals had come to have a measure of trust in him because of a shared history of successful deals.”
“An unquantifiable loss,” Sophia said. “One that you will feel the effect of for some time.”
“Yes.” Nikita looked at Sophia for a long, quiet moment before returning her attention to Max. “I’m beginning to see the pattern it appears you already have, Detective.”
“So my next question won’t come as a surprise—who doesn’t like you getting into bed with the other races?” Edward Chan, Max was certain, had only been considered a traitor by association. It was Councilor Nikita Duncan who was the key.
“That,” Nikita said, “is something I’ll have to think about.”
Sophia spoke into the small pause. “I’ve heard rumors of a group called Pure Psy—the members seem to believe that contact with the other races is tainting the purity of our Silence.”
“Yes. They’ve begun to gain a measure of support in the Net.” Nikita returned to her desk. “I have some additional data on them that I’m sending you now—please brief the detective, Ms. Russo.”
It was a dismissal from a woman who was used to obedience, but Max wasn’t finished. “Whoever’s behind this, he or she is getting bolder—they’re going to come directly after you sooner rather than later.”
“I’m protected. That’s why Edward and the others are dead—the assassin went for the next best thing.” A razor of a glance. “You’d do well to protect yourself. You are, after all, only human.”
Sophia didn’t say anything to Max until they were in the car heading out from the Duncan building. “Does it bother you?”
“What?”
“Being thought of as less because of your humanity?” It bothered her a great deal. Max was worth far more than any other man she’d ever met.
But he shook his head, his lips curved in a distinctly satisfied smile. “Nikita felt the need to point out my humanity because she’s been forced into a position where she has to rely on a measly human. That has to bite.”
“It’s an irony, is it not?” Sophia murmured, thinking of connections, of mothers and fathers. “She’s one of the most powerful people in the world, her net worth in the billions—and yet she doesn’t have a single person in her life whom she can trust not to thrust a knife into her back.”
“She made her choices.” Max had no sympathy for a woman who’d disowned her child. He knew exactly how bad that had to have hurt Sascha.
When Sophia didn’t say anything, he glanced at her. “What about you, Sophie? Who do you trust?”
Her answer rocked through him. “You’re the only person I’ve ever told of my parents’ rejection of me.”
“Strange, isn’t it?” His voice came out harsh, raw with emotion.
“What?”
“That the two people Nikita chose to work this case are both people whose mothers threw them away.” It couldn’t be a coincidence, not with the resources Nikita had at her disposal.
Sophia’s organizer flashed at that moment. “Nikita’s lab techs have done a first-look analysis of the forensic data—the blood on the mirror was the victim’s, the DNA and prints in the public areas belong to either Chan or Nikita’s other employees, all of which can be explained by the meetings he held in his home office. No unexplained or suspicious DNA in the bedroom.”
“That was fast.”
Sophia’s answer was practical—and said a thousand things. “She’s a Councilor.”
“Hmm.” Pulling to a stop in front of a small, bustling restaurant, he turned off the engine. “It’s almost half past two. You can tell me about Pure Psy over lunch.” From what he’d heard so far, the group sat in diametric opposition to Nikita’s growing business alliances with the other races—but he needed to know more about their tactics to judge whether murder might be part of their arsenal.
Sophia didn’t move to step out of the car. “We can’t risk being overheard.”
“Takeout it is, then.” He wanted nothing more than to be alone with her, to take the next step in this strange courtship of theirs. “What do you want?”
“It matters little to me.”
Max had already slid back his door, but now he paused and looked at her, realizing how far she’d retreated within herself, her expression so remote he knew it was a front, meant to hide the vulnerable truth. “Damn. I’m sorry.” Every protective instinct he had, awakened to quiet, intense life. “I didn’t think about it.”
“It’s alright.” Those night-violet eyes held a surprise that rubbed those same instincts very much the wrong way. “It’s not something you need to think about.”
That she’d say that after the unspoken depth of this connection between them made him want to reach forward and tug her into a hard, hot kiss—remind her of the truth in a way she couldn’t ignore. But he couldn’t touch her, not yet. “Yeah,” he said, “I do.” Because slowly, inexorably, she was becoming his . . . to watch over, to know.
A wash of shadows in that stunning gaze, a silent indication that she’d heard the message behind the words. “Thank you.”
Such a polite statement hiding so much emotion. “Don’t worry,” he said with a slow smile that made the polite mask slip, her expression flickering with suspicion, “I intend to take my payment in kisses.”
Exiting the car to her sharply indrawn breath, he headed into the restaurant. The buzz of human and changeling energy surrounded him from every side—voices rose and fell in animated conversation, the odd burst of laughter punctuating the hum. A woman brushed by him as she left, throwing him an apologetic glance over her shoulder. Another patron almost ran into him as he got off a stool around the island that surrounded the chefs in their open-air kitchen.
Ignoring what for him were distractions, but would for Sophia be a small slice of hell, Max placed his order using the built-in pad on the counter.
The waitress put the order in front of him less than five minutes later. “You look like a cop.”
He raised an eyebrow as he scanned his debit card over the reader.
Laughing, she leaned forward, her cleavage displayed to cheerful advantage. “We get a lot in here—there’s an Enforcement station two blocks over.”
“You’ve developed excellent radar.”
“You’re not from around here—I can hear the accent.” Taking something from her pocket, she slid it across the counter with a smile. “For you.”
Picking it up when she turned to deliver another order, he saw that it was a small personal card made out of Japanese
“Lucky man,” a morose male said from his left. “I’ve been trying to get her to go out for a coffee for months.” Envy was a thorny vine around every word.
“I’m off the market.” It had been true since the instant he first laid eyes on Sophia Russo, whether he’d known it at the time or not.
A gleam of interest. “Can I have the card then?”
“Sorry.” Max dropped it into the takeout bag. “Keep trying.”
Keiko’s rejected suitor scowled into his udon soup as Max walked away, his mind already on a woman with eyes full of secrets dark and painful.
Sophia lifted the takeout containers from the bag as Max went to grab the plates from his kitchen area. When she saw the small white card, she assumed it held the number of the restaurant. Then her eye fell on the text. “Who’s Keiko Nakamura?”
“What?” Max walked out with the plates. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s going in the recycling.” Putting
