“She’s not your wife.”
Alaric heard the cocky smirk in Judd’s voice. “Our marriage certificate says otherwise.”
“You’ve gone the whole nine yards, haven’t you? What did you do, photoshop the honeymoon photos?”
“Nah, I only managed to get one good headshot before she got suspicious.”
Deep breaths, Alaric.
“You’ve given her a whole new identity, and you haven’t told her?”
“Need-to-know basis, mate. Although Mother heard about it on the grapevine and called with some awkward questions.”
“I bet she did.”
Stella Millais-Scott had spies everywhere, which was only to be expected for a woman who was second in command at MI6. She was also a ruthless bitch. Her boss, Sir Rodney Barrington, was rumoured to have suffered a minor heart attack last fall, and at the Millais-Scotts’ most recent pre-Christmas gathering, she’d served up liver pâté, roast beef with all the trimmings, and crème brûlée. Alaric had felt his own arteries furring as he tucked in.
“Does that mean Hevrin won’t be staying for long?” Alaric asked hopefully.
“I didn’t tell Mother she was staying here. I just said we needed the spare ID for a job.”
“And she bought that?”
“Who knows? She told me not to give Nada any money or bring her to family gatherings, reminded me yet again that my talents are wasted at Sirius, and then hung up.”
Par for the course. Stella Millais-Scott made Black seem positively pleasant. Alaric would pay good money to watch the two of them go at it in a battle of wills.
“Well, speaking of your talents, I’ve got work for you to do, work that doesn’t involve women, forged documents, or making your mother dislike us any more than she already does.”
“Buzzkill.”
But Judd would help. He always did.
“Two and a half years ago, a former American Naval officer was involved in an incident in Afghanistan. His company got hired to search for a hostage, and somehow, a family of five ended up dead. Two adults, three children. He claimed they shot at his men first, that they were militia, but neighbours said the parents ran a bakery. Rumour says the wife got raped before she died.”
“Man, that’s bad. And the kids?”
“Someone tossed a grenade into their bedroom.”
“Fuckers. Got a name?”
“Eric Ridley. EBR Group. Your contacts in the Middle East are better than mine, and I need any dirt you can dig up on the guy.”
“Why? What’s he up to?”
“It appears he’s trying to meddle in a US senatorial election.”
Judd gave a low whistle. “That porn thing? It was on the news last night.”
“He works for one of the other candidates, and she’s bad news.”
“I’ll get what I can, but I have to take Nada out to buy baby stuff first. Turns out those things need a lot of kit.”
Although Alaric was annoyed that Judd was collecting women again, he couldn’t deny that he’d have helped both Hevrin and Gemma in the same way if he’d been in London. He just had to hope that Judd didn’t screw either of them, either physically or metaphorically.
“How’s Hevrin holding up?”
“Hard to say. She’s the quietest girl I’ve ever met. Gem’s pretty freaked out by the whole dismembered women thing, though. She was crying again last night. But don’t worry—a little of the old Judd magic soon changed that.”
“Tell me you didn’t…”
“Relax, I just made hot chocolate and watched a chick flick with her. Hmm… I think that might actually be the longest I’ve kept my clothes on around a woman. Which reminds me, how’s our lovely new assistant?”
“Off limits,” Alaric said through gritted teeth.
Judd guffawed. “To me or to you?”
“To both of us.”
“You should consider changing your policy. If you got laid, maybe you wouldn’t be so uptight all the time.”
“Do some work, Judd.”
Alaric hung up and let out an audible groan. Judd was good at his job—when he did it—but his personal life was a different story. He’d left a string of broken hearts from Tahiti to Timbuktu, and if he caused any more problems, Sirius’s next hire would be a three-hundred-pound heavily tattooed babysitter named Butch.
“What’s up?” Beth asked, walking in from the yard. “We’re done with the animals, and Harriet said she’d look after Barkley while we’re out asking questions.”
Alaric rose halfway to pick a piece of straw out of Beth’s hair. She smelled like the barn, but he didn’t care. Horses were a part of her.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“You realise when you say that, I only worry more?”
“Judd’s just running Curzon Place like a halfway house. Hevrin’s staying there as well.”
“Oh, that’s nice. She can keep Gemma company. How’s her arm?”
The least of her problems if Mr. Millais-Scott got his teeth into her, or worse, his dick. But Alaric really didn’t want to make Beth anxious.
“She’s feeling better by all accounts. Ready to hit the road?”
Dan had spoken to Piper’s grandma earlier. Barb Simms was the single mother of a single mother, and she still lived alone in the same trailer she’d shared with Piper after Piper’s mom upped and disappeared. Runs in the family, she’d said. Never found a trace of either of them.
“What about the letter?” Alaric had asked Dan. “She didn’t believe Piper sent it?”
“That was the only time Barb got angry. Said it was a low-down dirty hoax because Piper wanted to be a scientist, not a singer, and she only went to karaoke nights at the Tumbleweed Tavern because she wanted to fit in.”
“Fit in with who? Kyla’s crowd?”
“There were half a dozen girls she hung out with, and Kyla was one of them. Although it was a love-hate relationship, apparently. Piper didn’t like Kyla as a person, but she enjoyed perks that came with being her ‘friend.’ Cast-off designer togs, invites to the Devane family mansion, and latterly, boys.”
“What did Grandma Simms think of Kyla?”
“She barely knew her. Piper never invited her to the trailer—probably embarrassed to—and the Devanes didn’t exactly run in the
