“How long was Bernadette here last night?” she asked Valentina, careful to sound casual.
“She did not come,” replied Valentina, joining her at the sink. “But Ruben and Calvin were here.”
Well … one of them could have seen it in the trash and dug it out. She thought about asking Valentina if anyone had mentioned finding the necklace. But if they hadn’t, Valentina would then want to know all about the damn thing—it wasn’t a story that Bree felt like telling. Especially since the female wolverine would confront Bernadette about it, no matter Bree’s feelings on that.
“Now,” began Valentina, “let us wash dishes. Then we will plot weird and wonderful ways to make Moira miserable.”
“Oh, I can get behind that.”
It took a little over two hours to reach the agency. Located in a rough, neglected area among a row of stores, the small building was no bigger than the barbershop where Mila worked.
As Tate parked the seven-seater SUV outside, Vinnie very quickly relayed the simple plan to his sons, Alex, and the three enforcers who’d come along: Walk inside, state that they wished to speak with Marino, and then get shit done.
Simple.
But when they entered the plain, sparse office, there was no one at the incredibly disordered reception desk, and nobody came out to greet them. What did greet them was a thick, coppery scent mingled with the astringent smell of bleach.
Alex exchanged a look with Vinnie.
With Tate in the lead, protecting his father like always, they followed the potent scents into a private office. Both Marino and a pretty redhead were sprawled on the threadbare gray carpet. And both were dead.
Marino had been mercilessly beaten to a pulp, gruesomely savaged with claws, and had taken a bullet to the center of his forehead. The receptionist had also been beaten and shot in the head. The weird thing about the stomach-churning sight? With the exception of the bullet holes, the victims’ wounds hadn’t bled much at all. It was more like they’d oozed a little blood. Which told Alex one very significant thing …
“They were mauled after their death,” said Alex. “My guess is that the bullets took them both out.”
“I was thinking the same,” said Vinnie. “But it makes no sense that the killer would shoot them and then maul them. Why bother?”
Luke shrugged. “Maybe he gets a sick kick out of that shit or he just wanted to make a statement to anyone who stumbled on the scene.” He blew out a breath. “Do you think this was a punishment from the client for failing to snatch Bree?”
The possibility had already flitted through Alex’s brain. “The client would have to have eyes on Bree for them to know this soon that the fox had failed. I don’t like the thought of that at the fuck all.” His beast liked it even less.
“Well, if I was paying someone a shit ton of money to do a job for me, I might want to have someone watch them and make sure they were earning their fee,” said Tate. “Especially if their failure would lead to me being identified. I’d need advanced notice of said failure to cover my tracks.”
Luke gestured at the papers that were strewn all over the floor. Someone had turned the filing cabinets inside out. “What do you think they were looking for?”
“If it was the client, they were probably searching for their case file,” said Vinnie. “They knew we’d come looking for their name, so they killed the only people who knew of it and then they swiped their info.”
Careful not to leave any fingerprints, the enforcers were checking the files and paperwork and examining the bodies, looking for clues that Alex suspected were nonexistent. Whoever had come here had been intent on wiping away any traces of their involvement with the agency—they’d even taken the computer hard drives.
A quick check of the victims’ pockets made Tate sigh. “No cell phones. The bastard must have taken them as well.”
“We can talk with Marino’s other agents—their personal info will be in these files,” said Luke. “One of them might know who the client is.”
“It’s worth a shot.” Vinnie cast a sideways glance at Alex. “That’s where you’ll come in handy.”
Being an interrogator/scare tactic suited Alex and his beast fine. Vinnie had offered Alex the position of enforcer, but Alex didn’t want to lead or follow; he didn’t need a position of authority to feel powerful.
“We’ll pay each of the agents a visit today,” Vinnie went on. “It could take a while to get through them all, but it’s necessary. It’s also important to find out if there’s anyone else who might have had reason to do this to Marino. His death could be linked to something different altogether. I want to be sure.”
“Okay,” Luke agreed, “but my gut says we’re looking at the work of whoever wants Bree. On another note, why do you think they slung bleach everywhere? They didn’t use it to clean anything. They just splashed gallons of it around, like someone might do with gasoline before setting a place alight. Why?”
It was Alex who replied. “To mask their scent so that we wouldn’t have one to track.” His Russian uncles had used that trick in the past, and it always worked. “The additional scents of blood and death sure helps drown theirs out.”
With a heavy sigh, Vinnie rubbed his nape. “Which means if I don’t get any info from Marino’s employees, I’ve got to go back to the pride and tell my daughter’s best friend that I’m sorry but, no, I don’t have the answers she badly wants.”
“I’ll talk to Bree,” said Alex. “You can tell Valentina.”
Vinnie frowned. “Oh now, Alex, that’s just cruel.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Settled on her recliner in the reading nook, Bree briefly looked away from her paperback as she grabbed her cup of hot chocolate and took a sip. A good story never failed to pull her in, but she was struggling to really get into it. Just as she’d struggled to relax in the bath or during her yoga session. The latter had helped soothe her body, though.
She knew some people felt wiped after yoga, but it always helped her unwind and release the tension from her muscles, leaving her feeling “good tired.” The muscles in her arms and shoulders had certainly needed the help, since she’d spent a good portion of her afternoon painting.
Valentina had stayed a while, despite that Bree had fully recovered from the drugs by noon. The woman had been keeping an eye on her, but her actions had come from a good place, so Bree hadn’t complained.
She was happy to finally have the house to herself, though. She’d gotten messages, calls, and visits from pride mates all day. Although she appreciated their concern, she needed alone time. Sadly, that alone time hadn’t helped much. Her mind was just crowded with so many damn questions and—
Her skin prickling in awareness, she glanced up from her book. Her stomach did an annoying little flip of excitement, and her cat went from languid to alert in a second flat.
Alex.
Quickly boxing up that excitement and wrapping metaphorical duck-tape around it, she asked, “Tell me, how would you feel if I just breezed into your home without an invitation?”
Leaning against the doorjamb, he lifted his brows slightly. “Well, it’s you, so I can’t say it would bother me.”