Page 52

“I’m sure you can spare a few minutes of your time,” he says casually, “but we can do this down at the station if you’d prefer.”

The tactic is old but effective. The only way I’m setting foot in the Forsyth Police station again will be in handcuffs. I inhale and settle back against the seat. “What can I do for you, Agent Knight?”

“Just following up on a conversation we should have had a while back,” he notes. “I’ve managed to interview every other King in Forsyth, although some are more cooperative than others. I just had this nagging feeling that there was one person I needed to speak to about the recent disappearances in town.”

I’d been waiting for him to show up on my doorstep, but he’s not stupid enough to do that. He has no warrant–nothing other than suspicion. His appearance tonight could have easily been about Armand, but Trudie is nothing but discreet. Her son’s death is a humiliation.

I decide to cut to the chase. “I understand the need to be thorough, but I can assure you no one involved in the BRN fraternity has had anything to do with the missing girls.”

“See, that’s the problem I’m running into. Everyone says they’re not involved, but you’re the only one that walks around in a mask that hides your true identity and is rumored to hunt women in the forests.”

“Rumors don’t hold up in court, Agent Knight.” I eye the younger man. He’s got the attitude of a man with power, but his suit jacket is cheap, off the rack, and he needs a haircut. I’ve heard my own rumors about him and the Madam down at the Hideaway–about his lineage. I frown. “It’s my understanding you have a person of interest already in custody.”

“We do, but that hasn’t led us to the four girls we know are still out there.”

“And what? You think that I can?” I scoff. “I assure you, Agent Knight, if there was a way to find these young women and return them home safely, I’d do whatever I could. Do you not recall that a female of value to the Barons was harmed as well?”

“Oh yes, I recall.” His jaw sets, the hard muscle in the back throbbing in annoyance. He thinks for a moment before saying, “Which is why I’m here to tell you that I’d like to speak to Arianette again, to see if she remembers anything.”

“You had access to her in the hospital,” I remind him.

“She was still in a state of trauma, drugged, making her information unreliable.” He scratches his cheek. “She may be able to tell us more now about who took her, where she was held.”

It’s reasonable, but from what I learned from the coroner today, Arianette has blood on her hands, making any contact with the authorities a risk. “She’s still in a vulnerable state. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“So vulnerable you’re going to call off your wedding?” When I don’t respond he shakes his head with a dark laugh. “Of course not, nothing will get in the way of another Royal sticking his dick in an innocent,younggirl in order to continue the family line–”

“Enough!” I hiss, blood thundering in my ears. I slam my hand on the table, the King ring front and center. “You shut your mouth about things you do not, and will not, ever understand.” I take a deep breath in an attempt to regain my composure, while Knight assesses me. Fuck him. “If you’re so worried about bloodlines and lineage, and you want to dig around in the family trees of Royals, I suggest you look at the Purple Palace.”

“Due to recent events, Rufus Ashby has been cleared as a suspect.”

“I’m not talking about Rufus, although we’re all better off with him gone.” I lower my voice. “There are other bloodlines in that house that are more tainted than the rest. As the saying goes, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

He sits back, wheels turning in his head. I take the opportunity to stand, reaching into my pocket and tossing cash on the table.

“I can assure you, Agent Knight, that no one in Forsyth wants these women found more than I do.” I grab my cloak and throw it over my shoulders. “And while you do your job, I’ll do mine. We’ll see who ends up finding them first.”

It’s latewhen I return and the house is quiet. Even the hallway that leads to Graves’ private wing is dark. I step into my room, hang up my cloak and start to remove my mask.

Until I notice it.

There’s no delay between me pulling out the switchblade and snapping it open. No hesitation as I jerk open the closet door. Nothing. No one. It’s not until I'm sure there’s no one else in the room that I take a breath and cross over to the dresser. The framed photo of my wife, Amber, and Remington, is askew. Positioning it back into place, I search for any other intrusion, and see a plate sitting on the windowsill–a slice of half-eaten cake frozen exactly as the trespasser left it.

That’s when I look back at the dresser, and rage builds in my chest.

Not only has someone been in my room, touching my things, leaving trash…

Something has been stolen.

And I know exactly who took it.

18

Arianette

Bang!

“Where is it?”