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Dominique wrestled with the urge to drag Garrett away by the throat. The man was a monster in human guise who killed with abandon and had tortured him to within an inch of his immortal life. He was also a soldier, a warrior, and a hunter. And he had no business evenknowinga woman like Francesca, much less speak to her like this.

The wine had been poured and the first course served by the time Dominique could see past the haze of fury far enough to glimpse what was really happening here. Though he didn’t quite trust it until Francesca asked for the third time, “But what is it you do for my son’s firm?”

The other times she inquired, Garrett delivered a vague answer with a bright smile and turned the conversation to France or Saint Barthélemy. “Whatever is necessary,” he said now. “But as I was saying—”

“Jackson?” Francesca prompted. “What do you do?”

Jackson put his fork down and finished chewing a mouthful of salad. “Security, ma’am. We do security.”

“Oh.” Her lipsticked mouth became as round as her eyes. “Oh, I see. This is…secret work,non?”

“Very,” Jackson confirmed.

“Basically, we have your son’s back,” Garrett added. He picked up his wine and gestured at Dominique with it. “No matter what sort of pickle he gets himself into, no matter what we need to do to get him out of it. Right, Nick?”

Dominique held the intense look that said he was in one of those pickles right now. “Apparently so.”

Francesca placed her hand on Garrett’s forearm, where it rested on the table. “Then you have my undying gratitude.”

“Whatisgoing on with him?” Cassidy muttered into her water glass.

A mystery, Dominique decided. One he didn’t know what to do with right now, except to be reluctantly grateful for.

“My daughter-in-law is under your protection, too?” Francesca inquired.

“Your—?” Jackson started.

Garrett’s mind shifted more quickly. “Yes. Cassidy’s safety is a top priority with us.”

Cassidy groaned under her breath, no doubt recalling getting shot by this man. On purpose.

“I am so glad to know this.” Francesca beamed at Cassidy, who seemed to drag a smile to her face by its scruff.

For two hours Dominique spun illusions of enjoying his nonexistent meal and watched Garrett steer Francesca around countless conversational land mines. She was stronger and more stubborn than Dominique remembered, and he wondered if the trauma of losing her husband and children had sparked this change. If so, she had, in a way, been forged by the same dark fire that had consumed him. She even appeared to find solace in the same against-all-odds hope and love that sustained her son. Dominique’s heart pinched at the thought.

As the meal progressed, Cassidy touched less and less of her food, becoming increasingly quiet. By the time dessert was served, she swayed in her seat, a glassy sheen in her eyes. “Migraine,” she whispered when she saw him studying her gray pallor.

Dominique requested the check and made their excuses the moment Garrett snatched it away and dropped his card on it. The hunters concurred. Francesca’s disappointment at cutting the evening short was palpable, but she could not sway their united front.

Back in their suite, Cassidy beelined for the bathroom and lost what little she had eaten. Then she sprawled on the bed with a cold washcloth on her brow. “This whole thing is making my head explode,” she groaned. “Literally.”

Dominique didn’t doubt it. There was also no doubt that there would be no romance tonight. In fact, when he sat beside her, she shooed him away. “Don’t waste your night playing nursemaid. Go find this Isao guy.”

He kissed her cheek and went to change into his leathers.

Where to begin the search? There had been no trace of Isao in Natalia’s memories, much less his whereabouts. Nor had she been with the colony long enough to be familiar with their summer habits. Though Dominique had a good idea what he would do if he lived at this latitude and found his nights growing shorter and shorter—move south. Way south.

Garrett lay in wait for him in the hallway when Dominique emerged. “I’m coming with you.”

“You are not.” Dominique laced his voice with enough compulsion to convey the warning. Garrett was trained to resist it up to a point.

“You sound adamant,” the old hunter observed, grim-faced, hands on his hips.

Dominique tilted his head in a gesture of astonishment.

“Okay, fine. But you have my number if you get into another pickle. Also, for what it’s worth, I can see where you get your—well, everything. Your mother is quite a lady.”

He stared. “Garrett Striker. That is not truly a compliment I hear, is it?”