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I locked the office door and walked to my car, thinking about the comment I’d made to Simone and Hunter about Alexander Beaumont being the kind of person who would go to great lengths to protect his family. It made me wonder ... maybe stealing from the tennis club wasn’t the only dirty deed in Owen’s life. Maybe he had a habit of abusing women—a habit that had been covered up and cleaned up whenever it reared its ugly head.

Was murder part of the clean-up process?

Would Alexander go that far to help his nephew?

Or was I going about it all wrong, perhaps blaming the wrong Beaumont?

While Alexander was getting up there in age, he was fit, which wasn’t to say he’d take it upon himself to deal with Noelle. The notion seemed far-fetched. If he had murdered her, he would have had to find a way to get into Noelle’s house during the party without being seen. Then he’d have to get upstairs, again without being seen. Once there, he would have had to wait for the opportune time to strike. Then leave—without being seen.

I couldn’t envision it at all.

The more likely story —if Noelle’s murder was Alexander’s doing—was that he had a ‘fixer,’ someone who swept in and took care of ... well, any problem that needed to go away. It was plausible, and in certain elite circles, it was the way things had always been done.

As I allowed the notion to marinate in my mind, I decided to pay another visit to Alexander tomorrow. Tonight, I wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with Luka and relax. The thought of it brought a smile to my face, as did the thought of Giovanni returning home tomorrow.

I unlocked the car door and opened it, tossing my handbag onto the passenger seat. I was about to step inside when I felt something on the back of my neck.

Someone’s breath—hot and steamy—and I knew I wasn’t alone.

I’d been so caught up in my murder theories, I hadn’t paid enough attention to my surroundings, a big, big mistake on my part.

As I lunged for the gun inside my handbag, I felt a sharp pain on the side of my head, strong and numbing. Blood, wet and sticky, trickled down the side of my cheek, and I jerked back, preparing to headbutt my attacker. No sooner had I done it, my head began spinning, and then, everything went black.