Liam stepped up. “I’ll run you back to the office then, love. Alex, stay with Ian until I can get back.”
Eve held a hand up. “I would like Alex to take me.” She turned, and he’d been right about the softness. There was none of it now. Her face was a careful, perfect blank. “I think he can manage to drop me at my car before he goes back to work. You are going back to the office, aren’t you?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, merely stepped out into the afternoon light, moving toward the parking lot.
“I’ll handle her,” Alex said.
“She was going to ask you to revise your contract,” Liam said with a frown. “Why would she be so upset about you working? Can’t you put if off for a couple of hours?”
She was going to ask him to revise the contract? How? To give them more freedom? Or less? Fuck. She wouldn’t answer him if he asked now. There was nothing to do except plow ahead. “I’ve got a lead on Michael Evans.”
Liam cursed under his breath. “Were you going to tell her?”
“No. She can’t do anything, and she’ll only worry.” It could bring her nothing but pain to talk about this again.
Liam shook his head. “But it’s her worry, Alex.”
Liam didn’t understand. He’d been through a lot, but he’d never seen his love torn apart by a monster. “I’m going to ask you something and I want you to answer me honestly. If some man had raped and brutalized Avery, would you want revenge?”
“Hell, yeah, I would.”
At least someone understood. “Good, then.”
He had his hand on the door when Liam spoke again. “But I would want my wife more. If it came to a decision between the two, I would always pick her.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t get that choice.” Revenge was really all he had left, and even if Eve wanted him back, he wasn’t sure he could give up looking for Evans. As long as he was out there, Eve wasn’t really safe. He remembered the way Evans had looked at him when he’d been hauled into the courtroom for his bail hearing. He’d smirked and mouthed the words, “We’re not through.”
No, if Evans was out there, it was only a matter of time before he came after Alex, and the only way to come after Alex was through Eve.
He turned and walked to the lobby door, the music still pounding through the club. He’d thought Ian had some closure. He knew Charlotte was dead, had held her body in his arms. He knew nothing else would come from it, but it seemed he was still haunted. Every year, Alex hoped he wouldn’t hear that fucking song and every year on this day, it was all Ian played until he passed out and showed up to work the next day with red eyes and a closed mouth. They would spend the next three hundred and sixty-four days pretending she had never existed.
But Alex’s ghost stood at the passenger door of his truck, a frown on her gorgeous face. He strode out into the heat of the day and opened the door for her.
“Liam said you wanted to renegotiate our contract.” He had to try.
She settled into the seat. “That doesn’t really matter now, does it?”
“What did you want to negotiate, Eve?” Hell, it might be easier on him if she wanted to cut him off entirely. At least he could focus on the job at hand.
Her eyes shifted toward him. “I want to see the file, Alex.”
“There isn’t a file yet. Warren is going through the proper channels to try to get it to me.” He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side of the truck. He got in and fired up the engine, grateful that the drive wasn’t a long one.
“Fine. I want to know what you’ve discovered. Is he in the States?”
This was the last conversation he wanted to have, but she had to know at some point in time. “I think he’s a regular visitor. He seems to be setting up some kind of business connections here, a series of clubs that he’s using to sell drugs through.”
“He’s probably using the clubs to launder the money, too,” Eve said, her eyes on the road ahead of them. “And he would also see them as another form of the commune he had built up. He very likely has a female in every one.”
She sounded like they were talking about a regular case, but every time he glanced over at her, he could see the scar on her neck. It was the worst of her scars. That cut had been deep and was still thick on her skin, but there were more scars on her back and belly. They were faint now, faded to whispery white lines, but he remembered them fresh and bloody.
“Eve, you don’t have to do this. I’m checking out the source tonight. If she checks out, I’m going to Florida to see this club for myself.”
“She?” The question was coated in ice.
At least she could still feel a little jealous. “Yes. Her name is Kristen, and she’s an investigative reporter. She’s just a source, angel. She’s tied Evans to narcoterrorists in South America.”
“Why doesn’t she call the feds?”