about your injuries and the boys’ as well. Each of the men were tortured and the true facts were pinned to their chests. They were strung up in their homes, each with a little card that said they were a wedding present to you from an admirer,” Absinthe said. “Code received the detailed photographs and Czar agrees with me, it had to be Adrik just from the way they were killed. The bodies have yet to be found, but as soon as they are, we will run out of time on our end. Holden will hole up and the cops will come looking to talk to you. You’ll need to be home with an airtight alibi.”
“Where’s Adrik now?” Scarlet asked.
“On his way to Thailand, according to Code. He was given the choice to join the Trinity chapter of Torpedo Ink, but he declined, said he was a loner.” Absinthe kept watching her face.
His wife was gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. She might fool others, but she didn’t have a poker face, not to him. It was clear she wasn’t asking about Adrik because she wanted to go chasing after him. Steele was right about their women. Absinthe had to come to terms with the fact that he still hadn’t gotten to a place where he thought he deserved having Scarlet love him. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it.
What the hell are you doing in there? Partying? We don’t have all night. Code has drained Holden’s bank accounts and will rescind the contract on Scarlet, but you have to get to him now before he’s warned the others are dead. The timeline has been moved up.
Czar sounded annoyed, so Absinthe didn’t make a snappy comeback. None of them did. They all recognized that tone. He was royally pissed with Adrik. The man might have made what he saw as a gesture, sending Scarlet a wedding gift by killing three of the men responsible for her incarceration, but it only called attention to her. Torpedo Ink always ensured reasonable suspicion fell on someone else. They couldn’t do damage control on this one.
“Let’s move,” Transporter said.
The team did, keeping Scarlet in the center. She and Destroyer were new. They didn’t know how the team worked yet and the others looked out for them, although Absinthe didn’t think Destroyer needed anyone looking out for him.
Robert Holden Sr. tossed back the last of his scotch using the last glass made of Irish cut crystal his wife’s father had given them on their wedding day. It had been in their family for a hundred years and she had fussed endlessly over it, reminding him continually not to use it unless it was a special occasion. He thought tonight, their anniversary, was a very special occasion. The scotch burned down his throat and felt like a furnace in his gut. He threw the glass as hard as he could into the stone fireplace, watching it hit the rocks and shatter, just as he had the other five glasses. The crystal splintered in all directions, scattering pieces across the hardwood floor to pick up the rolling flames of the fire, reflecting them all around the room.
He hadn’t turned on lights because he didn’t need them, not with a full moon shining through the thick walls of glass and the sliding door leading to the enormous outdoor pool. He swam laps nightly to stay in shape. He prided himself on his body, something his soon-to-be ex-wife couldn’t say. She’d grown so complacent about herself. Putting on the pounds, waiting an extra week or two to color her hair, forgetting her Botox injections.
He was going to have to call his “security” company after his swim tonight and see what the holdup was on his wife’s accident. She’d filed for divorce, but she hadn’t yet made out a new will. He was still the beneficiary of her life insurance policy. He would still inherit everything if she died before the divorce went through. That had to happen.
Robert slid open the door and walked out to the pool in his sandals. Dropping his short robe on the lounge beside the pool, he kicked off his shoes and walked naked to the deeper end. Few men his age had his body. Women appreciated his looks. He got stares all the time. He didn’t really need his cow of a wife. Just her money. That kind of bank account opened so many doors, paved the way for anything he wanted or could conceive of