Dread rolled through me, dark and dangerously sharp. I glanced at Dallas for the first time since stepping inside this office. Dallas glanced at me. This wasn’t good news we were getting. In unison, we both turned back to Jack.
“A female?” I asked.
Jack blinked over at me. “That’s what I said.”
“What’s her name?” I shifted in my seat, hating and loving every moment that passed and he didn’t answer.
“Rianne Harte,” he said, glancing down at his papers.
“Spell it,” I said, ice crystallizing in my blood.
He did.
My stomach churned, and I closed my eyes. The Arcadian hadn’t lied. He had said Rianne Harte, but he hadn’t spelled the name, and he hadn’t specified that the victim was female. I’d misheard and assumed. A dangerous combination.
He’d also mentioned that someone else would soon be dead.
At least I could take the guard off Grandpa Ryan and the boy. A real f**king silver lining.
“Jack,” Dallas said, “Mia and I chased down—”
I gave Dallas a barely imperceptible head shake that said, Do not mention the Arcadian male.
“Chased down a bottle of tequila earlier,” he finished lamely. “Sorry.”
“Thank you,” I mouthed. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to keep Jack in the dark, but I did. I wasn’t sure who this Arcadian was, or which side he was truly playing for. I just knew I was going to be stingy with the information I shared until I figured out exactly what motives lay behind those amethyst eyes.
“You know better than to drink on the job,” Jack said, eyes narrowed. “First I catch you napping, and now you confess to drinking. What the hell is the matter with you?”
“Got a description of Miss Harte?” Dallas asked, quickly getting us back on track.
“Red hair.Green eyes. About five foot six.” Jack shrugged. “She’s a lab tech with Kilmer, Peterman, and Nate Pharmaceuticals. They specialize in fertility drugs.”
“What similarities did they find between her abduction and the others?” I asked.
“Arcadian hair laid on the woman’s kitchen counter like a rose. As with the others, there are no witnesses to her abduction. No sign of foul play. She simply disappeared from her home.”
“That it?”
“Hardly,” Jack said with a dark chuckle. “She had contact with two of the men before their disappearances. SullivanBay and Raymond Palmer. She was seen with each on two separate occasions.”
“This is getting complicated, Jack,” Dallas said.
“I know. And I need these missing people found ASAP. Alive,” Jack added. “If you fail, well, you might as well prepare your assess for PADD.” There was no humor in his tone. “I’m getting pressure from the top. They’re afraid the story will break soon, and they want answers.”
Fabulous. We were working as fast as we possibly could. Being ordered to work faster was f**king-tastic.
“Right now, I want you to go home, get some rest,” Jack continued. “We’ll debrief at noon tomorrow with Ghost, Kittie, Mandalay, Johnson, and Jaffe.”
“One thing, Commander,” I said. I’d worked under Jack for nine years. He was old and mean, but honorable. “Keep everyone—and that includes yourself—out of Lilla’s chamber. Her powers for mind control are staggering.”
“I doubt she can penetrate my mind.”
“The government has yet to produce a workable mind shield, and until they do, you’re in danger from her.”
He tapped a pen on his desk. “If I stay away from her and command everyone else to do the same, you’ll owe me. Big.”
He should be grateful for my warning, should be telling me how sensible I was. But no, the sneaky bastard wanted a favor, so he was pretending this was some big hardship. Last time I’d owed him a favor, he’d made me teach his daughter—who reminded me of Barbie on drugs—how to shoot an old-fashioned Road Kill .48. For my troubles, I’d spent a few nights in the hospital, having a bullet removed from my ass.
“What do you want?” I asked wearily.
“I need you to work next weekend. We’ll be short several agents.”
“Done,” I said, and felt a keen sense of relief. Working extra hours was no problem. It wasn’t like I actually had a life. I had no hobbies. No friends outside of work. Never attended family gatherings. That was…sad, I realized with a frown.
“No one enters,” he promised, stroking his beard. “Not without your permission. I’ll even have her meals delivered by mechanical tray.”
“Thank you.”
“Now get out of here,” he said, waving a hand through the air. “The sight of Dallas’s beat-up face is turning my stomach.” To Dallas he said, “A word of advice, sport. The next time you’re in a fight—duck.”
“Yeah, I’ll try to remember that,” Dallas said, his gaze darkening on me.
We pushed to our feet and filed out. The door closed behind us with a click. Then, silence. Benches and desks were empty, and only a few agents milled about. Most of the A.I.R. teams were patrolling the streets.
“Dallas,” I said, then paused. I noticed Ghost standing down the hall, motioning me over with the crook of his finger. His bald head gleamed in the overhead lighting.
“Don’t leave this building,” Dallas said. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
“You’re right.” He’d reached his bullshit tolerance, and I didn’t even try to stall. “Why don’t you come with me to talk with Ghost, then we’ll go to Trollie’s for coffee.”
He stared down at me, his expression hard, determined. “All right,” he finally said. “You’ve got ten minutes. No more.”
I arched a brow at his I-am-commander-of-the-universe tone and vowed to take eleven minutes, even if I had to sit in the corner and pick my nose for most of those. We strode down the hall, the sound of our footsteps pounding in my ears. The air was sterile here, as if someone had doused the walls with cleaning solution. Ghost led us into a small private room.
“That girl is a certifiable whack job,” he said the moment the door snapped closed.
“Which one?” I asked, stepping toward the large two-way mirror that dominated the side wall and offered a secret glimpse into a smaller room. I had my answer before he replied.
“Isabel Hudson, the Antichrist’s daughter,” I said, at the exact moment he said, “Sleeping Beauty, the Antichrist’s daughter.”