Except for Jace and Ethan, of course.”

Ethan nodded, and he and Jace came forward to wrap the body for its date with the industrial incinerator.

I turned to Marc, intending to ask if I’d get away with murder just because I had ovaries, but before I could even open my mouth, my father popped his knuckles. Several at once.

My eyes closed in dread. Knuckle-cracking was never a good sign.

Marc elbowed me and I opened my eyes to find the Alpha watching us both. As I’d expected.

“You two pack your bags before you go to bed.” My father leaned against the van and pulled on one black dress sock, then stepped into his shoe. “I want you both on the first flight out in the morning from Houston International.”

“Where to?” Marc asked, pul ing me toward him. I let myself melt into his chest, pulling his arms around me as my head fell back to rest against his shoulder. I didn’t want to go anywhere. We’d only been home for two days, and I’d rather spar with Ethan twice a day for the next month than go out on another assignment.

“New Orleans. If memory serves, Kevin Mitchell stil lives there. I want you to meet up with him and find out what you can about Harper. Check out the restaurant and the alley, and see if you can figure out what he was doing there. Then drive out to Picayune and look around his apartment. I’ll get you the address.”

My father paused to put on his other sock and shoe, then stood and gathered the rest of his clothes. “Talk to his neighbors. Be discreet, of course, but find out if any of them saw him with a woman who could be the tabby. Get a good description. While you’re doing that, I’ll work on her identity from another angle. I have a contact in Venezuela who should be able to tel us who’s missing a daughter, and why.”

My mouth dropped open, and I clamped it shut before anyone noticed. “You have a contact in Venezuela?” How could I not have known that?

“Faythe, I’d been to six different continents before you took your first step. When will you stop sounding surprised that I bring a bit of worldly experience to my position?”

“I’m not surprised, Daddy. I’m just ready to accumulate a little of my own.”

He raised one brow. “Fine. Start with New Orleans. And, Faythe?”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful what you ask for. Life has a way of giving you what you want, whether you’re ready for it or not.”

I frowned. “Why do you say that?”

With a cryptic smile, the Alpha strolled past me and through the barn doors. A moment later, his voice floated out of the darkness. “I got you, didn’t I?”

Chapter Eleven

Kevin Mitchell met us at baggage claim. I didn’t recognize him until he stepped into my path and stuck his hand out, his broad smile brightening an otherwise ordinary face.

“Faythe Sanders, you look amazing!” he said, brown eyes shifting upward as his gaze slid over my denim shorts before stalling at the low neckline of my shirt. His leering appraisal made me wish I’d opted for painter’s coveralls instead of the snug black tank top. Or maybe a big paper sack. Rather than shaking the hand I extended reluctantly, he used it to pull me into an intimate hug, as if we’d known each other for years, when really I’d only met him once before.

Bristling, I broke free from the involuntary embrace and bent to pick up my bag, determined to get Kevin’s brain focused on business and keep it there. He was only a few years older than Marc, but my gut had labeled him a dirty old man the minute he’d made eye contact with my breasts. If that’s where he thought my eyes were, I didn’t want to know where he’d look for my brain.

But I was pretty sure where to find his.

“Hi, Kevin.” I glanced at Marc and started to take his hand out of habit. But then I stopped. I didn’t want either of them to think I was using Marc to shield myself from unwanted attention. Instead, I gripped my bag in both hands, though it wasn’t heavy, and met Kevin’s eyes candidly as I introduced him to Marc.

“Marc Ramos, Kevin Mitchel .”

“We’ve actually met before, but it’s been a while,” Marc said, extending his hand. His expression remained admirably neutral, in spite of the possessive growl I knew he held ready deep in his throat.

Kevin studied the offered hand for several seconds, as if inspecting it for grime, and my grip on my bag tightened as I watched Marc’s eyes harden and his shoulders tense. This wasn’t going to be pretty. I could already tell.

“Of course.” Kevin finally accepted Marc’s hand, but instead of shaking it, he squeezed it, and to my horror, Marc squeezed back. “Who could ever forget Greg’s pet stray?”

Marc’s hand tightened visibly around Kevin’s fingers, his digits going white. Again. Both men clenched their jaws, Kevin in pain, and Marc in an obvious effort to control his temper and keep from breaking Kevin’s hand. Off.

Why couldn’t guys find a more original way to test each other’s manly prowess? Arm wrestling might have been more subtle. Or maybe comparing the length of their…canines.

I elbowed Marc in the ribs, and he let go. Then he turned an insincere smile on me for a moment before aiming it at Kevin. “I guess this is your big chance.”

Kevin raised one eyebrow at Marc. “For what?”

“To prove yourself. Isn’t that why you’re here? You think if you impress the boss’s daughter, he’ll finally make you an enforcer.”