Page 16 of Midnight Secrets

Of course, he couldn’t go anywhere with these thoughts. Who would he talk to about it? Metal and Jacko would just look at him funny. And he couldn’t ask Isabel because she wasn’t talking.

Because if Isabel was on the run from some man, if that cryptic message was from someone who wanted her to be safe, well whoever sent it had sent it to the right guy. Joe had never backed down from a fight and never would. And to protect Isabel? He’d go to the wall.

“What are you thinking?” Metal asked. The guy looked like a WWE wrestling champ, a big slab of meat and Joe had seen people treat him as if he was a few sandwiches shy of a picnic. Nothing could be further from the truth. Metal was sharp—he just had nothing to prove and he liked being underestimated.

So Joe knew better than to lie to Metal. But he could put a little Vaseline on the lens and misdirect.

“Trying to figure out what’s wrong with Isabel. What happened to her.”

Metal narrowed his eyes. “You figure she’s running from some guy who hurt her.”

There it was, out in the open. Joe sighed. “Yeah. I think about it all the time. Drives me nuts.”

“I hear you,” Metal said. “Every time I think about that fuckhead slicing Felicity open, I can’t see straight.”

Felicity had been coming to visit Lauren and instead she’d been met at the airport by a guy who wanted to kidnap her for what was in her pretty head. Felicity had escaped because she was Felicity, but not before getting a nasty knife wound. Metal said it still gave him nightmares.

“Men who can do that…” Joe trailed off. Men who could do that weren’t worthy of being called men.

“Yeah.” Metal looked grim. They both got sick at the idea of men abusing women and children.

“So, suppose a guy like that is after Isabel?” It was his worst nightmare. “How would I know about that if she’s not talking? This guy could just show up one day…” He shuddered.

“Like the email said—protect Isabel.”

Fuck, yeah. Joe opened his mouth to answer when the front door opened and Felicity came in together with a gust of cold air. She was carrying something big wrapped in tinfoil and set it on the kitchen counter.

Felicity started slowly taking off her gloves, picking at each finger, enjoying the attention. One glove, the other…

Joe couldn’t stand it. “Well?”

“Well?” she echoed.

“What did you find out? Did you guys talk?”

“Yes, we did. We chatted. And she said absolutely nothing about herself. But she didn’t have to. One look at her and I knew. I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out yourself.”

Joe followed her out of the kitchen. “Figure what out?”

Felicity sat at her computer. Joe could swear that she didn’t touch the keyboard but it suddenly lit up. He’d often wondered if she had arranged her software to mess with their heads. When she was gone from her computer it automatically shut down. When she sat down in front of it, it automatically turned on.

“Who she is,” Felicity answered. Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

“So.” Joe bent as a number of photos appeared on Felicity’s monitor. “Who is she?”

She pointed at the screen. There was some kind of political event, someone at a podium, surrounded by other people. Joe peered closer and frowned. The person at the podium was Alex Delvaux. Joe had been OUTCONUS and then in rehab so he wasn’t too up on politics, but it looked like a rally. He remembered that Alex Delvaux had been contemplating a run for the presidency before being killed, together with his entire family, in the Washington Massacre.

Felicity placed a fingertip over a woman in the background on the podium. The features weren’t clear, all the faces were a blur. She was good-looking but all the Delvauxs were good-looking. Had been good-looking. Now they were all dead.

“So what is it?” he asked, impatiently. He wanted to know what she’d found out about Isabel.

“Here she is. Your next-door neighbor.” Felicity tapped once on the face. “Isabel Delvaux.”

* * *

Washington, DC

Phase two was tall and distinguished-looking, with a shock of iron gray hair and craggy features. Phase two was also dumb as a rock, which Blake was counting on.

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