Page 59 of Her Noble Protector

“We should have Alberto’s phone records in a couple of hours,” Lydia said. “But your information might score before ours.” She grinned at A.J.

“I don’t care who scores when. I just want us to find Lisa and get her the hell home,” Raiden said emphatically.

“How’s Cami doing?” A.J. asked.

“She’s fine,” Raiden assured her. “Harry found an Airbnb that he was positive he could secure. He’s got Carys and Cami there now. So they’re safe, and Carys is watching over Cami, so she’ll stay healthy.”

A.J. nodded. Then she looked at Raiden and dropped her voice. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but have you been in touch with Kane? I know sometimes you reach out to him in situations like this.”

“Talked to him while you were asleep. Everything is fine.”

She gave a short nod. “That’s good. That’s real good. I’ll let you know when Jorge calls.”

* * *

He looked down at the book in his hand. He could hear the three people inside talking, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. It didn’t matter—all he could think about was Lisa and that last real conversation they’d had.

He gently flipped the pages of the book, making a concerted effort not to do damage, even though he still hadn’t released the rage he’d felt at her words from the other night.

Called me trash. Called me a slut. Said I was asking for it.

Those words had been circling through his mind like acid for hours. He’d tamped them down so he could focus on the mission. He’d needed to in order to ensure that he would get her back safe, and now they were so close. But in these holding pattern moments, he thought he would grind his teeth into dust.

Sixteen. She’d been sixteen when her grandmother had said those words to her. Had thrown her clothes out into the yard. That morning he’d looked at her bookcase, he’d seen some of the pictures—Lisa with some expedition up in Alaska. Her smile had been exuberant, like she’d just conquered a mountain, and for all he knew, she might very well have done it that day. That’s who Lisa Garcia was. Kicked out of her house by some sour old bitch at age sixteen, after being molested or possibly raped, sent to foster care, and then she ended up climbing mountains.

He’d been so wrong that night when he’d talked to her. She wasn’t fucking special, she was fucking magnificent. Why hadn’t he told her that?

“Raiden! Come here!” Clint called out to him.

He shot into the house.

“Lydia got the phone records. Did a crossmatch with landscapers, and found a man by the name of Melchor Gomez. He’s got a wife and three kids, lives in an apartment complex in Tempe.”

“That’s not where he’ll have her stashed,” Raiden said.

“Agreed. Lyd and I will start doing some searches of different properties, friends, relatives—”

“And I’ll go pay a visit to the apartment,” Raiden interrupted.

“What, and I’m just stuck going to I-HOP again?” A.J. bitched.

Everybody looked over at her. She held up her hands. “Kidding, I’m kidding. Tell me what I can do to help.”

“We’re going to have to hit the phones, as well as do computer searches,” Lydia said. “That’ll mean you.”

A.J. nodded.

“Text me the address,” Raiden said as he held up his cell phone and headed toward the door.

“You got it,” Clint yelled.

Raiden was in his rental car in seconds. He had a good feeling about this. Not that she would be at the apartment, but that they were finally on the right trail.

16

It was a totally different neighborhood than last night. There was a playground in front with kids playing there, and mothers watching them. Everything was well-maintained. It was just nice. Really nice. The Gomez apartment was on the first floor, facing the playground. Lydia had texted him that they had three kids, so he knew he had to go in soft and easy. Raiden put a smile on his face and knocked on the door.

A middle-aged Hispanic woman opened the door. She was holding a toddler on her hip.