Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

A nnabelle felt strangely numb when she eventually gained access to the first floor of her building and saw the extent of the damage for herself. She knew that one day, when all of this was over and she’d had time to process what happened, she’d grieve the loss of her aunt’s shop. But for the moment, she couldn’t think about that—or the fire itself… or the gang trying to kill her… or the hazy memory of people shooting up her panic room…

Nope.

She couldn’t think about any of that.

Otherwise, she’d end up rocking back and forth in a corner, muttering about nothing being real. Because crazy stuff like this didn’t happen to a housebound comic book artist. Instead, she’d pushed all her panicked thoughts and hysterical feelings into the vault at the back of her mind, which she liked to think of as a Gringotts vault from Harry Potter. She visualized it deep in the ground, sealed by magic and protected by a ferocious dragon. In other words, those thoughts weren’t getting out anytime soon.

“I’m sorry about your aunt’s shop.” Noah came to stand beside her.

“There wasn’t anything valuable in there anyway.”

Except for memories.

“Still.” He bumped against her, doing that weird, friendly nudge thing he liked to do. “It was a reminder of her, and I’m sorry. She named it after you, didn’t she?”

Annabelle tore her eyes from the blackened mess to glance up at Noah. “She opened the shop not long after I was born. This was a family building, passed down through the generations, and she liked that its location put her smack in the middle of the arty zone. I suspect she was a bohemian at heart.” She leaned over to retrieve part of a cheap, burn-damaged toy. “One with absolutely no taste or creative ability. She would’ve loved to have been a great artist, but she wielded a paintbrush like it was a two-by-four and she didn’t have thumbs. Plus, she couldn’t resist adding sparkles to everything she touched. Glitter was her friend. Dad said she inherited her drive for business from their father but lacked the direction or sense needed to take it anywhere. I honestly believe that if there hadn’t been family money behind her, she’d have ended up a bag lady.” She smiled sadly. “A very sparkly bag lady.”

“She sounds like my kind of people,” Noah said, smiling.

Annabelle’s heart ached at the memories of her aunt. “Collecting other people’s junk and selling it was as arty as she could get. Plus, she loved going to garage sales. According to Dad, her shop started out as an art gallery, but her bad taste meant most of the works she’d acquired were unsellable. So she repriced everything and started collecting what she called ‘quirky castoffs’ to supplement the store. She told me she called it Bella’s Antiques to sound classy.” She grinned. “There was nothing even remotely antique about the things she brought home from her buying trips.”

“Did she ever sell anything?” Noah looked skeptical, and Annabelle didn’t blame him.

“Not much. She mainly ‘acquired’ things. Every now and then, when the shop got too crowded with junk, I’d come down and box up stuff for donation—or the trash. I don’t think she ever noticed.” Annabelle felt quite wicked confessing her sins to Noah and also a little smug that she’d pulled off the mini heists.

He laughed before turning serious. “How are you holding up? Really.”

The Gringotts vault buckled against the mass of stuff crammed inside. Its door groaned, and the dragon snarled, but the spell held.

“Are hugs still part of the service?” she asked hopefully.

A small, intimate smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “C’mere.”

Annabelle didn’t have to be told twice. As his arms enfolded her, a familiar bone-deep sense of security wrapped her up tight. Safe. She felt safe. He clasped the back of her head, pressing her cheek to his chest, and the strong, steady drumbeat of his heart chased away the chaotic thoughts bouncing around her mind. In that moment, there was only stillness and peace. She knew Noah would protect her and that she could enjoy a brief respite from being constantly on alert.

“Are we hugging now?” Violet’s disgusted and outraged tone shattered her peace. “If that’s part of the job, I’m resigning. Where’s the boss? I need to talk to the boss.”

She watched as Violet turned on her heel and stormed back out of the burned-out shop. As Noah chuckled, it occurred to Annabelle that Violet would have made an excellent guard goblin for her vault.

By the time lunch came around, the first-floor windows and shopfront had been boarded up, and the warehouse was secure again. Proximity sensors were suggested, but Noah ruled them out. The building sat flush with the sidewalk so any passersby could trip the alarm. He did, however, have the sprinkler system secured and more fire extinguishers placed throughout the building. Although he doubted that they’d need them again after the failed attempt to smoke out Annabelle. Noah figured the gang would take a different route to get to their prey next time—if Benson Security didn’t stop them first.

Lunch was another food-truck find by the triplets. As far as Noah could tell, all the brothers did during their downtime was scour Houston’s streets for new places to eat. Today, it was a selection of pulled-meat sandwiches that melted in the mouth.

As the team, plus Annabelle but excluding Rodrigo, who was on patrol, sat around the desks in the office eating the lunch the triplets had fetched for them, Rochelle raised her voice, “Assignment updates, everybody. Evan, you first.”

The brightly colored triplet wolfed down his sandwich before replying. “I’ve done some digging into the Demon Brothers’ finances and think I have a promising lead. It’s not on the Demons’ money. I’m still chasing that. It’s Eddie Hanson’s personal accounts.”

“I thought we were going after the gang money.” Noah helped himself to another party-size sandwich from the massive share box.

“We are,” Evan said. “For a while there, I assumed Eddie’s money was gang money, seeing as he controls the finances, but his personal stuff is a whole different account. I’m not even sure the gang knows what he’s squirreling away.”

“You got into his accounts?” Noah was impressed.

“Nearly.” Evan took two more sandwiches, put them on his plate, and then formed a barricade with his arms to stop his brothers from getting to them. He gave them the evil eye while still talking. “I managed to get into one before a fail-safe kicked me out. He had 1.8 million in it, and that’s only one of several offshore accounts I’ve stumbled across.” He growled low in his throat when Harris tried to pilfer one of his sandwiches.

“That’s a lot of money.” Noah marveled again at the unfairness of a world in which the bad guys grew richer while the good guys got deeper into debt. “Explains the fancy house and car.”

“It’s peanuts,” Abasi scoffed. “And the house and car might look impressive, but I’ll bet he’s living well below his means. Eddie isn’t about flashing the cash. He’s about power.”

Unlike the other members of the team, Abasi had brought his own lunch, and from the looks of it, he was eating some froufrou salad from a high-end restaurant. Just the sight of it made Noah shudder and reach for another sandwich.

“Peanuts?” Logan said, his eyes wide. “If that’s peanuts, then you must have made a ton with the James Family. How much are we talking?”

Evan choked on his food, and Harris thumped him on the back.

“Dude,” Harris said, “you don’t ask a mobster about his personal wealth.”

“ Former mobster,” Abasi corrected. “And I’m not talking about my money. I’m talking about the money the head of the James Family amassed over the years. It makes 1.8 million seem like peanuts.”

Ignoring his brother’s warning, Logan leaned forward, eyes fixed on Abasi. “What happened to all that money when the James Gang went belly-up?”

Everyone watched Abasi, who casually shrugged. “I took it.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before Logan spoke again. “Gonna risk repeating myself here and ask, just how much money are we talking about?”

“All of it.”

“No, seriously,” Logan said. “Give me a figure.”

Abasi just stared at him.

“So, Abasi,” Noah said into the heavy silence, “you reckon there’s a lot more money kicking around in Eddie’s and the gang’s accounts?”

“Definitely.”

Katrina put her unfinished sandwich back down on her plate. “Money made from human trafficking, drugs, and arms dealing. That’s what we’re talking about here, isn’t it?” Her comment was directed at Abasi, and it wasn’t friendly.

“That’s how you make the big bucks.” He appeared unaffected by the judgment in her tone.

“Was the James Family involved in human trafficking?” Katrina asked, her focus on Abasi.

He stopped eating to stare straight at her. “No. Marcus and I shut that shit down. We ran some brothels, though. I’d be happy to supply numbers.”

The tension in the room had become so thick that no one was eating anymore.

Noah cleared his throat and tried to steer the conversation into less personal territory. “Human trafficking’s a huge problem here. Houston’s a hub. Would be good if we could take that particular income stream away from the Demons.”

Evan glanced nervously between Katrina and Abasi before answering. “I don’t think we should be too fussy. I say we take away all their money from all their income streams.”

“You reckon you’re any closer to doing that?” Noah sipped his coffee.

Again, Evan shot Abasi a nervous glance. “With Abasi’s help, yeah.”

“And what will you do with their money once you take it away?” Katrina asked softly. “Do we keep it, like Abasi chose to do with the James Family’s money? Or do we hand it over to the cops?”

Another strange, unspoken communication zapped between Katrina and Abasi, making the hair on the back of Noah’s neck stand on end.

“I say we let Katrina decide what to do with it,” Abasi said in a low, even tone. “She’s the one with a vested interest in how they made their fortune.”

Katrina paled but held his gaze as she raised her chin. “Then we donate it to charities working with victims of human trafficking.” It was a challenge.

“Fine with me,” Abasi said.

Rochelle frowned at them both. “I don’t think that choice is one either of you gets to make. Let’s find the money first before deciding where we move it. How much longer do you need, Evan?”

“I don’t have a clue,” he said cheerily. “It isn’t an exact science, but I’m working as fast as I can. Would be good to get some more help. Is it okay if I ask Elle in the London office to lend a hand?”

Noah kept his attention on his food, not wanting his expression to give anything away. He suspected Elle was already up to her ears in research for Abasi and wouldn’t have time to help Evan.

“Sure, give her a call,” Rochelle said before turning her attention to Noah. “Where do things stand on building security?”

“We’re as secure as we’ll ever be. The boys,” he said, gesturing to the triplets, “still have to run some cables for the new cameras—the fire took out the last lot—but that’s about it. The main thing is that the sprinkler system is now secure. Wish we’d thought of that before last night’s attack.” He shook his head. “Can honestly say it never occurred to me that it was possible to shut it off from outside the building. Hard lesson to learn.”

“For all of us,” Rochelle said. “Violet, what about weapons?”

“I’ve restocked the armory cabinets on each floor and bought more ammo.”

Rochelle nodded. “Evan, is our video still backing up to the cloud?”

“Yep. I’m picking up a new satellite link later, just in case things go boom around here again. We don’t want anyone interfering with the feed that goes to the secure server. Once there, nobody can mess with the recordings. Although the fire did a good job of taking out the ground-floor cameras. Hadn’t figured that into my planning. I was anticipating a more sophisticated attack. Guess the Demons are more brawn than brain.”

“And not to be underestimated.” Rochelle looked back at Noah. “You still okay with being primary protection?”

“Yes!” Annabelle turned a delightful shade of pink. “He is. Aren’t you?” Wide eyes pleaded with him to agree.

“I’m good,” he told Rochelle, feeling amused.

“Any other business?” she asked the group.

“I have a question.” Violet frowned. “Are we required to physically comfort clients now?”

All heads snapped toward Noah and Annabelle.

“That did not come out the way she intended,” Noah said quickly. “Violet walked in on me hugging Annabelle and, well, reacted like her. ”

“You were cuddling?” Harris leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk in front of him. “What kind of cuddling are we talking here?”

Noah’s cheeks heated. “It was a comforting hug. Nothing more.”

“Were you fully clothed at the time?” Harris asked.

“Harris!” Rochelle barked.

“What?” He held up his hands. “It’s a reasonable question. Violet makes it sound like she walked in on them doing the special cuddle grown-ups do.”

“That’s it. I’m outta here.” Abasi stood and strode from the room.

Noah wished he could follow him.

“Enough of this.” Rochelle looked weary. “No, Violet, it isn’t part of your job description to touch anyone else except in self-defense.”

“Or to disable them,” Violet clarified.

“Fine, that too.” Rochelle rubbed her temples. “This meeting is over.”

“About time,” Noah muttered as he got to his feet. He glared at Harris, but it was lost on him. “Come on,” he said to Annabelle. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

The triplets all sat up straight, eyes like saucers as they stared at him and Annabelle. They looked like a bunch of meerkats searching for a threat.

“To work!” Noah snapped at them. “We’re going upstairs to work. No hugging of any kind.” He took Annabelle’s arm and led her from the office.

“They know you’re nothing but professional, so don’t let them get to you,” she said once they were in the corridor. “They enjoy it too much.”

“No kidding,” Noah grumbled.

“After all, it was only a hug. It’s not like there was anything else going on.” She fluttered her dark lashes at him. “Was there?”

Noah swallowed hard. “No, no, of course not. It was purely a professional hug.”

“I thought so.” She nodded solemnly.