Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

“ W hat the hell were you thinking?” District Attorney Dwight Carpenter had dropped his good-old-boy persona and was just plain furious.

Noah didn’t blame him, but he was tired of being chewed out for his mistakes. A man could apologize only so many times before he realized nobody was listening. He glanced at his partners in crime, Rodrigo and Abasi. Rodrigo looked resigned, while Abasi looked like he was eyeing the DA up for a casket.

“Well?” the DA demanded, singling Noah out. “You were a cop. You know this isn’t how we do things. Do you understand the damage you’ve done here? Your actions last night have cast a shadow of doubt over the evidence we’ve gathered on the case going to trial next week. The defense has already filed a motion to dismiss. Not that they’ll get it, but they’re making it look like the DA’s office obtains evidence illegally.” He threw up his hands in disgust. “But it isn’t my office that’s at fault here, is it? And it sure as hell isn’t the local cops. No, it’s you.” He pointed at all of them. “Benson Security. I rue the day I ever heard your name.” He glared at the assistant DA, who lowered her eyes.

Dwight returned his attention to the rest of them. “You were supposed to be the answer to our prayers. A professional security company with no ties to the Houston gang community. A group that couldn’t possibly be in the pocket of Eddie Hanson. A team that could protect our witness, and our case. But no. It was too good to be true. Because this isn’t a professional team of anything. You’re a bunch of cowboys who think you have the right to take matters into your own hands.” He glared at them. “You’ve been in this country five minutes, and you think you know better than the rest of us. Fucking amateurs!”

Standing beside her desk, Rochelle shifted slightly, drawing his attention. She looked him straight in the eye. “You have every right to be upset, but we aren’t amateurs, and some of us were born here. In fact, some of us have worked in law enforcement in this country for a very long time. Let’s stick to the facts, Mr. DA.”

“The facts?” His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Fine. We can stick to the facts. Fact one”—he counted them off on his fingers—“despite having no authority, you took it upon yourselves to cuff and detain members of a local gang. Fact two, you performed an illegal search of their vehicle. Fact three, you broke into a house and tied up more gang members before running from law enforcement. And fact four, you fucking shot someone while they were cuffed!”

He put his hands on his hips and hung his head, breathing deeply. Nobody moved. The silence was oppressive as they waited for the district attorney to continue.

Noah glanced around the room. Everyone sat stoically, aware that the local authorities had every right to blast them for their actions. The only people missing were Katrina and Annabelle, who were upstairs while Bella gave his sons an online art lesson. It was a small blessing she wasn’t there to hear exactly how bad things were.

The DA looked up at them. “I should bring charges against each and every one of you. God knows you’ve broken enough laws. I should lock you up and throw away the damn key. But I can’t.” He let out a stream of curses under his breath. “Because if I let it be known that you were working independently, that you weren’t under my authority, then I can’t use anything you’ve uncovered. Worse, I’d have to justify every piece of evidence you’ve touched since you became involved in our case against the Demons—including any influence you’ve had over our star witness.

“So, I have to suck it up. I have to tell the defense that you were working as investigators for my department. I have to back your behavior or make myself look like an even bigger idiot than I already do.” He glared at Rochelle, vibrating fury. “I don’t like being backed into a corner.”

She folded her arms over her black suit jacket. “I’ve already apologized for my office regarding this matter. As I explained, Benson Security was hasty in assembling a new team. We went into the field before we were able to function as a cohesive unit. It won’t happen again.” She hesitated and then lifted her chin. “The team is being disbanded. This is the last case for the Houston office of Benson Security.”

“Well, thank fuck for that!” Dwight adjusted his tie and straightened his shoulders. “The trial is a week today. How about you focus on keeping our witness safe? Although why she hasn’t fired your asses yet, I have no idea.”

Now Noah was pissed. They’d apologized, explained their reasoning, and accepted the consequences of their actions—after all, the team was being disbanded—but they sure as hell hadn’t been unsuccessful.

He stood slowly, his attention on the DA. “If we’re your investigators, then we just handed you enough evidence to shut down the Demons for good. Evidence you can use in court. In an election year. Not to mention twenty-one young women who wouldn’t be here without us. Our team may have acted a little too independently for your liking, but we got a result that you’re happy to run with. I’d say it’s time to stop berating us, wouldn’t you?”

As the DA’s head turned an interesting shade of purple, Noah sensed Rodrigo stand beside him. “We handed you evidence of a human trafficking operation when your police department couldn’t find any. I’ve been an undercover agent for most of my adult life. I know all agencies bend the rules when it comes to getting the information they need to prosecute criminals. We didn’t cross the line as far as you want us to believe.”

Abasi stood and slipped his hands into the pockets of his designer suit pants. “We didn’t kill anyone. And, trust me, I wanted to. You’re a smart man with political savvy, and you know we did you a favor. We don’t want any credit. You can stand in front of voters come election day and explain how you—and your invisible team—cleaned up the city, making it a whole lot safer for women everywhere. We handed you the election.”

Violet pushed back her chair. “If we’re working for you in an official capacity as investigators, then there isn’t an issue here.” She turned and left the room.

“You know,” Harris said, “I think that rather than ranting, you should be thanking us. Without Benson Security, you wouldn’t have a witness or a slew of new cases against the Demons. A little respect wouldn’t go amiss here.”

“What he said,” Logan agreed. “And Rochelle might be our boss for only a wee while longer, but she’s done a damn good job with us and for you.”

Evan stood with them. “You should also know that I’m this close”—he held up his index finger and thumb with barely any space between them—”to tracking payments made to the mole who sold out Annabelle’s location. If we’re your investigators, then I guess our boss would expect me to hand over that information to you as well. Isn’t that right, Rochelle?”

Rochelle nodded slowly.

Noah took a step closer to the DA. “We didn’t do things the right way. But we did the right things. This discussion is over.” He turned to Rochelle, dismissing the DA. “Is there anything else you need from us?”

Something softened in her eyes. “No. Go do your job.”

“Yes, Boss,” he said before heading for the door, followed by the rest of the team.

“This is preposterous!” the DA exploded, making Noah and everyone else turn to him.

“No,” Noah said to the DA. “We’re done here.” He turned to speak to Rochelle. “If you don’t have anything else to discuss with the DA, would you like us to escort him from the building?”

ADA Margaret Grant lowered her head, desperately trying to hide her grin from her boss.

“That’s okay, Noah,” Rochelle said, taking a seat at her desk. “I’m sure Dwight can find his own way out.” She smiled at the DA. “Thank you for dropping by with an update.” Then she pulled her laptop toward her and focused on the screen, dismissing him.

The DA looked like his head might explode, but he cast one more censuring look at them all before signaling to the officers accompanying him that it was time to leave.

“I’ll expect a detailed report on your investigation into the mole,” he snapped at Rochelle.

“Of course,” she said not looking up from her laptop.

The team stepped aside as the DA, ADA, and the two officers with them headed down the stairs and through the front door. When Noah glanced back at Rochelle, she was smiling.

Noah had barely seen Annabelle all morning. Between apologizing to Rochelle and dealing with the DA, there hadn’t been much time to catch up with her. So he went upstairs to relieve Katrina of guard duty, smiling when he saw Annabelle so deep in concentration at her drawing board that she didn’t notice he’d entered the loft.

“How’s it going?” he whispered to Katrina, who was working on her laptop at the dining table.

She smiled up at him. “She’s a natural teacher. The boys are loving their lesson. So much so that they’ll probably want to grow up to be artists themselves, or worse, become so addicted to comic books that you go broke buying them.”

“I guess there are worse obsessions for them to develop,” he said, sitting beside her. “You can go if you want. I’ve got this now.”

Her smile was teasing. “I bet you do.”

“Not you too,” he groaned. Half the team had hassled him about getting caught on camera, kissing Annabelle. The other half, led by Violet, had no interest at all.

Katrina gathered up her laptop and indicated the cameras with a twirling motion of her hand. “Remember, Big Brother is watching.” She checked her watch. “Or in this case, Evan.”

The last thing he wanted was the triplets perving over any unintentional on-camera antics. “I’ll behave,” he vowed.

“How did the meeting with the DA go?” she asked.

“About how you’d expect.” Noah ran a hand down his face. “But there’ll be no charges filed against us. Apparently, we’re now paid investigators for the district attorney’s office.”

“Really?” She didn’t bother to hide her skepticism. “This would be for a nominal payment, I gather?”

“You’re in charge of the books, you tell me. But I’m going to go out on a limb here and predict he’s given us a dollar at best.”

Katrina’s expression transformed into one of disgust. “I really don’t like the district attorney. He may be angry about our work, but he sure is happy to take the credit for it.”

“That’s what you get when jobs turn into roles that require an election to fill.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile before leaving the apartment. Noah heaved a weary sigh, but as he watched Annabelle walk his sons through the process of drawing a fight scene, his tense muscles began to relax.

Katrina was right—she had a gift. And she’d also enthralled his boys. She sat at her drawing board, the computer monitor on the desk beside her displaying his sons as they drew along with her. Above the drawing board, she’d rigged up a couple of cameras to show different angles of her work. She also had a camera trained on her face so the boys could see her when she talked to them.

He smiled. She’d done this before. It amazed him just how connected Annabelle was to the world she couldn’t set foot in. She was part of a massive online community, chatted with people all the time, and had built up a base of local artist friends who visited frequently. Well, when she wasn’t on lockdown as a key witness in the trial of the decade.

“You see?” she said. “The line tapers, creating a sense of movement. It’s important that your lines follow the angle and shape of the body. That way, you can suggest form and movement with the minimal number of strokes.”

“And leave lots of space for color,” Sammy said eagerly. He was all about the coloring.

“This is so cool,” Jacob said. “I can’t wait to show the guys at soccer how to do this.” He smiled shyly at her. “I’ve got them all reading your comics. They think you’re amazing.” He blushed, the adoration of youth in his eyes.

No doubt about it, she’d won his boys over.

“That’s wonderful,” Annabelle said enthusiastically. “I’m so glad they like them.”

Of course, Sammy wasn’t to be outdone. “I told everybody that you have a whole room full of comics. Can I bring my team over to see it?”

She laughed. “That might be kinda hard, seeing as I’m in Houston and all your friends are in Atlantic City.”

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded, unbothered by his mistake, and carried on coloring.

“Annabelle?” Jacob said. “One of the guys was telling me about Comic-Con. It’s like a big… market, or fair, right? Only with comic book artists and people dressed up as characters. I looked it up online, but it was kinda confusing.”

She nodded. “Probably too many videos about specific parts of it rather than a clear overview.”

“Yeah, that.” Jacob nodded.

“You’re right, though. It’s usually held in a massive hall with lots of stands and booths. People sell stuff to do with comics or fantasy stories and art. There are actors from Marvel movies?—”

“Spiderman!” Sammy shouted with a grin.

“Absolutely.” She grinned back. “They do talks too and promote new movies and stuff. And there are definitely lots of people in costumes.”

“It sounds cool. Do you think Dad would take us?” Jacob looked hopeful.

“I don’t see why not. You should ask him.”

“Will you go with us?” Jacob blushed. “Sorry, you’re probably already there, giving talks and stuff or meeting your fans. Maybe we could see you there?”

Annabelle stilled before smiling softly into the camera. “I don’t go to Comic-Con, Jacob.”

“Why not?” Typical kid—no boundaries or tact.

Noah waited to see if he needed to intervene with his nosy kids, but Annabelle had it in hand.

“I don’t go out,” she said simply.

The boys stopped drawing and stared at her through the screen.

“You mean, like, at all?” Jacob frowned, trying to understand.

“Yep. I have this… condition. It means going outside is really hard for me. I get scared and have to run back inside before I faint. It isn’t pretty. So I stay in my house and talk to people online, like you guys.” She smiled at them.

Sammy’s eyes widened. “I was scared when we moved to London. I didn’t want to go.”

“Because it was different from Atlantic City?” she asked with compassion.

Sammy nodded. “Yeah, and my friends weren’t there.”

“I didn’t want to go either,” Jacob confessed. “But Dad needed to go away, I think.”

“So you went for him?” Annabelle said.

Jacob grinned. “And to see our uncles. They’re all living in England and Scotland now. They’re Dad’s four best friends that he grew up with, and they’re all really cool. One of them used to be a martial arts fighter.”

“That’s Uncle Beast. He’s got loads of tattoos,” Sammy enthused. “Lots of different pictures all over him. I bet he’d get one of your comic heroes on his back. He’s got space there.”

Her eyes sparkled with delight. “That would be cool.”

“Aunty Belinda’s married to Beast,” Sammy said eagerly. “She acts in movies. She could be Jade Justice!”

“That’s a thought,” Annabelle said.

“He’s not just being a dumb kid,” Jacob said. “She’s famous. So’s her brother. We only met him once, but he was a superhero in a movie.” He stopped talking, frowning. “I can’t remember which one, but Dad knows. You should go meet them.”

“She can’t.” Sammy elbowed his brother. “She has a condiment.”

Annabelle laughed. “A condition,” she corrected.

“You know,” Sammy said, “you could go outside if you went with my dad. When I was scared of London, he held my hand, and I kept close to him. It really helped.” He glanced at Jacob out of the corner of his eye before sitting up straight. “I was a little kid. It’s okay for little kids to hold their dad’s hands.”

Noah placed his palm over his heart. It ached from missing his boys. Suddenly, they seemed too far away for comfort.

Jacob elbowed Sammy. “She can’t hold his hand. Grown-ups don’t do that unless…” He turned beetroot and couldn’t look into the camera. “You know.”

“Know what?” Sammy asked innocently.

“Like if they’re dating and stuff,” Jacob mumbled.

“Oh.” Sammy looked at Annabelle. “You need to date our dad so you can hold his hand and go outside. That way, we can all go to Comic-Corn and meet Spiderman.”

“It’s Comic- CON ,” Jacob said with long-suffering. “Not corn. And she can’t just date Dad. That isn’t how it works. You can’t just tell people to date. They have to like each other first.”

“Do you like our dad?” Sammy asked, determined not to be derailed.

“Yes, I do.” Annabelle smiled. “I like him a lot.”

Noah felt a warm sensation in his chest, in the spot where his hand rested.

“Then just hold his hand, and you’ll be okay.” As far as Sammy was concerned, the matter had been resolved. He returned his attention to his drawing.

Jacob rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t have a clue. But seriously, Dad’s almost as good at fighting as Uncle Beast. They all used to fight together, all the uncles. I’m sure he could protect you if you went outside. And maybe you could, like, only look at things close to you or something. When I was scared in London, Aunt Julia, who’s scared of loads of stuff and really likes whiteboards, told me that she has a trick for not feeling scared. She doesn’t look at everything. She just concentrates on the small things near her. Then the world isn’t so big. Maybe you could try doing that.”

“Thanks.” Annabelle seemed genuinely touched. “Now, let’s get this drawing finished before your grandparents fetch you for dinner.”

“They eat too early,” Jacob said.

“Old people,” Sammy said wisely, making Noah chuckle.

On hearing a noise behind him, Noah turned to see a somber Rodrigo heading toward him.

“Hey.” Rodrigo leaned over the table, keeping his voice low. “You gotta see this.”

“What?”

“Come on.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Not here.”

“But I need to keep an eye on Annabelle.”

“Got it covered.” He nodded toward Logan as he walked into the loft, looking equally grim.

“I’ve got it,” Logan said as he sat on a stool at the breakfast bar.

Worried, Noah followed Rodrigo downstairs to the office.