Dark Taste of Rapture by Gena Showalter Page A

been applying these ever since.
    If any of his coworkers had ever noticed that the ink was sometimes light, sometime dark, or that the symbols sometimes linked in new places, they’d never said. He never let anyone study them, anyway, and everyone knew never to touch him.
    When he finished, he cleaned both arms and applied antibiotic ointment. Tomorrow he’d have scabs, but whatever. He’d wear his gloves and no one at AIR would know.
    Mia had a case for him, and he was excited to dive in. Five more otherworlder girls had been found in a warehouse. They were around the same age—late teens—though each was a different race and unable to speak English. They weren’t as undernourished asthe three before them, but they were just as traumatized.
    Mia had brought in translators, but even still, the girls had given very few usable details. All they’d known was that they’d been home one moment and in the warehouse the next. Unfortunately they hadn’t seen their captor—or didn’t remember seeing him. Drugs could screw with anyone’s memory, and they’d each had fresh track marks on their veins. Track marks they’d claimed to know nothing about.
    They’d been trapped for three days, and no one had come for them. They’d beaten at the walls and screamed for help, but no one had heard them. Understandable.
    After the human-alien war, the planet had been razed and nearly everything had to be rebuilt. Most buildings were now comprised of shield-armor, and most walls were soundproofed steel. Even in warehouses.
    Great if your planet was going to war. Bad if you were a woman locked somewhere you didn’t want to be.
    Mia had found them only because she’d received an anonymous tip. The same way she’d found the others. Hector planned to do a little digging and learn what he could about Mr.—or Miss?—Anonymous.
    He also planned to interview the girls and see if they’d remembering anything new—or had held anything back. He would try to be gentle, but his voice was gruff no matter what he said or what emotion he was going for, and his appearance alone usually scared the fairer sex.
    Maybe that’s what the girls needed, though. Maybethey were still afraid of their captor(s). Maybe they needed to know an AIR agent could be just as frightening, and that someone like Hector would protect them with his life.
    And he would. He had a weakness for the young and the damaged, and worked that type of case harder than any other. Which was why he had to be top shape tomorrow.
    Determined, Hector made himself a sandwich and quickly inhaled every crumb, even though the thing was tasteless and settled like lead, then downed a glass of water. All right, then. He’d taken care of two needs. His arms and his hunger.
    That left only one.
    Biting the inside of his cheek, he picked up the phone and dialed Happy Endings.

Eight

    T HE DOORBELL RANG .
    Hector had been waiting for that shrill ding dong all morning. Having stayed up the rest of the night, unwilling to go back to bed and risk another dream, he’d had nothing to do but think of Noelle. Of her lips pressed against his, of her tongue battling his, of her body arching into his. Of her accepting him, just as he was. Of her needing him, all of him.
    If ever there had been a woman created solely to tempt him, it was Noelle. Her beauty, her scent, her taste, her … everything. She appealed to him on every level.
    Now he was like a junkie in need of a fix, worse off than before. He couldn’t go to work on edge like this. And yet, he wished like hell he’d never made that call to Happy Endings.
    You want to accidentally hurt the otherworlders you’re supposed to interview?
    No. He didn’t.
    Ding dong .
    He stalked to the ID panel and gritted, “Open.” The front door obeyed, metal sliding to the side, no longer separating inside from out.
    Air laced with car exhaust, sunshine, and thick, cloying perfume drifted to him. He didn’t look at his visitor’s face; he didn’t care