“Ryo Arsenault,” Jake murmured, reading the bio of the olive-skinned man Darby had shot last. “A billionaire from South America, he made his money in the space industry and was currently involved with the space center in French Guiana.”
Jes frowned as Jake stared at the man’s photo, reviewing notes about Arsenault’s family and business dealings. He’d already read everything in there last night—more than once. Reading it again would only make him feel even more responsible for what had happened to the men, but Jes knew Jake didn’t want to hear that, so she didn’t say anything.
“Lais Khan from the Arab Emirates,” Jake continued, turning to the photo of a dark-skinned man with black hair and a full beard. “He owned a number of chemical manufacturing facilities throughout the Middle East, Africa, and India.”
Jake flipped the page, but before he could say anything, Jes interrupted him, repeated the man’s bio from memory.
“Laurent Marconi, born and raised outside of Paris. He was a philanthropist and major shareholder in Airbus Defense and Space, Europe’s leading defense company.”
Jake nodded but kept reading the file in front of him anyway.
Jes reached out and flipped the folder closed. “You’ve read those files a hundred times already and you can read them a hundred more,” she said gently. “But it isn’t going to tell you why Darby kidnapped those men or why he murdered them. All we know is that he did and that we’re going to hunt him down and make him pay for it.”
“Damn straight we will,” Caleb said gruffly as he walked into the living room, a mug of coffee in one hand and a jar of peanut butter in the other.
Misty, Forrest, and Harley trailed slowly behind Caleb like a pack of overworked and undercaffeinated zombies, each with their own cup of coffee.
Jes sat back on the couch with a sigh. She’d been hoping to have a little time to talk to Jake privately, but it would have to wait.
“You forgot to put cream and sugar in your coffee,” Misty said, glancing at Forrest over the rim of her mug as he sat down on the arm of the wingback chair she’d curled up in.
He looked down at his mug with a frown, then shrugged. “I need caffeine too much to worry about what it tastes like. I’ll add cream and sugar later—after I wake up.”
Caleb snorted in obvious amusement at that as he sat on the floor beside the coffee table. Taking the lid off the jar of peanut butter, he took out a generous spoonful and shoved it in his mouth. Jes didn’t realize she was staring as he shoved the freshly licked spoon into the container again until he paused with the next serving of peanut butter halfway to his mouth and stared back.
“What?” he demanded.
Jes shook her head. She didn’t know why she thought she could expect any better from him. “What if someone else wanted to eat some of that?”
Caleb considered the question as he ate what was on the spoon, then went back for another helping of peanut-buttery goodness. Okay, double-dipping was bad enough, but this was taking it to extremes.
“I was going to put it back when I was done,” he pointed out.
The expression on his face made Jes think he clearly didn’t see what the big deal was, and she didn’t feel like explaining it to him.
“Speaking of disgusting,” Jake said. “Did you decide to skip that shower we all talked about, Forrest? Because you still reek.”
Forrest dropped his head back with an audible sigh.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Misty said. “He still smells like those creatures? How is that possible? He took two showers last night and another one this morning.”
This was one of those times Jes was glad she didn’t have a werewolf’s nose. Apparently, after getting doused with the blood from those creatures, Forrest had absorbed their scent. According to Jake and Harley, it was really bad.
“Even I can smell it,” Caleb said around a mouthful of peanut butter.
“Those things have blood like motor oil,” Forrest said morosely. “No matter how much I scrub, it still feels like there’s a film of grease on my skin.”
“Have you tried using dish soap?” Harley suggested from the other wingback chair. “You know, like they do with birds who get stuck in oil spills?”
Forrest gave Misty a questioning look. “What do you think?”
“It’s worth a try,” she replied, then, as if on impulse, grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I don’t care what you smell like. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Amen to that, Jes thought.
“Do you think the creatures’ bodies are back in DC yet?” Caleb asked, taking a break from shoving peanut butter in his face to swig his coffee.
Jes glanced at her watch, calculating how long it would have taken a military cargo plane to get back to the states. “Definitely. Although I have no idea who they’re going to get to do the autopsies. I’m pretty sure STAT doesn’t have a lot of experts on supernatural anatomy on call.”
