“Yes.” Isobel leaned back in her chair. “Yet she has no backbone. Trying to track Denver down in such an obvious manner since he deserted her a year ago.”
Elton stiffened. “You’ve traced his past year?”
“Yes. He had a job in Anchorage, where this woman runs some lotion and candle business. Apparently there was a brief affair, he did his job as a lowly private detective, and then he left.” Isobel sniffed. “She posted all over the Internet to find him.”
“Yet he found his way back to her.” Cobb rubbed his cleanly shaven jaw. “There must be a reason. Either he cares for her or there’s something else going on.”
“Obviously he cares for her,” Isobel said, her pert nose in the air. “That’s why he left in the first place. But you’re correct. I need to do more digging into what’s going on now. He wouldn’t be with her unless there was a compelling reason.” Her voice had risen.
Cobb glanced her way. She’d always had a soft spot for Denver, the little asshole. He turned back to the photos.
The next picture he found was of Denver. The boy had grown into a large man with angry blue eyes. At least Cobb saw anger. “I wondered if he would grow into those feet.” Oh, Cobb would make that bastard pay for killing his brother. In ways that made even him sick to his stomach. “He outfought your soldiers, Isobel.” Something nearly impossible to do.
She clicked her tongue. “I’m aware.”
Was that pride in her voice? Cobb’s gaze narrowed as he now watched her.
Her eyes darkened as she took in the picture. “He looks strong. And smart. I made him that way, you know. I made every one of my soldiers that way.”
All of the science crap made Cobb queasy. “You enjoyed yourself.” The woman liked to play God.
“Yes,” she said, pulling the picture toward her to study. “Many of my records were destroyed, as you know. But I remember making Denver. He’s special.”
Her possessive tone straightened Cobb’s spine. “You can have all the pride you want, but never forget. Denver, that little fucker, is all mine.” They had come to an agreement.
She sighed. “After I take his genetic material, you can have him.” Then she smiled, the look feral. “If you can take him.”
Cobb sat back. Fire lanced through him, and he bit it back. He refused to feel jealousy for a man who was as good as dead. The woman was always challenging him, and he usually liked it. Not right now, however. “I’m going to kill him, Isobel.”
She pushed the photo back toward the pile. “Noni is going to lead us to Denver, and then you’ll have your chance.”
Noni. Even the name had nice peaks and valleys. It had been too long since Cobb had tortured a woman for the night. “Do you want to watch this time?” he murmured.
“Not really.” Isobel swept her hand out.
That kind of thing had never interested her. Pity. Cobb rummaged through the papers in the file. “Noni has an aunt . . . who’s married to another woman.”
Isobel tapped red nails on her desk. “I’m trying to find them now. They seem to be on the move, but the second I get them, we can use them as leverage.”
Cobb looked up and focused. “Lesbians,” he mused, finding a picture of the women. He pointed to a fifty-something woman with dark eyes. “This one looks like the girl.”
“That’s her aunt.”
He nodded. “They got married. What do you think about that?” He and Isobel so rarely discussed anything but their future plans. Other people’s lives didn’t factor into their thoughts usually, and sometimes that was okay. Every once in a while he wished for more. Could he make Isobel look at him the way she looked at her creations? With pride and possession? “Sweetheart?”
“Fine by me,” Isobel said, her voice cultured. “What a pity to miss out on the male species, however. You’re all so easy to . . . love.” Her head tilted.
What had she really meant to say? He narrowed his gaze at her, not fooled by her placid expression. His blood started to pump faster, even as his chest ached a little. “I believe the word you were looking for is ‘manipulate.’”
She rolled her eyes. “I meant the word I used. I always do.”
He stretched his biceps after working them hard that morning. “You never talk about your family.” Except her daughter, and that talk was usually clinical.
“Nothing to say. My mother was weak and died in childbirth. My father was a soldier. A great one.” She smiled, and her chin lowered, giving her a sultry look.
“I already knew that.” Why couldn’t she give him more? Just a little bit.
“I grew up in boarding schools. He died when I was twenty.” Her gaze remained clear, but a small tremor had gone through her words.
