Page 54 of Her Noble Protector

When they got off the freeway, the first restaurant was an I-HOP. “Oh goodie,” A.J. said. “Blueberry pancakes.” She had her seatbelt undone and the car door open before Raiden had the car stopped.

“Dammit, A.J.,” he bit out. “Be careful.”

“Find those motherfuckers,” she glared at him.

“Got it.”

He roared out of the parking lot and headed toward Phoenix.

Raiden kept telling himself that just because some guy’s fingerprints were in the van, it didn’t mean he had anything to do with the kidnapping. He told himself that all the way to the rundown house on the outskirts of Phoenix. Hell, it looked like a crack house. Really? The cops needed a warrant for this place? He noticed all of the activity next door and grinned.

He slowly drove by the address, going down the block, then taking a right and down two more blocks before he parked.

He checked his texts. There was an incoming from Lydia telling him to call. Dammit it all to hell, he wished he had comm equipment like a normal field op so he had Lydia in his ear.

“Yeah?” he asked Lydia when he called her.

“They’re still waiting on a warrant, but let me tell you what I know about your address. The owner of this set of prints is Caleb Marks. He went up for stealing cars. He’s been paroled for the last two years. This is the address he has on file, but when I did a little more digging, it’s his brother’s place. His brother is bad news. Gang affiliation.”

“The parole officer didn’t catch that?”

“Used to belong to their mother. She died last year,” Lydia answered. “I don’t think this is your guy. The gang is Aryan Nation, not likely to have ties with Mexico.”

“They’re not going to like seeing an Asian guy knocking on their door either.”

Lydia chuckled. “You were planning on knocking?”

Raiden grimaced. “Probably not. Even though this doesn’t look promising, it’s one of the few leads we have, so I’m taking it.”

“Understood. Your phone’s on vibrate, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll call three times in a row if cops are coming your way, deal?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, going to check in with Clint. Bye.” The phone went dead.

Raiden got out of the rental car and popped the trunk. Before he’d left Lisa’s house, he had finally ventured inside. He hadn’t given a shit what it looked like, he’d been busy looking for her toolbox. Any woman who was a guide up in Alaska sure as hell had a toolbox, and he knew depending on what he was up against, he might be doing a little breaking and entering, so he’d need some tools. Raiden opened the box and grabbed a screwdriver, then he snagged a hooded sweatshirt and tugged it on. He also grabbed a pair of latex gloves he’d found at Lisa’s and shoved them into the hoodie’s pocket. The temp was in the mid-sixties, but in this neighborhood, most people didn’t want to be seen so he wasn’t going to stand out wearing a sweatshirt with a hood.

He wandered down the cracked sidewalk, going slow, taking in everything. It was an active Thursday night. A lot of trash cars, intermingled with cars that had tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of after-market parts sunk into them. He recognized houses where the owners had been there forever and were doing their part to make a nice life for themselves despite the way the neighborhood had fallen to shit around them. Lots of bars on windows. It was a shame.

He was getting a lot of assessing looks as he walked by, but nobody was going to approach somebody his size. As he turned the corner to the Marks’ house, he went on high alert. The first house he passed, which was next door to the Marks’, was having a hell of a party, and Raiden couldn’t be happier.

If Raiden had to guess, you just had to pay to get into the party. By the looks of it, anything went. He clocked the guy at the door who was looking at everybody passing in and out between the inside and the front yard, and Raiden would guess he was the one collecting money. He wondered just how many illegal drugs were being done inside, but at this point, he didn’t much care.

The backyards were butted up against one another and Marks’ house was dark. Raiden figured the easiest way to get into the Marks’ house without getting noticed would be mingling with the neighbor’s backyard party crowd and hopping the fence. He maneuvered through the teeming humanity leading up to the front door and tipped his chin to the guy covering the door.

“Fifty.”

Raiden pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet. “Got change?”

“No,” the guy said as he plucked the bill out of Raiden’s hand. “Go on inside. Tell Chris that Bill says you don’t owe for the first beer.”

“Gee, thanks.” Raiden angled his way into the house and was almost knocked over with all the marijuana smoke. His eyes narrowed as he looked around and saw just how many people were crammed inside. How in the hell could they stand it?

“Hey! Who are you?” A blonde girl who looked like she was in high school asked as she plastered herself to his front.