“Okay,” she managed.
Rhys slipped an arm around her back as if knowing her legs were done holding her up and said goodbye to Vivian before ending the call. “Get dressed.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Eight hours later, Rhys had flown Jules across the country and taken her to a meeting with fire investigators. Half an hour after that, he’d determined they could have stayed in Virginia. They wanted to be helpful and tried to be productive. But the incident investigators only verified information from Margot, Sloane, and Jules’s business manager. There was nothing for her to do except watch dozens of doorbell camera recordings and grainy security videos of the person who had started the fire.
They’d only made it through one video, but Rhys knew nothing would come of it. They couldn’t tell if the person was a man or a woman. They couldn’t find them by their vehicle—rented under an alias and paid for with prepaid credit cards purchased with cash, in that same genderless, faceless disguise as the one from tonight.
This wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t poorly planned. And if someone didn’t agree with him that it had all the hallmarksof the Vincent-Von-Charles-Chad-Montgomery-Anonymous attack, Rhys was going to lose his mind.
Rhys balled his fists and clenched his teeth. He couldn’t even stand next to Jules. They’d taken her into a conference room that might as well have been an interrogation room, and he could only watch through a two-way mirror.
The door flew open, and Wes walked in. One look at Rhys, and his buddy scowled. Rhys was going to blow a lid if someone didn’t loop in the feds working on her stalker.
Wes lumbered over. “Take a breath, man.”
“I’ll fuckin’ breathe when they get this shit figured out.”
“Yeah, well, if you punch the window, they’re going to throw your ass out. Then you won’t be able to do shit, and I’ll have to dig glass out of your damn knuckles. Sit your ass down and take a damn breath.”
Rhys glared.
“Now, damn it. What the hell?”
He sneered but took a seat. “Sitting. Not sure how that’s helping.”
Wes pulled over another chair and ignored him. They watched the interrogation unfold. Videos played on a large screen, and Jules shook her head, unable to identify anything.
“This is wasting our time.”
Wes shrugged as though he agreed. “Did Viv tell you Dean got his hands on the vehicle rental details?”
“No,” Rhys bit out.
“Probably because you seem so reasonable to talk with right now.” Wes kicked his long legs out. “Dean also has the payment details, such as they are. No details, no strings, but he’s working on it. Between these guys, the feds, Dean—”
“The feds?”
Wes nodded. “Viv did what Viv does. Worked her magic. Pulled favors.”
“How? I’ve been standing here, telling them—” Rhys ran a hand over his face.
“Bureaucracy bullshit doesn’t stand much of a chance once she’s decided to say something.” The corners of Wes’s eyes tightened. “Don’t punch me in the face for saying this, but you’re in deep. Aren’t you?”
Rhys grimaced.
“Yeah. Way over your head.” Wes let out a long breath, shaking his head. “How’d you let that happen?”
“Hell, I don’t know.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
Marry her.
Rhys rested his elbows on his knees, and his head dropped into his hands. He refused to be a problem and was too close to the situation to help. He didn’t sit up but raised his eyes to Wes. “In the future, I need you to take over her security detail.”
Wes held the stare then snorted. “Holy shit, man. You’re serious?”
