Fast Burn (Body Armor #4)(97)

Leese said, “So while you were keeping her in the dark, she was taking matters into her own hands.”

“Yes.” Scott gave a rueful laugh. “Knowing my sister, I should have realized what she would do.”

“Yeah,” Miles said. “You should have.”

“I could have told you,” Justice added with a snort.

Sahara rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t have kept things from me, period. I would have known how to deal with her. I’m not inept.”

“No, you’re not,” Scott assured her. “In fact, it was your reaction to Chelsea that first tipped me off and made me suspicious. I knew I had to figure out what was going on.” He took his seat again. “She was already familiar with all our bodyguards, so if they got caught surveilling her, it’d come back to the agency. Since I didn’t want that, I had to hire other men.”

“Ross Moran,” Sahara said with dawning awareness. “You hired him and his crew, didn’t you?”

Justice made a sound of disgust.

“Couldn’t have found someone ethical?” Miles asked.

Brand kept quiet, focused solely on Sahara and her reactions. Little by little, she was more herself, back in fighting form, and that pleased him. He just hoped her brother didn’t deliver a final blow.

“Someone ethical to snoop on the niece of a prominent public figure? A woman known for her sexual deviation? A woman who operated with immunity, who apparently bought off anyone who otherwise would have complained? Yeah, where would I find a guy like that?”

Miles, Leese and Justice each raised a hand.

“None of you were here at the time.”

“Because Sahara hadn’t yet taken over the hiring,” Leese pointed out.

Impatient, Sahara shushed Leese with a lift of her hand, then said to her brother, “Ross told me that your instincts were uncanny, so I’m guessing he discovered something?”

Scott picked up his coffee to take a sip. He spoke quietly, not looking at anyone. “Chelsea was throwing big parties where young, desperate prostitutes—women with nowhere to turn—were corralled together for the sport of all in attendance. She called it her gladiator games.”

Sahara clenched her hands into fists on the tabletop. “She’s gotten worse since I gathered my own recordings of her.”

Brand’s stomach twisted... Since I gathered my own recordings... Dear God. Chelsea was sicker than he’d ever imagined—and Sahara hadn’t just hired someone to track the psycho, as she’d implied earlier. No, she’d done that herself.

The risks she took left him in a futile rage.

“Jesus,” Leese muttered, staring at her.

“That’s how you planned to ruin her?” Justice asked with horror. “You snuck around behind a twisted chick who’s into pain, and you recorded her?”

“Yes.”

Miles sat forward, his expression fierce. “I know you, Sahara. You wouldn’t have stood by and let it happen just to get evidence.”

“No, I didn’t. But at the time I had promised Chelsea that if she quit her games and stayed away from my brother, all the details would remain private.” She turned to Brand. “She broke the deal, so now I’m not held to it either.”

“Agreed,” he said softly, still reeling from the danger she’d chased.

Sahara drew a deep breath, released it slowly, then admitted, “While they were all busy enjoying someone else’s pain, I snuck around the property and set off her fire alarms.”

Scott lifted a brow. “That’s genius.”

Brand wanted to slug her brother for encouraging her.

Shrugging, Sahara said, “It worked. In minutes, police and firemen were arriving, but I already had at least a minute or two of very incriminating evidence. I made sure Chelsea knew that I had several copies.” She looked at her brother squarely. “If you can’t prove anything against her, I certainly can.”

Laughing, Scott rubbed his eyes, “You’re terrifying, you know that, right?”

“I know how to take care of business.”

This business, Brand wanted to say—just in case her brother had missed that significant fact.

“That’s obvious.” Scott sat back. “To stall, I agreed to provide services for Chelsea’s party. Of course, I had no intention of involving Body Armor, but I needed a strategy. While Ross was working his angle, I decided to distance myself by going out on the yacht with a girlfriend.”

“And that’s when Chelsea struck?” Sahara whispered.

“Men came aboard. You already know that they never recovered my date’s body.” Scott turned away, his gaze on the windows overlooking the city. “She and I weren’t close, but I should have protected her.”

“How many men were there?” Justice asked.

“Four, maybe five. They came aboard without my hearing them. We were sitting on the deck, enjoying the night, listening to music, and then suddenly they were there.”

Sahara huffed. “I should have taken care of her long ago.”

For some women, that would be an empty boast. Not for Sahara.

To soothe her, Brand brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I’d rather you not kill anyone.”

“And I’d rather she wasn’t involved at all,” Scott said.