“If Henson leaves any kind of trail,” Zoe said, “I’ll find him.”

“It’s just a gut feeling, but Edge and I both think Henson’s working for someone else. We need to know the name of the guy at the top of the food chain.”

“What about the men who worked for him? You have any names?”

“I got a partial list from my sister. She didn’t know all of them. I did a little digging. A guy named Webb Rankin has a warrant out for armed robbery. Klaus Mahler is wanted for sexual assault on a twenty-two-year-old woman in Omaha, Nebraska. There was nothing on Harley Purcell or Riley Beeker, two of Henson’s top men. I have a feeling a lot of the men were using aliases.”

“What about the women?”

“I took a look. One had a history of drug abuse, another had a couple of arrests for prostitution. From what my sister said, some of them were living on the street, others were just misfits, people looking for a home. They all saw Henson as some kind of savior.” Like Callie, who was grieving for her dead father.

“Scan the names and send them to me,” Zoe said.

“Will do.”

“If you think of anything else, text me.”

“Thanks, Zoe.”

“Thank me when I have something.” Zoe hung up the phone.

In black jeans and a rust-colored Henley that hugged his wide chest, Edge walked back in, towel-drying his thick black hair. It was longer now than it had been in Mexico. Skye thought it looked even sexier than before. Her mind shot back to last night, the things he had done to her, the things she had done to him, and a flush rose in her cheeks.

“Do any good with Zoe?” Edge asked, hopefully oblivious to her thoughts as he tossed the damp towel over a kitchen chair. His galley-style, stainless-steel kitchen, done in white with black granite countertops, was as modern and streamlined as her own.

“Zoe’s on it. I’m sending her the list of people who were in the compound. Unfortunately, it’s incomplete.

Nothing on Beeker or Purcell.”

“DEA will have prints and DNA. They may be able to figure out who was there, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be able to find them.” Edge’s brilliant blue eyes moved over her. He caught her hand, pulled her up from her place behind the computer and into his arms.

“You have any idea how good you look in that fluffy little robe, your pretty curls mussed from what we did this morning.” He smiled. “I had no idea what a distraction you were going to be.” Then he bent his head, and his lips covered hers.

Skye kissed him back, fighting to ignore the melting sensation in the pit of her stomach. She managed to ease away before it was too late. “Work,” she reminded him.

Edge threw up his hands. “Okay, okay.”