He walked around and opened the passenger door. An automatic chrome step extended, which would make it easy for Skye to climb aboard. Would have been a deal breaker without it.

A fact he mentally ignored.

She winced as she put weight on her bad leg climbing into the cab.

Edge felt a stab of conscience. “Your leg. Did I hurt you last night? Dammit, I shouldn’t have been so rough.”

Skye just smiled. “You weren’t rough. You were perfect.”

But the idea he’d had of a sexy nap later in the afternoon slipped away. He’d have to be more careful, not tax her injured leg too much.

Skye settled back in the deep black leather seat. “I love it,” she said, snapping her belt in place.

Edge found himself smiling. He’d been working with one of the salesmen to close the deal. The transaction was complete, the keys in the ignition. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Not the kind he had been thinking about all morning. He’d slow things down, save that for another day. The last thing he wanted was to cause Skye physical pain.

Edge fired the engine.

* * *

Skye had repeated the address on 16th Street she had given Edge earlier, but when they took the elevator up to what turned out to be a small interior office, the door was locked, no one there.

“I’m betting this is just a front for a company that doesn’t actually exist,” Edge said. “Let’s go back and see if we can find any other properties Sunstar or one of its subsidiaries owns.”

“You think this guy, Petrov, might be part of Sunstar?”

“If he is, his name is not going to show up on any corporate filings.”

“Probably not.” But they would take a look, just to be sure.

Edge headed for the Nighthawk office instead of returning to his apartment. Skye figured he wanted to check with Zoe, see if she might have come up with something. Skye told herself she wasn’t disappointed he didn’t want to spend part of the afternoon in bed.

The good news was, when they knocked on Zoe’s glass office door and she invited them in, she did have news.

“So what have you got?” Edge asked.

“According to what Skye’s sister, Callie, said, Riley Beeker and Harley Purcell were two of Henson’s top men. I figured they should be our first priority.” Zoe ran a finger under the neck of the black turtleneck sweater she wore with black yoga pants. She had tamed her short blond hair into a smooth, Peter Pan style befitting her Tinkerbelle nickname.

“You found them?” Skye asked hopefully.