I saw the clock preparing to flip to six and tapped off the alarm. Then I leaned down, tongue tickling over that waiting nipple. Her response was instantaneous, a low moan of pleasure. I took her nipple between my teeth, my tongue—

My cell phone blared so loud we both jerked up…fortunately without injury.

“Ignore it,” I said, pulling her back.

“No.” She reached over me, breast brushing my lips, then handed me my phone. “You answer. I’ll keep things going.”

With a grin, she kissed my chest, then moved lower. An order was an order, so I answered.

“Lucas? It’s Karl. We have a problem.”

Paige heard and stopped, scant inches from her destination. She glanced up at me, a question in her eyes that I really didn’t want to answer. I considered accidentally hitting the disconnect button. She read my mind and gave a soft laugh, kissed my stomach, then rolled from bed with a mouthed “later.”

I cursed Karl Marsten, sat up and gave him my almost complete attention.

I WAS STILL on the phone when a cup of steaming coffee appeared by my hand, slid discreetly across the desk. I’d moved into the tiny office adjoining our bedroom and was jotting down notes as Karl talked. I motioned for Paige to stay, but she gestured something I couldn’t decipher, and slipped from the room.

“Jasper Davidyan?” I said. “That’s D-a-v-i-d-y-a-n?”

“Yes, but Hope suspects the surname is phony, and I’d agree. It comes from the license in his wallet, which is definitely a forgery.”

“You said he goes by Jaz. Is that one z? Two? Or an s?”

A snort, clearly contemptuous of the moniker in general and not about to speculate on the specifics.

I continued. “So Hope found no sign of chaos at the apartment, and you discovered no extraneous trails or blood—”

“No, I said I told her that.”

“Ah.” I sipped my coffee and waited. It took a few moments, but he finally went on.

“There was blood under an armchair that, judging by the marks in the carpet, had been moved to cover it. And there was a bloody rag in the bushes below the balcony.”

“But you kept this from Hope?”

His tone frosted. “It was spatter under the chair. Just enough to make a mess and there wasn’t much more on the rag, meaning no one’s dead or seriously injured. If Hope knew, she’d worry and she’s already worrying enough.”

I took the rest of the details, then signed off.

I was jotting down a list of steps to pursue when Paige appeared, this time bearing toasted and buttered English muffins for two, and a coffee for herself. I took the plate and mug and filled her in.

“I don’t think your father’s involved,” she said finally.

That was, as she knew, my first question and the one I least trusted myself to answer.