Hard Pursuit Page 3

  “Since high school,” she answered. “I don’t remember him ever not being constantly obsessed with alcohol.”

  “You ordered a club soda at the bar.”

  “My father had his own issues with alcohol. Not as bad as Vincent, but it’s a family trait.” She nodded, her thin smile sliding under his armor. “Know your weaknesses and accept them. I might have to socialize to do the job done, but I never drink.” Ally brushed her fingers over her lips, sending a jolt of desire through Trey as he witnessed the delicate gesture. “Not a drop, never—although I’ve been tempted at times.”

  He eyed her. “Why put up with his crap? I get that he’s family, but…”

  She sighed. “I could get all psychological and tell you it’s because of his rough childhood, going in and out of the hospital and almost dying more than once. He’s never been able to do much in the way of sports and had to sit in the bleachers while his friends got to play football and basketball. He found out the best way to get the girls and be popular was to provide the alcohol, give the parties where you could drink and no one would report you. Got him through high school and a few months in college. Then he took it to the clubs, where you can buy as many friends as you can buy drinks.”

  “And yet he’s running the company.” He couldn’t keep the disdain out of his words.

  “Yes. And I keep putting up with his ways because I owe him.” She chewed on her lip for a few seconds before continuing. “When my parents died, I was a wreck. I felt guilty, responsible for the accident, everything you can think of. But when I showed up on his doorstep, he took me in. Gave me his playroom, the one next to his. And when I woke up at night crying and scared, he would come in and take me down to the living room where we’d sit and watch cartoons all night.” She looked at Trey. “I remember that when he gets out of hand—the little boy helping me cope.”

  He paused, taken aback by the intimate details.

  She bent forward, watching his fingers slide over the keyboard. “Amazing. You type so fast.”

  He tried not to look too closely at the gap in her white blouse, the glimpse of black lace peeking out sending his pulse soaring.

  Mentally he listed the reasons why he was not, repeat, not going to consider getting involved with Ally Sheldon.

  First, she was a client. Maybe not officially a Brotherhood client, but definitely Jessie’s, and he didn’t want to incur her wrath.

  Second, and most importantly, she was quite possibly related to a killer. Not the best of circumstances for romance.

  He dropped his attention back to the screen, studying the numbers and symbols as they scrolled by.

  And yet…

  …

  Ally rubbed her eyes, the invisible sandpaper behind her eyelids sapping her strength. She’d been running on adrenaline since leaving New York City and was beginning to falter.

  Her attention fell back on Trey, now immersed in the magic happening on his screen. His fingers drummed on the keyboard, flashing from one side to the other as he worked.

  She couldn’t stop watching his hands.

  For a brief second, she imagined those hands at work elsewhere, a hot rush burning through her like a lightning bolt as she envisioned them on her bare skin, grabbing and stroking…

  She scrubbed her eyes again, berating herself for letting her attention wander. This wasn’t the time or place to think about that, much less with a man she’d met less than an hour ago.

  Vincent was missing.

  Still…

  Ally sat back in the chair, her thoughts muddled up as she tried to remember how long it’d been since she had taken a man to bed.

  There was that man in Austin last year…

  She shook her head, banishing the memory. A fumbling, barely consummated one-night stand was hardly something to fall back on during those long, lonely nights spent making sure the company kept running in spite of Vincent.

  But this mysterious man in front of her would be much more interesting than picking up a random stranger in a bar.

  And much safer.

  Ally peeked again at Trey.

  He stared at the screen, seemingly lost in the scrolling numbers.

  Her cheeks burned, and she dipped her head.

  There’s a time and a place for that. This isn’t it.

  After Vincent returned.

  Stay on target.

  “I’ve got a hit on his GPS,” he announced. “What hotel are you staying at?”

  “The Belle Noir.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Nice place. One of the top ten hotels in Vegas, if I remember the latest news articles.”

  She spread her hands, forcing herself to smile. “Go big or go home.”

  The edges of his mouth twitched upward, and Ally’s breath caught in her throat.

  Maybe he hadn’t been as immersed in his work as she’d thought.

  “Well, you’re in luck. That’s where it’s coming from. Unfortunately, I can’t narrow it to a single room from here.” Trey pulled out his own cell phone and tapped the screen. “I’ll have a better reading if we go to the hotel itself. Maybe we’re lucky, and he got himself another room and/or a girlfriend for the night.”

  “I’d be very glad if that’s all it is. Mind you, I’d feel silly about causing so much trouble.” She stood up.

  “Don’t be.” He looked at her. “It’d be a good ending to a rough night for you.”

  She paused, taken aback by the kind words.

  “Except we won’t know until we arrive.” He rose and stepped out from behind the desk. “The garage is down the hall. Let’s go.”

  Ally eyed him, her curiosity stirring. “You’ve got a lot of expertise in this area and a lot of expensive equipment in this room. Seems odd you’d only use it for keeping a nightclub secure.”

  “I have a few odd jobs on the side. Little things—setting up security systems for businesses and the like. Including helping Jessie out when she asks.” Trey smiled as he moved past her to open the door. “You’d be surprised at how skillful I can be when opportunity presents itself.”

  She opened her mouth to say something but closed it with a snap, determined to not get any deeper in trouble.

  Chapter Four

  What the hell are you doing? he said silently as they drove through the night.

  Dylan hadn’t hesitated when Trey had called upstairs with the news.

  “Good,” he replied. “If we’re lucky the idiot drank a few beers, lost enough poker hands to run out of cash, crawled into another hotel bed and passed out. Just be careful.” His tone shifted. “I’m still not convinced this isn’t a kidnapping. Guy’s worth a lot of money, goes missing for three days. Just because there’s no ransom note doesn’t mean there won’t be—or that Ally won’t be their next target. Stay close to her and keep your eyes open. Jessie found Edgar’s info on the company website, ran a fast check—good man, ex-military. Don’t think he’d be an accomplice to something like this but stay frosty.”

  Trey didn’t say anything, knowing Dylan’s thoughts on kidnappings. In her attempt to bring crime kingpin Molodavi down, Jessie had gone missing for a week before anyone noticed. That had been before she’d met Dylan and the Brotherhood, and now Dylan was hypervigilant for any more cases along the same lines.

  Trey kept eying Ally, the exhausted woman resting her head on the window, focused on her cell phone. The professional mask had fallen away to reveal a worried, frantic sister looking for her adopted brother.

  A gorgeous, beautiful woman.

  Trey mentally slapped himself. He wasn’t going to look too closely at Ally Sheldon—he had to view her as another client, not as a woman. The birthmark on her arm was a warning to step away, keep his distance until he’d resolved the questions pressing on his soul.

  Had Vincent Sheldon been the man behind the steering wheel?

  In his mind’s eye, he saw the man’s arm flopping out of the car window, the red diamond embedding itself in his mind.

  Along with
the image of Nick, his shattered body lying on the sidewalk.

  Trey turned into the hotel parking lot, avoiding the valet. He pulled out his phone and scanned the data scrolling across the small screen. “Which floor are you on?”

  Ally sat up. “Tenth floor. Edgar, Vincent, and I have one of the suites.”

  “That’s where it is.” Trey said. He showed her the screen. “Tenth floor.”

  “Damn it.” She grabbed her phone and started to type. “I’m texting Edgar and telling him to search the rooms, see if he can find the phone before we get up there.”

  Trey nodded.

  Ally got out of the truck. “You think he had a plan? Mapped all this out?”

  “Might have, especially if he thought enough ahead to leave his phone behind. If he decided to do that, it’s likely he planned this entire outing.” Trey hopped out. “Maybe Edgar’ll find a club flyer or a business card left behind, tip us off to where he’s run to.”

  She moved up beside him as they walked into the hotel through the side door. “Hold on. I want to stop at the front desk.” Ally maneuvered them through the quiet lobby.

  He followed her lead, walking over to the varnished wood desk.

  The night clerk looked up, a generic smile on her face. “Can I help you?”

  “Any messages for Ally Sheldon? Vincent Sheldon? Sheldon Construction?”

  The woman ran her hands over the keyboard and studied her screen. “I have nothing for either name, sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Ally sighed and put her elbows on the counter, her hands covering her face.

  She leaned heavily against Trey for a second, startling him. He wanted to harden his heart against her, as he had against her adopted brother but…

  He automatically put his arm around her.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured. “We’ll find him.”

  She lifted her head. “Let’s go.”

  “You’re looking a little pale.” He tightened his grip on her. “We can sit over there if you need to, let you catch your breath.”

  “No, no.” She waved him off. “I guess this is finally hitting home.” Her smile was forced and limp. “A little bit of jet lag, a whole lot of worry.”

  He pulled his arm away as the elevator doors opened. “I understand. Got to be rough dealing with this all the time.”

  “Yeah.” Ally braced herself against the metal rail at the back of the elevator. “I keep talking to my aunt and uncle, keep telling them we need to get Vincent some professional help, far beyond the stern talks they give him every damn time he pulls a stunt like this. They keep hoping Vincent will grow out of it, mature suddenly. At this age, I don’t see it happening.” She let out a pained sigh. “I’m tired of it all.”

  “Give me your room key,” Trey ordered. She hesitated only a minute before pulling a plastic card from her purse.

  “This is the key to room 1045, the center suite. I’m staying in 1044, and Vincent’s in 1046. We have keys for our separate rooms, as well, with a connecting door to the center suite.” A sad smile brushed her lips. “Edgar stays with him in a side room.”

  “How did he end up with you and Vincent?” He studied the room numbers as they exited the elevator. His hand went to her waist again, pulling her close in an instinctive urge to protect her. She didn’t resist.

  “Edgar started off as a bodyguard to my uncle then shifted to being Vincent’s handler as the situation changed. He’s ex-military, trained in a variety of areas. He’s had to use a lot of them to keep up with Vincent.” They stopped in front of the door.

  Trey slipped the keycard into the lock. As soon as the light went on, he pushed the door open, leading her in.

  “Edgar’s not getting any younger, and Vincent’s getting sneakier. I guess it might be time to find someone else, but he gets along so well…”

  Trey wasn’t sure if she was referring to Edgar or Vincent. He studied the suite before placing the keycard on the nearby table.

  It was like a hundred hotel rooms he’d been in over the years, the generic furniture laid out to meet and greet prospective clients. Work desk, TV, coffee table, bathroom off to one side. He expected the exact same layout on the other side of the shared living room, a mirror image with a bedroom added for sleep.

  It didn’t come cheap. The couches were low and sleek, the table slick polished redwood, and the wide-screen television filling up most of the wall.

  He pulled out his phone and tapped the button to bring up the location scanner. “His phone’s nearby.”

  The adjoining door flew open to reveal an older man, dressed in jeans and a black dress shirt, the top few buttons undone. Wisps of white hair dotted his nearly bald head. He held up the offending phone. “It’s right here. Just found it under the sofa, stuffed deep between the cushions. Bastard did it intentionally.” The man’s thick British accent cut through the air like a knife.

  Edgar turned to Trey, and he saw the instant assessment, the military stance as the bodyguard studied him. This was a veteran, a man used to taking and giving orders.

  Ally nodded. “Thank you. I found someone to help us, and she’s got friends searching throughout Las Vegas, hitting all the clubs. This is Trey Pierce. He’ll be working with us for the time being. I expect you to give him as much assistance as you can.”

  “Yes, Miss Ally.”

  Trey didn’t flinch from the inspection, welcoming it. If he was going to work with this man, he didn’t need any friction between them.

  After a long moment, the older man gave a nod, the understanding between them clear even if it was unspoken.

  Mutual respect.

  Trey let out an invisible sigh of relief. He didn’t need anyone else standing in his pursuit of justice. Including Ally Sheldon.

  Chapter Five

  Ally wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she entered the Devil’s Playground, searching for Jessie Lyon.

  In theory, she should have gone to the larger agencies, eager to charge Sheldon Construction outrageous prices for finding her brother.

  The hotel security manager had convinced her to take a chance on Jessie, claiming she was exactly what Ally needed. Now, as she watched Trey open up Vincent’s laptop, satisfaction washed over her—she’d made the right choice.

  A larger agency would likely have surrounded her with investigators eager to run up the bill while spreading a large net over Vegas, hoping Vincent would trip into their snares. There was something about the way Jessie talked and how Dylan acted that gave her confidence they’d find Vincent.

  Then, there was Trey Pierce.

  She couldn’t figure out how to take him. He didn’t look at her with the cool businesslike gaze of her peers, the few who saw her as an equal and addressed her as such. He didn’t look down his nose at her, objectifying her as a toy waiting to be used and abused if she’d let him. Trey treated her as an equal, which was a welcome sensation in the middle of the chaos swirling around her.

  Except there was something else strange about his attitude, the way he studied her, and the way he spoke at times about her family with his tone verging on bitterness.

  She’d searched her memories on the car ride over, looking for any possibility they’d met before, and found none.

  But still…

  Ally shook her head, tossing the thought aside. She had bigger worries than how some hacker viewed her.

  No matter how handsome he was.

  “All right. Let’s take a look at what he’s got here.” Trey hit the power button. “I’m hooking in his cell phone as well.”

  “I think he’s got that locked up,” she said.

  His smile sent a raw rush of heat right to her core. “I’m pretty good at getting past barriers.”

  She shook the sensations off, blaming it on exhaustion.

  Ally moved to where Edgar was pawing through a series of folded shirts. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

  Her words seemed to annoy the caretaker instead of consoling him. “
I swear, from now on, I’m going to cuff the bugger to my wrist every time we go out.”

  “This isn’t on you. I know Vincent. When he puts his mind to something, he makes it happen. If he hadn’t managed to dump you at the ATM, he would have come up with something else. He’s got to start being responsible for himself—this is too much to put on you.”

  “Your uncle…” Edgar rubbed his forehead. “He’s going to be bouncing off the ceiling when he finds out.”

  “Why?” Trey interrupted.

  She glared at Trey as he repeated his question.

  “Why? Why the hell should you or anyone else be responsible for his actions?” Trey asked as he studied the screen. “He’s an adult.” There was a sharpness to his words, catching her off-guard. “You can’t be holding his di…” He stopped, and Ally knew exactly what word he was censoring.

  “Holding his hand all the time. At some point, he’s got to grow up and take the fall for whatever he does when he goes off on these little escapades. A real man doesn’t run away or need a babysitter to keep him in line, never mind keep his adopted sister from having her own life.”

  Ally bit back her response, seeing Edgar’s jaw tighten. She touched his arm, hoping it’d be enough to settle the older man’s temper.

  “I do it because I’m paid to,” Edgar said. “It’s part of the job—just like when I escort a client to a brothel or make sure the groupies are out of a rock star’s apartment the next morning. Doesn’t mean I agree with it, but it’s what I’m there to do.” He looked at Ally. “She does it because she loves her family and is devoted to them. A personality trait most people would find attractive.”

  “Understood.” Trey nodded.

  Edgar began refilling the drawers, folding the clothing into short, efficient piles.

  “Right. Ally, can you come with me, please?” Trey stood up with the laptop and phone. “Better to do this in your suite. Give Eddie here some room.”

  Edgar glared at him. “Edgar. Only Vincent calls me Eddie, and I’ve yet to break him of that bad habit.”

  “Sorry,” Trey said. He eyed the older man. “No offense, but you and I have seen men like this, the type who bend the rules until they break and then leave others to bear the burden. It’s all fine until someone gets hurt—or worse.”