Hard Pursuit Page 5

  At least he’d have a name to put to the birthmark, to the image burned into the back of his mind for years.

  Trey looked over at Ally.

  He’d fought with himself for hours, arguing over whether or not to tell her what he thought. What he feared.

  No.

  He couldn’t put her through that until he was far past certain. Her life was a mess right now. Tossing the fact Vincent was a killer into the mix would make it infinitely worse—especially if there was any chance Trey was wrong.

  He leaned back and picked up his drink. It gave him something to focus on other than Ally.

  She didn’t know it, but her sleepy, tousled-hair appearance was driving his attention south of his belt buckle.

  She hadn’t changed out of the blouse or skirt Trey’d first seen her in at the bar so long ago. Those long beautiful bare legs were now curled up under her on the sofa. Another button had come undone on her white blouse, the tease of skin enough to send his imagination into overdrive as more of her black lace bra appeared. He dragged his eyes southward and cursed, caught in another delicious trap as he focused on her bare feet, her shoes kicked off last night and lying under the coffee table.

  It was easy to imagine her in his bed, that her dazed look was an aftereffect of a wonderful night of loving. His hands itched to smooth the worried frown from her face, wash it away with a hot, deep, long kiss to start. The innocent, girl-next-door facade might work in keeping her business credit fresh, but he suspected there was something simmering just under the surface, her sensual side pulled back hard by her restrictive life.

  After all, she hadn’t blinked when he’d mentioned knots.

  Trey coughed on the warm soda, forcing his thoughts elsewhere. He had plenty of work to do before even considering making a move on Ally.

  Besides, she might not be so forthcoming with her affections when she found out about a possible connection between Trey and Vincent.

  The door to the main hallway opened, and Edgar pushed a rolling table in, the smell of fresh coffee coming from the silver pot almost intoxicating. He pulled off the metal dome to reveal a variety of pastries.

  Ally sat up and accepted a cheese pastry from Edgar along with coffee, murmuring her appreciation.

  He turned to Trey. “Black?”

  Trey smiled. “Just like in the field.”

  Edgar chuckled, adding a chocolate-filled pastry to the plate. “That’s if you even got coffee. Used to spend hours dreaming of a decent cup of tea.”

  “Tell me about it. The damned sand got everywhere,” Trey said.

  “Everywhere?” Ally asked in a soft whisper, sending his blood racing again.

  “Everywhere,” Trey confirmed.

  Edgar nodded his agreement.

  Trey eyed the fellow vet. Either he was fine with Ally flirting with Trey, or he chose not to notice.

  Ally sipped her drink and let out a deep, satisfied sigh. “Thank God for coffee.”

  “Add in tea, and I’ll agree with you,” Edgar replied. He glanced at the floor before looking up. “Hate to bring it up, but what will we do about the ten o’clock meeting? Vincent was supposed to take it, but now…”

  Ally went pale. “Damn it.” She studied the fine china cup. “Can we ask for a rescheduling?”

  Edgar shrugged. “Asking is easy. The question is whether they give it to us. It took a bit of juggling on both sides to make it in the first place—not really going to look good if we start off on the wrong foot here, in my opinion.”

  “Who’s the meeting with?” Trey asked.

  Ally drained her cup and held it out to Edgar, silently asking for a refill. “Harry Dubrinski, one of the local union leaders. More or less a public relation visit, but I’d hate to reschedule it.”

  “Wait.” Trey frowned. “You know the details, right?”

  “Of course, I do.” She appeared hurt. “We need to reassure Dubrinski we’ll keep the safety of his people at the forefront of our concerns. Sheldon Construction has another project here in Vegas, a residential area. There’ve been a few accidents—nothing major, thank God. But enough to warrant a meeting to let them understand we’re on top of the situation and looking out for the workers. Vincent’s not much for unions, but he’s usually able to pull this sort of thing off, make it appear like he cares.”

  “Even though he doesn’t,” Edgar muttered. “All he cares about is that the project comes in early and under budget.”

  Ally pressed her lips into a tight line before responding. “That might be true, but let’s focus on the problem at hand.”

  “The problem at hand,” Edgar said in a slow, steady tone, “is that while you don’t want to cancel the meeting, I’m worried you might be a target. We still haven’t determined Vincent has gone voluntarily.” He eyed Trey. “The kidnapping idea is slim, but I don’t want her to go out alone. I can go with Miss Ally, but I’d be put to better use searching for Vincent, in my opinion.”

  Ally looked at Trey, studying him closely for a few seconds. “I’ve got an idea.” She glanced at Edgar. “He’s got the same basic shape—he could fit into Vincent’s suits.”

  Both men frowned in unison and stared at her.

  “Listen.” She spoke slowly, carefully. “I can make the meeting, no problem. But if I show up with Edgar at my side, people are going to talk, asking questions about Vincent, where he is, and what’s going on.”

  She turned to Edgar. “If I have Trey accompanying me as a local consultant, it’ll work. That way, I’ll have the protection you want, and I’ll be able to handle the meeting without starting any rumors up about where Vincent is.”

  Now it was Edgar’s turn to study him, a less generous inspection. “I can give a basic briefing, lay out the bullet points. Enough to bluff through the meeting.” He raised an eyebrow. “And I have full faith in his ability to protect you.”

  Trey drew in a long, deep breath, trying to weigh his options.

  Neither Edgar or Ally knew how it’d be easy for Trey to do it. Over his time with the Brotherhood, he’d done his share of undercover work, taking up whatever role was needed to get the job done. Drug dealer, unemployed homeless veteran, slick rich investor seeking somewhere off-shore to hide his dirty money. Playing an executive wouldn’t present much of a challenge if all he had to do was back Ally up while she took lead.

  It wasn’t that he couldn’t.

  It was whether he should.

  Ally smiled then went to Trey. “Would you do this for me? For us?”

  He opened his mouth to tell her no, that she should call Jessie and have one of the other Brotherhood men take the job. It’d take up time and resources he didn’t have to spare, not if he was going to work on proving Vincent was a murderer.

  But it’d also give him valuable resources and insight into Sheldon Construction. Right now, his involvement was pretty well at an end—he’d found Vincent’s phone, and the virtual tracking could easily be done back in his office, far away from Ally Sheldon and the temptation she presented.

  The little voice at the back of his head screeched a warning, the alarm siren bouncing off the inside of his skull.

  Down this path lay danger.

  For both of them.

  “Trey?” Ally asked again, tilting her head to one side. “Will you help me?”

  “Are you sure about this? I might forget something important, screw up the details. Will you be able to deal with that possibility?”

  “Right now, it’s our best option. I need Edgar available to deal with Vincent if he suddenly shows up—no one else is going to be able to wrangle him. The two staff members here in town aren’t suitable—they’ve got their own jobs to do, and I don’t want them to know about Vincent unless absolutely necessary. Not to mention neither of them are trained to deal with any security situations that might arise. Edgar trusts you, and so do I,” she countered.

  “Point taken.” Trey closed his eyes, mentally dictating his argument. “Right. Let me call in to Dylan an
d give him a heads up, then I’ll catch a power nap. Be fresh and frosty for your eight o’clock meeting.”

  “That’d be great. We can say Vincent’s sick for two, three days. Food poisoning. If it goes longer than that, we’ll have to reassess our options.” She turned to Edgar. “Put the word out. Lord knows we’ve used this excuse enough times for his hangovers. The staff’ll understand, and they’ll cover for him if anyone asks. Cancel the housekeeping visits. Put Trey on the books as a local consultant. Assign him identity tags and computer clearance to the open projects. We might need him for more than just today.” Ally looked at Trey. “Thank you for helping out.”

  “No problem.” He tapped the keyboard. “I’ve done all I can with this for now.” He picked up his cell phone and gestured at the door leading to Vincent’s suite. “I’ll go call in.”

  It took only a few seconds for Dylan to answer the phone, and a few moments more for Trey to explain the situation.

  “Just be careful. Damned careful,” Dylan said. “You’re playing with fire, and it’s not just you who can get burned.”

  “Let me remind you that you started this. You’re the one who called me to the bar and then to the office. You put me on this case.”

  “Yes. Because I knew if I didn’t, there’d be hell to pay,” he growled. “As soon as Jessie circulated that picture of Vincent among the men and you recognized the birthmark…”

  “I’d come right at her,” Trey finished the thought. “Couldn’t have kept me away.”

  “Exactly. This is Jessie’s case. This is her job. All we needed was for you to run in and start screaming at Ally, demanding answers. I took one look at the picture, saw that birthmark, and knew you’d be all over this. Son of a bitch was smart, using a tattoo to cover it up. But when I knew what to look for… Jessie and I, we both caught it right away. You’ve been using our system to search for that mark over the past five years—I had to call you in.”

  “So now what?” Trey asked.

  “You do what you need to do. Kidnapping’s not looking likely at this point, but stay frosty when you’re out with Ally. I don’t want to take it off the table yet, not until we confirm he’s doing this of his own free will.” His tone shifted. “Just be careful. She’s not going to be happy when she finds out why you’re digging up her family history with a backhoe. It’s bad enough she’s discovered he’s embezzling from their company.” He continued, not giving Trey time to reply, “What is she going to think when you tell her you want Vincent arrested?”

  “That’s not the point. Anyway, I can’t do anything until we find Vincent and I verify he’s the one. How’s the search going from your end?”

  Dylan laughed, ending the argument. “We’re about to call the city a wash and start spreading our wings. Out to L.A., down to Reno, and maybe south of the border. Jessie’s keeping track of the numbers. Going to be one hell of a bill for Sheldon Construction when we find their lost puppy.”

  “I put trackers on his credit cards, all of them. They’ll ping at some point,” Trey said.

  “If he’s as addicted to gambling as he is to drinking, he’s going to run out of cash soon enough. One trip to the ATM and we’ll have him.”

  “I hope so. Ally might be getting to the end of her rope as far as putting up with his games. Give her a little push, and she’ll break free.”

  “Trey,” Dylan said in a low, almost-threatening tone, “Slow the hell down. I understand you want to take Vincent out for what happened in New York City. Now you want to save Ally because you figure she’s being taken advantage of. Except that’s not your decision to make. This is her choice, her family. You and I may not agree with the way she’s going, but that’s not what we’re here for.”

  Trey glanced at the closed door separating him from Ally. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Trey caught his breath, biting back a curse.

  Dylan’s not the enemy here.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “If you feel like you’re getting in too deep, I can send Ace or Finn over. Don’t be emotionally compromised over this.”

  Too late.

  “I won’t. I’ll be in touch. Good hunting.” Trey cut the connection before Dylan could say anything else.

  Chapter Eight

  Ally closed her eyes, shuffling through the various worries rushing to the forefront of her mind.

  Vincent.

  Where the hell are you?

  She’d forwarded the files to their accountants and impressed upon them the importance of staying quiet until they finished their analysis. Ally didn’t want to toss the word “embezzlement” around until she had some actual evidence.

  She hated herself for the first thought coming to the forefront—if it was true, she could twist this new development to her advantage.

  When Vincent came back, she’d use the discovery as leverage to force him to get help. Put out a cover story about him going on vacation, off to one of those private facilities. Her adopted parents never needed to know.

  A hoarse laugh at the back of her mind told her it was one hell of a long shot. Vincent had gone his own way for years now. Change wasn’t going to happen, not with her family counting on her to keep cleaning up his messes.

  Maybe it was time for that to change.

  She shuddered, imagining the crisis that’d cause. The fights, the accusations, the yelling…

  None of which would happen if Jessie didn’t find Vincent and bring him home.

  One step at a time…

  She studied the closed door.

  She couldn’t help but wonder what Trey did when he wasn’t playing bouncer. Between his attitude and his skills…there was something else going on. But she couldn’t afford to even try to open that door until Vincent came back.

  The suite door opened to admit Edgar. “Miss Ally,” he started. “I’ve done as you asked. The word is out that Vincent is currently indisposed with a bad case of food poisoning and will be for the foreseeable future. He’s in his room, resting and recovering. I’ve already ordered up a bland meal—I’ll nibble on the toast, drink the juice and put the tray out in the hallway to make the show complete.” He raised an eyebrow. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll prep Trey for the morning meeting.”

  “Yes. Please do so. Thanks.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m going to get ready as well, brush up on my facts. Call me if something comes up.”

  She retreated to her bedroom, girding herself for the upcoming day.

  At least she was going to be with Trey. He might be playing the strong, silent man behind her, but she sensed there was a lot more going on behind those eyes.

  …

  A few hours later, Trey watched Ally slump against the cushions as the car slid through traffic on the way back to the hotel.

  “Well, that went better than I expected.” He loosened his black tie and undid the top button of his white dress shirt.

  “Yes. Thank you.” Ally let out a relieved sigh. “For a second, I thought our bluff was going to be called when he asked you about the overtime pay. But you kept to the company line.”

  Trey chuckled as he pulled the silk free and wound the soft strip around his hand. “I did a little research between Edgar fussing over me and making sure I didn’t look too bad in this suit. I may not be a construction expert, but I can play one for an hour. I can’t blame Dubrinski for wanting to do the best by his people.”

  “Yes, well…” She smiled. “I appreciate that. It’s still very much a man’s world, and I can understand why Dubrinski doesn’t want to lose face by giving in to a woman.”

  “Most men don’t.” Trey pulled the tie between his fingers, relishing the softness. “He was ready to face Vincent and to fight. Instead, you won him over and had him eating out of your hand at the end. I doubt Vincent could have done half as well.”

  “Thank you.” He spied the start of a blush before Ally turned away to look out the window.

  He shifted
his legs, trying not to remember how she’d looked working the room during the meeting. There’d been three men in the room, Dubrinski and two flunkies who sat back and observed their boss.

  Dubrinski had been hypnotized by the sway of Ally’s hips under the tight black skirt, his eyes following her back and forth as she complimented the fine craftsmanship and hard work his union had done for Sheldon Construction on previous projects.

  She’d played him like a pro, winning all three men over in the end. Trey had stayed in the background as much as possible, letting her lead and playing the strong silent type as they’d arranged, nodding in support. A few questions had been directed to him, but for the most part, they were focused on Ally.

  Ally had some mad skills. She was as good on the boardroom floor as he was in front of a keyboard.

  And it was sexy as hell.

  Trey forced himself to check his phone, scrolling through the messages.

  “Any news?” she whispered.

  He shook his head, studying the texts. “Still no sign of Vincent. Jessie’s making a second round of the drunk tanks, and we’re expanding the search outward into the surrounding towns.” He reached over and took her hand. “Don’t worry. He’ll turn up sooner or later.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt.” She stared at him. “Question is if it’s alive or dead.”

  …

  Ally’s stomach had been twisted into knots the entire morning—and not over the meeting. She knew how to handle men like Dubrinski, men who juggled care for the men and women under their watch with the cold, hard facts of business.

  That hadn’t been the issue.

  She’d spent the morning tamping down the fear threatening to choke her every time her thoughts darted away from the topic at hand.

  She’d been terrified someone would call her bluff over Trey, terrified Vincent would turn up dead. Terrified they’d happen at the same time.