After tucking Clarice beneath the sheets in the king-size bed, I dress and head out for some recon. I start with LaRue Hotel Manhattan, since it’s the closest. Walking into the lobby through the rotating doors, I move to the concierge desk.

“Bonjour, monsieur,” the man in uniform greets me. “How may I assist you?”

I pull the picture of Quincy, which I’d taken from the folder, out of my back pocket and hold it up to face him. “Have you seen this woman? She’s been reported missing,” I ask, and watch his face carefully.

He takes the photo from my hand and looks closely. “She… this is Mademoiselle Herald,” he replies, his French accent thick. “She is missing?” His confused eyes lift to meet mine.

“Yes. When was the last time you saw her?” I question. I study his microexpressions, seeing his eyes stare straight ahead as he thinks back, so I know he’s actually trying to remember instead of thinking up a lie.

“Two… no three days ago. Today is Tuesday, and I believe it was Saturday when I saw her having breakfast in the restaurant with Monsieur LaRue. Is he the one who reported her missing?” the concierge asks worriedly.

“I’m not at liberty to answer that question during the investigation,” I reply. “So you have not seen her since then?”

“No, sir.” He shakes his head. “Come to think of it, I have not seen Monsieur LaRue since then either. They’re usually attached at the hip.”

“Thank you for answering my questions. If you see either Mr. LaRue or Ms. Herald, please contact me at this number.” I hand him a card with my cell number on it. “This investigation is a private one, so please keep all of this to yourself,” I tell him, hoping for just the opposite. If word gets back to Jean LaRue that someone was here at this location looking for him, he’ll be less likely to move here, knocking off a hiding spot from the long list.

As I exit the hotel, stepping out on the mostly empty sidewalk, since it’s nearly 10:00 p.m., I grab my cell out of my pocket as it begins to ring. Seeing it’s Seth, I hope for good news. “What you got?” I greet.

“Bruh, you got a letter in your mailbox. Might want to pick that wedgie,” he replies, and my hand shoots to my ass.

“I do not, fuckface. Is there a point to your call?” I growl, looking behind me.

“Just kidding. But you might want to fix your sex hair before questioning anyone else. Kinda hard to find you an intimidating authority figure when you look like you just got done letting someone ride you like a pony,” Seth informs me, and I reach up to comb my fingers through my dark blond hair.

“So I take it you’ve been able to hack into their surveillance systems?” I prompt, wondering about the location of the camera he’s currently watching me from.

“I’m having to go inside each hotel’s cameras and turn them back on, while also making sure to keep the images from showing up on the monitors in their security rooms. I know, I know. I’m a badass motherfucker,” he boasts.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, the concierge I just questioned seemed genuinely surprised when I told him about our missing person. No shiftiness. If he had seen her or his employer and tried to hide the fact from me, I would’ve been able to spot it. He said he hadn’t seen either of them since Saturday at breakfast. So this location can be crossed off the list.”

“One down, a couple to go. Well, hotels anyway. God only knows where they could be if he’s somewhere else,” Seth mumbles.

“True story. But in the update you e-mailed me, it looks like he doesn’t have any other residences. He just lives in the penthouses at each of his hotels.” I glance at my watch, walking over to the valet to retrieve my SUV, handing him my ticket.

“Let’s just hope he’s spending the time trying to convince her to stay by lavishing her with gifts and luxury while whispering sweet nothings. I like that option much more than the idea of her being held prisoner and him doing… not so nice things to her.” His voice quiets on the last part, probably thinking back to what happened to his wife, Twyla.

The valet pulls up with my SUV, and I hand him a tip as I switch places with him. “There was no history of violence. No reports against this Jean LaRue guy. In his profile for Infidelity, he didn’t even put BDSM or rough sex as one of his interests. In fact, even in Quincy’s profile, it says she would prefer a platonic companionship behind closed doors. They wouldn’t have matched her with this guy if that wasn’t something he was down with. Unless he thought he could convince her otherwise, thinking he would enjoy the chase and challenge of it all.”

“God only knows, bro. I’ll keep working my magic here though, and you keep doing your thing. Let me know if anyone seems suspicious and I’ll dig into their background,” he tells me.

“Will do,” I reply, pulling out onto the street. “Talk to you later.”

I hang up before he finishes singing, hearing only one line of *NSYNC’s “Bye, Bye, Bye” before the blissful sound of silence fills my car.

I spend the next several hours making my way to each of Jean LaRue’s hotels around the city, questioning employees on if they’d seen him or Quincy. Everyone’s answers were the same; no one had spotted them in the past few days. They seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth, and I was starting to believe they were either not at one of his properties, or they had made it out of state by car. The only thing that made me think they were still around though was the fact he hadn’t used any of his credit cards. Yes, he could easily have a pile of cash lying around to grab before they left, but they hadn’t been spotted on any type of traffic cams or anything. I was still waiting for Seth to find out which car of LaRue’s they took so he could track either the GPS or the license plate number.

Until then, as the sun starts to rise over the horizon, I decide to go get some shuteye with the vixen currently sleeping in my bed.