FOUR
I stepped through the entrance of the Guardian Angel Protection Services office and into an empty front reception area.
It wasn’t empty for long. In seconds my old SEAL friend appeared in the doorway that led to his office in back. But I was in that front room long enough to get a good look at Chelsea’s empty desk chair and feel the cold stab of fear.
I trusted my instincts, but I didn’t want to trust this one. Didn’t want to believe she was in as much danger as the chill that ran up my spine led me to believe.
Shaking off the feeling I moved forward to greet him where he stood. “Zane. Thanks for meeting with me.”
I shook the hand of the man I’d known since my first big professional failure in Kenya five years ago. God willing Chelsea wouldn’t be my second.
“Of course. I’m glad you’re here. Come on into my office.”
I couldn’t resist one more glance at Chelsea’s desk. There was a vase of flowers on it. They were well past their prime, the pink peonies now tinged with brown and shedding a scattering of shriveled petals on the smooth surface. Proof of how long it had been since she’d been there.
Forcing my mind away from the macabre symbolism of Chelsea’s dying flowers, I took note of the computer also on the desk. Were there clues on that computer? I intended to find out before I left here today.
Zane laid his hand on my shoulder and squeezed with what I swore was sympathy before he steered me away from the front office and toward his in back.
Was I that transparent? Were my feelings about Chelsea written all over my face? The worst part was, I hadn’t realized what those feelings were until she went missing.
And fuck me, why hadn’t I done something about them before? Fight them. Give in to them. Something, anything, rather than let them affect me and my ability to perform my job now.
Maybe I was overreacting, misinterpreting my gut instinct, but my investigation since arriving hadn’t instilled in me any confidence that Chelsea’s dropping out of sight was as innocent or normal as her roommate assumed.
I followed Zane into his office and stopped when I saw one chair was already occupied. “Brent.”
It shouldn’t be a complete surprise that he was here. We had flown together in his jet last night.
He stood. “Tristan. I stopped by to see if Zane had heard anything.”
“And have you?” I questioned Zane directly.
“No.”
“Have you even looked?” My tone was sharper than I’d intended.
Bloody hell, I was a mess and I’d better get over it if I wanted to get anywhere in this job I’d taken on for myself.
Zane’s brows rose. “I’ve done a bit of digging. There’s nothing on her work computer but GAPS business. Nothing personal.”
That answered one of my many questions, but Zane’s hesitation led me to believe there was more.
“And?” I prompted, my heart pounding as I waited for him to reveal whatever it was that he was holding back.
He drew in a breath and finally said, “There’s nothing in her personal email account or private messages on her social media accounts either. In addition, none of those accounts have been accessed recently, there’s no banking or credit card activity and her cell phone hasn’t pinged in a week. Wherever she is, she’s completely off the grid.”
Next to me Brent mumbled a soft curse. I didn’t know if that was in response to how completely Chelsea had dropped out of sight or prompted by his surprise at the level of private information that was accessible to anyone with the skills and desire to find it.
Illegal and invasive as it was, I was happy Zane had used his resources to delve so deep. Concerns over Chelsea’s privacy took a backseat to my concern over her well being.
If Zane hadn’t checked everything, I would have. His doing it only meant I didn’t have to myself. But that he hadn’t found anything only reinforced my suspicions. If she were on a photo shoot or some acting job there should be some kind of electronic trail.
I forced myself to move forward to what I did know. “All right. Here’s what I’ve discovered.”
I ran through my day since the Hearst jet had touched down just before dawn. My interview with Chelsea’s roommate. My search of her room. But most importantly, my early morning visit to Camelot.
Fortunately, the gentlemen’s club ran a twenty-four hour business and lucky for me the waitresses employed there are a chatty bunch. For a few bills and a smile, they’ll spill all they know.
What I found out that morning was that one of the girls coming in to work the next shift today was particularly friendly with Morgan, so that's where I would go next.
I was betting she knew something. She'd better—it could make all the difference in my search for Chelsea.
Brent frowned. "You did all that? You've only been in town a handful of hours."
Angry with myself that I wasn't further along in my search, I said, "We still don't know where Chelsea is or what kind of trouble she’s in. Even a few hours is too long."
My comment came out with more ire than I'd intended. He drew back and I sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm frustrated."
Brent nodded. “It’s all right. We’re both sleep-deprived and worried.”
"So what's the plan?" Zane asked.
I glanced at the watch on my wrist. It was half past eleven. Bracing both hands on the arms of the chair, I stood. "I'm heading to the club."
Maybe this friend of Morgan’s would arrive early. I could speak with her before her shift started. Half an hour might mean the difference between this costing me just a bribe versus a full private lap dance so I could question her while she worked.
In a flurry of action, Zane stood too. "I'm coming with you."
"Me too." Brent hoisted himself out of his chair as well.
I shook my head. "I work alone."
Zane cocked one brow high. "Not today you don't. And I happen to know from personal experience your lone wolf act is bullshit. You know damn well you bring in help when you need it."
I knew what he was talking about. The events in Kenya, when I’d sent twenty men on a deadly wild goose chase.
Though maybe Zane was referring to that first time I’d shown up at this very office and enlisted Chelsea to be a distraction for an assignment at the embassy.
Either way, he was correct. I didn't always work alone, even if I did prefer it. It certainly looked as if I wouldn't be working alone today.
I accepted my fate. "Fine. But keep your mouths shut when we’re in the club and follow my lead."
Zane's triumphant grin was only equaled by Brent's frown. I liked the man, but it was obvious the billionaire didn't like being told what to do. Too bad. I was running this show. The Hearst publishing heir had no experience in the field. It could really cock up my investigation if he were allowed to improvise.
As we moved out to the front office again, I remembered how well Chelsea had followed orders. Perhaps too well. When I'd kissed her silly in the courtyard of the British Embassy to avoid being seen, she hadn't blinked an eye.
Oh, no. She'd kissed me right back until I was no longer acting for the benefit of our cover story, but instead planning how to get the bloody assignment completed so I could get her naked.
The recollection made my chest tighten.
Enough strolling down memory lane. I opened the front door and took a step out into the sunlight, knowing my two unwanted shadows would follow.