Chapter Three
Trey wasn’t sure if he wanted to curse, yell or punch a hole in the wall behind him.
None of those were options.
His mouth had gone dry when he’d looked at the photograph Ally had placed on the desk. The image was a classic publicity shot, the smiling businessman facing the camera, sleeves rolled up on his pristine white dress shirt as he held a pair of giant scissors—an opening ceremony of some sort.
That wasn’t what had Trey’s heart hammering in his chest like a jackhammer.
The man’s left arm was in plain sight, the camera picking up the elaborate tattoo spread across his forearm.
The dark ink made twisted thorns and vines, but Trey saw the skin underneath—the natural deep red blotch worked into the design of the tattoo. The shape of the birthmark was a near-perfect match to the image the search program was scanning for a few floors away.
It was slightly different, warped by the angle of the photograph, but it was enough to send his pulse skyward.
He knew that mark. He’d seen it only once in person, on a man driving away from the accident that had broken Trey’s leg and killed his best friend.
Now he had a chance to confront the driver in person, to call him out and try to get some justice for Nick.
All he had to do was find Vincent and confirm it was, in fact, him.
Dylan’s intense glare was enough of a warning to keep control, at least until he was alone and able to deal with the information.
The cool hand in his twitched, and he remembered the lovely lady who hadn’t wronged him but had everything to do with the man he was searching for.
He gritted his teeth, pulled his other hand into a fist to contain his annoyance. His issue was with him, not with her. She might be an enabler, an accomplice to the man’s deeds, but he couldn’t hold her responsible for Vincent’s actions. Innocent until proven guilty, he told himself.
At least he had a name now.
“Where’s your office?” Ally asked as they walked down the hall again toward the elevator. “I thought you said around the corner.”
“Technically.” The doors opened, and he led her into the elevator. He tapped the lowest button, sending them to the basement. “In a three-dimensional model, I am. Everything depends on how you view it.” He paused before leaping into the fire. “Vincent has a tattoo. Saw it in the picture. That’ll help to look for him.” Trey chose his words carefully. “Has he always had it?”
“Started off as a birthmark, believe it or not.” She showed him her left arm, a tiny red blotch on the pale skin. “Runs in the family. Mine isn’t too bad, nothing to speak of. But his is much larger, diamond-shaped. A few years ago, he got a tattoo. Wanted to look cool. Took the birthmark as a base and worked around it, over it. His parents didn’t even flinch when he got the damned ink. Meanwhile, I mention a nose job, and they lose their minds, prattle on about how pretty I am without it.”
“You don’t need one,” he said, his inner voice busy processing the new facts. “You’re beautiful just the way you are.”
She blushed and looked away.
“When did he get the tattoo?” Trey pushed past the warmth spreading through his body at the way she took the gentle but honest compliment.
She leaned back against the wall, her long, delicate fingers curling around the rail. “Back when we were in Europe on vacation, years ago. That was the first one. He’s added more to his upper arms. Black and red lines, tribal art and all.” Ally shook her head. “He’s an ass. But he’s the face of the company now that his parents have retired. He’s got to be at that presentation.”
“Can’t you do it?” Trey asked. “From what it sounds like, you’re the real brains behind the outfit.”
“I could, but it’d be awkward.” She sighed. “As I said before, they’re expecting Vincent—the strong alpha male of the outfit. Even in the world we live in now, with female empowerment and all, the construction business is still an old boy’s club.”
“They’re all idiots,” he replied.
“Possibly,” she conceded. “But they’re coming to see Vincent, and unless we give them a very good reason why he’s not there, it’ll hamper the project.” She sighed. “And a very good reason doesn’t include him puking up his guts in the toilet.”
The doors slid open, putting the conversation on hold.
“We’ll bring him back in time,” Trey said. “My office is over here.”
He led her past the boardroom, past the training facility. The doors were closed, so she had no idea of the secrets hidden behind them. She wasn’t getting a guided tour.
He tightened his grip a fraction, keeping her curiosity unsatisfied for the time being.
Trey stopped in front of one of the nondescript doors. He opened the door and waved her in, releasing her hand with a tang of regret.
Ally caught her breath as she stepped inside.
“This is…” Her eyes widened. “Impressive.”
“Thanks. It works for me.”
He moved behind the desk, wedging himself in against the wall. The single office chair occupied the only empty space, waiting for her.
Ally automatically sat, twisting around to view the screens.
They were hard to miss.
The room was filled with them, almost from the floor to the ceiling, all surveillance feeds from inside the Devil’s Playground. It was as if they were on the dance floor itself, the crowd swirling around them as the cameras scanned the entrance, the exits, the bar…
“The bathrooms?” She arched one thin, fine eyebrow at him.
“Not the stalls. Entrance area only.” Trey raised a finger. “There are signs letting people know the cameras are there, and that they’re under surveillance. You’re safer in the Devil’s Playground than you are just about anywhere.”
She studied the images. “No sound?”
“No,” he answered. “Music distorts everything, especially a hard bass line. Besides, we have to give our customers some privacy. We watch for trouble and keep them safe.” He brought up the main screen on his laptop, settling into the familiar surroundings. “Please give me a list of his driver’s license and credit card numbers, and I’ll start the spiders crawling.”
“The who? The what?” She wrinkled her nose, and he caught himself smiling at the adorable gesture.
“My search programs. They’ll go prowling around looking for Vincent’s electronic footprint. Nowadays you can’t do much without it being documented somewhere. If he’s paid for anything with a credit card, I’ll find it.”
Ally reached for a nearby pad and pencil. “Here. I’ll give you the numbers.” She shot him a weary smile. “I came prepared.” She paused. “He doesn’t have a driver’s license anymore.”
“His cell phone number, too,” he added. “GPS tracking is a godsend.”
He watched her long, slender fingers dance across the paper. “How did you find Jessie?”
“Hotel security gave me a referral. Said she was one of the best in town, and she had evening hours.”
“Yep. Three days a week she stays open until eleven. You got lucky.” Trey threw the data into the system. “Has Vincent been like this for long?”
It was hard to casually interrogate her, hating himself for not being totally honest. There was no use unleashing his anger until he confirmed he had the right man.
“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.