No less than four times since Vince had escaped the shower, both smelling and looking oh-so-lickable, Charlie had contemplated taking him up on his offer to join him in bed. But she knew her limits. She’d already crossed them with their earlier sex-fest, so far she couldn’t even see the lines anymore.
Let it run its course, he’d said. In theory, it worked. But what happened if it took weeks, or months? The longer it took to fizzle, the greater the chances that she’d have to kiss her dream of becoming an Alpha operative good-bye.
After close to an hour of deciphering hordes of missing-person reports, Charlie’s eyes got heavy. Her computer teetered on her lap, snapping them back open. And then it happened again five minutes later.
Sleep. That’s what she needed. She’d plumped the couch pillow and lifted her legs up when she heard the first thump. Faint and muffled, deep rumbles came from the bedroom. And then another loud noise.
Did she dare?
Her throat was still sore from the first time she’d interrupted one of Vince’s nightmares. But no way in hell could she sit back and let him be tormented by whatever past sought him out. She tiptoed to the slightly ajar door, slipping into the room easily.
Sprawled in the middle of the king-sized bed, Vince tossed restlessly. His head turned back and forth. His lips, softly mumbling something beneath his breath, were pinched tight.
This was not an ice-cream cone and puppy dream.
After last time’s debacle, Charlie had done some research on nightmares and realized her mistake had been in trying to wake him up. True to Vince’s words, she should’ve left him alone.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” Vince mumbled. “I’m sorry. I’m so goddamned sorry. My fault…all my fault.”
Charlie hesitated, ready to let him be, when his next words froze her still.
“It should’ve been me…”
Those words sat on her chest, weighting her feet to the floor. Even though she didn’t know exactly what should’ve happened, she could only imagine—and the pictures weren’t pleasant.
“Screw it.” Going against Vince’s orders and her own better judgment, she walked to the bed and, instead of waking him, gently rested her hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, Navy.” Charlie caressed his face with her knuckles and continued to soothe him. “You’re right where you’re supposed to be.”
“He’s gone,” Vince mumbled. “It should be me. My fault.”
“Nothing’s your fault, Vince.”
“All mine. My fault.”
Careful not to jostle him, Charlie slid on top of the sweat-dampened covers and nestled her head against his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You’re right where you’re supposed to be.”
And she repeated those same two sentences, over and over, eventually noticing he no longer fidgeted or talked in his sleep. His deep, regular breaths lulled her eyes closed, just as one of his arms banded around her waist and pulled her even closer.
* * *
Sweltering Miami heat, a warm ocean breeze, and the muffled crunch of firm sand beneath the soles of his sneakers…Vince hadn’t felt this refreshed in God only knew how long. But it didn’t have a damn thing to do with his run, or even waking up on the right side of the bed.
He’d slept through the night—no nightmares. No images from the fucking desert. No best friend lying dead in his arms. No waking up in a cold sweat. There’d only been him and the warm, pliant woman plastered to his side.
First night with Charlie wrapped in his arms and his first restful night’s sleep in years. Coincidence? Vince didn’t know. What he did know without a doubt was that someone had started watching him ten minutes ago.
His gut never lied.
With the sun barely peaking over the ocean and no visitors clogging his line of vision, the black town car parked in the lot above the boardwalk was easy to spot. He slowed his pace to a trot and watched as Anthony stepped out of the car and beckoned.
“Guess they aren’t even hiding it,” Vince mumbled, taking his time hiking up to the dune.
By the time he got there, Arturo had climbed his way from the back seat, looking weaker than he had two days ago.
“Come. Sit.” Arturo motioned to the park bench and waited expectantly for him to obey.
“Here for a run on the beach?” Vince joked dryly.
Arturo chuckled. “I didn’t run when I was a fit and healthy young man, much less now. Maybe if I would have, I wouldn’t be sitting here with one foot in the grave. How’s my niece this morning?”
Vince didn’t bother giving an answer, and the look on Arturo’s face said he didn’t expect one.
“I know the girls are having a day at the spa today,” Arturo continued, “and I wanted the chance to talk to you—man-to-man.”
“Is this where you threaten what you’re going to do to me if I don’t take care of Charlie?”
“I don’t threaten, son.” Arturo’s crooked smirk held a whole lot of lethal promise. “If I feel the need to threaten someone, then the deed’s already been carried out.”
“Comforting.”
Arturo shifted backward in his seat. “I like you, Vincent. You’re the exact type of man I wanted for Charlotte. She’s never liked doing anything the easy way, and normal social standards never really applied. She needs someone who challenges her and who isn’t afraid to tell her when she’s a step from going too far. I’m not so far gone I believe she’s come home to make amends…or for a vacation. I know what she thought of me when she left.”
“What are you getting at here, Arturo?” Vince propped his elbows on his knees and locked gazes with the older man. Eight feet away, Anthony stood by the car, staring down the beach.
“You need to convince Charlotte to leave Miami,” Arturo clarified.
Vince lifted a brow. That wasn’t what he’d expected him to say. “And why would I do that?”
“Because contrary to what my niece may believe, I am attempting to shut down my businesses—all of them. For the most part, I haven’t received much resistance. But there are some colleagues out there who aren’t very thrilled about the sudden loss of income flowing into their bank accounts.”
“And what does that have to do with Charlie?”
“She may not want to acknowledge it, but her aunt was the love of my life, my reason for living. My daughter and Charlotte are the only two pieces I have left of my dear Leslie, and it wouldn’t take much digging for my enemies to use that against me.”
Arturo stood, his gait slightly unsteady. “If you care about my niece at all, you’ll convince her to head back to your quaint little bar in Pennsylvania.”
“And if she won’t go?” Because no way in hell was he going to be able to convince her to give up on those missing girls.
Arturo looked almost resigned. “I sure as hell hope I’m right about your character, Vincent Franklin.”
“What kind of character is that?” Vince couldn’t help but ask.
“The kind that would lay his life down for the woman he loves.”
Vince watched as Anthony assisted Arturo back into the car, the older man’s words rattling in his head.
The woman he loved?
Vince would put his life on the line for any innocent, and that included Charlie. But love? One night of nightmare-free sleep and great sex didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t built for lasting relationships. He’d take what they’d agreed upon and enjoy it while it lasted, because it would end. There was no other choice. He had to live with the nightmare that he’d caused eight years ago.
Charlie didn’t.
Convince her to leave? That wasn’t happening. Protect her with everything in his arsenal? That he could handle.
* * *
Charlie didn’t know which was worse, waking up alone or waking up realizing Vince had not only tucked the blanket around her, but left a note telling her he’d gone for a run.
She hadn’t meant to fall asleep next to him, but she’d been exhausted and, despite being hard as granite, his chest was really bloody comfortable. Add in the steady thump of his heart and his comforting, musky man smell, and she’d never stood a chance of staying awake.
At least with him gone, she could do what she’d tried doing last night.
Charlie booted up the computer and went right to the finances of all the last three abductees. The latest, Tiffany Jansen, as they already knew, had put a charge on her credit card for ten grand. The two friends, Ann and Genie, had also shelled out approximately ten grand each, although in varying fashions.
Coincidental? Maybe. But she wasn’t putting down a check mark until she knew for certain.
First stop, Ann’s banking activity—which required hacking into the bank’s system. “What Stone doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Charlie reasoned with herself, “or make him scream at me.”
She cracked her fingers and got to work chipping at the bank’s firewall. The ease with which she located the original scanned check was enough to make a girl want to stuff her money under the mattress.
Sin Enterprises.
Printed in Ann’s handwriting, it was the link they needed to tie Tiffany’s abduction to the JAG lawyer’s daughter. Next up, Gina Estevez. Since she’d already linked the young coed’s credit card to the same shell company, it was time to hack another bank firewall.
And there it is again.
With a budding headache brewing behind her eyes, Charlie kept digging. Sin Enterprises eventually linked up with another shell company. More digging and more muscle tension, and she found a third.
Charlie’s headache had drifted into DEFCON-1 territory by the time Vince returned from his run. Workout shorts hanging low on his hips, he crossed the room and stopped a good three feet away. But she couldn’t even enjoy the sweaty wonderland of his hard body.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, forgoing any pleasantries.
“Good news is we can now confirm the three latest girls, the ones with military connections, are all involved with the same shell company, Sin Enterprises. I think we found our smoking gun.”
Vince grabbed a towel from the bathroom, momentarily distracting her as he started mopping up his sweaty chest. “Why don’t you look happy about it?”
His question snapped her away from her abs adoration. “Because beneath Sin Enterprises is another shell company, and another.”
“Explain it to me again?”
“Think of it like those wooden nesting dolls—one shadow company is cocooned by another. And then that one is cocooned by yet another. The more times it’s cocooned, the harder it is to find the true owner behind the money associated with it. I could, quite possibly, spend years searching and keep getting nowhere. These girls don’t have years, Navy. They don’t have months, or weeks. Days. Every bloody hour counts.”
“Take a deep breath.” Vince stepped up behind the couch and dropped his hands to her shoulders.
All her tension melted away at the first squeeze of his fingers. Her chin dropped to her chest, and a little moan escaped her throat. “Those are some really amazing hands.”
“I know.” He kept massaging. “Stop being so hard on yourself. You’re doing the best you can. The fact that you found out there’s something happening here is more than DHS had. All they had were suspicions.”
“Yeah, but knowing that something’s happening isn’t enough. We need to stop it.”
On cue, Charlie’s computer beeped.
“Got something?” Vince asked, peering over her shoulder.
“My search got a hit.” She pulled up the cross-reference she’d started when she’d woken up, and swore. “Bloody freaking hell in a goddamned hornet’s nest! Tropical Heat Foundation.”
Vince sat next to her on the couch, dropped his arm behind her, and huddled close so he could see the screen. “What’s Tropical Heat?”
“Another shell company, but this one got a hit with something I already have on my computer—from Arturo’s hard drive. Tropical Heat Foundation is owned by him.”
Vince’s brows rose. “Meaning he owns Sinful Delights?”
“Or is the purse behind it, at the very least. It’s making me wonder if Tina was there last night as a participant or—”
“A manager?” Vince guessed.
Charlie swiveled her gaze to Vince. “But why would Arturo do something that would purposefully turn law enforcement his way? For his entire life, the man’s been one step ahead of authorities. I just don’t see him using his own stomping grounds as a stage for kidnapping. It would put him on their radar.”
“But you said yourself, the trace goes back to one hell of a line of shell companies. Maybe he didn’t expect anyone to find the connection.”
Charlie shook her head. It didn’t make sense. “DHS didn’t know about the sex club, right? As far as they’re concerned, those girls disappeared in Arturo’s mainstream clubs. Either way, it paints him in a bad light.”
“Maybe it’s not Arturo. Maybe someone’s using his stomping grounds to bring trouble to his doorstep. I can’t imagine he’s made a lot of friends in his line of business.” Vince seemed to ponder something. “As a matter of fact, he told me as much about an hour ago.”
Charlie took a deep breath and tried talking her head out of bursting on the spot. “And when were you going to tell me this?”
“I’m telling you now,” Vince stated matter-of-factly. “He was playing the part of the concerned uncle, worrying about his enemies getting to you—either that, or he’s putting doubt in place in case you happen to stumble onto his new little business venture.”
A video chat request chirped to life on the laptop. Vince removed his hands and played the part of good partner as Logan’s face came onto the computer screen. The Texan’s gaze eased from Vince to Charlie and back. Charlie summoned an innocent expression, but Logan’s smirk said it all.
He didn’t believe it.
“Good morning, kids.” Logan’s eyes practically twinkled. As a former Marine sniper, he was trained to notice things others didn’t. “How’s married life treating you?”
“Engaged,” Charlie corrected. “There were no crazy women fighting over a tossed bunch of wilting flowers.”
“Are you sure, darlin’? Because something radiant’s happening beneath that beautiful tan skin of yours.”
“Bruising is going to start happening under your beautiful porcelain skin if you don’t knock it the hell off, Callahan,” Vince warned.
“Threatening me for complimenting your intended, Franklin?”
Vince shook his head. “Nope. Just stating the fact that the longer you speak, the more likely my fiancée’s going to kick your ass. What’s up? Do you have any updates?”
There was a brief, shared look. Charlie saw it, and after nearly thirty seconds of silence, realized they weren’t going to disclose its meaning to her.
Logan spoke first. “Actually, I do. I’ve been combing over the first nine reported abductions and I emailed you a few you should take a look at. Something about them didn’t seem like the others. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to dig a little deeper.”
“Did any of the not-quite-right feelings involve either the charging or the withdrawal of large sums of money…say, ten grand?”
Logan’s brow lifted. “Uh, yeah. Fuck, how’d you know that?”
“Because Charlie found the same link between the last three girls. And she traced them to a shell company called Sin Enterprises.”
Logan glanced down to a notepad in front of him and scribbled down the name. “Let me guess, it’s linked to another?”
“About ten times over, but the one I got a hit on a minute ago is owned by Arturo,” Charlie explained.
Stone appeared over Logan’s shoulder. “What steered you in this direction?”
“Talking to the last abductee’s friend. She admitted that even though they’d been to the Ocean Drive clubs, it wasn’t where they were when Tif Jansen was taken. They’d been to a club called Sinful Delights—which happens to have a ten-grand monthly membership fee.”
Logan whistled. “Day-um. That must be one hell of a delight. What the hell kind of club is this? A freakin’ sex club or something?”
“Actually…yeah.”
A slow grin broke over Logan’s face. He leaned closer to the screen, dropping his whiskered chin in the palm of his hand. “Go on. You have my undivided attention.”
“Take a cold shower, Callahan,” Vince quipped.
Stone, stern-faced and contemplative, added, “So nothing’s changed. Whether the abductions are happening at the mainstream clubs or Sinful Delights, they’re owned by him.”
“That’s how it looks from the outside”—Vince’s gestured toward Charlie—“but we’re not entirely convinced he’s the smoking gun here. English made a good point a minute ago.”
Charlie tried to appear unaffected at Vince’s support, but stared at him a beat too long, noticing Logan’s smug smirk. Clearing her throat, she explained. “Arturo has stayed out of the authority’s crosshairs for years. Running a human-trafficking business out of one of his clubs isn’t exactly going to keep him under the radar. He’s a criminal, but he’s not stupid.”
Stone nodded, revealing nothing in the way of his thoughts. “You’re right. DHS said he’s sick. Someone could be using his illness as a way to start up their own organization. Or hell, it could be revenge-motivated.”
Vince returned his arm to the back of the couch, just behind Charlie’s shoulders. “My gut tells me we haven’t even touched the surface of the shit-storm brewing down here.”
“I’ll try to fend off DHS, get you more time to do your thing. But if this turns into too much of a shit-storm, you bunker the hell down and call for reinforcements. Got it?”
“We got it,” Charlie agreed.
“So”—Logan’s widened grin hinted toward a coming smart-ass comment—“the charge I saw on the business card at someplace called Lace and Leather? Was this sex club the reason for the shopping spree? And can you model the outfit for me, darlin’?”
Vince nearly growled. “No, she can-fucking-not, Callahan, and if you don’t stop picturing it in your head, I’m going to fucking neuter you.”
Charlie sent Stone a look of apology. “And speaking of Lace and Leather, we’re going to have to make a return trip both to the store and to the club—and the club requires a membership.”
“Is this your way of preparing me for some astronomical fee?” Stone asked.
“The ten grand.” Charlie grimaced. “Not sure if it’s per person or couple.”
Stone swallowed a curse. “Good thing we’re doing this on DHS’s dime, but it’s worth it if you find out who’s responsible and we get those girls back. Watch each other’s sixes and tread lightly.”
“You can call Navy Twinkle Toes, he stalks around so quietly.” Charlie reached sideways, ignoring Vince’s glare, and patted his cheek with a little extra oomph.
Logan burst out laughing. “Goddamn, I wish I was there. It’s got to be more entertaining than dealing with wedding bells and baby talk. Don’t get me wrong, I love Penny and Elle, but with almost everyone else out on assignments, I feel like I’m starting to grow a uterus.”
Vince snorted. “You do, and I’ll sell you to science. Maybe we’ll all manage to get some peace and quiet around the compound for once.”
“Do me a favor, though? Next time the two of you go all leather-clad and shit, take pictures.”
Vince flipped Logan off and leaned forward, ending the vid-chat.
“You could’ve at least let me say good-bye,” Charlie teased.
“Over here.” Moving fast, Vince hauled her into his lap.
“What are you—”
His mouth cut off her comment and when his tongue brushed against hers, he pulled back just enough to elicit a frustrated Charlie-groan. She clutched the front of his shirt. “What was that for?”
“Five hours and forty minutes.”
“What the bloody hell are you talking about?”
“That’s how long it’s been since I’ve had my mouth on you, and to be this close to you and not touch? I wasn’t lasting another damn second.”
Charlie knew exactly what he meant. Antsy. Tense. Out of sorts. She’d felt all those things and more in the time they’d been apart. Slipping her palms over his broad shoulders, she let out a resounding sigh.
“We’re going to let this ride itself out, huh?” she asked, using his earlier words.
“Damn straight. And you better prepare yourself for the possibility of it taking longer than we’re going to be down here.”
That was exactly what she was afraid would happen.