Fever

“Son of a bitch,” Jace muttered.



He turned away from Ash and then savagely threw the note across the room. It hit the wall and fluttered downward. She’d left! Without saying a word. Without waking him up. She’d slipped from his bed and walked away. He didn’t even know her fucking last name. Or where she lived. Or how to find her.



He’d thought he had time to find out all of those things. He’d planned to learn as much as possible about her over breakfast. He’d had it all worked out. Breakfast in bed. Spoil her ridiculously. Make love again, preferably after Ash left. And then let her know in no uncertain terms that they would be seeing each other again.



“What’s the problem, man?” Ash asked quietly.



Jace spun back around. “She’s gone. That’s the problem.”



Ash’s lips tightened and he sent an inquisitive look in Jace’s direction. “What, exactly, were you wanting from this? Another night? Two? Then what? It’s not like we ever do long-term. I realize this may not have gone the way you wanted, but you have to appreciate the irony of her being the one to walk away. That’s usually what we do. She made it a hell of a lot easier on us.”



Jace’s teeth ground together, his nostrils flaring as red-hot anger whipped up his spine. It took every ounce of control not to lash out at his best friend. He exhaled forcefully and then lifted his gaze to meet Ash’s.



“Yeah. Easier.”



He couldn’t keep the disgust from his tone. Didn’t even care. He turned and stalked back into the bedroom to get dressed. He yanked on his pants and shirt, not bothering to shower or shave. He had no idea how long ago Bethany had left and he wanted to make sure he questioned the staff in the lobby and the doorman.



His mind was already working through his options when he walked back through on his way to the door.



“Jace?” Ash called.



Jace paused and turned to see Ash still standing in the living room, a troubled expression on his face.



“What’s going on, man? You’ve acted differently with her from the moment you saw her at the party. We’ve fucked a lot of women together but last night you didn’t act like you were down with what we were doing at all.”



“I wasn’t,” Jace said quietly.



“Then why did you do it?”



Jace stared at him a long moment. “Because it’s what I had to do to have her.”



Without waiting for a response, Jace turned and left the room. He got on the elevator and stabbed the button for the lobby and simmered with impatience as he waited for the doors to close.



Yeah, Ash was going to think he’d lost his fucking mind. Maybe he had. He certainly couldn’t explain this . . . He didn’t even know what to call it. Obsession?



He knew it wasn’t simple lust. He’d experienced that plenty of times. Lust was uninvolved. Lust was about sex and sating a need. Physical release with no emotional involvement.



And yet how could he possibly think he had an emotional connection to Bethany when he knew nothing about her?



He stepped off the elevator with purpose. She may have run, but he was damn well going to haul her back.



Half an hour later, he was ready to put his fist through a wall. After questioning every single employee who may have seen her, he’d gotten exactly nowhere. The doorman reported seeing her walk out of the hotel just after dawn. She hadn’t asked for a cab, hadn’t hailed one herself. She’d simply walked away.



Without a fucking coat.



It was half raining, half snowing and it was goddamn cold. And she’d walked out without a coat.



What frustrated him even more was that he wanted to track down the catering service and demand information on Bethany, but it was Sunday, which meant that until Monday, he was screwed.



Chapter seven



Jace got out of his car after telling his driver to circle and wait and then pulled up the collar of his coat to prevent the drizzle from sliding down his neck. He hurried toward the women’s shelter that was sandwiched between an older Catholic church and a soup kitchen on the fringes of the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood.



It would be getting dark soon, a fact that aggravated him, not because of the approaching evening, but because it had taken him all day to gather the information he wanted. And it had taken until now to track her down.



The only information the catering service had on file was her full name and this address. Had Bethany listed another employer as her contact information? He could have called the shelter to get information, but the moment he’d gotten the barest hint of where she might be, he’d left his office and had come straight here.



He ducked inside the door and shook off the rain. An older woman looked up from where she sat at a desk a short distance from the door, alarm in her eyes. He supposed it wasn’t an ordinary occurrence for a man to burst into a women’s shelter, and if his employees were anything to go by, he’d been brooding and moody the entire day so he was sure he didn’t look very friendly.



“Can I help you?” she asked as she hurried forward.



His gaze swept the interior, taking in the smallness, the sparseness of the room—and it was merely a room. Cots filled most of the space. There was a sitting area toward the back, with a dilapidated couch and a few odd chairs situated around a television.



There were maybe ten women in view and he was struck by how subdued they were. They ranged in age from very young to quite old and they all had a tired, hopeless look to their eyes that made his gut seize.



Was this what his Bethany did? Did she volunteer her time here and then work odd jobs when she could for extra money? He felt a surge of pride. He remembered her reaction to the notion that they were somehow paying her for sex. And she hadn’t stuck around when it had to be obvious to her that he and Ash had money. Ash had been right about one thing. It was usually them ending things with women. Never once had they had a woman walk away from them with no expectation for what she could gain monetarily.



Even with his coat on, the inside of the shelter felt chilly to him. His gaze narrowed when he saw that most of the occupants wore more than one layer of clothing. Even the older woman standing in front of him had a jacket and gloves on.



“Why the hell don’t you have the heat on?” he demanded.



The woman looked startled. And then she laughed. He blinked, not expecting that kind of response.



“You’ll have to take that up with the city,” she said, anger vibrating in her voice. “They’ve cut so much funding that we can’t afford to fix the heat. It went out last week. All we have are a few portable heating units, and we use those at night so the women can at least sleep warm.”



Jace cursed under his breath.



“Was there something I can help you with, Mr. . . . ?”



He extended his hand. “Crestwell. My name is Jace Crestwell, and yes, there is something you can help me with. I’m looking for someone who works here. Her name is Bethany Willis.”



The woman took his hand but frowned. “I’m Kate Stover. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Crestwell. But we don’t have anyone named Bethany who works here.”



His brows drew together. “She put this as her contact address on an employment document.”



Ms. Stover pursed her lips a moment and then she sighed. “Many of the women use this address,” she said quietly. “It helps when trying to obtain employment. Some businesses aren’t too keen on hiring a homeless woman.”



Jace stared at her, not fully comprehending what it was she was suggesting. No. It couldn’t be. But if it was . . . Ms. Stover was eyeing him with suspicion, and her lips had gone tight, as if she already regretted what little information she’d given.



He cleared his throat and made his best effort to appear nonthreatening and as if he hadn’t just been blown away by the possibility forming in his mind.



“Ms. Stover, I’m very interested in hiring Bethany. It’s a very well-paying job and it would certainly improve her circumstances. If you’re concerned that I’m a jealous lover, crazy ex or current husband, I can assure you I am none of those. I can provide my business name and a number of references and you may call my partners in business as well as my receptionist to verify my identity and my intentions.”



As he spoke, he shoved his business card at her and watched her eyes widen in surprise. She stared up at him, studying him a long moment. Uncertainty was evident as she grappled with whether to trust him. He held his breath, waiting. Until finally she appeared to relax and her gaze softened as she returned his card.



“You said her name is Bethany. Can you describe her to me?”



Jace cleared his throat, barely able to speak past the knot growing there. “Petite. Very thin. Young. Maybe mid-twenties? Black hair. Hangs past her shoulders. She was wearing it up in a clip. And she has very vivid blue eyes. Unforgettable.”



At that, the woman’s eyes brightened with recognition and then her face softened. “Yes, I know Bethany. She was here Saturday morning to see if we had a bed for the night. It was regrettable, but I had to turn her away.” Sorrow was heavy in the older woman’s face. She lifted her hand to smooth the silver strands of her hair away from her face. “It’s the thing I hate most about volunteering here, when I have to turn women away because we have no room for them. A job would most certainly be welcome in her circumstances, I’m sure. She spoke about using this address to give prospective employers, but they were odd jobs. A permanent job would be wonderful.”



Jace’s mouth dropped open in shock. This wasn’t what he’d expected at all. He wanted to refute that Bethany was homeless, even as his nagging suspicion had swelled the moment he’d begun speaking to Ms. Stover, but then he thought back to Saturday night. The shabbiness of her clothing. The tired look in her eyes. The way she’d asked if dinner was part of the proposition. Sweet mother of God. He felt sick to his bones. Had she accepted Ash’s offer because it was the only way she had a place to sleep that night? Had she felt she had no other choice?



“Have you seen her since then?” Jace asked tightly.



Ms. Stover shook her head regretfully. “No. But she comes through every so often. She’s stayed here before.”



“Do you know anything about her? Anything at all that would help me find her?” Jace said urgently. Then he tempered his eagerness and adopted a calmer tone. “I’d prefer to hire her but I can’t keep the job open forever. It’s imperative I locate her at once.”



He was going to hell for lying to an elderly woman, especially one who ran a shelter for women who were no doubt abused by bastards who’d lie just as he was lying. But no way was he ever going to hurt Bethany. If he could find her, he’d make damn certain she didn’t spend another night on the streets. The idea of her being there now made him want to put his fist through the wall, and that definitely wouldn’t go over well in a women’s shelter.



“I’m sorry, but no. She’s very quiet when she’s here. Keeps to herself. I did give her the name of a few other shelters but I’m sure she’s familiar with them all.”



“I want those names,” Jace said flatly. “How long?”



Her eyebrows went up in question.



“How long has she been coming here?”



“I’ve only been working here a year, but in that time she’s come in maybe a half dozen times.”



Jace’s chest tightened until it was difficult for him to breathe. Bethany—his Bethany—was homeless. She’d been in his arms, safe, for one night, and with all his wealth, the ability to provide the very thing she needed the most, he had let her slip away. Back into the cold and uncertainty.



God, even now, she was somewhere on the streets. Without a coat. Cold. Hungry. No protection.



“Do me a favor please, Ms. Stover.”



He shoved his card back into her hand, closing her fingers around it.



“If you see her again, you call me immediately. Day or night. My cell number is on here. Call me the minute you see her and don’t let her out of your sight until I get here. Can you do that for me?”



Ms. Stover frowned, and she looked at him oddly. He was quick to excuse his urgency before she became suspicious again and blew his story all to hell.



The hell of it was, he absolutely did sound like some deranged, obsessed, abusive boyfriend bent on hunting down his runaway lover. Jesus. If Ash could see and hear him, he’d have Gabe down here and they’d both physically subdue and haul his ass out of here. Then they’d likely hire him a fucking shrink.



“I’m sympathetic to her plight, Ms. Stover. She’s a qualified candidate, and now that I know her circumstances are what they are, it’s even more important that she be the one to receive my offer. I could hire someone else, but she needs the job. Can you contact me please?”



He was proud of his even tone. He’d even managed to convince himself he hadn’t lost his fucking mind.



Ms. Stover relaxed and then smiled, tucking the card into her pocket. “I’ll call you if I see her.”