CHAPTER SIX
Nathan spent the next two weeks attending the same social events as Preston Sloane in an attempt to gradually work his way into the other man’s social circle. Because of how personal this case was to Nathan, he was anxious to put an end to the assignment as quickly as possible and return to his job at The Onyx.
Thanks to Lucas Barnes’s unsurpassed skill in creating forgeries of official documents, Nathan now had a new identity as Alex Keller, along with an ironclad background as a wealthy entrepreneur who had just moved to the Vegas area.
To keep in sync with his new affluent persona, Nathan had also endured an image overhaul. Faded jeans and T-shirts were replaced with slacks and designer-label collared shirts. He was now the proud owner of a high-dollar, tailored suit with a collection of designer shirts and ties. His too-long, shaggy hair had been shorn into a short executive cut, and he’d sat through his first-ever manicure to give his hands a polished, rich man’s look.
The best perk of immersing himself into Sloane’s prominent world was the black Ferrari he now drove—a temporary rental car, but a very cool upgrade nonetheless. As Alex Keller, he’d taken on a short-term lease at Turnberry Towers and was currently living in a fully furnished suite. The luxurious condominium building wasn’t the type of place he’d ever choose to live, but all the trappings were necessary to authenticate his new identity and image.
Networking in the same places Sloane frequented had paid off for Nathan. After discovering that Sloane preferred to meet with a personal trainer at a private athletic club for his morning exercise regimen, Nathan had arranged his own workouts to coincide with the other man’s and afterward, in the sauna, had struck up a few casual conversations with him. During those times Nathan had managed to feed the other man information about his lifestyle, as well as drop subtle comments about his interest in the younger teenage girls who frequented the gym, rather than the mature women.
Nathan had also finagled an invitation to an elite, private casino-night party and had played a few games of high-stakes poker with Sloane sitting at the same table. A few times Nathan had deliberately arrived at the same restaurant where Sloan had reservations for lunch or dinner, and made sure he went up to the other man to say hello. Every move Nathan made in regard to Sloane was a calculated attempt to build their acquaintance into a more personal relationship—one that would eventually gain him access to a party at Sloane’s estate so he could locate Angela Ramsey.
Over the past two weeks, Nathan had gotten plenty of face time with Preston Sloane, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to figure out a course of action to gain the man’s trust in a way that would get Nathan what he ultimately wanted. He hoped tonight’s appearance at an art gallery exhibit that Sloane was also attending would finally present him with the opportunity.
He turned into the parking structure for the Ethan Layne Gallery, located downtown in the Las Vegas Arts District, and brought his Ferrari to a stop at the valet. An attendant hurried over to the driver’s side, the eager gleam in the other man’s eyes telling Nathan he was looking forward to getting behind the wheel of such a rare, turbocharged sports car. Nathan tossed the young guy the keys, retrieved his claim ticket, and headed inside the building, where he took the elevator to the fourth floor. The double doors opened directly to the spacious gallery, where tonight’s reception and exhibit was in full swing.
A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne, and Nathan took one of the crystal flutes to sip on while he mingled with the crowd, pretended interest in the framed, black-and-white photography artwork on the walls, and kept an eye out for Preston Sloane. Husky feminine laughter caught his attention, and he turned his head to see a young woman with long, wavy brunette hair, exotic dark brown eyes, and a willowy body draped in a black silk dress.
He immediately recognized her as Stephanie Diaz, the pretty, up-and-coming nineteen-year-old artist whose photography was on display tonight. After a bit of digging, Nathan had discovered that Stephanie was linked to Preston Sloane, who’d arranged tonight’s exhibit for her with his very good friend Ethan Layne.
Apparently, the girl had been one of Sloane’s “favorites” for the past few years, and tonight’s reception, teeming with the who’s who of Vegas, was his way of giving Stephanie a jump-start on her career now that she was getting too old for him. From what Nathan knew, the girls Sloane preferred ranged in age from fourteen to eighteen; he either discarded anyone older or—if she was deemed special—made sure her future was secured.
Katie, the girl Nathan had sworn to protect during his time as a vice cop with Las Vegas Metro, hadn’t been as fortunate and had met with a tragic ending to her young life. Chances were that Angela Ramsey and the many other girls who passed through Sloane’s estate home in Summerlin wouldn’t be rewarded with the kind of generosity he had bestowed on Stephanie.
Pushing those dark thoughts out of his mind, Nathan shook off the tension gathering across his shoulders and continued perusing the gallery, the guests, and the artwork on the wall. He had to admit that Stephanie had talent. The black-and-white pictures she’d taken encompassed a wide range of subjects, from landscapes, to nature shots, to portraitures, and with Sloane’s help she’d no doubt achieve success.
As he turned a corner that led to another section of the crowded gallery, he finally caught sight of Preston Sloane standing with two other couples, engaged in a conversation that was occasionally dotted with jovial laughter. For a man in his mid-fifties, Sloane had managed to keep the aging process at bay, most likely with the help of expensive cosmetic procedures. His hair was still thick and dark brown, without a hint of gray or signs of balding. The skin on his face and neck was tanned and taut, and his body was lean and toned, giving the appearance of a man in his thirties.
With so many people around, it was difficult to find an opening with Sloane, and Nathan mulled over the various ways he could steer him away from the other guests for a little one-on-one conversation. Reining in his impatience, he took a small drink of his champagne and pretended interest in the photograph of the Nevada desert on the wall in front of him before moving on to the next picture.
That’s when he saw the girl across the room, slightly turned away from him as she took in the artwork on display. In a sea of women decked out in sophisticated, designer outfits, she stood out like a breath of fresh air in her simple white summer dress. The hem, ending modestly just below the knee, was trimmed with floral cutouts, a pale pink ribbon cinched her small waist, and a sparkly pink headband in her blond hair completed the outfit.
He could only see the soft lines of her profile, but he pegged her age at around sixteen. She was the first young girl he’d seen tonight and he wondered who she was with. She moved on to another picture, and Nathan noticed that Sloane’s gaze was now following the girl, watching her with the kind of avid, predatory interest that told Nathan this girl had just become new prey for the older man.
Nathan tensed as old, protective instincts surged to the surface, flooding his veins with a rush of adrenaline. Refusing to let the girl become one of Sloane’s casualties under his watch, Nathan circled closer just as Sloane excused himself from his group of friends and started toward the girl, leaving Nathan a good ten paces behind the man. Sloane reached her before Nathan could and said something to her that made the girl turn her head and smile at him.
Instantly recognizing those soft, velvet blue eyes and that pretty feminine face, Nathan jerked to an abrupt stop about five feet away from the couple.
It was Nicole—though a much younger-looking version of the woman who’d blown his mind with a phenomenal night of uninhibited sex.
Shock and disbelief warred within him. He gave his head a hard shake, but the vision of Nicole remained. Gone was the artfully applied makeup she’d worn when he’d first met her, along with her sexy, tousled hairstyle and head-turning pink dress. In her place was the look of a sweet, fresh-faced, guileless teenager.
No way. No fucking way.
He heard her giggle as Sloane did his best to charm her, much different from the husky, sensual laughter she’d shared with him during their night together. She’d never divulged her age to him, but as an ex-vice cop, he knew she wasn’t as young as she looked today. She’d been too sophisticated and experienced with him, and no one under the age of twenty-one had been allowed to participate in the speed-dating event.
So what the hell was she doing here? And why was she pretending to be so young? He quickly flipped through his memory, recalling what she’d told him about being a journalist conducting research for an article on dating trends.
So, she was a reporter of some sort. Was she there to interview Stephanie Diaz on her debut at the gallery? If that was the case, Nicole’s youthful appearance and the way she was subtly flirting with Sloane didn’t jive with what he’d expect of a journalist.
Suddenly feeling on edge, he set his half-empty glass of champagne on a passing tray. This whole scenario didn’t sit well with Nathan, and he needed a better handle on the situation and Nicole’s reasons for being here before confronting her. And he would confront her, just as soon as he could get her alone.
He casually moved behind the duo so that he wasn’t in their line of vision, but remained close enough to hear their conversation while he stared at another piece of artwork. Sloane was currently complimenting Nicole on how lovely she looked and she ducked her head demurely at his indulgent praise and murmured a bashful “thank you.” Yet another reaction that belied the confident woman he’d met two weeks ago.
“I’m Preston Sloane,” the other man said, introducing himself as he extended his hand for her to shake—undoubtedly a calculated move to touch her.
She slid her smaller palm against his, and Nathan watched as Sloane slowly stroked his thumb along the back of her hand—a very inappropriate caress between a man in his fifties and what appeared to be a teen.
Sloane was attracted to Nicole in her teenage facade, and that knowledge made Nathan’s stomach turn with disgust and solidified the urgency of forging a friendship with Sloane so he could rescue Angela.
“I’m Nikki,” she replied softly, then withdrew her hand with just the right amount of shyness.
Nikki. A girl’s nickname. Oh, yeah, she was definitely up to something, and playing Sloane in the process.
“Are you enjoying yourself this evening, Nikki?” Sloane asked, his voice warm and inviting.
Nicole nodded and met Sloane’s gaze, somehow managing to appear flattered by his attention. “Very much. I love photographic art and can spend hours in an art gallery. After graduating from high school next year, I’m hoping to attend the art institute here in Vegas.”
High school? Nathan would have laughed at the tale she was weaving if the situation weren’t so damn serious.
“That’s an outstanding goal.” Sloane smiled, and this time the slight curve to his lips held a hint of seduction, as if he was testing how she’d respond to the unspoken overture. “You know, I have quite a large collection of rare artwork that I’d love to show you sometime, if you’re interested.”
“Oh, wow, I would love that!” she said, her voice expressing her enthusiasm.
“Excellent.” Sloane looked pleased with her easy acquiescence, obviously believing he’d just cajoled a pretty young thing one step closer to his lair. He retrieved a business card from his wallet and handed it to Nicole. “Here’s my private phone number. Give me a call when you’re free for a few hours, and I’ll send a limo to pick you up and bring you to my estate. I have an entire room devoted to some of the most amazing artwork you’ll ever see.”
Nicole tucked the card into the small purse hanging over her shoulder, while still managing to project a wide-eyed innocence. “Thank you. I really appreciate the offer. I’ll see what I can do about giving you a call this weekend.”
“That would be great.” He winked at Nicole, and she blushed, of all things.
And just like that, Nicole was in.
Nathan’s jaw clenched in irritation. He was more than a little pissed at Nicole’s appearance and whatever game she was playing with Sloane. The last thing he wanted was her obstructing his case, or inadvertently blowing his cover if she saw him. She had the ability to screw up the groundwork he’d already established with Sloane, and he refused to allow that to happen. Which meant he had to find a way to take control of the situation—pronto.
Sloane shifted closer to Nicole and inclined his head, his expression much too intimate considering their age difference. “Are you here by yourself, or are you with someone?”
Knowing this was the only opening he was likely to get, Nathan stepped up to Nicole before she could reply to Sloane’s question. He slid an arm around her waist and felt her stiffen in surprise as he pulled her close to his side.
“Sweetheart! There you are,” he said, his affectionate tone establishing that she was with him. He smiled down at her, noticing the stunned disbelief reflected in her big blue eyes at seeing him again. “I was wondering where you’d disappeared to,” he chastised gently.
To his relief, she didn’t struggle against him and went along with the pretense, confirming his hunch that she was trying to deceive Sloane somehow and didn’t want to expose her own cover. “I, uh … I was just wandering around admiring the artwork.”
“Alex,” Sloane said, his gaze moving from Nicole to Nathan in a pleasant greeting. “You know this lovely girl?”
“I do.” His hold on her tightened, and the possessive move didn’t go unnoticed by Sloane. “She’s here with me tonight.”
Even though Nathan had clearly staked a claim, the awareness in Sloane’s gaze didn’t abate one bit. Instead, the fascination seemed to intensify. “You have excellent taste in women, my friend,” he complimented, his voice deepening with approval.
With those simple words, Nathan sensed a shift in his association with Sloane—from casual acquaintances to the stronger alliance he’d spent the past two weeks trying to forge.
And it was Nikki’s presence that changed everything.
Before the situation escalated in a direction Nathan wasn’t prepared for, he needed answers from Nicole. Hopefully, her explanation would help him figure out what was going on, and what he was going to do about her meddling in his case.
“There’s something I need to discuss with Nikki,” Nathan said to Sloane. “Will you excuse us for a few minutes?”
Sloane nodded, though his gaze hinted at his reluctance to let Nicole out of his sight. “Of course.”
Taking Nicole’s elbow, Nathan led her away, his firm grip not giving her any choice but to follow. Feeling Sloane’s gaze on them, and wanting as much privacy as he could find, he guided her into a secluded area of the gallery that wasn’t a part of tonight’s exhibit. As soon as they were alone, he turned her around to face him and backed her into the nearest wall. Standing in front of her, he flattened one hand by her shoulder so that she couldn’t easily escape. It also gave the impression that they were having an intimate conversation should anyone walk into the room.
Unfortunately, their close position also made him incredibly aware of her as a woman. One who’d spent hours in his bed, naked and willing and sexy as hell as she moved over him, and beneath him, in carnal abandon. He’d written her off as a one-night stand, an erotic memory to fantasize about when relieving his own needs in the dark of the night. Yet here she was, in the flesh, staring up at him with those seductive, velvet blue eyes and smelling like a frosted cupcake he wanted to eat.
Of its own accord, his body responded, wanting her despite the extreme and unexpected situation that had brought them together again. Heated desire surged through his veins and increased the pressure straining against the fly of his slacks. She licked her bottom lip, drawing his gaze to her lush mouth, making him remember how hot and heavenly she tasted. Making him ache with the need to kiss her again.
Stealing himself against her allure, along with his own reaction to her, he bent his head closer and narrowed his gaze in an attempt to intimidate. “What the hell is going on, Nikki?” he bit out.
The corner of her mouth quirked with dry humor. “It’s nice to see you again, Nathan,” she drawled sweetly.
He winced at the use of his real name when Sloane knew him as someone else—and Nathan needed to keep it that way. “Call me Alex and answer my question,” he ordered, the sharp tone to his voice demanding her cooperation.
A smooth, bare shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. “I’m just enjoying the exhibit.”
“Bullshit,” he growled impatiently. “You look totally different. You’ve transformed yourself into a teenage girl and it’s clear you’re leading Sloane on! What kind of game are you playing?”
Nicole arched a brow, subtly taunting him with her lack of fear when it came to his gruff interrogation. “I could ask you the same thing, Alex.” Boldly, she slipped her hand just inside his sport coat, splaying her fingers against the material covering his chest. “You don’t strike me as the artsy type, though I do have to say that you clean up real nice.”
She shouldn’t have touched him. Nicole meant to distract Nathan with her sensual caress, and judging by the lust flaring to life in the depths of his eyes she’d managed the feat. But she hadn’t anticipated her own body’s traitorous reaction to the warmth radiating from his hard, muscular chest. Her nipples hardened and her pulse thrummed in acute awareness. The sizzling chemistry that had burned between them during their one night together hadn’t diminished at all. Instead, the sexual tension swirling around them now seemed hotter. Brighter. More intense.
With his hair cut short and his face freshly shaven, his masculine features appeared sharper, more refined than the flirtatious bad boy he’d been. His dark brown eyes glittered with a combination of reluctant attraction and a brooding edge of anger that was directly solely at her.
If she hadn’t already witnessed the more charming and amicable side to his personality, she might have felt threatened by his menacing temperament. Clearly, he’d been watching her with Sloane, and he wasn’t thrilled to see her again under the current circumstances. Yet despite the information she’d taken from Nathan’s files, there had been nothing to indicate he’d be at tonight’s exhibit, and she honestly thought she’d be able to execute her plan with Sloane without any interference.
And she nearly had.
But even though she’d been caught in the act, so to speak, Nicole wasn’t willing to give up her story, or bend to Nathan’s demands—no matter his intimidation tactics.
A muscle in Nathan’s jaw ticked. “What is your association with Sloane?”
“I just met the guy,” she said, her tone deliberately vague.
Her reply annoyed him even more, and beneath the palm still pressed to his chest, his body tensed. “Yeah, by pretending to be a girl in high school when I know damn well that you’re a grown woman. What’s up with the act?”
Realizing that touching him was too much of a distraction, she dropped her hand back to her side. “It’s none of your business.”
His brown eyes blazed with golden heat, singeing her in more ways than one. “I’m making it my business.”
Feeling provoked, and irritated by the fact that he believed he had any right to her personal business, she straightened her spine and jutted her chin out defiantly. “Look, just because we slept together doesn’t give you permission to interfere in my life or demand any kind of answers from me. I don’t know you well enough.” Besides, she had no idea what Nathan’s affiliation with Sloane was, either.
Needing to put some distance between herself and Nathan, she attempted to step around him, but he was quicker. His free hand clamped onto her hip and pressed her back against the wall—gently, but firmly. He shifted closer, using his hard, muscular thighs to help keep her pinned in place and surrounding her with the heady scent of his woodsy cologne and something far more seductive.
He dipped his head closer, his gaze latching on to hers, direct and arrogantly male. “Whatever you’re doing here with Sloane, you don’t have the first clue what you’re getting into,” he warned in a low voice. “I suggest you turn your ass around and leave before you do something stupid that will get you into a whole lot of trouble.”
She barely resisted the urge to knee him in the groin for inferring she was incompetent. Instead, she gave him a saccharine smile that did nothing to conceal her resentment. “I’ve done my research and I know exactly who and what I’m dealing with. I’m a journalist, remember?”
He arched a skeptical brow. “A journalist who writes fluff pieces on speed dating. Or was that a lie and you were angling for a bigger story?”
She might have omitted certain information about herself the night they’d met, but she hadn’t lied about her assignment. “When I met you, that was the truth.”
Unfortunately, her article had been so successful that Dating in the 21st Century had indeed become a monthly feature for the magazine, with Nicole in charge of researching and writing expositions on various dating trends. Currently, she was working on a piece about online dating, which gave her plenty of free time to pursue other interests. Such as Preston Sloane.
He studied her intently before responding. “Right now, I don’t know what to believe when it comes to you.”
Okay, that stung, and she hated that his opinion of her mattered at all. “Believe what you want, but I’d appreciate it if you’d let me go.” Being this close to him was wreaking havoc with her mind and body.
“Not on your life,” he said with a shake of his head, then cast a quick glance around the gallery to make sure they were still alone before returning his attention to her. “I have no idea what you’re up to, but whatever you’re doing with Sloane, I can guarantee that you’re getting in way over your head.”
“Why are you so concerned about Sloane?” she shot back in a heated whisper. “Are you trying to protect him from something?”
He jerked as if she’d slapped him. “I’m trying to protect you,” he hissed indignantly.
“Thanks, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” she said before turning the tables on him. “You told me that you work at The Onyx in security, so what is your involvement with Sloane?”
Nathan wasn’t about to spill his secrets, either, which put the two of them at a standoff. Frustrated, he swore beneath his breath. The woman was infuriating and stubborn, and he struggled between wanting to throttle her and pressing his body flush to hers and kissing her senseless.
Before he did either and brought unwanted attention to the two of them, he decided it was time to finish their exchange where they couldn’t be overheard. “You and I obviously have a lot to talk about, and this isn’t a conversation we should have in a public place. Did you drive here?”
She shook her head, and the overhead lights glinted off the sparkly pink headband holding her hair away from her face. “No, I took a cab.”
“Perfect.” This way, if anyone watched them leave together, it would be in his vehicle as a couple, instead of separate cars. “Let’s get out of here.”
Grasping her hand tight in his, he led her back through the gallery and toward the elevator. Before they could slip out undetected, Preston Sloane caught up to them.
“Alex,” he called out, loud enough that Nathan couldn’t ignore the other man.
Nathan brought them to a stop, and as he watched Preston head their way, he slipped his arm around Nicole’s waist and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Follow my lead,” he ordered before facing Sloane again, hoping she’d preserve his cover.
“Are the two of you leaving already?” Sloane sounded disappointed.
“Yes.” Nathan grinned at the older man. “Nikki and I have reservations at The Palm for dinner.”
“A very nice way to impress a girl, Keller,” Sloane said in approval, though his gaze lingered on Nicole with unmistakable interest before returning to Nathan. “Look, I’m having a private party at my nightclub, Bliss, this weekend and I’d like the two of you to come, if you don’t already have plans.” He withdrew a small card from the inside of his blazer and extended it toward Nathan. “Here’s a card with the club info, and it doubles as your invitation. You can’t get in without it.”
Nathan accepted the information, but refused to commit to anything since Nicole had just turned his case upside down. “I’ll see what we can do.”
“I’d love to see you two there.” Even as Sloane said the words, his eyes were all over Nicole, a darker desire glimmering in his gaze as he took her hand in his. “Good night, Nikki, and I hope to see you again sometime soon.”
Nicole gently tugged her hand from Sloane’s and averted her gaze, keeping up the pretense of a shy sixteen-year-old girl. “Good night, Mr. Sloane.”
The other man waved his hand in the air between them. “Call me Preston, please. Mr. Sloane sounds much too formal. And don’t forget about my invitation to show you my art collection.”
A small smile curved the corner of Nicole’s mouth. “I promise I won’t.”
Nathan deliberately gave Nicole a possessive squeeze around her waist. “We’ll talk about it, sweetheart.” Nicole didn’t know it yet, but no way was he going to let her spend any time alone with the other man.
Forcing an amicable expression, Nathan shook Sloane’s hand. “I’ll see you around.”
He guided Nicole into the elevator, his mind spinning in a dozen different directions as the doors closed in front of them and the lift descended to the parking garage.
Sloane’s invitation to his private nightclub was the in he’d been waiting weeks for, and Nathan knew the overture came with the expectation of him bringing Nicole. He should have been ecstatic to have finally gained a small measure of Sloane’s trust, but Nicole’s unexpected meddling changed everything. He now had to rethink his strategy.
Still, no matter Nicole’s reasons for tempting the much older man, he was going to make it very clear that she had no business getting involved with someone as dangerous as Preston Sloane.