CHAPTER SEVEN
Nicole found herself tucked into the supple, tan leather passenger seat of a gorgeous black Ferrari that Nathan, aka Alex Keller, was currently navigating down the Las Vegas Strip with the expertise of a seasoned race car driver. Other than a terse “get in the car” when the parking attendant had delivered the vehicle, Nathan had been giving her the silent treatment ever since.
More amused than irritated, she cast a sidelong glance at her driver as he shifted gears to pass a car going much too slow for his liking. The Ferrari swerved around the Honda Accord with smooth precision, and outside the tinted windows the colorful lights along Las Vegas Boulevard blurred by as the sports car picked up speed.
The tension inside the Ferrari and between the two of them was palpable. Nathan was pissed, and there was no doubt in Nicole’s mind that she was the cause. Yet despite the negative energy radiating from his side of the vehicle, she wasn’t scared to be alone with him. This dark mood of his was definitely a different side to the man she’d slept with, but his actions thus far had came off as more protective than threatening, which she found very intriguing.
Honestly, everything about Nathan captivated her. From his warm brown eyes and the chiseled line of his jaw, to the large, strong hands gripping the steering wheel. Even the reasons behind his own involvement with Sloane piqued her curiosity.
They came to a stop at a red light, and Nathan glanced at her for a brief moment. The heat of anger had faded from his expression, but there was still a hint of uncompromising determination as he gave her a slow, appraising look that felt like a seductive caress over her bare skin. She shivered in response, as if he’d physically touched her.
He returned his attention to the road, and as soon as the light turned green the Ferrari roared to life again. No matter how annoyed he was with her at the moment, there was no denying that he was still attracted to her. And vice versa. Since their one night together she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head. Not just the fantastic sex and multiple orgasms he’d given her so generously, but also how much she’d enjoyed their conversations before things had escalated to a night of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
Tired of being ignored, she decided to try to lighten the atmosphere. “Nice car,” she said, more than a little impressed with his extravagant transportation tonight. “I had no idea security paid so well.” Her voice held a teasing note.
“It’s temporary,” he said, keeping his reply short and succinct.
She rolled her eyes, even though the gesture was lost on him. So much for a lively conversation starter. She glanced out her window, watching as they drove past casinos and hotels, and realized she had no idea where he intended to take her.
“Where are we going?” She was more curious than worried.
“Back to my place.”
She’d been to his house, which was in the opposite direction. “Umm, aren’t you going the wrong way?”
“I’m living at Turnberry Towers.”
Her jaw fell open as she stared at his profile, waiting for him to crack a smile or tell her that he was just joking. He looked completely serious. Between the Ferrari and now his claim of living in one of Las Vegas’s most luxurious condominium buildings, she didn’t know what to think.
“Wow,” she said, the one word expressing her surprise. “Did you win the Mega Millions recently?” It was the only explanation that made sense.
He downshifted and made a left-hand turn onto Paradise Road, the street that led to the ritzy high-rise he now called home. “I don’t play the slots. Like I said, it’s temporary.”
And that was that. Trying to extract information from this man was like budging an elephant. Impossible. And frustrating as hell.
“So, what’s your real name?” she asked, figuring it was an easy enough question for him to answer truthfully. “Nathan or Alex?”
“It’s Nathan Fox.” He met her gaze for a moment, his mysterious eyes unreadable in the shadowed interior of the car. “But Preston Sloane knows me as Alex Keller.”
Interesting. “Why the alias?”
He gave his head a quick shake. “You don’t need to know specifics.”
She swallowed an exasperated groan. “It would help to know a few details.”
“Yes, it would.” He pinned her with a silent look that told her he expected those details to come from her. “We’ll have this discussion when we get to my place.”
She didn’t pressure him for more answers, but rather kept quiet as he let the valet at Turnberry Towers park his car, then ushered her into the elevator and up to the twenty-sixth floor of the high-rise. As soon as she stepped into the fully furnished suite, she gasped, awed by the luxurious contemporary decor and the magnificent view of the Las Vegas Strip right outside the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the impressive living room.
Nicole turned back around to face Nathan as he stripped off his jacket and loosened his tie. “Holy moly,” she breathed, the two words summing up just how blown away she was by his new digs. “Temporary or not, this place is absolutely amazing.”
The corner of his mouth quirked with the barest hint of a smile, giving her a brief glimpse of the fun, charming guy she’d spend the night with a few weeks ago. “I have to agree. The view of the Strip, especially at night, never gets old.” He headed into the gourmet kitchen, separated by a granite-topped breakfast bar and cherrywood stools. “Would you like something to drink?”
She shook her head. “I’m good for now, thanks.” She was far more interested in getting back to their earlier discussion, and didn’t hesitate to do so now. “I thought you worked security at The Onyx. Was that a lie, or are you also working privately for Sloane, or someone else?”
He strolled back into the living room to where she was standing, his fingers wrapped around the neck of what looked like a bottle of root beer. “Nosy little thing, aren’t you?”
“Persistent, too,” she added with a sassy grin, making sure he knew she could be just as determined as him when it came to extracting information. As a reporter, it was an ingrained skill. “I’m just trying to figure out your connection to Preston Sloane.”
“I’d rather we talk about your involvement with Sloane,” he countered easily, then took a long drink of his soda before continuing. “Are you trying to write some kind of exposé on him?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to respond to his question. Not unless she got her own answers in return. “Ever heard of the term quid pro quo?”
His dark brows lifted incredulously. “Are you suggesting we strike a deal that you’ll answer my questions if I agree to answer yours?”
“Maybe I am,” she said with a shrug. “We’re obviously at a stalemate, so it seems like the best option. We’re each involved with Sloane for our own personal reasons, so I’ll share if you do.”
Nathan’s first instinct was to flat-out refuse. He didn’t bend to anyone’s demands, especially not a woman’s. But it was quickly becoming apparent to him that he wasn’t dealing with an ordinary female here. Nicole was obstinate, independent, and smart enough to keep him guessing—and he couldn’t deny that those strong personality traits, and the woman herself, stimulated him mentally and presented a challenge he was more than willing to accept.
Considering they’d come to a standoff and he needed her cooperation, he relented. “Quid pro quo,” he agreed, and saluted her with his bottle of root beer in a promise to keep his end of the bargain. “I’m working undercover.”
“So am I,” she said, giving him nothing more than he’d given her.
The laughter glimmering in her eyes told him she was good at playing his kind of game, enjoyed it, even. He decided to change tactics and ask questions that required a more informative answer. “You’re a journalist. Are you looking for a story?”
She hesitated a moment, as if contemplating how much to reveal. “I know there’s one to be found with Sloane.”
He tipped his head curiously. “And you know this how?”
“The man’s a pedophile. He just hasn’t gotten caught yet,” she said, her tone laced with unmistakable disdain. “He’s obviously really good at covering his ass, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that a man like him has important people tucked deeply into his pocket to squash speculations before they turn incriminating.”
She’d done her homework on Sloane and had pegged his MO incredibly well. Gathering any solid evidence to nail the man had proved impossible while Nathan had worked for Metro. Word on the street indicated that he had friends in very high places—from the upper echelon of law enforcement, to powerful political figures, to a well-paid stable of lawyers who did a damn good job of protecting their client from prosecution. Sloane used his wealth to pay off, bribe, and intimidate witnesses and victims, and no one would testify against him.
Money, it seemed, could acquit the guiltiest of men, protected their lewd secrets, and shielded their depraved desires for young, innocent girls.
Nathan washed down the bitterness burning the back of his throat with a drink of his root beer before addressing Nicole again. “And you think you can nail Sloane where others have failed?” he drawled, a hint of sarcasm threading his tone.
Her chin lifted defiantly. “I’d like to try.”
Aggravated by her response and the uncompromising set to her shoulders, he set his empty bottle of root beer on the coffee table and started toward Nicole. She really had no idea what she was up against, and he planned to enlighten her.
He stopped a foot away and stared down at her, still shocked at just how young she looked with her hair pulled back, her fresh-faced complexion and youthful features belying her true age. He wanted to scare her, make her run far and fast from a situation that could get her killed—and heap more unwanted guilt on his conscience.
“You’re stepping into very dangerous territory,” he said in a low, harsh tone. “Sloane eats little girls like you for breakfast. He’s a ruthless man, and if he so much as suspects you’re playing him, you’re good as dead. And that’s not going to boost your career, now, is it?”
She tossed her head back, fearless purpose firing in her gaze. “What makes you think I’ll get caught?”
Jaw clenched, he leaned closer, intimidating her with his height and the anger now etching his features. “What makes you think you have the experience to deal with someone of Sloane’s caliber?”
She didn’t so much as flinch or back down from his direct, in-her-face tirade. “I’m very familiar with Sloane’s type,” she said, just as fiercely.
He jerked back, startled by her unexpected response and everything it implied. “Is this thing with Sloane personal or professional for you?”
“Maybe a bit of both.” As if realizing she’d revealed more than she’d intended, she sighed and turned away, putting distance between them. When she faced him a few moments later, she was composed once again, her expression all business. “What’s the story with you? I thought you worked for The Onyx, but you just said you were working undercover. Are you a cop?”
“Ex-vice cop,” he told her, and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. “I do work at The Onyx, but I’m currently undercover on a private case that’s linked to Sloane.” He didn’t miss the questions in her eyes, but declined to explain anything about his involvement with The Reliance Group, because it was something she just didn’t need to know. “It’s … complicated.”
Standing by the windows overlooking the bright lights of the Vegas Strip, she studied him for a long, silent moment, in a way that suddenly made him feel uneasy.
Finally, she asked, “Is this case about Angela Ramsey?”
Shock rippled through him like a live electrical jolt. How in the hell was she privy to something so confidential that only a few people knew about it? “Who told you about Angela?” His voice was as sharp as steel.
Immediately her gaze filled with uncertainty, and she pressed her fingers to her lips, as if regretting the words she’d spoken now that she’d witnessed his volatile reaction.
“Nicole, answer me,” he said through gritted teeth, and took a step toward her, willing to shake the explanation from her if need be.
She held up a hand to ward him off, looking more nervous than he’d ever seen her. “Give me a minute.”
Even though his patience was hanging by a thin thread, he stopped and gave her the space she seemed to need, while his mind spun with all kinds of scenarios. Was she a plant on this case? Was he being set up? And the worst possibility of all—had his cover with Sloane already been blown somehow?
His gaze narrowed and his gut churning with acid, he watched as she made her way to the plush armchair in the living room and sat down. Taking off her sparkly pink headband, she ran her fingers through her hair, disheveling the silky strands as they fell softly around her face. That little change was enough to age her appearance a few years. Or maybe it was the worry lines creasing her brows that made her look her true age. She licked her bottom lip and rubbed her palms along the skirt of her dress—sure signs of anxiety.
After inhaling a deep, fortifying breath, she brought her eyes to his with dread glimmering in the depths. “What I’m about to tell you is really going to piss you off,” she said in warning. “But I want to be completely up-front with you about what I know, so try not to flip out on me, okay?”
This didn’t sound good at all, and he remained as calm as possible under the circumstances. “I appreciate your honesty.” That said, he refused to make any promises about his reaction to what she confessed, because he had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to like it.
She gave him a quick nod to acknowledge how important the truth was to him. “The night we slept together, when I was on my way out, I accidentally knocked over a folder that was sitting on the table in the entryway, and it was difficult to ignore the contents that spilled out.”
That quickly, it all clicked together in his mind and everything about her involvement finally made sense. Anger welled inside him, and he let loose a ripe curse that made her wince. “How much did you read?”
“Enough to know that you’re somehow involved with Preston Sloane and it has to do with a runaway teen named Angela Ramsey.”
Nicole was right. He was royally pissed off and trying like hell not to flip out, as she’d put it. “And you decided all that juicy information would make a sensational story for you as a journalist? Beats the hell out of your assignment on dating trends, doesn’t it?” His tone dripped with contempt.
She bristled with indignation, and the fire igniting in her eyes flared with her own brand of rebellion. “Look, I wasn’t the one who left the file out in the open to be found, so I’m not entirely to blame.”
Her accurate comment hit a nerve, but his temper got the best of him and he jabbed a finger at her in accusation. “You confiscated confidential information.”
“I saw an opportunity and I took it,” she admitted unapologetically. “I won’t deny that. You would have done the same thing.”
In her shoes, yeah, he probably would have, he silently conceded. The truth was, he was more furious with himself than with her—for leaving the file in a place anyone could have discovered it. Never mind that he hadn’t been expecting company that night. Bottom line, it was his fault and he should have done a better job of protecting the file.
Even knowing he was responsible, a part of him felt scammed, though that hadn’t been Nicole’s intent when she’d accompanied him to his place. Yeah, she’d slept with him and had inadvertently stumbled across the information on Sloane, but what bothered him the most was that she’d never made any attempt to contact him again when she had two solid reasons to—her interest in Sloane and the connection they’d established. Admittedly, his male ego was involved, which accounted for a part of the resentment he was harboring.
Despite his own complex feelings over Nicole, he pushed them aside to focus on the issue at hand. “I want you to back off this story.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Stubborn, frustrating woman. Knowing he was in for a battle, he sat down on the sofa across from her and cocked his head to the side. “Can’t, or won’t?”
The wry twist to her lips almost made him smile, because he knew exactly what she was going to say.
“I won’t. I need to expose Sloane for the slime that he is,” she said adamantly. “And it’s not just about the story for me. The man needs to be stopped.”
He couldn’t agree more. Undoubtedly, there was a deeper, personal element to this case for her, just as there was for him. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not letting you near him again. I’ve got a job to do and I don’t need you making things more complicated.”
“Complicated?” She laughed incredulously. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m already in,” she said, reminding him of Sloane’s interest in her. “If anything, you need me to get close to Sloane.”
His gut cramped at the thought of Nicole immersing herself in Sloane’s world. The last time he’d used someone to help—when he’d hoped to nail the pimp responsible for running an international prostitution ring in Vegas—the results had been disastrous. Katie had died because he hadn’t been able to protect her, and he’d sworn after that awful experience that he’d never, ever risk another person for a case again. And that included using the eager, intrepid reporter sitting in front of him to get into Sloane’s estate.
Now he worked solo, and he meant to keep it that way. “I was doing just fine on my own.”
She casually crossed one leg over the other and arched a blond brow. “Really? The way I see things, I have a personal, private invitation to Sloane’s estate to see his art collection, and we have a joint invitation to a party he’s having at his nightclub this weekend. Not to sound full of myself, but I think he’s more interested in me than you, and I can easily do this on my own if you’re not keen on forming a partnership.”
Shit. They were at an impasse once again. Feeling stonewalled, he scrubbed a hand along his jaw and tried to keep his temper in check. He knew she wasn’t going to back down or give up her golden ticket into Sloane’s lair, and that knowledge forced him to reassess the situation, and her involvement in his case—despite his strong reluctance to do so.
He couldn’t argue the point that she was the bait he needed to slip easily and seamlessly into Sloane’s world. She could do things he couldn’t, such as bond with the girls at the parties and at the estate, and gain their trust in a way that would lead straight to Angela Ramsey.
Engaging in a partnership with Nicole, even against his better judgment, would definitely speed up the process. And since time was of the essence, Nathan knew he wasn’t in a position to turn down her offer—even though it pained him to give in to her demands. He absolutely hated the idea of taking her undercover with him, but at least this way he’d have some semblance of control over the situation and know where she was at all times. Rather than constantly running interference or worrying about her welfare.
He leaned forward on the sofa cushion and braced his elbows on his thighs, meeting her gaze head-on. “Because I know you’re going to get involved with Sloane regardless of what I say or do, I would prefer you do it under my protection. I might need you to entice Sloane and get us into his estate much quicker than I could do it on my own—but you need me to make sure you’re kept safe.”
“Okay.”
Her easy acquiescence was a surprise. Obviously, she was a smart girl and knew she was stepping into a dangerous situation. “I call the shots when it comes to making any decisions on how we’re going to do things,” he went on, taking advantage of her momentary compliance. “There’s no negotiating on that fact. I don’t need a power struggle between the two of us while we’re working undercover. Got that?”
“Fine.”
He stood up and paced in front of the windows, though his attention remained fastened on Nicole and making sure she understood his rules. “What I say goes. In order for this to work, we have to be in sync and you have to trust the decisions I make, without hesitation or questioning my orders.”
“Fair enough.”
He came to an abrupt stop and stared at her, wondering if there were any ulterior motives behind her amenable disposition—because there was one thing he’d learned about Nicole. She wasn’t the docile type, and her current complacent behavior made him a little wary.
“Why are you being so agreeable?” he asked.
She laughed and stood up, too. “I want to work with you on this case, Nathan, not against you.” She strolled toward him, a soft smile on her lips. “I might be ambitious in my goals as a journalist, but I’m not an idiot. You obviously know what you’re doing and I trust you.”
He was relieved that this wasn’t going to be a power struggle between them. He hoped he didn’t betray the trust she was extending to him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She came to a stop in front of where he stood, and now that they’d formed an alliance and their differences were resolved for the moment, the mood shifted, and that undeniable sexual awareness seemed to swirl in the air around them. “I really do appreciate you making this work between us.”
With her so close and her eyes such a dark, sensual shade of blue, a warm surge of desire thrummed through him, teasing him with erotic memories of just how good the sex had been between the two of them. “Did I have a choice?” he asked wryly.
“No, not really, but I’d rather do this with your help than without.” Lifting her hand, she slid her soft palm along his cheek and grazed her thumb along his lower lip. “You’re a good man, Nathan, and I know you’ll keep me safe.”
“You think so?” His voice was deep and rough, her words unwittingly scratching the layers of old self-doubts that had crept up on him without warning.
“I know so,” she whispered, then stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his in a soft, warm kiss that ignited a deeper, hotter need for her. “I have a pretty good instinct about people, and you, Nathan Fox, are the real deal.”
The pure belief in her voice impacted him like a swift kick to the gut, reminding him of another time, another promise he hadn’t been able to keep—and the tragedy that had ensued. He squashed those ugly memories before they clawed their way to the surface. He refused to allow his greatest failure to undermine his ability to protect Nicole and resolve this case.
He clenched his hands into fists at his sides. Needing physical as well as emotional distance, he stepped back, severing the contact between them. “I’m going to take you back to your apartment tonight so you can pack up your things,” he said, curt and business-like. “Until this case is over, you’ll be staying here with me.” Where he could keep an eye on her at all times.
“Okay.” She watched him curiously, as if trying to figure out why he’d pulled away from her so abruptly. “But I still have other assignments for The Las Vegas Commentary that I need to work on. Though most of it can be done over the Internet and I don’t need to be in the office to work on the piece.”
“Another article on dating trends?” he asked.
“Unfortunately, yes,” she said, and sighed in resignation. “What can I say? It pays the bills until something better comes along.”
And Nathan knew exactly what Nicole was hoping for—a breakout exposé on Preston Sloane and his predilection for underage girls. But even though Nathan had agreed to work undercover with Nicole, there were no guarantees that his case would lead to a big story—most likely, it wouldn’t. Many had tried to bring down Sloane, and so far all had failed. Nathan didn’t think Nicole would have any better luck. In fact, once they made their way into Sloane’s estate and located Angela, they were out of there. He wasn’t about to let Nicole stick around for the fallout that would undoubtedly occur when Sloane realized he’d been duped just so she could get her story.
“Our first outing with Sloane will be Saturday night at his club, so we’ll spend tomorrow discussing our strategy, and I’ll give you the details of what you need to know about Angela Ramsey. Unless you already know everything?” he said, referring to the information she’d pilfered from his case file.
A pink flush of chagrin swept across her cheeks. “I think it would be smart to let you brief me so I know as much as possible about the case and the girl we’re looking for.”
He nodded in agreement. “Come on, let’s head over to your place so you can get your stuff.” He started for the front door of the suite, hoping like hell he wasn’t making a huge mistake by allowing Nicole to go undercover with him.