Chapter One
It was a busy Saturday night at the Devil’s Playground, one of the hottest nightclubs in Las Vegas. The live band was rocking out the tunes, the walls were vibrating with hot bass riffs, and Trey Pierce was having none of it.
Deep in the basement, far below the dance floor, he ran his fingers over the keyboard, checking and double checking the algorithms. Over the years he’d refined the program, every new trick learned was fed into the code. The database connected and checked again with the law enforcement servers, sliding in to run a quick search and getting out before the firewalls could go up again.
Nothing.
Five years, and he was no closer to finding his mystery man.
Oh, sure there’d been leads—all discarded when the facts didn’t match up.
So, he’d begin again. And again.
He was going to find the son of a bitch if it killed him.
A tone sounded in his ear, signaling an incoming call.
“Just a reminder you’re up in five. Don’t be late,” Finn Storm said.
Trey got up from the computer. “Everything okay?”
“Got a full house of happy customers—nothing special there. But Jessie’s meeting a new client here at the club, so Dylan’s asking us to stay frosty.”
“Roger that. On my way now.” Trey stretched his hands over his head, tugging his black T-shirt free of his jeans. As his fingertips brushed the ceiling tiles, he felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease, the muscles shifting to a more relaxed position.
Maybe not today. But soon.
I’ll find you, you bastard.
He paused, checking out the screen that showed the bar and the handful of customers captured in the camera lens. A blond woman sat at one end, the seat beside her empty. She drank some clear liquid, likely water or club soda—the light blue coaster under the glass signaled the customer’s non-alcoholic preferences to the bartenders so they could react accordingly.
There was a quiet dignity about the way she held herself, almost a sense of royalty. She glanced around every few seconds, a sign of nervousness. Either she was on a bad blind date or her escort had already dumped her.
A big mistake. A woman like that would have her pick of the club patrons if she wanted.
Too bad Trey was off the market for the next few hours. She’d be gone by then, snatched up by some lucky man.
He shrugged and headed out into the hallway.
It took only a few minutes to travel from the underground offices to the dance floor, the nightclub almost filled to capacity already.
Trey slipped through the crowd, smiling as he headed for his perch on a catwalk. It was a favored spot for club employees, one that allowed an excellent view of the happy customers.
“Where are you?” Finn asked.
Trey stayed silent as he spotted Finn standing on one of the staircases, studying the busy mob beneath him.
A few steps brought Trey up to the edge of the platform, and a quick jump had him coming up behind the fellow Brotherhood member. A tap on the shoulder brought the dark-haired man around with a start, his hands rising in self-defense before he recognized Trey.
“Damn it.” Finn shook his head before dropping his guard. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”
“Why?” Trey laughed. He’d learned how to move slowly and stealthily in his childhood, courtesy of growing up with a family who loved to hunt, and had taken that skill into the military where it’d been refined and perfected.
“Someday someone’s going to catch you unaware, make you jump, and collect that fat pot Ace’s been holding onto,” Finn warned. “Got to be a few hundred dollars by now. Be a sweet present in someone’s wallet.”
“It sure will be. Except not you, not today.” Trey looked out into the crowd. “I can hear the band all the way down in my office.” He tapped his foot to the beat.
“Good music, good fun.” Finn nudged him. “Got a few ladies checking us out. I’m spoken for, but if you’re interested, I can drop down and get a number or three for you.”
“Nah.” Trey waved him off. “I can get my own dates, thank you very much.” His thoughts wandered back to his monitors and the woman he’d seen.
“No problem.” Finn cast his eyes back over the dance floor, searching for trouble.
“Trey,” Dylan McCourt, his boss, interrupted. His voice snapped across the com link. “I need you at the bar.”
Finn waved Trey away with a grin. “Go see what the man wants. Meet me later on the roof. We’ll toss a few burgers on the grill and kick back with some beers.”
“You’re on.” Trey made his way through the crowd.
Dylan stood near the bar, waiting for him, the matching clothing marking him to the casual observer as one of the club employees. But he was much, much more to those who knew the truth. Dylan was the official leader of the Brotherhood—a group of Delta Force veterans dedicated to giving help to those who had nowhere else to go.
Jessie stood beside Dylan, her forehead furrowed. She wore her usual leather jacket despite the heat inside the nightclub.
Trey’s pace slowed as he saw the woman sitting at the bar beside Jessie, looking his way. She clutched a small photograph in her hand.
It was the woman he’d noticed earlier on the monitors.
Her short blond hair was cut in a pixie bob, the dark blue suit and white blouse screaming “business professional,” attire hardly appropriate for a night of carousing in the nightclub. In a different time and place he’d approach her after he’d handed off his watch and offer to take her to a small café where they could sit and talk over coffee, far from the noise and commotion of the Devil’s Playground.
In a different time and place she wouldn’t be here with Jessie, asking for the Brotherhood’s help.
“This is Ally Sheldon,” Dylan said in a slow, measured voice. “She called Jessie for help, and we’re going to assist. We’re going to go up to my office now to discuss the matter.” He locked eyes with Trey. “You’re coming along.”
Jessie took the lead, walking with Ally as they skirted the edge of the crowd, heading for the elevator.
Trey touched Dylan’s arm as soon as he could without drawing the blonde’s attention.
“Why me?” he started. “No offense, but I thought Ace was up next on job assignments.”
“I’ll explain when we get upstairs.” Dylan kept his voice low as they followed the women. “Let’s just say this case is pertinent to your interests.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Wait and see.” Dylan slowed as they reached the elevators. “Be careful. She needs our sympathy, not our condemnation.”
Trey glared back. “What type of man do you think I am?” It took all he had to not raise his voice.
“A dedicated, determined man who might not know where the line is because he’s on the hunt.”
Trey opened his mouth to reply but thought better of it as the doors opened.