Chapter Seventeen
It was early morning when Trey forced himself to focus on the computer screen one last time, checking and rechecking the information scrolling by on the open windows. He’d been at the nightclub late, watching Dylan debrief the loan shark.
The man had been terrified—the Brotherhood had a certain reputation underground that they used to good effect. In this case, the man gave information as to how Vincent looked and acted. The smug gambler losing everything in his wallet and leaving the promissory note and his watch with instructions to visit Ally for payment.
After that, Vincent left for Reno and visited the bank there, as the surveillance videos showed. It was pretty good evidence supporting the theory he was on a jaunt and not being forced into anything. The kidnapping idea had been a long shot, but Jessie couldn’t risk ignoring the possibility.
The IOU had been paid off, Jessie notified, and Trey had returned to the hotel to find everyone asleep behind closed doors.
He was grateful for that—the last thing he needed was to face an angry Edgar, fresh from hearing about the encounter with the loan shark. Trey hadn’t been with Ally as he’d promised, even though she’d only been out of his sight for a few minutes before he followed her and dealt with the situation. It’d turned out well, but he wasn’t keen on discussing it with Edgar, given the personal issues that had created the scene in the first place.
He also needed time to get comfortable with the half-lie he’d told Ally—why he wanted to stay with her. True, there was an outside chance another debtor would show up asking for cash, one who might not be as polite. That was a valid reason, along with his position as liaison with the Brotherhood.
But Trey also didn’t want to leave until Vincent’s return. He needed to see the man. A photograph wouldn’t do it, and once Vincent came back, Trey might never get another chance to confront him. One whiff of trouble and the businessman would cut and run as he had five years ago, leaving Las Vegas and breaking free of Trey’s reach.
And then there was Ally.
Her adopted brother might be a killer, and he needed to resolve that. Not to mention deal with the inevitable emotional fallout. Everything else…that had to wait.
After a short nap, he returned to his first priority—the computer search.
The research spiders sent out into the databases had finally come home within the last half-hour, dragging streams of data behind them.
Trey slumped in his chair, his mind racing a thousand miles a minute as the information scrolled across the screen. He opened one window after the other with a twitch of his index finger, excavating the past.
Vincent Sheldon was very likely the man.
Likely.
It wasn’t a definite match, and that slight uncertainly dug under his skin like a bad hangnail.
He reviewed the facts again. During that summer in New York City five years ago, Vincent had owned a black BMW. He was in the city working for his father already, having flunked out of business college. He had numerous speeding tickets—a few for destruction of property where he’d run up on the curb and hit a mailbox or lamppost.
The black BMW was his third car in as many years.
Trey checked the data on the vehicle, pulled out of the DMV files. The car disappeared one day, written off in an accident by the insurance company. Hit a light pole and scrapped a few days after Trey’s accident. It might be a coincidence. Or not.
The paper trail continued from that horrible day. Vincent got on a flight to Europe the next day, along with his parents and Ally, then came six months of bouncing from resort to hotel to resort with his family until the case had turned cold.
Trey realized how hard he’d been gritting his teeth when the pain in his jaw reached through his grim concentration.
The Sheldons spirited Vincent out of the country to safety, the car was trashed and any evidence removed or destroyed.
Not a hundred percent. It wouldn’t be enough for a conviction. But he sensed it, deep down in his gut.
Vincent Sheldon was the man.
He closed his eyes, unable to avoid the flashback. It rolled over him with the same intensity as a tidal wave, ripping him from the present.
The scream of bent metal. The smell of blood. Nick moaning, lying broken and dying on the sidewalk.
Trey, scraped and bruised as he scrambled back to hold Nick in his arms, trying to understand what had happened.
They were home. They were safe.
Weren’t they?
He twisted to see the driver’s arm, hanging out the window before he drove away, leaving devastation in his wake.
The tattoo, burned into his memory. A dark diamond on the left forearm.
Which Trey knew now to be a birthmark, presently hidden away under black ink to avoid detection.
He wrenched his eyes open as a knock came at the door.
“Come on in,” he called as he closed his laptop.
Edgar eased through the open door. “Time to prepare for your meeting. Miss Ally notified me she’ll meet you at the car in an hour.”
“Thanks.” Trey nodded.
Edgar didn’t move. He crossed his arms in front of him and waited.
“Yeah.” Trey stood up. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Sorry doesn’t work.” Edgar snarled. “You had one job—to protect her.” He jabbed a finger into the air. “One. And I find out some slimy shark almost dragged her away. I should kick your ass out of this room and down the hallway until my boot gets stuck so far up your butt you taste leather!” His accent grew with every syllable, making it almost impossible to understand the last word.
Trey tucked his hands into his pockets, accepting the reprimand.
“You’re right,” he said. “I screwed up.”
“You upset her, too.” Edgar’s face was scarlet as he forced himself to speak slowly. “She didn’t tell me everything, but I saw it in her eyes when she explained what happened. What did you say to her?”
“I…” Trey weighed not telling the handler anything, but that could lead to even more issues. “We started to connect last night. But I called it off before it got too serious.”
That was an understatement.
Edgar scowled. “I saw she had her eye on you but…” He shook his head. “Not my business. My job is to take care of Vincent, and I’ve managed to screw that up enough. Miss Ally’s love life is her own concern.” He pointed at Trey. “But keeping her safe is ours. And if your relationship with her puts Miss Ally or anyone else in danger, I will take action. Are we clear?”
“Like glass.”
“Good.” Edgar put his hands down, and Trey sensed the issue was closed.
Except he needed information only the veteran could give.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You can try.”
“How long ago did you begin working for Vincent?”
“About five years ago,” Edgar said. “Been out of the service for a few years, bouncing around from job to job.” He gave Trey a knowing look. “You know how it is, trying to settle down. Friend of mine ran a bodyguard agency, got me a spot. Did a little work one time for Henry Sheldon, and he called me a few months later, offered me a permanent position with the family. They were looking for a babysitter/handler, and I said I’d give it a try.”
“They didn’t tell you to stop him from drinking.”
“No.” Edgar gave a wistful grunt. “I wish they had; it’d be easier. My standing orders were to let him do whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t endanger himself or anyone else. So, he went to the nightclubs, to the bars, to the strip clubs, and I went along. Plucked him out of more than one fight when he didn’t have the common sense God gave a puppy to back off.”
“Do you like Vincent?” It was a pointed question.
“I don’t hate him.” Edgar rubbed the back of his neck. “Once I came on board, he was upset, pissy, and grumpy as hell that his parents wanted him watched. We had a few fights. He got up in my face and told me exactly what he thought of me.”
“You weren’t tempted to punch him?”
Edgar smirked. “I wanted to. Here was this smart-ass, snotty young man who figured he was owed the world. He tried to dump me the first night out, and I caught him with his ass hanging out of the bathroom window, trying to wriggle through.”
Despite the situation, Trey laughed. “There’s a picture.”
“Yeah. I grabbed his belt, dragged him back in and told him to behave or I’d tie him up and dump him in the trunk for the drive back to his apartment.”
“And?”
Edgar cracked his knuckles. “He behaved. Too bad because I was looking forward to hitting a few speed bumps.”
“How do you handle him refusing to change, refusing to take responsibility for himself?”
Edgar pressed his lips into a tight line. “When he’s sober, he’s a damned good businessman. I’ve seen him negotiate—he’s hard but fair. Learned the tricks of the trade at his daddy’s knee and learned them well. But when he’s drunk…” Edgar shook his head. “Over the years, he’s figured out how to break away from me using stunts, causing distractions.” He spread his hands. “I told his mum and dad years ago he was going to be a problem until and unless they put him into rehab. They said no. I could have left but…” He tapped his chest. “I feel responsible for keeping him on the straight and narrow, even though he’s treated me like crap at times. All I can do is keep on keeping on until it becomes too much.”
“What would be too much?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll figure that out when I get there.” Edgar rolled his shoulders back. “Get your ass in gear. She doesn’t like to be late for a meeting.”
Edgar closed the door, leaving him alone.
Trey got up and headed for the bathroom, his mind spinning with the recent information.
He had to tell her. But when?
Maybe there never would be a right time.
He wasn’t going to let Nick’s killer walk away again.
Even if it meant he’d have to sacrifice whatever happiness he could have with Ally.