Chapter Four
What the hell are you doing? he said silently as they drove through the night.
Dylan hadn’t hesitated when Trey had called upstairs with the news.
“Good,” he replied. “If we’re lucky the idiot drank a few beers, lost enough poker hands to run out of cash, crawled into another hotel bed and passed out. Just be careful.” His tone shifted. “I’m still not convinced this isn’t a kidnapping. Guy’s worth a lot of money, goes missing for three days. Just because there’s no ransom note doesn’t mean there won’t be—or that Ally won’t be their next target. Stay close to her and keep your eyes open. Jessie found Edgar’s info on the company website, ran a fast check—good man, ex-military. Don’t think he’d be an accomplice to something like this but stay frosty.”
Trey didn’t say anything, knowing Dylan’s thoughts on kidnappings. In her attempt to bring crime kingpin Molodavi down, Jessie had gone missing for a week before anyone noticed. That had been before she’d met Dylan and the Brotherhood, and now Dylan was hypervigilant for any more cases along the same lines.
Trey kept eying Ally, the exhausted woman resting her head on the window, focused on her cell phone. The professional mask had fallen away to reveal a worried, frantic sister looking for her adopted brother.
A gorgeous, beautiful woman.
Trey mentally slapped himself. He wasn’t going to look too closely at Ally Sheldon—he had to view her as another client, not as a woman. The birthmark on her arm was a warning to step away, keep his distance until he’d resolved the questions pressing on his soul.
Had Vincent Sheldon been the man behind the steering wheel?
In his mind’s eye, he saw the man’s arm flopping out of the car window, the red diamond embedding itself in his mind.
Along with the image of Nick, his shattered body lying on the sidewalk.
Trey turned into the hotel parking lot, avoiding the valet. He pulled out his phone and scanned the data scrolling across the small screen. “Which floor are you on?”
Ally sat up. “Tenth floor. Edgar, Vincent, and I have one of the suites.”
“That’s where it is.” Trey said. He showed her the screen. “Tenth floor.”
“Damn it.” She grabbed her phone and started to type. “I’m texting Edgar and telling him to search the rooms, see if he can find the phone before we get up there.”
Trey nodded.
Ally got out of the truck. “You think he had a plan? Mapped all this out?”
“Might have, especially if he thought enough ahead to leave his phone behind. If he decided to do that, it’s likely he planned this entire outing.” Trey hopped out. “Maybe Edgar’ll find a club flyer or a business card left behind, tip us off to where he’s run to.”
She moved up beside him as they walked into the hotel through the side door. “Hold on. I want to stop at the front desk.” Ally maneuvered them through the quiet lobby.
He followed her lead, walking over to the varnished wood desk.
The night clerk looked up, a generic smile on her face. “Can I help you?”
“Any messages for Ally Sheldon? Vincent Sheldon? Sheldon Construction?”
The woman ran her hands over the keyboard and studied her screen. “I have nothing for either name, sorry.”
“Thank you.” Ally sighed and put her elbows on the counter, her hands covering her face.
She leaned heavily against Trey for a second, startling him. He wanted to harden his heart against her, as he had against her adopted brother but…
He automatically put his arm around her.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured. “We’ll find him.”
She lifted her head. “Let’s go.”
“You’re looking a little pale.” He tightened his grip on her. “We can sit over there if you need to, let you catch your breath.”
“No, no.” She waved him off. “I guess this is finally hitting home.” Her smile was forced and limp. “A little bit of jet lag, a whole lot of worry.”
He pulled his arm away as the elevator doors opened. “I understand. Got to be rough dealing with this all the time.”
“Yeah.” Ally braced herself against the metal rail at the back of the elevator. “I keep talking to my aunt and uncle, keep telling them we need to get Vincent some professional help, far beyond the stern talks they give him every damn time he pulls a stunt like this. They keep hoping Vincent will grow out of it, mature suddenly. At this age, I don’t see it happening.” She let out a pained sigh. “I’m tired of it all.”
“Give me your room key,” Trey ordered. She hesitated only a minute before pulling a plastic card from her purse.
“This is the key to room 1045, the center suite. I’m staying in 1044, and Vincent’s in 1046. We have keys for our separate rooms, as well, with a connecting door to the center suite.” A sad smile brushed her lips. “Edgar stays with him in a side room.”
“How did he end up with you and Vincent?” He studied the room numbers as they exited the elevator. His hand went to her waist again, pulling her close in an instinctive urge to protect her. She didn’t resist.
“Edgar started off as a bodyguard to my uncle then shifted to being Vincent’s handler as the situation changed. He’s ex-military, trained in a variety of areas. He’s had to use a lot of them to keep up with Vincent.” They stopped in front of the door.
Trey slipped the keycard into the lock. As soon as the light went on, he pushed the door open, leading her in.
“Edgar’s not getting any younger, and Vincent’s getting sneakier. I guess it might be time to find someone else, but he gets along so well…”
Trey wasn’t sure if she was referring to Edgar or Vincent. He studied the suite before placing the keycard on the nearby table.
It was like a hundred hotel rooms he’d been in over the years, the generic furniture laid out to meet and greet prospective clients. Work desk, TV, coffee table, bathroom off to one side. He expected the exact same layout on the other side of the shared living room, a mirror image with a bedroom added for sleep.
It didn’t come cheap. The couches were low and sleek, the table slick polished redwood, and the wide-screen television filling up most of the wall.
He pulled out his phone and tapped the button to bring up the location scanner. “His phone’s nearby.”
The adjoining door flew open to reveal an older man, dressed in jeans and a black dress shirt, the top few buttons undone. Wisps of white hair dotted his nearly bald head. He held up the offending phone. “It’s right here. Just found it under the sofa, stuffed deep between the cushions. Bastard did it intentionally.” The man’s thick British accent cut through the air like a knife.
Edgar turned to Trey, and he saw the instant assessment, the military stance as the bodyguard studied him. This was a veteran, a man used to taking and giving orders.
Ally nodded. “Thank you. I found someone to help us, and she’s got friends searching throughout Las Vegas, hitting all the clubs. This is Trey Pierce. He’ll be working with us for the time being. I expect you to give him as much assistance as you can.”
“Yes, Miss Ally.”
Trey didn’t flinch from the inspection, welcoming it. If he was going to work with this man, he didn’t need any friction between them.
After a long moment, the older man gave a nod, the understanding between them clear even if it was unspoken.
Mutual respect.
Trey let out an invisible sigh of relief. He didn’t need anyone else standing in his pursuit of justice. Including Ally Sheldon.