Hard Pursuit (Delta Force Brotherhood)

by Sheryl Nantus

  The middle-aged man stuck his hands in his pockets. “You’re Ally Sheldon. Saw your picture on the website.” He nodded. “Image don’t do you justice.”

  She studied him, one hand inching into her purse for her self-defense spray. “How do you know who I am?” Her heart began to race as she prepared to fight.

  “Don’t. Please, don’t.” He shook his head. “I got information about your brother. You shoot me, you get nothing.”

  “Vincent?” Ally pulled her hand away. “What do you know?”

  “Come on over here.” He gestured to a darkened storefront. “I don’t want us to be disturbed.”

  She held her ground. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Whatever you want to tell me, you can do it here.”

  “Okay.” He shrugged. “A few days ago, Vincent came to one of my games. Had a good run, then he had a bad run.” He held up his wrist, showing off an expensive Rolex. “Very bad run.”

  Ally’s heart sank at the sight of the familiar watch.

  “Usually we don’t do business like this, but he showed me his company website, showed he had the money to back this up.” He waggled the watch. “Gave me this and an IOU for the rest. Told me I could collect the money from a guy called Eddie if he didn’t come back within seventy-two hours with the cash. Said he was staying here, at the hotel—gave us the room number and all. If he hadn’t been so forthcoming with the info, wouldn’t have given him a dime. But in Vegas, we recognize those who can use our…services responsibly.” He rolled his shoulders. “Time ran out, and he hasn’t come back. We come by and looked around—Eddie’s a big fellow. Then we saw you coming and going, recognized your picture from the company website.” He grinned. “Figured we might have a better chance approaching you than the big guy. People usually don’t want us knocking on doors, you know how it is. Same with phone calls—it doesn’t have the personal touch.” He lifted his chin, looking over her shoulder. “I had one of my boys waiting in the lobby, saw you leave for dinner with your fellow. Seen you cut and run when you got out of the car, so figured I’d meet you here.” His lips curled away from his teeth. “Some business you like to do without a crowd.”

  “You’ve seen Vincent? When? Where?” she asked, pushing aside the comments about Trey.

  “Not getting paid to answer questions. He said you were good for the cash.” He scratched his chin. “Now I need my money. You’re a businesswoman, you understand.”

  Ally choked down the bile rising in her throat at the comparison. “How much?” She mentally counted the cash in her wallet. If she had to pay for the information…

  “Twenty thousand dollars.”

  “What?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “He owes you that much?”

  “Well, there is interest,” he admitted. “It gets higher every day. After this little meeting, for example, it’ll go up to twenty-five if you don’t pay up.” He grinned. “Cost of doing business.”

  “I see.” She drew a shallow breath, steadying herself. “I don’t have that much on me, sorry. If you let me go back to my hotel room I can…”

  She turned around to face two more men. They stared at her, not moving a muscle. Both were empty-handed, but she suspected they didn’t need weapons to do their job.

  Slowly Ally turned back to face her original questioner.

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, that’s not an option. When you enter the hotel, you’re going to call security on us.”

  “You don’t know that.” She fought to keep her voice level.

  He tilted his head to one side. “Yeah, I sort of do. I’ve done this long enough that I don’t leave much up to chance.”

  “I can’t get that money out of an ATM, And the banks won’t be open until morning.” she snapped, remembering her previous conversation with Trey.

  “That’s true. So, what we’re going to do is go down the street to the casino. They never close. The owners are good friends of ours—they’ll help you get a credit card advance to buy chips for some late-night gambling. Then you give the chips to us, and we’re all even.”

  She gripped the purse hard. “We don’t have to do that. I’ve got jewelry in my hotel room I can give to you, something you can pawn. I won’t report that it’s gone, I won’t call security.”

  The voice came out of the shadows. “She won’t. But she might call an ambulance for you if you ask nicely.”

  It happened in a blink of an eye, so fast that she thought it was a bad dream. Suddenly Trey was standing beside her, and the two men lay on the ground, groaning.

  The loan shark held his ground. “Didn’t think your boyfriend was going to join us.” He coughed into his hand. “Damn, you’re fast.” There was the faintest quiver in his voice.

  “I am,” Trey held out his hand. “Give me the watch and Vincent’s IOU.”

  The man hesitated for a second before passing over both items. The paper was nothing more than a napkin, the dark ink filling in the creases and dips. But the numbers were clear, the signature familiar.

  “This Vincent’s? His handwriting?” Trey showed them to her.

  “Yes.” A wave of nausea swept over her, her knees going weak.

  Trey turned back to the loan shark. “Where was Vincent when he gave these to you? When did this happen?”

  A sneer appeared. “That’ll cost you.”

  Trey took a step forward. The stranger moved back, wincing.

  “Over at Thirty-fourth and Main, in the basement of the Galaxy Girls Club. It was three days ago, like I told the lady.” He stared down at the unconscious men. “Your man split after losing the last of the money he borrowed. Took a cab—no idea where.” He pointed at Trey. “You want trouble, I can give you trouble. Her brother signed a paper fair and square, and I deserve to be paid.”

  The mental math was easy to do. Three days ago, put Vincent’s poker game at the same time they’d started searching for him. He’d been in Vegas then, relocating to Reno not long afterward and going to the bank to make the withdrawal, captured on camera. The timeline held true.

  Trey stared at the man for a long moment before speaking. “Listen to me. You’re going to take this note and this card…” He slid a business card out of his back pocket. “Over to the Devil’s Playground. Ask for Dylan.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “You’re…”

  Trey cut him off before he could finish the sentence. “Yeah. He’ll pay you the entire amount if you give him all the details about your game with Vincent. Where you were, how he appeared—everything.”

  “Seems to me that might be worth a bit more.” His eyes narrowed as he studied Trey.

  “You can negotiate that with Dylan,” Trey said, “if the info proves true.” He held up the napkin. “This turns out to be fake, and I’m coming after you. You don’t show up within the hour, and I’m coming after you. I’ll find you.” He turned quickly and stepped on the outstretched hand of one of the men, keeping it still. “These two as well.”

  “Yeah. I get it.” Sweat beaded on his forehead. “We’re going right over.” He reached out and took the business card and the note. “Sorry for disturbing you, lady.”

  Trey put his hand on Ally’s arm and took a step back, over the two bodies.

  A few steps later he tugged her into turning around. As he led her back onto the street, she risked a glance over her shoulder.

  The three men had vanished.

  “Oh my God.” Her knees were still wobbly. “What was that all about?”

  “Vincent’s been a busy boy.” He yanked out his phone as they approached the hotel. “Dylan will take care of things. He’ll cover the debt, and we’ll add it to your bill.” He tapped the small keyboard, sending a text. “Might not want to run off like that in the future. I won’t always be around to cover your back.”

  The rage flared up again, bright and scalding.

  “I’m not helpless. I can take care of myself.” She snapped at him. “I don’t need a man to swoop in and save me.�
� She touched her purse. “I have pepper spray. I would have found my own way out of the situation.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t.” She held up her hand. “Just…don’t. I would have negotiated something, gotten some help at the casino. As long as it brings Vincent back.”

  Before he could reply, she was through the hotel doors, striding into the lobby with a well-practiced pace she used in the workplace. Fast, efficient, and no-nonsense.

  He was like every other man she’d dealt with over the years, locked into his own selfish needs and wants. His reasons weren’t valid, they were…

  You know he’s speaking the truth.

  She swiped at her face again, cursing under her breath. Maybe Trey did have a point, but the wound was too raw to contemplate it right now. If she had her way, she’d never see his face again.

  The truth was she needed him for now. He was her liaison with Jessie, and it’d be petty to demand he leave when they were so close to retrieving Vincent. The problem would solve itself with Vincent’s return.

  After that, she’d cut him loose, and Trey would go his own way and she’d go hers.

  After Vincent came back.

  The edges of the expensive Rolex dug into her palm as she squeezed it tight.

  When Vincent came back.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Trey trying to keep up with her, his long strides rushing him through the lobby to where she stood at the elevators.

  She jabbed at the button.

  The doors stayed shut.

  He stepped up beside her, hands in his pockets. His shirt was neatly done up, and there was no sign he’d taken down two men without breaking a sweat. No sign that just before that he’d been half undressed in the back of the cab, hot and eager under her hands.

  There was more here than met the eye, but she didn’t want to deal with it.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The faint whisper almost broke her.

  She nodded, acknowledging his words.

  The elevator arrived. Ally stepped in and turned to face him.

  Trey gave her a sad smile and moved back. “I’m going to make sure that guy shows up and talks to Dylan, gives Jessie what he can to track Vincent down. See you tomorrow.”

  She put up a hand to hold the elevator open. “You still want to do this? I can handle these meetings on my own.”

  “You shouldn’t,” he said. “That loan shark might not be the only one with his hooks into Vincent. Last thing you need is for another one to show up.” His attention drifted to her purse. “I know you can handle yourself, but what if there are other people around? Have to worry about collateral damage.”

  Her cheeks burned, accepting the half-lie. “I’ll call Edgar, fill him in.” She drew a deep breath, steadying herself. “First meeting is at nine, second at noon, and third at two in the afternoon, likely going until five. Edgar can brief you about them over breakfast. Thank you.”

  The doors slid shut, closing her off from him.

  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.”