“Don’t even.” Lola rolled her eyes, grinning.
“You have the whole world to choose from, and you pick—where’d you say this ball was?”
“Kansas. Where would you go if you were me?”
“I’ve been a lot of places. For me, it’s less about what I’m seeing than how it makes me feel.”
“So what’s made you feel?”
“Hard to say. There’s so much to choose from.” Beau blinked away, drank a little coffee. He looked into his mug.
Lola studied him. He seemed to forget she was there for a moment. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.
He glanced up. “The last trip we took as a family before my dad died was the Grand Canyon. Standing there, the world seemed so big. So many possibilities. It was the first time I started to think I could do something with my life. If there were things out there like the Grand Canyon I still didn’t know existed, then there must be a way for me to find them.”
“Always so serious,” Lola murmured. She laced her fingers with his. If she ever came across a little boy like the one Beau had been, she vowed to buy him an ice cream or tell him a dirty joke. There were consequences to taking oneself so seriously. “Have you been back?”
“Yes.” He glanced down at their hands. “After I sold my first company, the same night I met you, I doubted myself. I wasn’t sure which way to turn. I drove to Arizona and looked out at the Grand Canyon, waiting for answers. A place like that really makes you realize how little control you have. But it also puts things in perspective.”
“I get the feeling keeping perspective hasn’t really been an issue for you.”
“Not usually. It helps to separate emotion from most things.” Beau took Lola’s mug from her, set their drinks on the coffee table and looked at her. “Don’t think I don’t realize how lucky I am. I almost lost you because of pride, but you gave me a second chance and saved me from a lifetime of regret.”
Lola let herself get lost in the comforting green of his eyes. Tonight, she was one half of a normal couple. How could Beau not see right through her? Hear the undercurrent of her distrust in everything she said? She was the one left with regret—regret that he’d made her do this. And that she’d never get to witness his suffering.
He leaned in to touch his lips to the bow of hers and made his way around her mouth with light, gentle kisses. She could’ve told him right then that she loved him, and it wouldn’t be a lie. But the closer they got to the end, and to each other, the more afraid she became that saying it aloud would feel too good.
His hands were on her cheeks now. His patience unnerved her. “I’m hungry, Lola,” he said so softly, she almost missed it.
“I’ll heat up your dinner.” She went to pull away, but he kept her there.
“Not for food.” He ran the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip. “I want to know you inside out. And for you to want the same from me.”
“I do.”
“Do you?”
“It’s not a race, Beau. Be patient.”
“I am. We have all night.”
That was almost true. Lola wasn’t sure who fell asleep first, just that it happened sometime before the sun came up, after they’d talked and talked about everything and nothing in particular.
Around dawn, Beau stirred. Lola squeezed him closer with her arm, not ready to lose his warmth. “Stay,” she murmured.
“It’s almost six.”
“Take the day off.”
He kissed the top of her head and raked his fingers through her hair. “I can’t. Not right now.”
Lola sighed deeply. She was already drifting back to sleep when he moved her arms and shifted her aside so he could stand.
“Want me to take you upstairs?” he asked.
“I’m fine here.” Her eyes were still closed. She felt around for a pillow to take Beau’s place, yawned and burrowed into it. “Have a good day, honey.”
The room was quiet a moment, and she assumed he’d left. Then he said, “You’ve never called me by anything other than my name.”
It took her a moment to realize she wasn’t dreaming. Lola blinked her eyes open. She got up on an elbow and squinted at him. “What? What’d I call you?”
“Honey.”
Beau’s hair stuck up on one side from sleeping against the arm of the couch, and his eyelids were heavy. Light was just beginning to filter through the blinds. Lola couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there and what she was supposed to be doing.
Beau came back to the couch and squatted to kiss her on the forehead. “It’s nice waking up with you. My day can only go downhill from here.”
He stood, but Lola grabbed his arm. “Then stay with me.”
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Call me when you get up. We can get lunch.”
He let go and left the den. Lola rubbed her eyes and watched through the door as he climbed the stairs toward his bedroom. It’d been a nice moment, but it was cut short by Beau’s devotion to the only thing that had his loyalty—his work. Business. The empire he looked down upon from his office in the sky.
And then Lola remembered where she was and how she’d gotten there.
Chapter Three
Present day
Twelve hours, thirty-one minutes, eleven seconds. That was how much time had passed since Beau’d hung up the phone with Detective Bragg. Lola had been missing even longer. She wasn’t missing, though. She was just gone. Beau couldn’t wrap his head around how easily she’d erased herself from his life. Between disappearing without a trace and Brigitte cleaning out Lola’s things, it was as if she’d never even been there. She had, though, and once he found her, this uneasy feeling she’d left him with would finally go away.
Beau rubbed his eyes with tense fingers, the air in his office stale. She’d told him once she’d never been past Vegas. There was a whole fuck-of-a-lot beyond that. Every minute that went by, she got farther away from him. He wouldn’t even entertain the notion that her first stop might’ve been LAX airport—he couldn’t take on the rest of the world right then.
Beau finally got some relief when his cell vibrated on his desk, Bragg’s name popping up. He answered it. “How far did she get?”
“I got nothing.”
Beau’s grip tightened. He didn’t have the brain capacity to accept that Bragg might fail him. Bragg was a go-to man, someone who’d made a decent living making things happen. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that? I thought you said you have nothing.”
“It’s what I said. Went to Cat Shoppe last night and talked to Kincaid, the owner. After a chunk of cash that I’m tacking onto your bill, I finally got him to show me the surveillance tape. That’s some show your girl put on for you.”
Beau’s gut smarted as though he’d been punched. “You watched?”
“Don’t get shy on me, Olivier.” Bragg chuckled into the phone. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Leave no stone unturned? I see what the fuss is about, though.”
“Get to the point.” It’d been his last intimate moment with Lola, her dancing on stage just for him, but now two greasy old men had shared in it too. That was the fucking goodbye gift Lola had given him.
“After security removed you, Lola talked to a girl, but she swears up and down Lola didn’t tell her nothing. Just needed help getting the backdoor open.”
“So she walked out the back. Then what?”
“Some brief indistinguishable activity by your car and then poof. Gone.”
“What, in a car? Bicycle? Come on, Bragg—this is rookie shit.”
“It look to you like I got a crystal fucking ball? I only see as far as the camera does, and it stops in the parking lot.”
“What about the owner? What’s he know?”
“Said she used to work for him, and she stopped by earlier that day to arrange the VIP room. Paid him a lot in cash. That was all he’d give me. Not sure if he knows more—bouncer said he’s protective of his girls.”
Beau
leaned his knuckles on his desk. “I got the same thing from him.”
“Only reason he showed me the tapes was because I threatened to get the police involved. Didn’t seem too bothered about it until I flashed my old badge.”
Lola was too good. She must’ve considered Beau might go after her, and she hadn’t left him any obvious clues except the ones on his car. He pushed off his desk and turned to look out the window. “What about Hey Joe?”
“Yeah. Bit of a confrontation there. You spoke to Veronica?”
“Lola’s friend.”
“Says she hasn’t spoken to Lola since she left Hey Joe, and I believe her. But the ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend really don’t like me there—he starts pushing my buttons.”
Beau cocked his head. “His girlfriend?”
“Skanky thing.”
“Amanda?”
“Yeah, that’s her. Her lip curls just hearing Lola’s name. Anyway, I had to rough Johnny up a little.”
Beau had been picturing Lola’s reaction to hearing Johnny and Amanda were still together, but that got his attention. “You what?”
“I may be getting up there, but I got almost fifty years of training behind me,” he said defensively. “The kid tested my reflexes and got a surprise. He’ll be all right—nothing a towel of ice and a blowie from the skank won’t take care of.” Bragg coughed into the phone. “Next stop is the diner to see the mom.”
Beau didn’t have any sympathy for Johnny. He had it coming. But he had no idea what they were in for with Lola’s mom since he knew little about her. Suddenly, it didn’t feel right sending a stranger to her workplace. “Forget the mom,” Beau said. “What about the airport? Her credit cards?”
“Nothing and nothing.”
Beau paused. “Nothing—as in, you haven’t gotten to it yet?”
“No activity on the card you gave her. I assumed you canceled it.”
“No.” It hadn’t occurred to him that he should, and he wouldn’t now that she didn’t have a cell phone or credit card he knew of. It was stupid of her, and she wasn’t stupid. You didn’t grow up how they did and not look out for yourself. She was her own responsibility, she’d made that clear, but Beau couldn’t help thinking of the trouble she might run into.
“You ought to think about it,” Bragg said.
“What?”
“You know, canceling any other cards she might’ve stolen. Checking to see if you’re missing anything of value—jewelry, cash, art…”
Beau shook his head. “This isn’t about money. You tried seeing if she opened a new card?”
“Can’t find nothing under her name.”
“Try Jonathan Pace.”
“Already did. She had a card with him, but it was canceled a few weeks ago too. You said it was stolen, right?”
Beau tapped a finger on his desk. Lola’d told him she’d ordered herself a backup credit card in addition to what he’d given her. He should’ve insisted on seeing it, but he’d been happy enough that she’d agreed to stop spending her own money.
“Don’t worry,” Bragg said. “She’s got to be paying for stuff somehow.”
Beau’s heart thudded once. He didn’t know if Lola had a cell phone or credit cards. He didn’t know how she was traveling or where. The only thing he knew for sure was that she had cash. Cash he’d given her. “She has money,” Beau said quietly.
“She’d need a hell of a lot to stay off the grid much longer, though.”
Beau closed his eyes. There it was, the cherry on top of this shit sundae. The final nail in his coffin—and he’d hammered it in. “She has more than a lot.”
“Yeah? Well, cash is a different beast, Olivier. How’m I supposed to find someone who’s gone out of her way not to leave a trail?”
“I don’t know. I hired you to figure that stuff out.” Beau’s mouth was as dry as a cotton ball. Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and the blame was coming down on his shoulders. “Don’t tell me this is impossible, Bragg. I need you on this.”
Bragg sighed. “Someone’s got to talk to the mom. Clock’s ticking.”
The line went dead. Beau had always known exactly where to find Lola if he needed her—Hey Joe, her apartment, the Four Seasons, and then, his own home. It was a luxury he hadn’t realized he’d been afforded. Now, it’d been yanked away.
Lola had disappeared without a trace and left no sign she was coming back. That was what his money had bought her.
* * * * *
Beau boarded the elevator. He needed to get out of the office and away from the people he saw day in and day out. After Bragg’s useless phone call, he only had more questions. When he’d sold his first company and found himself unsure of which way to turn next, he’d gone to the Grand Canyon. But he had a meeting in forty-five minutes he couldn’t miss, so he’d have to find another way to get some perspective.
He stopped at the coffee stand in the lobby. Bolt Ventures had moved into the top two floors of this downtown Los Angeles skyscraper nearly ten years ago, yet he couldn’t recall ever having ordered anything from the little shop near the building’s entrance. His assistant always had a pot waiting when he arrived for the day.
“Black coffee,” he told the girl behind the counter.
She entered his order into the register. “Two seventy-five.”
“For a small?”
“There’s only one size.”
Beau raised both eyebrows at her before peeling some ones from his wallet. Three dollars for coffee was painful. He took no issue with splurging on certain things—a glass of Glenlivet or a bespoke suit—but those tastes had taken time to cultivate. He’d been raised frugal. A three-hundred-something-percent markup didn’t sit right with him.
Beau took his drink outside to walk around the block—another thing he’d only done a handful of times. He didn’t recognize half the shops. The sidewalk seemed more crowded than the last time he’d been out there in the middle of the day without a car.
He’d spared no expense for Lola. She was the smooth and supple whisky, the Merino wool with price tags he hadn’t batted an eyelash at. His bank account was considerably lighter for having known her—mostly from what he’d spent for two nights with her—but there was the extended hotel stay, gifts, room service, shopping that’d come with it. He didn’t mind. He’d rather have spent his money on her than himself. Though there were days he’d wanted to leave work early to be with her, he’d reminded himself that his success was dependent on the time he put in each day. It belonged to her too, his success. Or, it had. Now, he questioned all those hours he’d been at the office instead of home with her. Would it have changed anything?
Beau’d been walking blindly, ignoring his surroundings, until a dark-haired woman twenty feet in front of him caught his eye. Despite it being a weekday, and a cool one at that, she wore a gold, floor-length gown that elongated a tan, smooth back. Just like the tan, smooth back he’d recently worshipped. Just like the gold, shimmering dress he’d ruined their second night together.
Beau tossed his coffee in the nearest trash and picked up his pace. Lola was playing a game with him. She could show up just as suddenly as she’d disappeared. Was she so brave to come to his office? Nobody just picked up and left the way she had—without a plan, without anything but a bunch of cash.
He flexed his hand with the urge to grab her elbow, yank her through the nearest door and take her up against a wall before she could even explain herself. She’d wreaked havoc on his life. She’d used sex as a weapon to keep him distracted. Anger and need surged through him.
She turned a corner. He broke into a jog, weaving through the crowd of tourists and businesspeople. He rounded the block and stopped short to avoid stumbling over a large orange cone.
A short man in a headset stepped into his path. “You have to go around. Street’s closed for a photo shoot.”
The woman stood in the center of an empty, blocked-off road, surrounded by a team of people dressed in black. She turne
d and caught Beau staring at her. Her midnight-colored hair shone in the sun, and she shimmered in liquid gold. She wasn’t Lola.
“Hello?” The man waved his clipboard. “You can’t get through here.”
Beau backed away, keeping his eyes on her. A man in a tuxedo joined her in the street.
“Put your arms around her,” a photographer said, his camera aimed at them.
The male model took her by the waist, and she lifted her face to his.
“Don’t let him kiss you. Make him work for it.”
She put her palm on his chest, and he leaned in, but she stayed just outside his reach. The camera snapped over and over. Right before Beau turned away, the woman glanced over at him and, he could’ve sworn—smirked.
Chapter Four
Lola strained to see out the passenger’s side window. Nothing could’ve prepared her for the grandeur of the Golden Gate Bridge or the view it gave her of San Francisco. She’d spent the evening before walking around the city without seeing the same thing twice—and now, for these few seconds, she could see the entire place all at once.
She took her camera from her purse, snapped a one-handed picture out the window and put it away. She put San Francisco away—it was time to move on after only one night. Beau would be looking for her by now, and she couldn’t stay anywhere too long.
Once she was on the freeway, she checked her rearview mirror and then the speedometer. The needle hovered at seventy miles per hour. It was a crime to finally be in possession of a car like the Lotus and not be able to take flight. But Beau didn’t know how she was traveling, and she wanted to keep it that way. Information was just one of the things his money bought him, and she couldn’t afford a ticket on her record.
Lola left California behind and crossed the border to Nevada, the only other state she’d been. She stopped at a motel in Salt Lake City in the late evening. There were few other people around. Just like she had in San Francisco, she paid the clerk in cash, bolted the door and shoved as much cash as would fit into the safe. With a bag of Doritos and a Coke from the vending machine, Lola sat on the bed and turned on the TV. She scarfed chips and flipped through every channel twice before shutting it off. The digital clock read 9:58 P.M.
Night Edge (Night Fever Serial Book 4) Page 2
