“Oh?” Bartow frowned. “I wanted you to sit in on this meeting.”
“It’s the VIP on twelve, sir.”
Bartow’s eyes widened. He waved a dismissive hand at Gray. “See to it then, and let me know the outcome.”
“I will.” Gray looked at Rafe, and it didn’t take any superpowers to see that the guy was on guard now. “Leave your contact information, and I’ll arrange for the interviews.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“I’ll get Mr. Montana’s card before he leaves,” Bartow said. “You can get in touch with him later when everything is set up.”
Gray nodded, then high-tailed it out of the office.
Bartow indicated a chair, the busy man of minutes ago gone as if he had never existed. “Sit down, Mr. Montana. I’m certain you have more questions.”
Rafe took a seat and clicked his pen. “I do indeed, Mr. Bartow.”
* * *
Cara perched on the edge of the sofa in the luxurious suite, crushing the empty coffee cup between her fingers. She should probably be doing something constructive, like itemizing her belongings. Or mopping up the spilled water from the flower vase. Maybe breathing into a paper bag. Something.
But all she could do was sit there in her suite, broken bric-a-brac strewn all around her, and wait for security.
Someone had broken in. Some lunatic had gotten into her room and ripped open her luggage. Pawed through her things. Knocked the furnishings over in what looked to be a mad frenzy of searching. But searching for what?
Or whom?
What if she hadn’t stayed at Danny’s last night? What if she’d been here? Her fingers started trembling again, and she crushed the cardboard coffee cup into an even smaller mass.
A knock on the door made her yelp in surprise, and the crushed cup flew out of her hands to land on the floor several feet away. Someone called her name and identified themselves as security—Gray.
“Come in,” she replied. The door opened and Mr. Gray stepped in, a uniformed security man behind him.
“Miss McGaffigan, are you all right?” His leather shoe crushed the cup into the carpet as he reached her in three long strides. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. I just came back to … this.”
He glanced around, and his mouth tightened. “Is anything missing?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked. I just came in, saw this, and called security.”
His fierce look softened, and she swore she saw compassion in his eyes. “So you haven’t touched anything.”
“No. I thought it might contaminate the crime scene or something.”
He chuckled. “You watch too much TV.”
“Guess so.” She let out a breath. “What do we do now?”
“You need to check and see if anything is missing. I’ll send Peterson here to take a look at the security tapes for this corridor.”
“All right.” Dreading the ordeal, she went into the bedroom.
* * *
Adrian straightened as she left the room. He glanced around at the careless destruction. Anger simmered beneath the surface, and he clenched his jaw. The bastards. Did they think he wouldn’t know what they were doing?
“Peterson.” He met the security man halfway across the room. “Go down to security and take a look at the tapes for this floor. Let’s see who might have done this.”
“Yes, Mr. Gray. Do you want me to send a guy up to be on the door?”
“That depends on what we see on the tapes.” He met Peterson’s gaze and had no trouble snaring his unremarkable mind. “Go downstairs, Peterson. Miss McGaffigan is fine.”
Peterson’s round features settled into a familiar vacant expression. “Miss McGaffigan seems to be fine. I’m going to go downstairs.”
“Yes.” Adrian took the man’s arm and steered him toward the door. “To security. To look at the tapes.”
“I’ll check those tapes, sir.”
“Thank you, Peterson.” Adrian waited until the burly guard had left the room, then turned toward the bedroom. He stepped into the doorway and watched Cara.
She looked so lost, standing in front of the closet with the safe in the back of it standing open, staring at her clothing dumped on the floor. He had thought it would be a good idea to have her here in Vegas, a simple way to draw Danny out into the open. It had been an easy matter to make Bartow invite her, believing it was all his own idea. But now it appeared Cara had become a problem Adrian had not foreseen.
He regretted it had come to this.
“Miss McGaffigan.”
She spun to face him, her brow creasing. “I haven’t had a chance to check my suitcases, but all my valuables are still in the safe where I left them. It was still locked when I came in here.”
“That’s good news.” He held her gaze, stepped closer. Reached out with his mind. “This has been hard on you.”
“Yes.” Her eyes took on a dreamy cast, her expression open and malleable. “Very hard for me.”
“You’re a complication.” He came closer and couldn’t resist reaching out to smooth a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She made no protest; she was completely his to control. “I’m sorry to do this to you, but I have to make sure you’re out of the way. For good.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Bartow knew more than he let on.
Rafe got into the elevator after his meeting on the executive floor and punched the button for the lobby. The casino manager had been lying, that much was certain. And Gray—well, there was definitely something weird there. Rafe couldn’t read the guy, but then he could turn his head seconds later and read Bartow like a book. So obviously the problems he had been having with his abilities had to do less with him and more with whom he was trying to read.
Take Danny, for instance. He could concentrate on him and—
Flash. Danny Cangialosi was walking down the street, hands in the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt.
Rafe’s heart raced, and he struggled to hold the vision. Where was it? He’d barely completed the thought before the nugget dropped into his head.
Arizona. Flagstaff.
The elevator door opened to the hustle and bustle of the hotel lobby. A family of six with a screaming toddler waited for him to disembark. Rafe hopped off the elevator and headed for the nearest house phone.
“Cara McGaffigan,” he said to the operator, then waited as the line rang.
“Hello.”
“Miss McGaffigan, this is Rafe Montana. I have a lead on your stepbrother.”
“That’s wonderful news.”
Rafe frowned. Her voice sounded strange. Flat. Almost disinterested. “I’d like to talk to you about it. I’m in the hotel. Can I come up?”
“If you want. I’m in room 1292.”
“All right, I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He hung up the phone, still puzzled by the lack of enthusiasm in her voice. What had happened to the woman he’d met yesterday, the one who had held him off with a can of pepper spray, determined to protect her stepbrother?
He headed back toward the elevator and managed to slip into a car just before the doors closed on a bellman with a luggage cart.
“What floor?” the bellman asked.
“Twelve.”
The bellman punched the number, and the elevator ascended.
Twelve.
It’s the VIP on twelve, sir. That’s what Gray had said. And Cara was on the twelfth floor.
Coincidence? What were the odds that she was the VIP on the twelfth floor who had needed to call security? Wouldn’t she have said something if that were the case?
Unless someone was there with her.
He recalled the tone of her voice. Deadpan. Disinterested. His Hunter instincts flared to life. She was in trouble.
He waited, the Hunter jerking with impatience, the crystal heating against his skin, while the bellman and his luggage cart got off on ten. Then Rafe pounded at the button until the doors closed and the elevator began to
rise again. Alone in the car, he opened his senses, little by little, until the Hunter simmered at half throttle. He glanced at the camera in the elevator and wondered if Adrian Gray had something to do with Cara’s dilemma.
For all he knew, Gray could be the one holding a gun to her head.
The elevator stopped on twelve and with a soft ding, the doors opened. He sprinted out into the empty corridor, scanning room numbers and signs to find 1292. He came upon it at the end of a hallway, the last room in the corner.
His hands opened and closed at his sides, his senses wide open and revved. He knocked. “Miss McGaffigan? It’s me, Rafe Montana.”
The door opened almost immediately. “Hi,” she said with a vapid smile. “You just caught me.” She turned back into the room.
He pushed in, prepared for anyone who might be hiding behind the door or furniture. His senses were all on alert, but the suite appeared empty, though it had clearly been tossed. A search? A robbery? Cara disappeared into the bedroom, and he followed her.
A suitcase lay open on the bed, half packed.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, pausing in the doorway.
She gave him that vague smile and headed into the bathroom. “I’m going home.”
“What do you mean, you’re going home?” He stepped into the bedroom and frowned at her as she came out of the bathroom with a makeup bag. “What about Danny?”
“Danny can take care of himself.” She gave an airy wave of her hand, then dropped the kit into her suitcase. “He’s a big boy.”
Something was wrong here.
Rafe closed down his Hunter instincts to minimum vigilance, then grabbed Cara’s arm as she started past him again. She stopped and gave him an inquiring look, her expression as placid as a becalmed sea. But her eyes told another story.
Death hovered around her like a dark fog. Nothing had changed there. But now there was more. He stared hard into her eyes and saw some sort of white haze tied around her thoughts, imprisoning them.
It chilled him to his core. She was leaving town? What if she started driving in this weird zombie state and she crashed the car? What if that was the vision of death he had seen?
“I thought you wanted to find Danny,” he said, watching for some flicker of emotion. “Have you changed your mind?”
“Yes. Danny can handle his own problems.”
Lie. But truth as well. What was going on here?
“What made you change your mind?”
Her smile wavered just for a second. “I just did.” She tugged her arm free. “I have to pack and leave.”
He followed her back into the bathroom. “Why?”
“Because I do.” Picking up her toothbrush and toothpaste, she frowned at him where he stood in the doorway. “You have to move.”
That white haze in her mind seemed to flicker. He leaned against the doorjamb and bared his teeth in a smile. “No.”
“But I have to leave.” She scowled at him. “Please move.”
Slowly he shook his head. “No, I won’t.”
Her fingers began to tremble. “I have to go home.”
He gently removed the toothpaste and toothbrush from her hands and tossed them on the vanity. “No, you have to stay and help me find Danny. I think I know where he is.”
“You find him. That’s your job, isn’t it?” She pushed at his chest. “Let me finish packing!”
“I don’t think so.”
“But you have to!” She shoved at him again, and he took hold of her shoulders.
“Cara, calm down. You don’t have to leave.”
“I do!”
“Why?” He bent his head so he could look at her eye-to-eye. “Why don’t you stay here and find Danny with me? He needs you.”
That flicker again. “I have to go home.” She jerked out of his hold and stumbled backward. Her elbow struck the towel rack. She hissed and cupped the injured joint with her other hand. For an instant, as he looked into her eyes, her thoughts were clear and frantic, like a trapped animal.
Help me.
Then the haze took control again.
Physical shock. That’s what it might take to snap her out of it.
“Come on, Cara.” He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over to the bathtub. She shrieked and struggled, but still he managed to lift her legs over the porcelain edge and get her into the tub. She whirled back toward him, but he blocked her before she could climb out again.
“What are you doing? I have to pack!” The last word came out with a gurgle as he turned on the cold shower full force.
“You need to snap out of it,” he said, holding her under the spray.
She shrieked and fought and spat beneath the icy water, but he held her there, preventing her exit with his body. His shirt sleeves got soaked, but it was worth it when she twisted her head back from the spray and glared at him with furious brown eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.
He turned off the water, then stared deep into her eyes, just to be certain. The black shroud of death still lingered there, but whatever had been controlling her thoughts was gone.
Now he just had Cara to deal with, and she was furious.
* * *
“Are you out of your freaking mind?” Her thoughts swimming in confusion, Cara wrapped her arms around her midriff, her body shivering even as her cheeks heated. Her hair dripped, her clothes clung to everything, and Rafe Montana stood there gawking like a teenager at a peep show.
“Here, you’re cold.” He reached for a towel and wrapped it around her, his touch gentle despite the very male interest in his eyes. Her heart stumbled, but she grabbed hold of herself. Now wasn’t the time for romantic fantasies, no matter how comforting his touch. Where had he come from? And how the heck had she ended up in the shower?
She jerked the ends of the towel from Rafe’s fingers and wrapped it tightly around her body. Play it cool, McGaffigan, at least until you know what’s going on. “Of course I’m cold; I’m in a freezing shower.”
“I had to snap you out of it.”
“Snap me out of what?” She swiped damp hair out of her face. “Is this how you get your jollies?”
“Of course not. Look, I’m sorry, but—”
“Sorry my ass.” She stepped out of the tub, her movements stiff from her damp jeans. He assisted with a hand on her elbow, which she promptly shook off as soon as she had gained her footing. “I want to know who you think you are to come to my room uninvited and—”
“You did invite me.”
She gave him a get-real look. “I would have remembered if I’d invited you.”
“I called you from the lobby to tell you I had a lead on Danny. You told me to come up.”
“I would remember that.” She stormed past him, soggy sneakers slapping against the tiled floor.
He followed her into the bedroom. “So what do you remember?”
She went to the mirrored closet doors and looked at her reflection. Great, she looked like a bedraggled puppy. Wrinkling her nose, she tugged the band from her ponytail, wincing as the elastic snagged in the wet strands. “I fell asleep at Danny’s place and came back here this morning.” Holding the towel one-handed, she combed her fingers through her hair, then went over to the bureau to grab her brush. Going back to the mirror, she began to pull it through the damp tangles. “I got some coffee in the lobby and came back up here.” She stilled as memory stirred.
“What is it?” He came up behind her. “What do you remember?”
“Someone had been here.” She lowered the hairbrush. “Someone had torn the place apart.” She frowned as she centered on the bed’s reflection. “Why is my suitcase out?”
“Cara.” He met her gaze in the mirror, his entire demeanor concerned yet in control. His calm soothed her. “You saw the place had been trashed. Then what?”
“I called security.” She frowned as she tried to remember. “Yeah, I did. And some guys came up. That Gray guy and another guy in a uniform.�
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“Then what?”
“I … Oh, my God, I don’t remember.” Just like the limo ride. Just like the hotel room. She spun to face him, her pretense of calm shattering like ice. He stood only inches away, a warm, steady rock in the midst of turmoil. So appealing. With one step she could be in his arms, let him make it all go away.
No. She didn’t know him, and it wouldn’t be right to seek comfort there—though whenever she looked into those amazing blue eyes, her instincts screamed she could trust him. But could she trust her instincts?
No way. Not when she couldn’t even remember the last five minutes. Warren had taught her what happened when you trusted too fast, too soon. You’re on your own, McGaffigan.
She took a deep breath. “Look, I’m drenched. Why don’t you wait in the sitting room while I get changed, okay? Maybe something will come to me while I’m getting dressed.”
“Are you sure?”
The look he gave her said he knew how rattled she was, despite her attempt at cool, calm, and collected. She appreciated his perception and at the same time, resented it.
“I’m sure I really want to get out of these wet clothes.” She tried a smile, knew that she failed but pretended anyway. “Please, wait outside.”
He looked deeply into her eyes, as if he could see everything she was trying to hide. A thrill of feminine appreciation streaked through her—what woman wouldn’t want to be studied so intently? But she was trying to keep from total meltdown here, and his keen examination poked at her fragile pretense of self-control.
“Please,” she said again, hating the tiny break in her voice.
He gave a short nod and turned toward the door. “I’ll be right out here, Cara. If you need anything at all, I’ll be here.” He opened the door and glanced back, his hand on the knob. “I mean that. Okay?”
She nodded. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
He nodded again and left, shutting the door behind him.
For a minute she wanted to run after him, but vulnerability was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now. Her gut was telling her to trust him, but too much weird stuff had happened since she’d arrived in Vegas. What if she relaxed her guard with the wrong person? She was a computer geek, not some trained super-spy. She’d probably end up trusting the bad guy—as always.
Prodigal Son Page 6
