Hard Pursuit

by Sheryl Nantus

  Jessie perched herself on the edge of the desk. “I’m confused. You’re listed as his personal assistant on the Sheldon Construction website. Being family, I’d expect you to have a bit more important position. You say your father and brother created the company, so the two of you should be equals. You yourself just said you were business partners.” She scrunched up her face as if smelling something foul. “Not to mention that, if he’s so fond of the bottle, why the hell isn’t he in rehab?”

  Ally fought the urge to flinch, faced with the direct question. “Vincent was very sickly for the first two years of his life—in and out of the hospital with various issues. Nothing life-threatening, but my uncle doted on him from the start, giving him everything he wanted. I’ve sat by for years and watched my aunt and uncle spoiling him, covering up his mistakes, and buying people off when they couldn’t. My aunt couldn’t have any more children after Vincent, so while she was thrilled to take me in and raise me as her own, she always has a soft spot for her only son.”

  She put up her hand, twisting her frown into a weak, defensive smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve done my time in therapy. In short, Vincent is the only male child, my senior by a single year, and thus the unofficial heir to Sheldon Construction. When my parents passed, the will specified I’d always have a place in the company. My aunt and uncle decided the best spot would be beside Vincent, a step back and in the shadows.”

  “Why?” Jessie demanded. “If your father worked so hard, why pass it onto a drunken cousin?”

  “While we may be equal on paper, each of us owning half the company, Vincent is the face of Sheldon Construction because there are still people who don’t believe a woman can lead in this field. Vincent might have his issues, but he also has a penis. And that’s enough for some companies. I’ve done my best but…” She spread her hands. “Sometimes it’s never enough. And at times it’s better to concede the battle today and plan to win the war tomorrow.”

  Jessie nodded her agreement. “I’ve had some experience with that.”

  Ally continued. “We have, at any given time, over a dozen projects going across the United States. Sheldon Construction isn’t the biggest company, not yet, but we’re slowly becoming one of the major players in the industry. Our home office is in New York City. Vincent was here with a skeleton staff to make a presentation, put our bid in on a new complex in Las Vegas—he was supposed to handle some general meetings, glad-handing the local union leaders and politicians, a few public relation events. I was originally scheduled to arrive in a few days to help out.”

  She drew a deep breath, her throat closing up.

  Dylan went to the mini-fridge near his desk and grabbed a water bottle. He twisted the top off and handed it to her with a smile. “It’s a dry heat. Sucks the life out of everything.”

  She took a deep swig of the ice-cold water, grateful for the break. Her head was spinning now, the harsh truth of her situation coming home as she explained it.

  “Vincent barely graduated high school and flunked out of college during his first year. My uncle decided to put him in a business suit and give him an office, dragging him out every day to learn the construction business from the ground floor.”

  “Meanwhile, you stayed in college and graduated with your degree,” Trey added.

  “Yes.” She hesitated. “How did you know?”

  “You look like an educated woman.”

  Ally frowned, trying to assess if she was being insulted or not. She turned back to Dylan and Jessie. “I joined the family business after graduating. It was made clear to me my sole job was to support Vincent as he readied to take over the company. I was there to keep him in line, keep him briefed on current events, and prepare him to give presentations to prospective customers. I could have walked away at any time, but my father helped build this company. My last name’s on the door—I want it to continue to mean something. I want to build a future for everyone.”

  “Tell us about Edgar,” Dylan said.

  Ally cleared her throat. “Edgar is Vincent’s official handler. He’s a sort of bodyguard-slash-butler. Been with us for years, helping to keep him under control. Unfortunately, Vincent is excellent at slipping away to go on his binges. Edgar’s good at what he does, so if he can’t find him, it means we truly need help. I need you to find him as fast as possible.”

  Dylan leaned back in his chair, studying her. “You know what sort of business deals he’s been negotiating. Do you think he’s in imminent danger? Is there a chance he’s been kidnapped?” He glanced at Jessie before returning his attention to Ally, waiting for an answer.

  “I don’t know. I hope not,” she admitted. “Vincent may be an alcoholic, but we run a clean business. We don’t deal with criminals; we play by the rules. It’s been three days—if he was kidnapped, I’d like to think Edgar would have gotten a ransom note by now.” Ally sighed. “There have been times in the past when we haven’t been able to find him and simply had to wait it out until he came home. Except, we can’t do it this time. In just under a month, Sheldon Construction is giving a presentation to a group of investors. I want to believe Vincent will come back, be awake, aware, and here to make the pitch. But I can’t sit back and take that sort of risk.” She shook her head. “He’s never been gone this long. Three days, now four, is a new record. So, I need him found for two reasons: to make sure he’s alive and well, and to ensure he’s going to be here for the presentation.”

  “You said this has happened before. Your family let this go on, expecting you to pick up the pieces every time?” Jessie asked.

  “Yes. They…” She paused, biting back the harsh words waiting to break free. “They see it as a minor character flaw and consider his leadership more important than a few drunken binges here and there. The important thing is to bring him back as soon as possible. Can you help me?” She drew a staggered breath. “If not, say so, and I’ll move on to another investigator. I can’t spend time wandering around Vegas giving out my family history to strangers.”

  Dylan looked at her.

  No, Dylan looked through her.

  Ally swallowed hard, unable to shake the sensation she was under inspection.

  This wasn’t what she’d bargained for when she’d walked into the Devil’s Nightclub, desperate to find her adopted brother.

  Damn you, Vincent, she swore silently.

  “Trey?” Dylan stared over her shoulder.

  “We’ll find him.”

  It sounded like a promise and a curse at the same time.

  Dylan nodded. “Good.” He returned his attention to Ally. “Before we start, I need you to understand that you can’t tell anyone about our involvement.”

  She frowned. “Since I want privacy, that’s fine by me. But why the secrecy?”

  “It’d give the wrong impression,” Jessie interjected as Dylan started to respond. “I tend to work alone on my cases. Except you need help fast, and Dylan is willing to throw his resources behind me to make things happen. It could affect my future business if I had people thinking I was using my boyfriend’s employees on the side, taking advantage of their skills.”

  Dylan chuckled and took her hand. “The only one you get to take advantage of is me.”

  Jessie grinned. “Damned straight.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  Ally swallowed hard, pushing the emotion away. It was a dream for her right now, the idea of finding love something she locked away in a compartment for the time being.

  Vincent. I need to find Vincent.

  Dylan released Jessie’s hand. “Trey, launch a computer search for his credit cards. See if he’s racked up any large bills at the local hangouts and, ah, gentlemen’s clubs or private entertainment places.”

  Ally held back a smile at his delicate phrasing.

  “I’ll send some of the men around to the other nightclubs and casinos to see if he’s shown up there, check with the staff. Discreetly,” he said, anticipating her next request. “As soon as they find him, they�
�ll get him away as quietly as they can.” He glanced at the window. “Is he a gambler? This is definitely the wrong place for him if he’s addicted to the tables.”

  “He likes to play poker, but alcohol is his primary addiction, as far as Edgar and I know. He’ll buy rounds for everyone in the bar, pay for expensive whiskey and other liquors by the bottle, and leave them behind on the table when he moves on. No idea if he’s a good player or not—usually he plays with the other men in the office after work, when he thinks I’ve gone home for the night. But his one true love is the bottle and the partying.”

  “He’s in the right place if he wants to throw down a few hands. I’ll include that info in the briefing.” Jessie held up the photograph Ally had brought with her. “I’ll start the search by scanning this in and sending out copies to their phones.” She pulled out her cell phone and took a picture. “A few minutes and they’ll all have him in their sights.”

  Ally rose, gripping the chair arms for support. She felt her strength begin to ebb away now that she’d managed to make some progress. Her long day had begun in New York with a panicked phone call and seemed to have no end in sight. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Go with Trey to his office,” Dylan said. “He’ll need some basic information to initiate the computer search. Credit card numbers, driver’s license, that type of thing. Vincent might have already left an electronic mark somewhere, and we’ll be able to locate him before the sun comes up.” His reassuring smile gave her strength. “Trey’s the best at what he does. We’ll find him for you.”

  Jessie handed the photo back to Ally. “I’ll put the word out to my street contacts. If Vincent’s worked his way into the underground clubs, they’ll help find him.” She kissed Dylan quickly before moving to the door. She looked over her shoulder. “I can count on you to return my client back to her hotel safe and sound?”

  “Sure.” Dylan smiled. “We can manage that much.”

  Jessie looked at Ally with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll bring him back to you.”

  She walked out, leaving Ally with the two men.

  Trey pushed himself off the wall. “Please come with me. My office is around the corner.”

  She stood up, a wave of dizziness tilting the world as relief sank in. Ally wavered on her feet, annoyed at showing such weakness.

  “Here.” He offered his hand. “You’ve got to be tired from all the traveling.”

  “Yes, I am. Thank you.” She took it, shivering as his warm fingers curled around hers, soothing and almost intoxicating. It was as if she were moving in a dream, the world changing around her almost on a whim.

  Trey smiled, and she felt a shift in her world yet again. “Let’s go find Vincent.”

  Chapter Three

  Trey wasn’t sure if he wanted to curse, yell or punch a hole in the wall behind him.

  None of those were options.

  His mouth had gone dry when he’d looked at the photograph Ally had placed on the desk. The image was a classic publicity shot, the smiling businessman facing the camera, sleeves rolled up on his pristine white dress shirt as he held a pair of giant scissors—an opening ceremony of some sort.

  That wasn’t what had Trey’s heart hammering in his chest like a jackhammer.

  The man’s left arm was in plain sight, the camera picking up the elaborate tattoo spread across his forearm.

  The dark ink made twisted thorns and vines, but Trey saw the skin underneath—the natural deep red blotch worked into the design of the tattoo. The shape of the birthmark was a near-perfect match to the image the search program was scanning for a few floors away.

  It was slightly different, warped by the angle of the photograph, but it was enough to send his pulse skyward.

  He knew that mark. He’d seen it only once in person, on a man driving away from the accident that had broken Trey’s leg and killed his best friend.

  Now he had a chance to confront the driver in person, to call him out and try to get some justice for Nick.

  All he had to do was find Vincent and confirm it was, in fact, him.

  Dylan’s intense glare was enough of a warning to keep control, at least until he was alone and able to deal with the information.

  The cool hand in his twitched, and he remembered the lovely lady who hadn’t wronged him but had everything to do with the man he was searching for.

  He gritted his teeth, pulled his other hand into a fist to contain his annoyance. His issue was with him, not with her. She might be an enabler, an accomplice to the man’s deeds, but he couldn’t hold her responsible for Vincent’s actions. Innocent until proven guilty, he told himself.

  At least he had a name now.

  “Where’s your office?” Ally asked as they walked down the hall again toward the elevator. “I thought you said around the corner.”

  “Technically.” The doors opened, and he led her into the elevator. He tapped the lowest button, sending them to the basement. “In a three-dimensional model, I am. Everything depends on how you view it.” He paused before leaping into the fire. “Vincent has a tattoo. Saw it in the picture. That’ll help to look for him.” Trey chose his words carefully. “Has he always had it?”

  “Started off as a birthmark, believe it or not.” She showed him her left arm, a tiny red blotch on the pale skin. “Runs in the family. Mine isn’t too bad, nothing to speak of. But his is much larger, diamond-shaped. A few years ago, he got a tattoo. Wanted to look cool. Took the birthmark as a base and worked around it, over it. His parents didn’t even flinch when he got the damned ink. Meanwhile, I mention a nose job, and they lose their minds, prattle on about how pretty I am without it.”

  “You don’t need one,” he said, his inner voice busy processing the new facts. “You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

  She blushed and looked away.

  “When did he get the tattoo?” Trey pushed past the warmth spreading through his body at the way she took the gentle but honest compliment.

  She leaned back against the wall, her long, delicate fingers curling around the rail. “Back when we were in Europe on vacation, years ago. That was the first one. He’s added more to his upper arms. Black and red lines, tribal art and all.” Ally shook her head. “He’s an ass. But he’s the face of the company now that his parents have retired. He’s got to be at that presentation.”

  “Can’t you do it?” Trey asked. “From what it sounds like, you’re the real brains behind the outfit.”

  “I could, but it’d be awkward.” She sighed. “As I said before, they’re expecting Vincent—the strong alpha male of the outfit. Even in the world we live in now, with female empowerment and all, the construction business is still an old boy’s club.”

  “They’re all idiots,” he replied.

  “Possibly,” she conceded. “But they’re coming to see Vincent, and unless we give them a very good reason why he’s not there, it’ll hamper the project.” She sighed. “And a very good reason doesn’t include him puking up his guts in the toilet.”

  The doors slid open, putting the conversation on hold.

  “We’ll bring him back in time,” Trey said. “My office is over here.”

  He led her past the boardroom, past the training facility. The doors were closed, so she had no idea of the secrets hidden behind them. She wasn’t getting a guided tour.

  He tightened his grip a fraction, keeping her curiosity unsatisfied for the time being.

  Trey stopped in front of one of the nondescript doors. He opened the door and waved her in, releasing her hand with a tang of regret.

  Ally caught her breath as she stepped inside.

  “This is…” Her eyes widened. “Impressive.”

  “Thanks. It works for me.”

  He moved behind the desk, wedging himself in against the wall. The single office chair occupied the only empty space, waiting for her.

  Ally automatically sat, twisting around to view the screens.

  They were hard to miss
.

  The room was filled with them, almost from the floor to the ceiling, all surveillance feeds from inside the Devil’s Playground. It was as if they were on the dance floor itself, the crowd swirling around them as the cameras scanned the entrance, the exits, the bar…

  “The bathrooms?” She arched one thin, fine eyebrow at him.

  “Not the stalls. Entrance area only.” Trey raised a finger. “There are signs letting people know the cameras are there, and that they’re under surveillance. You’re safer in the Devil’s Playground than you are just about anywhere.”

  She studied the images. “No sound?”

  “No,” he answered. “Music distorts everything, especially a hard bass line. Besides, we have to give our customers some privacy. We watch for trouble and keep them safe.” He brought up the main screen on his laptop, settling into the familiar surroundings. “Please give me a list of his driver’s license and credit card numbers, and I’ll start the spiders crawling.”

  “The who? The what?” She wrinkled her nose, and he caught himself smiling at the adorable gesture.

  “My search programs. They’ll go prowling around looking for Vincent’s electronic footprint. Nowadays you can’t do much without it being documented somewhere. If he’s paid for anything with a credit card, I’ll find it.”

  Ally reached for a nearby pad and pencil. “Here. I’ll give you the numbers.” She shot him a weary smile. “I came prepared.” She paused. “He doesn’t have a driver’s license anymore.”

  “His cell phone number, too,” he added. “GPS tracking is a godsend.”

  He watched her long, slender fingers dance across the paper. “How did you find Jessie?”

  “Hotel security gave me a referral. Said she was one of the best in town, and she had evening hours.”

  “Yep. Three days a week she stays open until eleven. You got lucky.” Trey threw the data into the system. “Has Vincent been like this for long?”

  It was hard to casually interrogate her, hating himself for not being totally honest. There was no use unleashing his anger until he confirmed he had the right man.