Hard Pursuit

by Sheryl Nantus

  Before Trey could say anything else, the door flew open and Edgar walked in, breathless as he held up his phone.

  His look said it all.

  “What’s wrong?” Ally asked, getting to her feet.

  “The accountants called a few minutes ago. There was a withdrawal on Vincent’s company credit card, an advance.” His forehead furrowed. “A rather substantial one.”

  Trey’s phone vibrated in his pocket as Ally stepped forward, her eyes wide. “So, he’s alive. Thank God.”

  He yanked the phone out, reading the text message springing up on his screen. “I’ve got Jessie here. Says she’s tracked him to Reno.” He looked at her. “I’d say there’s a damned good chance.”

  She clapped her hands with a shout of happiness and threw her arms around him for a tight hug before spinning to Edgar and doing the same.

  Edgar looked over her shoulder, catching Trey’s eye.

  Vincent might be alive, but he wasn’t here, safe and sound.

  Right now, that made all the difference in the world.

  “Are there any more details?” Ally asked. “Any idea if he’s okay, if he’s being forced to take the money out?”

  Trey scanned the message again. “She doesn’t go into much detail. Says she’s emailed you a full report. She’s on the road, and her cell is cutting in and out. Sent me a text as backup.”

  Ally went to the table and powered up her laptop. “If he’s taken an advance on his credit card, either he’s alive, or someone’s got the card and his access number.” She looked at Edgar. “I guess it could be someone who stole his wallet, too.” Her voice wavered.

  “That doesn’t ring true—if the withdrawal had happened right after he went missing, perhaps. It’s been what, almost a week now? Let’s wait for Jessie’s report and take it from there. No use speculating until we have something concrete to work with.” Trey put his hands on her shoulders to help settle her, squeezing the thin fabric of her shirt as she stared at the screen waiting for the computer to finish booting up.

  “A decent-size amount, that’s for sure,” Edgar said. He went over to the bar and undid the tiny lock. “Enough to set the alarms off.”

  “Define large,” Trey asked. “How much did the accountants say it was?”

  “Fifteen thousand.”

  Ally spun to face the handler.

  “What?” Trey said, unsure he’d heard correctly.

  Edgar nodded. “Fifteen thousand dollars. It sent up a red flag to Accounting, as well as to your associate, I assume.” The last sentence was directed to Trey.

  “Oh, God. Remind me again—why didn’t we freeze his cards?” She put a hand to her right temple, rubbing it.

  “We needed to see if they got used,” Trey answered. “Either by Vincent or someone else.”

  “Yes.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “Yes. We had to.”

  Edgar continued talking as he poured out a glass of club soda. “Accounting made a point of noting such an amount puts a strain on our finances at this stage of this project. Your parents…”

  “Fuck.” Ally glared at the screen as Edgar came over and put her drink within easy reach. “They’re going to find out. There’s no way this won’t shoot up the line to them.”

  “At least you can tell them he’s alive,” Trey offered. “Better than the alternative.”

  “I wonder.” She took a sip and shook her head. Her lips trembled. “God help me, I wonder.”

  Edgar slipped out, leaving them alone in the shared living room.

  “You don’t mean that.” He went to the table, standing beside her.

  “I know.” She pressed the cool glass to her forehead. “I just get so tired of covering for him. He might be like a brother to me, but he can be such an asshole at times.”

  “What’s Jessie got to say?” He gestured at the screen.

  She tapped a few keys, opening up the program. It took a second for her to scan the message.

  Trey read it over her shoulder but said nothing, waiting for her to take the lead.

  “Okay. Okay.” She settled in the chair. “Seems a security camera caught him inside a bank taking the advance out. The teller required full identification before allowing the withdrawal, and he provided it. So, we have him on camera, alive and well. Even in Reno, you can’t pull fifteen thousand out of an ATM.” Ally gave a strained laugh. “I’m not sure how Jessie got access to a private camera like that, but she did.”

  Trey smiled. “Don’t ask. It does confirm he’s conscious and healthy enough to go to a bank, which is a major step up from worrying about whether he’s lying dead in the morgue or not. And if he were taking it out under duress, he had plenty of chances to ask for help. He could have written a note, made some sort of indication he was in trouble. Bank employees are trained to look for that sort of thing. So, I’d say it’s a good bet kidnapping is off the board now.”

  She sipped the drink again. “Thank God. I’ll need to do some creative accounting to justify this one if my parents don’t catch on.”

  “Tell them you used the money on a gigolo.” He chuckled as she turned to look at him. “I’ll give you a receipt.” He puffed out his chest. “I’ll itemize it if that’ll help.”

  Ally pressed both hands to her mouth, and for a brief second, he thought he’d crossed the line. Her resounding burst of laughter settled his nerves, and he grinned, pleased with himself.

  “That would be interesting.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t believe it’ll fly well with the IRS. Even if we are in Las Vegas. But I appreciate your willingness to take one for the team.”

  “Least I can do for you. If he’s in Reno, Jessie will find him. She’s excellent at her job. Dylan will send her help if she asks. Now that we’ve got a location it’ll be easy to tighten the net and bring him back.”

  “But…” She chewed on her lip for a second before continuing. “What if Vincent won’t come back willingly?”

  “You’d be surprised at how convincing Jessie can be.”

  She eyed him for a second, weighing his words. “We’re done for the day.” She wiped her forehead. “Tomorrow we’ve got another meeting, boring stuff. We’re still claiming food poisoning is the reason for Vincent’s disappearance.”

  “Do you…” He paused, unsure how to thread this particular needle. “Since we’ve pretty well confirmed that he hasn’t been kidnapped, do you still want me to go with you tomorrow?” The words tumbled out, his usual calmness disturbed at the idea of having to leave. “I mean, I’m still your liaison if you’d like.”

  “I like.” Her smile soothed over his jangled sentences. “Even if Vincent’s safe and sound, he’s still not here. Edgar’s going to keep prowling the bars to alleviate his guilt and to make sure Vincent doesn’t slip away from Jessie and pop back up here.” Her cheeks pinked. “And I like the way you think. I’m interested in seeing what else you can show me.”

  Trey bit back the obvious response, noting her cheeks turning a darker shade of red as she realized what she’d said.

  Time to let her off the hook.

  “Right. I’m going to go down to the fitness center and work out. After I come back up, I need to put in a bit of work online—my other job and all that.”

  “Sure. Go ahead.” Ally ran her hands over the keyboard, bringing up other messages. “I’ll call you if I need you. Just don’t forget to come to bed. Here. I mean, in Vincent’s room,” she added hurriedly, “so we can keep the illusion of Vincent being sick.”

  “That’s not going to last much longer,” he warned. “People are going to notice, put two and two together. I’m sure there’s already a few rumors flying around about him not making an appearance. Edgar and I are ordering light meals, but he’s got to be recovering by now.”

  “As long as the illusion lasts long enough for us to bring him back.” She looked at him.

  For a wild, furious minute he thought she was going to come to him, wrap her arms around him and kiss him.

  T
hen she smiled and it was enough for now.

  …

  Ally coughed and reached for the club soda, grateful for the cool drink. The fine dust from the construction site had slipped under her blouse, and now she itched all over.

  But the issue had been settled with Capprelli.

  With Trey’s help, her inner voice reminded her.

  Capprelli didn’t know who the hell Trey was but assumed he was in charge, not Ally. He knew her last name was Sheldon but automatically deferred to Trey.

  That’s how the business works.

  She’d fought for years to earn respect inside her family’s company, and now it needed to extend outward. Trey talking Capprelli down didn’t help, nor did the confrontation with the catcaller.

  Still, she didn’t feel as slighted as she would have if anyone else had done it.

  Ally sighed and scanned the computer screen. There was enough work here to keep her busy for the rest of the day, and maybe she could keep her mind off of Trey.

  She had a company to run with or without Vincent.

  Another glance at the closed door had her heart racing.

  She wasn’t a fool. She suspected there was more to Trey’s assignment than met the eye. But she’d cross that bridge when she got to it. Right now, she knew Vincent was alive, and Jessie would catch up with him sooner or later.

  She couldn’t hold back a chuckle, imagining how he’d take being hustled back by a private investigator. She suspected Jessie would be getting an earful.

  And as for Ally and what she wanted?

  Maybe it was time to take a chance.

  After all, this was Las Vegas…

  Chapter Fourteen

  The hotel’s fitness center was set up for the casual user, with treadmills set up near free weights, and wide-screen televisions scattered around the room.

  It wasn’t as well-furnished as the gym in the basement of the Devil’s Playground, but it didn’t have to be.

  Trey started off with a series of pushups before moving on to the weights, enjoying the exercise. The stress in his body eased as he focused on the here-and-now, pushing himself to the edge and a bit beyond. He stripped off his T-shirt—he was the only occupant of the gym at the moment, and he wasn’t shy about hiding his battle scars.

  A half-hour later and he was sweaty and loving the burn in his muscles, the familiar sensation helping chase away the tension of the past few hours.

  Vincent was alive and they’d find him.

  After that…

  A soft cough broke his concentration, causing him to put the weight down with a grunt.

  He looked up to see Ally standing just inside the doorway. She’d changed out of the power suit and was now wearing a T-shirt and jeans, looking nothing like the tough businesswoman he’d been escorting for the day.

  “I’m sorry.” Her cheeks pinked with embarrassment. “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

  He chuckled and picked up the hand weight, moving to put it back on the rack. “No. Just thinking too much.” He pulled down one of the nearby hand towels. “What can I do for you?”

  “Ah…” She hesitated, and for a second he thought she’d bolt. “I don’t mean to be forward, but would you like to join me for dinner? I’m tired of room service and would like to go out. But I don’t want to sit in a restaurant alone.”

  “Sure. Let’s go back upstairs, and I’ll grab a shower, get changed.” He reached for his T-shirt and tugged it on over his slick torso.

  A shadow appeared at the back of his thoughts, tampering with his growing desire for the lovely Ally Sheldon.

  As soon as I confirm it’s Vincent, I’ll tell her.

  It was a promise he couldn’t let himself break.

  He grinned as he followed her out of the fitness center and toward the elevators.

  …

  Ally sat on the edge of the bed, her head spinning. The smartest thing would have been to leave him alone, order something in for herself, and go over the latest data on the Las Vegas project. The smartest, but not the wisest.

  She didn’t know what to make of Trey. He was kind, gentle, and helpful on the outside, but she sensed a battle going on under that facade. Every time they spoke about Vincent, the shift in his body language told her something was wrong. She needed to find out what that was and figure out if there was something between them, something more than just the job.

  She flashed back to when she’d seen him in the fitness center. His loose sweatpants had been tied with a slender white cord hanging free at the front. For a wild, crazy second, she thought about reaching for the strand, seeing if what she’d suspected lay under those tight jeans was correct. His sweat-soaked chest had been marked by a number of scars, the six-pack of perfectly toned abs almost screamed for her to reach out and count them off, one by one, with her fingertips. She itched to follow her touch with her tongue, committing each battle mark to memory.

  It was a naughty thought, a decadent thought to have. But it’d started back when Trey had come to her at the bar in the nightclub, and she could only resist temptation so long.

  Ally swallowed hard, forcing herself to take a deep breath.

  Oh. Yeah.

  There was something going on here, something she needed to discover and explore.

  This seemed as good as any place to start her search.

  Edgar rapped at the bedroom door. “Miss Ally? The car’s waiting at the front of the hotel. I’m going to take a break, stay here in case someone calls.” He smiled. “I’m glad you’re going out. You’re looking a bit pale; the fresh air will help you recover from recent events.”

  “Thank you.” She ran a hand through her hair, steadying herself.

  Keep it together.

  She looked at Edgar. “What’s your take on Trey Pierce?”

  “I sent you the memo I put together on him.” She saw the shift in his stance, the military man coming out. “He’s solid. Not a security risk.”

  “I know. I read it.” She studied his face. “But I’m asking what you think about him. Your personal assessment.”

  “He’s smart, savvy, and steady. He’s seen battle and knows when to fight and when to stand back.”

  She eyed him. “You’re picking up on all this by just looking at him?”

  Edgar shrugged. “Men like us, we recognize each other. You’re safe with him.” One eyebrow rose. “As much as you would like to be.”

  She didn’t know what to say, so she walked past him into the living room.

  Trey was already there.

  His short hair was still damp from the shower, the light blue dress shirt and jeans giving him a casual look. A gentle smile disarmed her, tamping down the nervousness.

  “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

  “No idea,” she confessed. “This isn’t my hometown. I can give you plenty of restaurant referrals in New York, but…”

  Trey took her hand. “I’ve got a place in mind. Just promise me you’ll try to relax. It’s not healthy to worry all the time. We’ll have our phones—if they need us, they’ll call.”

  Soon they were settled in a little Italian place, a lovely small cafe with enough customers to be comfy but not crowded. From the look of the place, it was off the beaten path, more for the locals than for the tourists.

  She rolled her shoulders back, the muscles beginning to relax as she listened to Trey talk about the area’s history. It was as normal a date as she could imagine and just what she needed to settle her nerves.

  The talk turned to Trey and his own family.

  “My mother lives in a trailer park in Florida.” He took a sip of water. “Works in a nearby bakery.”

  “Isn’t she old enough to retire?”

  “Long past. And she could—between my dad’s military pension and her own, she definitely could. But she loves the smell of the ovens, and I think there’d be a riot if she ever gave up making her cookies.” His grin was infectious. “They carry them at the local restaurants for dessert.”

/>   Ally ran her hand over the top of her glass. “Your father passed away when you were young. I saw it in the memo Edgar put together for me.” She studied his face, trying to sense if she’d gone too far.

  Trey nodded. “Edgar’s a good man. He wouldn’t let me near you if he thought I was any danger.” He fiddled with his napkin for a second before continuing. “My dad died in the nineties in a training accident. Drowned while trying to save another recruit who was drowning as well. Guy pulled him down while panicking, and the other pool instructors couldn’t get there in time.”

  “That’s awful.” She shook her head. “I’d feel guilty as hell if that were me.”

  He shrugged. “The man came to our house, to the funeral. Cried like a baby and my mom put her arms around him, hugged the hell out of him. I didn’t understand it at first, how she could do that. But later on, she told me he’d carry the weight of that for the rest of his life—she didn’t need to add to it.” He tapped the fork against the edge of his plate. “When I was older and went into the military, I understood. Killing a man changes you—whether it’s accidental or not, it scars your soul.”

  Before she could decide how to answer that one, the server arrived with the dessert tray, and the topic changed.

  She made it all the way through coffee and the tiramisu before she pulled out her phone and checked for new messages. Nothing there.

  “Jessie will call if there’s anything. So will Edgar,” Trey reminded her.

  “I know.” Ally rubbed her forehead. “Just hard to figure out whether I’m going to slap Vincent first or hug him. He’s put me through a lot, put Edgar through hell. We’ll weather this one, though—like all the other issues we’ve dealt with over the years.”

  Trey nodded. “Guess that’s why Sheldon Construction has done so well.”

  There was a bite to his words, one that ground against her skin like sandpaper.

  Enough.

  “What’s going on?” She put her fork down. “You’ve got this whole passive-aggressive thing happening, and I’m done with it.” She dabbed at her mouth with the cloth napkin, using the time to choose her words carefully. “Were you fired by our company at some point in the past? House collapse because of shoddy construction? What?”