He nodded. “First of all, I saw her at a bar last week, with some random dude. He was feeding her shots and she was downing them. Something didn’t feel right.” Jenny leaned forward, her eyes wide and riveted to his.
He took a breath and continued. “I followed them outside, with the intent to intervene if I needed to. She fell in the parking lot, which alerted me to how intoxicated she was. I approached them and she got really pissed. She accused me of…er…interfering with her”—he cleared his throat—“sex life. Our argument got pretty heated. My biggest concern is that she seemed completely unconcerned about what was on the douchebag’s agenda. Obviously I don’t know her well, but from what I do know, this kind of behavior seems out of character.”
Jenny’s creased brow deepened. She flattened her palms on the table. “I can’t say I’m surprised by all this. You’re right, it is out of character for her, but there’s a lot more to it than that.” She straightened in her seat, her eyes bore into his. “You’re a nice guy, but take my advice: forget about Riley Reynolds. She’s…troubled. It’s in your best interest to enjoy what time you have left here, and go home.” She stood up.
Ethan caught her wrist. “What do you mean she’s troubled?”
“I can’t talk about it. Especially here.” She brought her pen to the pad of paper and scribbled something. She tore it off and pressed it face down on the table. “I’ll be back to take your order.”
His hand inched over the piece of paper. “Sure, thanks.” The door opened and people milled in. He slid the paper closer to him and tapped his fingers against it.
Whatever was on the other side of the paper would change the rest of his days here—that he knew for certain. It’d only further drive him deep into the rabbit hole that was Riley.
His senses prickled. He’d come here to soul-search, to escape the constant cycle of jobs he’d chosen for himself that didn’t fit. He’d left the FBI because he couldn’t handle the cases. If he was going to be completely honest with himself, it was why he’d left the military and recon too. Watching people die, having a hand in human suffering…he couldn’t do it anymore. He’d thought the FBI would give him more control, that he’d somehow be able to save people. That hadn’t happened. Instead, he’d been bound by red tape and legalities.
He exhaled through his nose. He wouldn’t be able to walk away from the slip of paper if his life depended on it. Not when it held a clue to Riley and the jumble of puzzles that surrounded her. He flipped it over and read the blue ink scrawl.
Hanna Wilson.
Hanna Wilson… A bell sounded in his head. He’d seen that name before. But where? He pulled his phone from his pocket and typed the name in the search engine. His eyes scanned the screen as he scrolled from headline to headline. His mind worked in circles, molding together a piece of the puzzle…the puzzle that made Riley tick.
Goddammit.
Christ, he hadn’t come here for this shit. Exactly the opposite. But he couldn’t look away. Who was Hanna to Riley? And how the hell did her self-destructive behavior tie in to the missing woman?
When Jenny brought his food out he met her gaze. One eye narrowed at him and her eyebrows bobbed.
“What now?”
“Isn’t Riley working today?”
“No, she took the weekend off.” Her eyes flitted to the ground, avoiding his eye contact. She gave him a tight smile and turned away, he touched her arm.
“Her car was gone early this morning.”
She took a deep breath. “Yeah, she said something yesterday about having a flat and needing to get a new tire.”
So she was sitting at home with no car? That made no sense. “Why did she take the weekend off?”
Jenny’s shoulders drooped. “She’s going to the Beach Bash. Didn’t you hear about it?”
He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and the coffee untouched. He’d seen signs for the event around town, but it hadn’t crossed his mind once that Riley would go.
“Yeah, I heard about it. But why is she going?”
“Did you look into that name I gave you?” Her voice lowered, her eyes scanned over his shoulders as if she feared someone would overhear.
“Yes, but what does she have to do with Riley and the beach party?”
Jenny toyed with the notepad in her hands. “She would kill me if she knew I was talking to you about this.”
His heart stalled. He clamped his teeth together, forcing himself not to respond. He had to know.
She took a deep, shaky breath. “Hanna is Riley’s best friend from childhood. When she went missing, Riley moved back here from Boston.” She shrugged. “She’s determined to find her.”
Ethan’s senses prickled to life. “How the hell is she planning to do that?”
Jenny smirked. “You’ll need to ask Riley that. Look, I have to get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.”
His fist clenched so tight his knuckles ached. He’d talked to Jenny hoping to find answers, and all he’d succeeded in doing was getting a shitload more questions.
One thing was for sure, he couldn’t let her go to the Beach Bash alone.
Chapter 6
The bass vibrated the sand beneath Riley’s feet. Music blasted around her before getting swallowed into the dark sky. She’d been meandering around on the beach, moving slowly to the music for two hours. She hadn’t even bumped into Josh even through he’d said he’d be here. It was after ten o’clock and the party would go until two a.m. God, she hoped this wasn’t for nothing, and that it didn’t take until the end of the night to find the bastard—if he was even here. She took a long sip of the bright colored drink, a combination of liquor, one of which was the sweet tropical taste of coconut rum.
No. He was here.
He had to be. She could feel him. Her eyes glided over every man’s face in search of him…as if she knew exactly what he looked like. She would know. For one thing, he’d be Hanna’s type. Tall, dark haired, and assertive. He would have to be in his late twenties to early thirties, and definitely not older or younger. Cowboy attire had also been a thing for her. If he was out and on the prowl, he’d likely be alone, and inconspicuous. Maybe not such a long shot after all.
After the attack the other night, Joe had informed her that they hadn’t been able to trace the voicemail. He was smart, and he thought he could toy with her. But she would catch him.
A warm body slammed into hers. Her tropical drink splashed down her chest, coating her bare stomach and soaking into her denim shorts.
“Sorry,” a young man mumbled before turning back into the crowd.
Ugh. Well, good thing it was dark, her bikini top was black, and her shorts were denim and not the white ones she’d considered. The sickly sweet liquid stuck to her skin. The humidity made it worse. Screams filled the air around her. She jumped and turned her attention to the stage.
“Give it up for DJ Romeo!” The MC extended his arm to the turntables on the stage and the DJ greeted the crowd.
“Oh my god, it’s him!” A young woman who looked to be barely twenty-one screamed in her ear.
Riley grimaced. At twenty-seven she was getting too old for this crap. She’d rather be at home, curled up on the couch in her pajamas watching a movie or reading. A wild night for her meant a smidge more than a glass of wine and chocolate. Maybe pizza. Her life was as far from this crowd as it could get, yet here she was—hunting.
What was Hanna doing? Sharp fear tightened its grip around her heart. She pushed her thoughts away as she had a million times over the last few weeks. Not now. She had to stay focused. She was Hanna’s only hope. The police had all but given up on finding new leads. Everyone else seemed to believe she’d up and left rather than acknowledge that she’d been taken from the safety of their town. Anger burned the back of her throat. Hanna wouldn’t up and leave. She loved her family, her job, and was
the most considerate person on the planet. She would never put those she cared about into turmoil.
She held her slim shoulder bag close to her hip as she moved through the crowd. Her feet sunk into the divots in the sand, the terrain uneven and slippery. She needed another drink and a bottle of water to wash herself off.
“Can I have a water and another one of these, please?” The young bartender who had served her the cocktail smiled, passed her a cup of water, and began making her drink. When he was done, she paid him, accepted the blue drink, and stepped outside the crowd. She dumped the ice-cold water down her chest and rinsed away what she could of the sticky residue. A chill raced over her until the hot air warmed her skin again.
“That hot?”
She whipped around at the deep southern drawl. She took in the tall man with his hands shoved in his pockets. He wore a plaid button-down shirt, red baseball cap, and cargo shorts with flip-flops. The corners of her mouth tugged into a smile. Bingo.
She laughed. “It’s so hot out.” She brought the cocktail to her lips and sipped leisurely. God, if Hanna could see her now, she’d be screaming “slut!” jokingly in her ear. The man’s grin spread to his eyes, the color was unclear in the darkness, but they were dark. His jaw was freshly shaven without a hint of stubble. Light-haired? It was hard to tell with the hat over his head.
He held his hand out to her. “My name’s Greg. What’s yours?”
She slipped her fingers into his warm, moist palm. “Angie.” She stepped closer to him, letting her thigh brush against his hip. He leaned down toward her mouth, while his hand hovered on the small of her back. “Want to dance?” she croaked.
His fingers moved over her bare skin suggestively. Goose bumps raced over her. Not good goose bumps. Not like the ones Ethan gave her.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Sure, but do you want something else to drink? A shot maybe?”
Oh yeah, he could be the one. God, why did they always want to do shots? The answer was obvious. She didn’t handle shots well. She’d nursed the fresh cocktail for the last hour and her skin puckered with tightness from the first one that still coated her abdomen. She took a shaky breath and smiled.
“Sure.”
He held up his finger indicating he’d be back in a minute and pushed his way to the bar. Her hand moved over her purse again. If he was the one who had taken Hanna, he’d be dangerous. She was prepared. A can of pepper spray and a foghorn lay inches away, inside her purse. In her back pocket, she kept her cell phone, a slim switchblade and the roofies. Tucked safely in the tiny zipper pocket of her bag was a picture of Hanna. In order for her plan to work, she needed him to take her somewhere so she could drug him. Her heart palpitated at the prospect of being alone with the creep. As long as she got the drugs in him as soon as possible, he’d be less powerful against her. And if he tried anything, she was ready. She had never hurt a fly in her life, but in order to find Hanna, she would do anything.
He returned with a shot in each hand.
Her blood thundered wildly through her veins to the techno beat that pulsed through her thin sandals.
Her fingers curled around the tiny, smooth plastic cup.
“Bottoms up.” His fingers lifted the end of the cup, urging her to drink. He kept his eyes on her while his shot hovered at his lips. Dammit, she hadn’t watched him get her drink. She knew better than that. If she backed out now, he’d know something was up. She tilted her head back and let the liquid wash down her throat. It burned all the way down to her belly.
She coughed. “What was that?”
“Tequila.”
She groaned inwardly. She’d only drank tequila once before and she didn’t remember much of that night other than a lot of vomiting before passing out. That had been Hanna’s twenty-third birthday party.
“Want another?” He leaned close, his body crowded her. Her hackles rose. Wow, he wasn’t wasting any time. She lifted the cocktail in her hand and drank the too-sweet liquid, washing out the burn of the tequila.
“Not yet, let’s dance.” She led him into the crowd and began to sway to the music. His hands grasped her hips, drawing her against him. This close, his scent invaded her. Her nostrils burned with the ashen smell of cigarette smoke and a hint of sweat. Gross. He smiled down at her. His eyes were shadowed beneath the bill of his hat. She moved closer to get a good look at him, which planted the front of her body against his. His smile widened. His hands moved to cover the small of her back, where denim met bare skin.
The bridge of his long nose had a large bump—a recent break? She took in every inch of him, she needed more. Something else to identify him.
“You’re not drinking.” His eyes darkened on hers. Her breath hitched. The heat from the tequila warmed her blood. Another one of those and she’d be on her ass. She sipped her cocktail.
“Where’s yours?”
His hips pulsated to the beat of the music. She moved against him. He drew her closer, his thigh slipped between hers. Her body stiffened and her throat tightened.
He was assertive, all right.
He reached into his pocket and opened his palm to her. “I have these, do you want one?”
Three tiny purple pills stared back at her. Her stomach dropped. Every muscle in her body turned to stone. She swallowed over the lump that expanded in her throat and forced words out. “Not right now.”
He tossed back one of the pills and swallowed without any water. “You’re no fun. Have one of these or a shot, your choice.”
He was challenging her. If she stood her ground and accepted neither, he’d move on to another woman. One that was less prepared than she. The pills just made him a prime suspect. Could he have drugged Hanna? She had to pursue him.
“I’ll have another shot, but make it a double.”
He laughed. “Now you’re talking.”
She led the way to the bar this time, no way in hell she was letting him touch her drinks after seeing the pills. Had he slipped her one already? A gentle hum ebbed over her body and fear ate a hole into her heart.
“Two doubles of tequila.” Greg rested his arm on the bar and turned to her. “You’re here by yourself?”
She nodded. “My friend was supposed to meet me but she bailed.”
“Bummer, but I think we’ll have a fun night. Where are you staying?”
She gave him the name of a motel toward the outside of town. There was no need for him to know she lived nearby.
“No way, I’m there too.”
Yeah, right. “Oh my god, small world.”
The bartended set their shots on the counter. She grabbed hers before he could reach for it.
“Show me what you’ve got,” he snickered as she eyed the golden liquid. A double? She was insane. She closed her eyes and sucked back the liquid.
Greg roared, “All right, blondie. You’ve got balls.”
The fiery fluid rested in her stomach, nausea tossed it around. Oh god, what had she done? A loud buzz started in her ears, her vision blurred. Greg’s arm pulled her against him.
“You’re okay, just have some of this.” He lifted the cocktail cup in her hand until she sipped.
A voice roared over the nearby speakers, rattling her nerve endings. Her cheeks went numb. She needed to sit down, to close her eyes for just a minute.
Greg led her away from the crowd, his laugh echoed in her ears. “Let’s get you out of here.”
No, no, no.
She wasn’t ready. She just needed more time, maybe some water. She planted her feet in the sand and leaned back against the pull of his arm. Her resistance shook her balance. She stumbled backwards. Greg’s face was replaced with the black sky speckled with bright stars. Her butt thumped into the sand, jarring her. Sand and sky wavered in front of her, swirling together into one messy cocktail. She squeezed her eyes tight and pressed her fingers to her temples
. She needed to pull herself together. Mind over matter. Rough hands snagged her arms and hefted her to her feet. Greg’s throaty laugh rumbled against her side.
“You’re fine.” He towed her through the sand and into a small break in the trees. A million vehicles littered the grass. Keys rattled in the night, and the metallic clink made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Her eyes dragged across the deserted parking area. She sucked in a deep breath of the muggy air as he led her to a large white truck. Panic reverberated through her bones and tears burned her eyes.
This moron could be the man who’d taken Hanna. But dammit, if she went with him while she was wasted, she wouldn’t be able to defend herself. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She’d had a plan, a solid one. All she’d had to do was have him get her alone and stay sober so she could slip him the pills and get a confession. And this bastard had blown it to smithereens.
She stopped a few feet from the passenger door and brushed his arms off. “I’m sorry, Greg. I drank too much and I’m feeling pretty sick. I’d better go back to my hotel.” She took a step back, but his arm snaked around her shoulders.
“Not to worry, hon. We’re at the same place, remember? I’ll give you a ride.”
Bile slammed against her palate. She wrestled out of his arms and took a step back. “No, I—”
His hand gripped her shoulder and he shoved her against the truck. Her head knocked against the window and her vision swam. Her breath came out in sharp pants as her knees buckled. Darkness closed in around her and her muscles went limp.
The slam of a door snapped her eyes open. Her gaze swept around her, taking in the black interior of his truck. The warm scent of leather filled her nostrils. Oh god, she’d passed out. Saliva pooled beneath her tongue and she took a shaky breath through her nose. A glow from the interior light spilled over his tall form. His baseball hat kept his eyes shadowed, but illuminated a scar across his long, thin nose.
“Relax, we’ll be there in five minutes.” His tone was as slick as oil, and his smile stretched into a thin, salacious line.
Bait Page 6
