Forever Alexa (Book Four In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series)

by Beauman, Cate

  Alexa steamed out a frustrated growl and started her own list of things to do. She would call her sister’s roommates again and find out what they remembered about Renzo. Focusing on the calendar again, she scanned April and the first three weeks of May, noting three more dinner blocks from seven thirty to eight thirty. Those had to be the date nights. With no more answers than she started with, she shut Abby’s planner and stared at her laptop.

  The police had taken Abby’s laptop, but could she still access the e-mail account? She’d never tried, fearing she might damage some sort of vital evidence, but she was willing to try now. The authorities weren’t spending their time trying to help Abby; their only interest was Zachary Hartwell. Nibbling her lip, she typed in Abby’s username and password. Seconds later, Alexa’s screen filled with hundreds of unopened e-mails. She scanned two pages, recognizing many of the senders. The few addresses she didn’t recognize, she opened. Most were from contacts in the fashion industry offering words of hope for a quick and safe return. Alexa sniffed and wiped at her eyes. Her sister was so well loved.

  She pulled a tissue from the box on the small end table and dabbed at her nose as she tried to pull herself together. Sentiment wasn’t going to help Abby. She took a deep breath and got back to work, scrutinizing each sender once more. She backtracked into Abby’s opened mail, but she still couldn’t find anything from Renzo. “What the heck?”

  Sighing, she rubbed at her temples. The guy wasn’t a damn ghost. She’d seen him in the flesh herself—unless she’d jumped to a major conclusion and the Renzo at Lady Pink wasn’t the person they were looking for. “No. No.” She rested her face in her hands, afraid she would scream out her anger as she hit yet another dead end. Of course he was the right Renzo. The coincidence was too perfect. “Okay.” She flexed her fingers before she typed Renzo in the search bar of Abby’s account. A box reading, No messages matched your search, popped up. She tried Lorenzo next. The message popped up again. She flopped back against the cushion of the couch. What’s his last name? Why hadn’t she asked Abby? It was such basic information, yet she didn’t have a clue.

  One more try. She typed Renzo, Baltimore fashion photographer into Google. Several hits filled the screen. She clicked on the first and discovered that The Renzo was a posh restaurant overlooking the water, located not far from Abby’s old row house. She clicked on the next hit with Renzo and fashion in it. A paper had mentioned a small fashion show the restaurant had hosted several weeks back, but that wasn’t what she was looking for. After scanning five more hits with similar results, she gripped the edges of the laptop as her breath rushed in and out, hot tears filling her eyes. She set her computer down with great care, fighting the urge to throw it to the floor and watch it crack in to pieces, as she struggled with her unfamiliar rage. She’d never felt as helpless and angry as she did right now. For every step they gained in the investigation, something stood in the way to slow it down.

  Alexa stood and walked to the window. The steady breeze and sounds of the night did little to soothe her. She needed Abby’s cellphone. There was probably a text from Renzo, or at least a number, but the police still had it. Jack or Tucker would have to call the detective and have him check. She pressed her head to the window’s wooden frame, trying to get a grip on her raw emotions. The inability to do anything more than wait on others was becoming too much to bear. There had to be something else she could be doing.

  “Alex?” Jack stirred in the bed beyond the half-wall.

  “Yeah.”

  The mattress squeaked with his movements. She didn’t turn to face him as he walked from the other side of the room. She was afraid she might lash out. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t bury the spark of resentment wanting to burst into flames. He’d promised her he would bring Abby home, but he hadn’t. Abby had been right in front of them, and he watched her walk away. He protected people for a living, but he didn’t protect Abby. Shamed to the marrow, more tears filled her eyes.

  “How’d it go?”

  “She wasn’t there.”

  “She wasn’t… Where’s Tucker?”

  She shrugged. “In the office.”

  He rested his warm, calloused hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Alex.”

  “Sorry doesn’t do Abby much good,” she bit off, unable to hold it all back.

  Jack’s fingers tightened against her skin, but then he dropped his hands.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “She was there last night. We should’ve called Detective Canon right away. You should have tried to take her.”

  “No, I shouldn’t have. We already talked about this.”

  “I’m so sick of talking.” She whirled. “Everyone wants to talk, but nobody wants to act. My sister needs help.”

  The room filled with tension as Jack held her gaze but said nothing.

  “We saw a man named Renzo tonight.”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes. “What?”

  “A man named Renzo came to Lady Pink as we were heading to the car. I heard the bouncer say his name.”

  “Son of a bitch.” He jammed a hand through his hair. “I need to talk to Tucker.”

  “Renzo knows where my sister is. I know he does.”

  “Let me talk to Tucker. I’ll put in a call to Ethan.”

  “What about Detective Canon?”

  “No.”

  “Why?” she asked with exasperation. “He’s in charge of Abby’s case.”

  “And how many times has he called you with new leads?” His voice lowered as his eyes heated. “I can waste time listening to him rip me another asshole for getting in the way, or I can get moving on this. We’ve uncovered more in twenty-four hours than the police have since she disappeared. Canon has to follow procedure. I don’t. I’ve already told you they aren’t going to act until they have the key players of this ring. Let Ethan do some digging into Renzo. Let me and Tucker work the angles on this for a day or two. If we can’t bring anything else around, I’ll call Detective Canon.”

  “Abby can’t afford to wait.”

  “She also can’t afford mistakes. There aren’t any easy answers here, Alex. As much as you don’t want to hear it and I hate repeating it, you’re going to have to be patient.”

  Patient. If she was told to be patient one more time… She turned again and stared hard out the window. “They’ve already moved her. How long until they send her away? We tried your way last night, Jack, and look where that got us.” She bunched her fists at her side, hating herself for being so mean. None of this was his fault. “I’m sorry, Jack. I—” She turned and he was gone.

  She took a step toward the door but stopped and sat on the couch instead, lying against the cushion. What was she doing? She was hurting the only person who’d stood by her through this ordeal. When Jack came back from the office, she would sit him down and apologize, but as the minutes ticked by and she waited, she fell asleep.

  Jackson rapped his knuckles on the door of his father’s office and peeked in.

  Tucker gave him a ‘come on in’ signal with a jerk of his head while he spoke on his cellphone. “Run that and let us know what you get. Yeah, we’re going back tomorrow night. Okay, later.” He set his phone down and propped his feet on the edge of the desk, ankles crossed. “I take it you spoke with Alexa.”

  “Oh, we talked.” Jackson clenched his jaw and plunked his ass on the arm of the couch. The angry hurt in Alex’s eyes and barely controlled fury in her short, cutting words bothered the hell out of him. “Abby wasn’t at Lady Pink. Renzo was.” He steamed out a long breath and stood again, too restless to be still. “Goddamnit.” He rubbed his fingers against his forehead. “Abby wasn’t fucking there. Alex is pissed.”

  “So, she’s pissed.” Tucker shrugged. “You made the right call last night.”

  Jackson walked to the windo
w and stared out at the dark waters. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “You guess?” Tucker dropped his feet from the desk. “Were you going to fend off a dozen bouncers with your fists, or better yet draw your weapon, shoot a couple of the bastards, and go down for murder? Don’t be stupid enough to take that on, Matthews.”

  Jackson let loose a humorless laugh and shook his head. He knew he’d done the right thing for both Alex and Abby—deep down he did, anyway. The odds of getting them out of Lady Pink safely had been nil, but that didn’t make any of this easier. Abby was still being held against her will, and Alex’s heart was broken. “I can deal with her anger. God knows she’s been mad at me before. But when she looks at me with those eyes…” He bunched his fists. “They’re so fucking sad. I can hardly stand it.”

  “This is tough, man. I don’t envy your situation. All we can do is keep at it.”

  “I know.” He turned back to Tucker, struggling to push his last ‘conversation’ with Alex from his mind. “Tell me about Renzo.”

  “He’s in this up to his eyeballs. My fucking spidey senses started tingling as soon as I saw him. They still are.”

  “Same Lorenzo Cruz I was investigating back in LA?”

  “Yup. I pulled up his information again—couple of speeding tickets, but no criminal record. He’s clean according to the law, but I look forward to Ethan’s take. There’s more to this guy than we’re seeing. We just need to give Ethan time to dig. He said he’ll get back to us tomorrow night at the latest.”

  Uncustomarily edgy, Jackson scrubbed his hands over his face. “All this waiting is making me ape shit, man.”

  Tucker shrugged. “It’s part of the game. You know that.”

  He did, but this was the first time the waiting affected someone he loved. Alex was being torn to pieces. The torture was unbelievable. “What am I going to do if I missed our chance? This whole thing is worse now that I’ve actually seen her and talked to her and touched her. Abby’s fucking gorgeous. She and Alex could be twins. They’re going to use and abuse her until they kill her…” Jackson stopped, and his gaze flew to Tucker’s steady, impenetrable stare as he remembered. Abby’s case couldn’t be easy for Tucker to work. So many pieces were cruelly similar to Tucker’s twin sister’s unsolved murder. He’d been so wrapped up in Alex and Abby, he’d never stopped to think of the horror Tucker had lived through several years ago. “I’m sorry, man. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Tucker gave Jackson his trademark shrug. “They’re probably rotating her. She’ll be back.”

  Jackson nodded, understanding that the subject had been dropped as quickly as it had been brought up. Tucker rarely spoke of his sister or the tragic circumstances behind her death.

  Tucker stood. “I’m thinking I’ll spend tomorrow spot-checking Renzo’s house, his place of business, etcetera. Hopefully I’ll have a few things to add to whatever Ethan finds. I have no doubt he’ll uncover something. This guy’s in deep. The waitresses are afraid of him. He knows the bartenders and bouncers. I can’t figure out why a guy who looks like him and has a career like his would be hanging out at a place like that unless he had something to gain from it.”

  “Definitely raises a few flags. Now we have to figure out who he’s working with and see if it leads us back to Hartwell. This could be big.”

  “Might be.” Tucker stretched his arms as he walked to the door and opened it. “I’m fucking beat. I’m going to bed. Tomorrow’s going to be a long one.”

  Chapter 14

  Alexa bopped her leg up and down while she sat in the moonlit living room, waiting. She glanced at the clock—again. It was three thirty in the morning. Where were they? She picked up her phone from the coffee table and started punching Jack’s number in for the fourth time, but stopped herself before she hit the last digit. She set her cell down and wandered to the large picture windows facing the bay, nibbling her lip. She’d texted Jack at midnight for an update, and again at one. When she received no response, she tried to call and was immediately sent to his voicemail. “They’re busy. That’s all.”

  But what if they weren’t? She turned from the window and swiped a loose strand of hair behind her ear, growing more frantic with every passing minute. What if they were in trouble? Maybe the bouncers figured out that they weren’t there to ogle naked women. Or maybe Jack and Tucker saw their chance to take Abby, and something had gone terribly wrong.

  Alexa pressed a hand to her jittery stomach and tried a deep, calming breath. “They’re fine. They have to be.” But maybe they weren’t. “Damn it, Jack. Be okay,” she whispered, and bit her thumbnail.

  Guilt compounded her worry as she thought of her last conversation with him. She’d been so unkind and way out of line. None of what was happening to Abby was his fault. Although Jack had said he could take her abuse, she’d had no right to dish it out. She desperately needed to apologize and make things right, but first he had to come home. Jack and Tucker had already been gone when Livy woke her at seven. They hadn’t been back since.

  Alexa looked at the gorgeous grandfather clock and closed her eyes as she rested her butt on the arm of the couch. Five minutes. Had it really only been five minutes? She would give them until four, then she was calling Detective Canon. She reached for a copy of People and twisted on the lamp on the side table. Absently, she flipped from one page to the next, listening to the antique timepiece in the corner of the room tick the seconds away.

  Could tonight be the night? Would Abby finally come home? Perhaps Jack and Tucker had taken her to the hospital for an evaluation, but certainly Jack would’ve called to tell her. Or maybe they followed the van that transported women back and forth from the clubs to the stash houses. Or what if—

  She whipped her head up, on full alert when a key was shoved into the lock and the front door opened. “Oh, thank God.” She tossed the magazine aside and hurried to the entryway. “You’re okay.” She threw her arms around Jack and held on, despite the cigarette smoke covering his clothes. “You’re okay,” she repeated, resting her head on his chest. “I was so worried.”

  His arms came around her. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were still up.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” She peered over his shoulder to the front steps. Abby wasn’t waiting in the shadows to be welcomed. She met Jack’s stare and struggled with her disappointment.

  Tucker skirted around her and Jack. “I’m going to follow up with Ethan and see if he found anything else.” He gave Alexa a nod. “Good night.”

  “Tucker, thank you so much.” She gave him a small smile.

  “You’re welcome.” He turned and disappeared up the stairs.

  She returned her attention to Jack. “So, how—how did it go? How’s Abby holding up?”

  He played his fingers through her hair and held her gaze. “Alex—”

  She read the apology in his eyes, and her stomach sank. “Abby wasn’t there.”

  “No.”

  She’d tried to prepare for the possibility, but she’d been so sure everything would work out this time. “Abby’s gone,” Alexa said, more to herself than Jack as she stared at the floor, trying to absorb another crushing blow. Did the ring ship her sister off to some faraway city, or worse, another country?

  “We have to keep believing she’s coming home.” Jack held her tighter and pressed his cheek to the top of her head as he stroked his hand up and down her arm. “Ethan called us on the drive back. He found some stuff—a couple of websites he’s looking into. The details are still coming in, but if there’s a lead, Ethan’ll find it. He’s excellent at what he does.”

  Alexa wanted to find comfort in another possibility, but the last dredges of hope had finally vanished. “That’s good,” she said with more enthusiasm than she felt. She untangled herself from Jack’s grip, afraid that if she looked at him, she would burst into tears. “I—I should prob
ably get to bed.” She cleared her throat, steadying her voice. “Livy will be up soon.” She turned and hurried up the steps, fighting to keep her breathing steady and suppressing her need to sob.

  The front door shut, and seconds later Jack followed. Alexa picked up her pace, desperate to lock herself in her room and relieve the consuming ache alone.

  “Alex, wait a second.”

  She shook her head as she stepped to the plush carpeting of the upstairs hallway. She was almost there.

  “Alex, wait.”

  “I can’t,” she choked out as she reached the threshold of the guestroom and gripped the knob, attempted to close herself in. But Jack pressed his hand to the door before it shut.

  “Alex.”

  She held her weight against the wood. “Please, Jack. I just need—”

  “To let me in.” He gave a sharp push, dislodging her from her spot, and stepped inside.

  She walked to the small sitting area, keeping her back to him as he closed the door and followed.

  He snagged her arm and turned her to him. “Alex, talk to me.”

  What could she say? So many thoughts were swirling about—apologies, regrets, disappointments. Finally she looked into his eyes and saw what she’d wanted to avoid—embers of anger and hurt. “Oh, Jack,” she said on a ragged breath and folded herself around him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I blamed you.”