Skye waited for the bartender to finish serving a group of women who appeared to comprise a bridal shower. The woman at the center of it all wore a white veil and, in anticipation of the three shots lined up in front of her, her eyes widened.
“What can I get you?” The bartender asked, reaching Skye’s end of the bar. Her short, choppy blonde hair, cheekbones that could cut glass, and a tank top that showed off defined biceps and a couple of tasteful tattoos, created a tough-girl exterior. Her name tag read Emily.
Emily plucked a cocktail menu from behind the bar, the Celtic band tattooed around one wrist flexing with the movement as she laid the laminated list in front of Skye. “The house special is called a Redemption.”
“Just a beer, in the bottle—unopened, please.”
Emily arched a sleek brow but didn’t comment. She brought a bottle and set the beer on a coaster that displayed Legacy’s logo, a white Greek marble pillar with a celestial background. She laid a bottle opener next to it on the bar. “Anything else? The live music will be starting in a bit. You might want to place an order before it gets busy.”
Skye contemplated how to proceed. What would garner her the most information? Direct questions that seemed to attack Emily’s employer could result in a total shutout, if Stone inspired loyalty. But his employees might be disenchanted with him if he was the egotistical, overbearing type. From Skye’s brief observation of the man, he had the ability to charm some people, alienate others. Which type was Emily?
“Thanks,” Skye said. “I was just thinking what a beautiful place this is, and the employees have been so friendly.” Her social skills might be a little rusty from living with a bunch of guys at the ranch, but she knew enough to flatter people if she wanted something from them.
Emily’s lips curved. “We work for a great boss.”
“The famous film producer Robert Stone owns this place, right?”
Emily’s smile faltered. “No, actually. I mean, yes, he owns this place, and a dozen others, but his daughter manages this location. Her name is Ivy.”
Skye glanced around. “She seems to do a fabulous job. I’d like to compliment her in person.” And ask if I can view the video surveillance from last night. She let her enthusiasm trail off as she opened her beer, hoping Emily would fill in the blanks.
“It’ll have to wait a couple days, I’m afraid. She’s hosting a party for her father Tuesday night. Last-minute thing, so she’s swamped.”
A thrill of anticipation ran through Skye. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she wanted to see Stone again—this time, up close and in person instead of through her scope. “Mr. Stone’s in town?” When Emily’s eyes narrowed at the question, Skye shrugged. “If I owned a chain of hotels, I don’t think I’d stay in one place for long.”
Emily seemed to accept this and relaxed. “He travels a lot, but he has a house nearby. One of those big-ass, flashy estates out in Henderson.” Her eyes widened like a doe in the headlights. “Shit, forget I said that.”
Skye grinned. “No worries. I’m not from around here, anyway.” And she wouldn’t be here for long, just long enough to figure out where Loretta was. Did Stone have her stashed away at his Henderson house? “I’d bet a powerful man like Stone flies in guests from all over the world for his parties.”
“That, he does. Even the last-minute ones. Must be nice not to have to worry about cancelling plans at the last minute.” Emily hefted a bottle of top shelf tequila as a man at the other end of the bar lifted his glass to signal he wanted a refill. Before she obliged him, Emily turned back to Skye and dropped her voice. “Ignore me. I’m a little ticked I have to work the party. I had plans, you know. Instead, I get to play bartender to the rich and famous at the mansion. Lucky me.”
Working parties for Stone probably gave Emily a unique insight into the man’s life. “Before you go, would you take a look at something?” Skye reached into her purse and withdrew her phone, scrolling to the picture of Loretta she’d been showing around Hollywood and Malibu. “Do you recognize this young woman? Her name is Loretta Sheldon, and I think she was here last night. I’ve been trying to locate her for nearly two weeks.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Emily’s gaze softened. “I hope you find your friend, but not everyone who comes to Vegas wants to be found.”
Chapter Four
Just before dawn, Skye had fallen into her own bed, safe within the boundaries of Three Fortunes Ranch in northern Arizona, hundreds of miles away from Malibu or Vegas.
Some people might call the large spread a cattle ranch, which is how it appeared on paper. Others might call it a compound for nutcases and extremists who hated the government, which is what most of the residents of the closest towns of Kingman, Seligman, Ash Fork, Williams and Flagstaff thought. Or a training ground for anti-government guys who wanted to be ready for anything, which is what the guys who lived here—guys like Mark—thought.
Skye called it home. And when she woke later that morning, she felt rejuvenated just being among familiar surroundings. Until she remembered the frustration of the day before. And the nightmares, reminders of past and current failures, that had woken her during the night.
Yesterday, Skye had felt like she’d walked the entire Vegas Strip, the highest congestion of traffic and casinos in town. The enormous complexes appeared deceptively close in proximity, but stretched on over four miles. It was more like ten times that if one counted weaving through the labyrinth of gaming areas within the casinos. She and Mark had followed a trail of credit card purchases that, beginning just after Skye’s chat with Emily, had set Mark’s phone off like a slot machine hitting a jackpot. Unfortunately for them, there’d been no payout. Nobody at the string of restaurants, casinos, and stores recognized the picture of Loretta, despite evidence the girl had gone on a serious spending spree. Of course, they were always a few hours behind the credit card transactions, since they weren’t reported real time.
By midnight, shortly after Mark asked the credit card company to have the next vendor call them before authorizing a purchase, they received a call that she’d attempted to use the credit card at a gas station in Kingman, Arizona, only an hour west of their ranch. Maybe Loretta had grown tired of the glamorous life and was going home. But by the time they arrived at the Kingman truck stop and convenience store, the attendant said he didn’t recognize Loretta’s picture. And there was no Loretta.
It was as if Loretta had become invisible. And how the hell was the girl using Mark’s credit card so often without difficulty? Perhaps nobody paid attention to the name. Or maybe she’d tried other places, and it hadn’t worked. Or maybe Loretta had a man with her. She kept this last theory from Mark, sensing he was only hanging on to his sanity by a frazzled thread.
They’d agreed to regroup at the ranch, hoping to find Loretta home, sleeping in her own bed. The last hour of the drive had been quiet, and Mark had said little about their failed attempt to find further information about his daughter or what he wanted to do next to find her. She’d sensed the quiet hope, however, that he’d find Loretta in her bed in the tiny cabin they inhabited on the ranch.
But arriving home hadn’t made things any better. There were too many memories of Loretta here—and no actual Loretta.
They decided that, after some rest, they’d return to Vegas and follow the credit card trail again. Perhaps a different staff member would recognize Loretta’s photo. A blonde bombshell, she wasn’t exactly forgettable, nor did she want to be. The complete opposite of Skye. And what the hell had Mark thought, bringing a girl like Loretta to the ranch?
Beyond Skye’s bedroom window, there were several outbuildings to the left, including a greenhouse and an irrigated, fenced-in field where they grew as much of their food as they could. Past that lay a couple of overgrown pastures that had once housed cattle and horses, but the ranching aspect of Three Fortunes had dwindled years ago. Now, most of their income came from training and cultivating soldiers, not ani
mals. The entire compound, an island within the bigger ranch property, was enclosed by an electrified security fence.
Other buildings included a large barn and the bunkhouse where most of the survivalists and trainees slept. There were a couple of small, private cabins, reserved for the rare occasions when a family or a female was in residence. Not many women opted to tough it out here. The men usually treated Skye with respect, almost as though she were an honorary daughter. It helped, of course, that her uncle, Tom Hamilton, owned the property.
Loretta had been one of the few females on the ranch in recent months, but she hadn’t enjoyed the lifestyle. At seventeen, she’d become like a little sister to Skye, who had no family other than Uncle Tom. But taking Loretta under her wing hadn’t been enough to help the younger woman accept life here as her new normal. Loretta had big dreams, which included stardom—the complete opposite of the low-profile life the ranch’s inhabitants craved.
Skye hoped Loretta was okay, and was pursuing her dream, but her gut told her something was wrong. She’d give herself a day to regroup, and then return to the Kingman truck stop and the various stops in Vegas where the card was used. She’d ask again about observing surveillance footage. They’d probably decline, or say she had to go through the police, whom Mark wanted to avoid for private reasons, but she could hint that an underage girl might have been using the stolen card.
She trudged downstairs and into the kitchen of the two-story house she shared with her uncle. She sank into one of the two ladder-back chairs as Tom navigated the stove like someone who’d been cooking for an army all his life, which, as far as she knew, he had.
“The creature emerges from its cave.” Tom grinned over his shoulder at her. “I thought the smell of bacon frying might do the trick.” With a paper towel, he blotted the grease from a couple strips of heavenly meat and put them on a plate, then moved to the other skillet to scoop some scrambled eggs. In his midfifties, his burly build came from hard work on the ranch and training with the men.
Skye’s head pounded, but not from a hangover. Her mind was still spinning from her hasty retreat on the rooftop, clearing out the motel room, and then trudging all over Vegas in the heat yesterday.
She traced a divot on the wooden tabletop. The surface was scarred from use, but she knew how it had come by every cut and watermark. It was home. It was familiar. It was where she belonged—not in California. Not staking out a wealthy man who may or may not have anything to do with the missing Loretta. Not fleeing from the man’s minion, into the night, like a coward. That part still grated on her, especially having to leave behind her weapons. She’d paid good money for that rifle.
“It’s after ten o’clock, girl.” Tom laid a heaping plate of food in front of her. His forehead creased as he studied her face. “Saw the truck out front, but I figured you came in pretty late. Didn’t expect you to be away so long. Where’d you go?”
“Business trip.” Reluctant to talk about her trip to California, she ducked her head toward her plate and dug in.
Grunting, he turned back to the stove to dish himself up a plate before taking a seat at the table. “Didn’t see your duffel in the hall closet.”
“It’s in the truck,” she lied. “Like you said, I got home pretty late.”
Blue eyes, much grayer than hers, narrowed. “You look exhausted. Or defeated.”
“The job was a little trickier than I’d been led to believe.” And the soldier could be tracing her gun or the truck registration right now. At least Mark’s driver’s license hadn’t listed a current address.
“Yeah, I figured. You’ve been gone longer than any of your other jobs.” Ten days was about twice as long as any of her previous trips, but those had rarely taken her across the state line.
She got up to grab some hot sauce from the cupboard. On her return, as she passed by him, she caught a whiff of the cigarettes he indulged in on occasion—usually when he was feeling stressed and needed to relax. He didn’t like it when she left the ranch, but she’d been taking these secret jobs for a couple of years now, and he had little say in it.
Before she could scoot back to her chair, he surprised her by grabbing her hand. “I’m glad you’re back, and that you’re choosy about your missions. Smart girl.” When he released her a second later, his face was red with embarrassment at the unusually affectionate display. Skye’s own nerves were a little jittery with emotion. Maybe she needed more sleep. Or a good workout.
Sitting again and shoveling food into her mouth as if she hadn’t eaten in ages—mostly because she hadn’t—she assessed the events of the past ten days and her uncle’s praise. Had she been smart? The mission had been… not a success. But not a failure, either. She had options. She had the credit card trail to go back over. Maybe she’d get a look at video footage this next time. She could confront Stone. She could even trade information, if Stone was amenable. Apparently she wasn’t the only person interested in getting to him. She gathered from her soldier’s questions that someone had taken out a contract on the man, and she could help him find out who, in exchange for Loretta’s whereabouts. Hell, maybe she’d get to see her soldier again.
Get to?
She’d explore her choices after a day at home. Some normalcy would help her reset and regain her objectivity. Looking forward to seeing her soldier was a mistake. He’d backed her into a corner on that roof and made her heart beat double-time. Maybe what was bothering her was that she suspected the elevated rate had not been simply from adrenaline. She’d felt an attraction, a connection.
“Skye? Was it dangerous?” Tom had frozen with a forkful of scrambled eggs hovering near his mouth as her silence stretched on. “Did someone hurt you?”
“Just lost in my thoughts. I haven’t had time to process what I learned.” Or rebuild her defenses, apparently. As if all the time she’d spent driving, and hiking through casinos, wasn’t enough.
“What was it this time—lost dog or lost husband?” His chuckle boomed through the first floor of the old house that had been piecemealed back together like a patchwork blanket as things peeled away, broke off, or began to leak. Tom tried to live off the grid, off the government radar, vowing they had everything they needed to survive right here. But not everyone who came here found what they needed. Loretta certainly hadn’t.
Lost girl.
But Mark had insisted Skye not tell anyone, especially the cops. He was embarrassed enough about his daughter’s behavior and had his reasons for avoiding the police. The man had come to the ranch with his only child, seeking a way to protect them both. From what, nobody asked. Here, they never asked. But people came for all kinds of reasons, like fearing that a government conspiracy would take over their lives if they weren’t armed. Or a personal desire to be stronger, better. They’d even had a potential reality TV contestant who wanted to learn how to survive the wilderness.
But Mark and Loretta Sheldon… something had happened to them. Skye had recognized the soul-shattered look in their eyes when they’d first arrived at the ranch. It was no wonder Loretta had dreamed of something grander and gone for it. Dreaming healed her.
The note Loretta had left for her father was emblazoned on Skye’s brain. I’ve met someone. Stone’s going to make me a star, and I have to follow my dream. I’ll be in touch soon. Intrepidus vive ferociter ludeque.
When the hell had Loretta learned Latin? Mark had confirmed he’d never heard her use the phrase, and was unfamiliar with it. And where had she met someone? She barely left the ranch, and had been taking online courses rather than enrolling in high school, since Mark had led a nomadic life for the couple of years before landing at the ranch. Maybe Loretta had connected with someone online. That kind of thing happened all the time. With her ambition and yearning for excitement, Loretta would have been easy prey. But Mark had kept her isolated, not even allowing her a cell phone. Still, Loretta had accompanied Skye to the library in Flagstaff a couple times.
Skye stood to
go to the refrigerator, deciding she deserved something decadent. She spied the ice cream. Could she have that after breakfast? What the hell? Her entire body was off schedule, anyway. Snagging it, and a spoon from the drawer nearby, she settled in with the carton. Moose Tracks. The caramel ripples made her think of her soldier’s eyes. She obviously needed more sleep. She stabbed at the frozen treat with her spoon.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll be taking the job. This was more of a research trip, but the risk probably isn’t worth the payoff.” There had to be a safer way to track down Loretta than going through Stone and the soldier. The memory of his intense gaze had her body humming. Disgusted with herself, she put the lid on the ice cream and its delectable caramel ribbons and walked it back to the freezer before returning to the table.
Tom’s smile disappeared, his features turning serious. “I’m glad you’re being careful. Every time you leave, I worry it might stir things up—” He broke off as he always did whenever the past, or anything connected with it, threatened to arise.
“Maybe if you told me more, I could find a way around whatever the problem is.”
“No.” As usual, he shut that suggestion down fast. “I need you to be careful not to draw attention to yourself. Promise me, Skye.”
“I promise I’m always careful.” But she hadn’t even heard the soldier climb to the rooftop. Then again, if he was ex-military, it would soothe her ruffled pride. Only someone skilled should be able to get the drop on her.
Actually, he’d reminded her of a younger version of Viper, the camp’s martial arts sensei and head of training programs. Viper was bald and fiftysomething, but he was tough. Decades ago, his work as an Army Ranger had turned him off to being a pawn in government agendas. As soon as he’d left the Army, he’d headed for wide-open spaces and helped Tom set up this ranch, turning it into a more organized compound. Now, Viper trained others who wanted to be prepared for the day they might have to defend their own turfs, or their families, from whatever threat should arrive.
Stacking the Deck (Redemption Club Book 1) Page 4