“Your responses needed to be genuine. Skye would have scented bullshit from several miles away.”
“I’m not sure what I said was enough, unfortunately, to convince her you’re a good guy. She’s one skittish woman. Demanded to know facts and figures. What kinds of cases you’d been working lately, etc. Hell, for a moment, I thought you were interviewing for another job.”
“You trace the call?”
“You know I trace all calls,” he said, which was one of the reasons why Jared didn’t mind Skye checking up on him. “Came from a payphone here in Vegas, inside Excalibur.”
“That’s good news.” She was here. He glanced out the window as if he’d see her standing in his yard or parked across the street. “How did it end?”
“No clue. She hung up after I expounded on your virtues for a while. I told her to ask you about Chelsea.”
Jared was silent a long moment, focusing on relaxing the squeeze that tightened his throat every time he thought about his missing sister.
“Was that okay?” Dev asked, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain.
“She’d have heard about her soon, anyway, if she decides to work with me, instead of against me.” He hadn’t wanted to tell her the details about Chelsea until he was certain which side she was working for. He wanted to trust she wouldn’t go to Stone—for the money or for other reasons—and tell the man what Jared was up to. “She needs to understand she can trust me.” And he had to know he could trust her. He just hoped she chose to come to him instead of Stone.
Chapter Eight
A couple hours later, Jared tried to hide his frustration as he waited in the living room of Stone’s luxurious Henderson, Nevada mansion, just twenty minutes from the Vegas Strip. Everything about the estate, from the separate one-third-acre conservatory lined with Greek pillars and overflowing with lush green plants—they were in a desert, for Christ’s sake—to the private tennis court, large pool with cascading waterfall and six-car garage filled with classic cars, screamed entitlement and wealth. Power.
If Chelsea had fallen into this trap, Jared wasn’t surprised. She’d always been drawn to the glamorous life, wanting the finer things, hoping a man would rescue her. Just like their mother had hoped. But that kind of lifestyle didn’t come cheap.
It had cost their mother everything.
Another damn party. Stone was the very definition of a social butterfly, except Jared suspected the parties were a way to stroke the man’s ego. Still, like the professional he was, Jared had donned his tux and was ready to serve. He was doing this for Chelsea, still hopeful he’d run across someone at one of the parties who had seen her, or heard about her. And for Skye, who was apparently looking for another missing woman.
“Ivy, people will be arriving soon,” Stone said to his daughter as he knotted his tuxedo tie in front of the living room mirror. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
Slender and gracefully beautiful like the marble pillars filling Stone’s conservatory, Ivy’s composure also replicated their hardness. Jared had only encountered her once before, when, as manager of her father’s Legacy Hotel and Casino, she’d hosted Stone’s birthday party there a couple weeks ago. She hadn’t spoken to Jared once. He didn’t take it personally. She’d barely given anyone a cursory glance, as if they were all beneath her. Her bearing was as regal as an ice princess. Then again, if Jared had a father like Robert Stone, he’d probably have grown up withdrawn, too.
Stone’s son, Ryan, was leaning against the bar that had been set up for the event, already on his second drink. He watched quietly, almost morosely, as the action unfolded around him. As near as Jared could figure, the young man traveled and partied as much as his father. Ryan was thirty, older than his successful half-sister by about a year, but apparently had yet to find his calling.
“I was just about to leave,” Ivy replied, her tone cool. She’d been here most of the day, overseeing the setup and instructing the string quartet and catering staff on choice of music and decor. Her personality might be chilly, but she’d created a sense of warmth and elegance in a short time. “I’ll return in time for the party but I can’t stay long. I’m catching the red-eye tonight.”
“Damn it, you don’t need to go on this trip,” Stone roared. Behind him, Ryan stopped swirling the ice in his glass and straightened, but didn’t jump to his sister’s rescue.
Ivy didn’t back away at the sudden outburst, but Jared caught a quick flinch, a crack in the stone facade. Obviously used to dealing with her father’s mercurial moods, she quickly recovered. “You’re the boss.”
“Damn right, I am.” Stone stepped up close to her and gripped her chin. Jared stiffened, not liking how the man was handling her. Though he was still contracted to protect Stone, Jared was ready to step in if Ivy indicated distress. A shield came down over her bottle-green eyes, hard, yet fragile like glass. “I expect my employees to look professional and be respectful. I expect even more from my own flesh and blood. You’re a reflection of me. Always remember that.”
“I understand.” She took a couple steps back to retrieve her purse from the couch, putting distance between her and her father. Jared took a calming breath, admiring how she’d smoothly diffused the tension. Her head tipped upward, the delicate point of her chin and the porcelain of her skin reminding Jared of the columns again. Or an ice sculpture. “May I go?”
“Be back in an hour. I want you here in plenty of time to serve as hostess.” With a quick glance at the rest of the room’s occupants, Ivy pivoted on her three-inch heels and left. Stone’s gaze cut to Jared. “Let your team know that all attendees should have one of these.” He scooped a black-and-silver-embossed invitation off his desk and handed it to Jared. “Or at least a printed copy of an email from Ivy, since the invites went out at the last minute and not all of them could be hand-delivered. The man at the gate should keep everyone else out.”
Jared nodded. “If I’m to continue as your bodyguard, I need to get some things straight.”
“Such as?”
“You can’t go off on your own, especially to seek out people you think might harm you, and expect us to protect you. You need to be honest about where you’re going. At all times.” He was fishing to see if Stone would admit he’d gone to Three Fortunes.
A caterer bustled by with a tray of glasses for the bar.
Stone glared, then barked an order. “Everyone out except for Jared.” The caterer left. Ryan took his time finishing his drink, set it on the bar, and sauntered out with a smirk.
“I didn’t want to speak of this with an audience,” Stone said when they were alone.
“Speak of what, sir? You mentioned you were going to handle the blackmailer personally, and then you disappeared.”
Stone sank into a chair and fiddled with his monogrammed cufflinks. “What’s important is that I received another blackmail demand. I thought I’d handled the issue.” Was he talking about how he’d had Tom Hamilton banish Skye and terrorized her ranch?
“Meyer and Duffy didn’t inform me of a new threat.”
Stone smiled without humor. “I didn’t tell them. I didn’t know who I could trust. Still don’t, sometimes.” His gaze narrowed on Jared. “People lie to me all the time, to get on my good side or get what they want. It doesn’t matter, as long as they don’t try to use the lies against me. Or use me.”
Did Stone know about Jared’s connection to Chelsea, or why he was really working for him? Jared forced his expression to remain neutral, despite the tension rippling beneath his skin. “I always do my best to ensure the safety and security of those who are entrusted to me. I’m a careful man, as are you.”
Stone seemed to weigh Jared’s words for a long moment, then nodded. “I am. But I also know when to keep my business, or my travel plans, to myself.” He stood, signaling the end of the conversation. “Keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary tonight, but the key is that the guests enjoy themselves. I have some
important clients coming. I want them to have a great time. No surprises. And no more questions.”
Around nine o’clock that night, like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, Skye slid into another world. Actually, she willingly jumped.
She parked a quarter mile down the road, which was lined with the other guests’ vehicles, and walked to Stone’s gated estate, hauling her box of goodies—goodies she was hoping would earn her passage into the party. She wasn’t so much crashing the party as breaking in. At the small guardhouse she pretended to stumble in her heels. The guard rushed forward to grab the box from her before it tipped. She recognized him as one of the guards she’d seen through her scope at the Malibu party.
“Heavy,” he observed, then peeked inside. He arched a brow at her. His gaze warmed appreciatively as it slid down her body, no longer obscured by the box. Her weapons of choice this evening were top shelf liquor and a killer dress. And, if necessary, she’d scrounge up some tears. “This isn’t BYOB.” The guard smiled. Good, he was the flirty type. And he had a sense of humor. “There’s free liquor inside.”
“Only if I get this in there.” She winked. “Emily—she’s the bartender tonight—called in a panic. Apparently, not all of the liquor was delivered today.”
The man’s smile fell away and her gut clenched. Had she laid it on too thick? “I’m sorry, ma’am, but nobody gets in without an invitation. Those are my orders.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to make her eyes water. “Please. This is my first week at this job. If I don’t come through, Emily said there would be hell to pay for both of us. You know how Stone is.” She shifted, making sure the length of her leg, bare from mid-thigh down to her strappy high heels, was evident. The guard’s gaze went straight to it. Steam would probably come out of Jared’s ears if he knew his elite security team could be manipulated so easily.
“Okay, but I’ll expect to see you behind the bar with Emily when I go inside at shift change.”
She smiled and took the box of liquor from him. “I look forward to it.”
“Service entrance is around the side. I’ll radio Meyer that you’re on your way.”
A burly man with no sense of humor let her in as promised and then disappeared through a swinging door. The noise of the party grew louder before it shut behind him. Inside the immense gourmet kitchen, she set the box on the counter and went through the door as well. She skirted the bar, where Emily might recognize her. Thankfully, the woman was busy fulfilling drink orders and loading servers’ trays with champagne flutes and water glasses.
Despite the cloak of confidence Skye had attempted to pull around her, panic crawled up her throat. Even in the sleek, black halter dress and rhinestone earrings she’d found at the secondhand store a couple miles off the Strip, and with her hair scooped up into a pile of curls that cascaded down her back, she felt naked, in more ways than one. Usually, she wore more clothing to hide her feminine curves, not wanting to attract attention among the men at the testosterone-laden ranch, but to blend in with this crowd, she’d worn less. Much less. She wished that included going barefoot, as her toes experienced a painful squeeze within her heels. She channeled the pain, using it to ground herself. Stone currently had home court advantage. She couldn’t let her nerves distract her, so she pulled on her tough-girl image and acted as if she belonged among the rich and famous.
But she didn’t belong at the lush estate tucked into the base of desert hills, surrounded by the chitter-chatter of conversation and big, overly bright smiles of a party in full swing.
Feeling like a fake made her skin crawl. Life on the ranch was at the opposite end of the noise-and-crowds spectrum. There, the wind through the pines, the birdsong, and the chorus of insects had been her companions, most days.
Choking down a sudden bout of homesickness, she focused on who she was, rather than what she pretended to be. Skye Hamilton fought for the underdog. The forgotten. She’d translate Latin phrases, be her own damn redemption, and fight until the ranch was restored and Loretta was found. And she’d start by searching the sacred ground of the man who seemed to link all of the above.
Stone was currently holding court on the other side of the enormous living room, wielding his charm like a weapon. Around him, a gaggle of beautiful people hung on every word. This was the kind of life Loretta craved? Skye didn’t understand it, but she supposed everyone needed a place to belong.
She glanced about, wondering if Jared was here or if he’d finally lost his job when he’d failed to hand her over to Stone. But her body wasn’t tingling, as it normally did when he was near, so maybe she was safe from that distraction tonight. Or maybe she’d rebuilt her defenses against him during their time apart.
Jared was who he said he was, but that didn’t mean she had to trust him. Devlin Grimm had vouched for his partner’s trustworthiness and urged her to call Jared, or to meet in the GSS offices, on semi-neutral ground. Given the way her last three encounters with Jared had gone, she’d passed on the offer. Dev had insisted she ask Jared about someone named Chelsea. Maybe she would. Then again, maybe it would be better to steer clear of the man.
Skye kept her smile in place as she wound her way through the clusters of people that filled the living room. Laughter and conversation danced around her and spilled out through a pair of French doors onto a large flagstone patio that overlooked a vibrant lawn and a swimming pool with a waterfall. The water bill here must be ginormous.
Beyond the grass, the windowpanes of a large conservatory glinted, reflecting the moonlight and the flickering lanterns that surrounded the patio area.
Wanting to cling to the anonymity of the crowd, she stepped back inside and stopped near a table that held a four-foot ice sculpture of a Greek pillar, the same symbol of Legacy Hotel and Casino. How self-indulgent.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” a woman gushed beside her. “Robert throws the classiest parties.”
Skye smiled and chatted with the woman and her male companion for a few moments, encouraging them to do most of the talking. But her mind was on her primary objective, counting the seconds until she could slip away. They had Texan accents and an oil-money bank account, and the woman appeared to have no problems with public displays of affection. Skye, on the other hand, squirmed uncomfortably.
She hadn’t grown up around touchy-feely people. She’d always been given the impression that outward demonstrations of love were unwelcome.
This man’s arm was locked around his woman’s shoulder as if it belonged there. His gaze continually strayed to his wife’s bosom, which was only fair since she had obviously gone to great trouble to put it on exhibit, even enhancing it with glittery lotion. Actually, her chest formed a nice framework for the diamonds dripping around her neck.
Between socially required responses, Skye’s gaze subtly wandered the room, searching for the opening she needed. She couldn’t fail. She’d come so far. Hell, she owed it to Tom, Viper and the others. She’d destroyed their family unit. So she kept the interested smile pasted on her face and pretended she belonged here.
Jared had known the moment Skye walked into the party, and it wasn’t because Meyer had told him she’d sweet-talked her way through the gate just ten minutes ago. It was the prickle of hair rising along the back of his neck, as if the woman had her own energy source and it was directly connected to his nervous system. A flood of relief that she was safe was quickly followed by a sharp anger that she’d endanger herself by walking directly into the minefield.
But he couldn’t fault her. Hadn’t he done something similar, hoping it would lead to Chelsea?
He’d had a gut feeling she’d come tonight. Remembering how she’d scoped out Stone from the Malibu rooftop, and walked right into the Roadhouse to meet Jared, he’d anticipated her arrival and instructed Meyer and Duffy to let her in without an invite. He wanted to see what she was up to, and prove to her that she could trust him.
Discreetly, he shifted to get a better look at t
he room and spotted her fifty feet away. She was beautiful. His gaze traced the curve of her profile, sliding down her cheek to her bare shoulder. The cut of her halter top dress and the way she’d pulled her hair up and back accentuated the slender line of her throat, the soft slope of her shoulders and her toned biceps. He sucked in a sharp breath as he caught sight of her long legs. He’d only seen her in pants or jeans, so when her dress ended at mid-thigh, her bare, sculpted thighs and calves were like a jolt to his system. The sudden image of those legs wrapped around his waist nearly made him shake with desire. He had to look away for a moment to collect his wits.
When he looked back, she was excusing herself from the older couple she’d been chatting with near the appetizer table. His eyes tracked her—right up until the moment she disappeared down a hallway that led to Stone’s private rooms.
His gaze sought Stone at the opposite end of the living room. The man hadn’t noticed Skye. Ivy was keeping up her role as hostess, overseeing the catering staff between talking with guests. Ryan and his friends were, as usual, taking up space near the bar.
Skye had selected the perfect moment, slipping away unnoticed by everyone but him. After a word to Meyer to take over the security duties, he casually trailed his rabbit.
In the hallway the sudden abundance of fresh air cooled Skye’s lungs and sharpened her focus. She wished she’d asked a waiter for a bottle of water to wet her dry mouth. But that would have risked someone noticing. She still held the champagne flute she’d taken from a nearby tray to fit in at the party, but she had yet to take a sip. She dumped it into a potted plant as she walked farther down the hall and set the empty glass on a side table. She kept the cocktail napkin she’d been using to keep her prints off of everything.
She didn’t have long if the guards were thorough about keeping security tight, so she sped her pace, nearly jogging as she tried several doors along the hallway and found them unlocked, but also uninteresting. A couple of bedrooms, a bathroom, a sitting area with a bay window.
Stacking the Deck (Redemption Club Book 1) Page 10