Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Discover more Amara titles… The Man I Want to Be
Girl in the Mist
Smoke and Mirrors
Disavowed
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Sheryl Nantus. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
2614 South Timberline Road
Suite 105, PMB 159
Fort Collins, CO 80525
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Candace Havens
Cover design by Cover Couture
Cover art from Deposit Photos and Shutterstock
ISBN 978-1-64063-480-0
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition February 2018
For my husband Martin, who has always had my back and always believed in me, even when I might not have. From our first days exchanging emails over my fanfiction to now, you’ve never faltered in encouraging and supporting me. And thank goodness you like frozen pizza! Over twenty years together and many, many more to come!
Chapter One
It was a busy Saturday night at the Devil’s Playground, one of the hottest nightclubs in Las Vegas. The live band was rocking out the tunes, the walls were vibrating with hot bass riffs, and Trey Pierce was having none of it.
Deep in the basement, far below the dance floor, he ran his fingers over the keyboard, checking and double checking the algorithms. Over the years he’d refined the program, every new trick learned was fed into the code. The database connected and checked again with the law enforcement servers, sliding in to run a quick search and getting out before the firewalls could go up again.
Nothing.
Five years, and he was no closer to finding his mystery man.
Oh, sure there’d been leads—all discarded when the facts didn’t match up.
So, he’d begin again. And again.
He was going to find the son of a bitch if it killed him.
A tone sounded in his ear, signaling an incoming call.
“Just a reminder you’re up in five. Don’t be late,” Finn Storm said.
Trey got up from the computer. “Everything okay?”
“Got a full house of happy customers—nothing special there. But Jessie’s meeting a new client here at the club, so Dylan’s asking us to stay frosty.”
“Roger that. On my way now.” Trey stretched his hands over his head, tugging his black T-shirt free of his jeans. As his fingertips brushed the ceiling tiles, he felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease, the muscles shifting to a more relaxed position.
Maybe not today. But soon.
I’ll find you, you bastard.
He paused, checking out the screen that showed the bar and the handful of customers captured in the camera lens. A blond woman sat at one end, the seat beside her empty. She drank some clear liquid, likely water or club soda—the light blue coaster under the glass signaled the customer’s non-alcoholic preferences to the bartenders so they could react accordingly.
There was a quiet dignity about the way she held herself, almost a sense of royalty. She glanced around every few seconds, a sign of nervousness. Either she was on a bad blind date or her escort had already dumped her.
A big mistake. A woman like that would have her pick of the club patrons if she wanted.
Too bad Trey was off the market for the next few hours. She’d be gone by then, snatched up by some lucky man.
He shrugged and headed out into the hallway.
It took only a few minutes to travel from the underground offices to the dance floor, the nightclub almost filled to capacity already.
Trey slipped through the crowd, smiling as he headed for his perch on a catwalk. It was a favored spot for club employees, one that allowed an excellent view of the happy customers.
“Where are you?” Finn asked.
Trey stayed silent as he spotted Finn standing on one of the staircases, studying the busy mob beneath him.
A few steps brought Trey up to the edge of the platform, and a quick jump had him coming up behind the fellow Brotherhood member. A tap on the shoulder brought the dark-haired man around with a start, his hands rising in self-defense before he recognized Trey.
“Damn it.” Finn shook his head before dropping his guard. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”
“Why?” Trey laughed. He’d learned how to move slowly and stealthily in his childhood, courtesy of growing up with a family who loved to hunt, and had taken that skill into the military where it’d been refined and perfected.
“Someday someone’s going to catch you unaware, make you jump, and collect that fat pot Ace’s been holding onto,” Finn warned. “Got to be a few hundred dollars by now. Be a sweet present in someone’s wallet.”
“It sure will be. Except not you, not today.” Trey looked out into the crowd. “I can hear the band all the way down in my office.” He tapped his foot to the beat.
“Good music, good fun.” Finn nudged him. “Got a few ladies checking us out. I’m spoken for, but if you’re interested, I can drop down and get a number or three for you.”
“Nah.” Trey waved him off. “I can get my own dates, thank you very much.” His thoughts wandered back to his monitors and the woman he’d seen.
“No problem.” Finn cast his eyes back over the dance floor, searching for trouble.
“Trey,” Dylan McCourt, his boss, interrupted. His voice snapped across the com link. “I need you at the bar.”
Finn waved Trey away with a grin. “Go see what the man wants. Meet me later on the roof. We’ll toss a few burgers on the grill and kick back with some beers.”
“You’re on.” Trey made his way through the crowd.
Dylan stood near the bar, waiting for him, the matching clothing marking him to the casual observer as one of the club employees. But he was much, much more to those who knew the truth. Dylan was the official leader of the Brotherhood—a group of Delta Force veterans dedicated to giving help to those who had nowhere else to go.
Jess
ie stood beside Dylan, her forehead furrowed. She wore her usual leather jacket despite the heat inside the nightclub.
Trey’s pace slowed as he saw the woman sitting at the bar beside Jessie, looking his way. She clutched a small photograph in her hand.
It was the woman he’d noticed earlier on the monitors.
Her short blond hair was cut in a pixie bob, the dark blue suit and white blouse screaming “business professional,” attire hardly appropriate for a night of carousing in the nightclub. In a different time and place he’d approach her after he’d handed off his watch and offer to take her to a small café where they could sit and talk over coffee, far from the noise and commotion of the Devil’s Playground.
In a different time and place she wouldn’t be here with Jessie, asking for the Brotherhood’s help.
“This is Ally Sheldon,” Dylan said in a slow, measured voice. “She called Jessie for help, and we’re going to assist. We’re going to go up to my office now to discuss the matter.” He locked eyes with Trey. “You’re coming along.”
Jessie took the lead, walking with Ally as they skirted the edge of the crowd, heading for the elevator.
Trey touched Dylan’s arm as soon as he could without drawing the blonde’s attention.
“Why me?” he started. “No offense, but I thought Ace was up next on job assignments.”
“I’ll explain when we get upstairs.” Dylan kept his voice low as they followed the women. “Let’s just say this case is pertinent to your interests.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Wait and see.” Dylan slowed as they reached the elevators. “Be careful. She needs our sympathy, not our condemnation.”
Trey glared back. “What type of man do you think I am?” It took all he had to not raise his voice.
“A dedicated, determined man who might not know where the line is because he’s on the hunt.”
Trey opened his mouth to reply but thought better of it as the doors opened.
Chapter Two
The day had started off like every other at Sheldon Construction, working hard to create a brand-new world. She’d gone into their New York City offices with a smile and a spring in her step, thanks to Vincent being out of town. He was far away in Las Vegas, looking to close another big deal and push the company forward in a new direction.
Except, of course, when he was drinking away their profits.
She loved her adopted brother, but he could be a hell of a pain in the ass at times, his good business sense sometimes drowned by his love for alcohol.
The day ended with a smile and anticipation of a quiet night curled up with a plate of fresh sushi and a few hours of bingeing her new fave series.
Then it had all gone to hell, with a frantic phone call sending her to grab the first flight from New York City to Las Vegas. Edgar, Vincent’s handler, had picked her up at McCarron airport, briefing her as they raced to the hotel where the two men were staying. She’d barely taken time to drop the luggage in the suite before dialing up the hotel security expert and asking for a local reference. The man hadn’t hesitated before giving her a phone number, guaranteeing discretion.
The next phone call had been to Lyon Investigations, resulting in a cab ride to a nearby club. Jessie explained she wasn’t keen on reopening her office so late at night, and, noting that Ally likely didn’t want a private investigator coming to her hotel room, she suggested a nearby nightclub, run by Jessie’s boyfriend, where they could meet and talk. It supplied the neutral meeting ground Ally needed, out of the public eye, as requested.
Ally had agreed, ending up at the Devil’s Playground. Jessie must have called ahead because as soon as she approached the door, one of the bouncers came to her with a smile and a nod, escorting her through the crowd waiting to get in, and taking her directly to the bar.
The bartender didn’t blink when Ally ordered a club soda, placing it in front of her with a smile. “Jessie’ll be right down. Anything else you need, please let me know.” The woman moved down the bar, leaving Ally alone.
She’d waited, looking around as she took in the vibrant atmosphere. She hadn’t been in a club for months, too tired from working to spend time partying.
As promised, Jessie met her at the bar, and Dylan McCourt had come over a few minutes later, introducing himself as the nightclub owner and Jessie’s boyfriend.
It took only a glance at his face to identify why Jessie had preferred the club instead of her office or Ally’s hotel.
Concern. She saw it all over his face. Along with something else—devotion, dedication and pure, unadulterated love for the woman at his side.
Ally’s heart ached for a second, wishing she had someone like this in her life. Someone to lean on when times get tough, when things broke the wrong way.
Like now.
She’d only managed a brief explanation of why she needed Jessie’s help, flashing Vincent’s photograph, before another club employee showed up—a handsome man wearing what she guessed was the nightclub uniform. There was no introduction, just an announcement they’d all be going up to Dylan’s office. They went to an elevator, riding up to a higher floor.
Ally wasn’t sure if she should be comforted or terrified by his addition to the group. There was a quiet strength about the dark-haired man, the generic black T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and tight on his arms.
The elevator doors opened. Dylan went first, then Jessie.
The mystery man walked behind her. She sensed his stare on the back of her neck and wondered if she’d met him before.
I’d remember you, she thought. Definitely.
She pulled back a sigh. She hadn’t come to the nightclub to find a date, and the circumstances made one impossible, even a brief one.
Still…
Ally slipped the idea into a side folder in her mind for consideration at a later date.
The office was set high above the dance floor, the glass window facing out toward the live band and vibrating with the loud music. It resembled any number of business offices she’d been in over the years.
It could have been anywhere.
Except it was here, and she needed their help, her stomach twisting into knots as if she were on the edge of a cliff looking at the jagged rocks below.
“Please, have a seat.” Dylan gestured at the chair in front of the desk.
Ally settled into the cushioned chair. “I’m sorry, but I’m a bit confused.” She nodded toward the unknown man as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “What’s he doing here? I thought I mentioned the need for privacy in this matter. The more people involved, the more of a chance of this leaking out. I can’t afford to have this break on the morning business news. A bouncer…”
“This is Trey Pierce,” Dylan said. “He’s my technical support man, a computer professional. One of the top in the field, if not the best. Jessie and I think he’ll be able to help us find your brother.”
Ally eyed Trey, taking in the information. He looked like he’d be more comfortable swinging a hammer on one of her construction sites than sitting behind a computer, working electronic magic.
She wondered what other talents he had hidden away under that stoic exterior.
He raised one eyebrow as if he’d heard her, one edge of his mouth twisting up. Her cheeks burned at being caught out, and she dropped her gaze to the carpeted floor.
Jessica cleared her throat, drawing Ally’s attention back. “Right. Trey, this is Ally Sheldon. She came to me tonight because her brother is missing and she needs help to find him.” The blond woman stared directly at Trey. “Right after I met her at the bar, I thought of you.”
Trey frowned. He gave a brief nod.
Jessie continued. “Dylan’s got certain resources I can call on to help out at times. This is one of those times. Trey’s computer skills are unmatched—he’ll be a valuable asset on this case.”
Ally drew a deep breath, forcing down the pang of fear threatening to choke he
r. “I’m willing to try anything as long as it’s discreet. I don’t need the press getting hold of this.”
“Don’t worry,” Dylan replied in a low, reassuring tone. “No one will know we’re involved. Jessie will vouch for us.”
“I assume so. One hint of this going public and I won’t hesitate to sue the hell out of you.” She pressed as much steel into her voice as she could.
Jessie nodded. “Understood.” She glanced at Trey. “If you wouldn’t mind, for his sake, please start again from the beginning.”
“All right.” She steadied herself. “As we started to discuss down at the bar, my business partner is missing. My adopted brother.” She took the glossy picture out of her purse and placed it on the table, same as she’d done downstairs at the bar at their first meeting. “Vincent Sheldon, the face of Sheldon Construction.”
“I’ve seen some of your work,” Dylan said. “A few sites around town.”
She nodded. “We usually do only residential projects, but we’re trying to expand into the commercial area. My father and my uncle created the company decades ago, two brothers building a future together.”
Her heart ached with the familiar pain, never dulled by time. “When I was seven years old, my parents died in a car crash, and after that, I was raised by my aunt and uncle. Vincent was the brother I never had. His family’s been good to me, and I’ve tried to be a good daughter to them. That, unfortunately, includes taking care and covering for Vincent. He has… issues.”
Trey came over to look at the color photograph of Vincent. His eyes narrowed as he studied the image. His gaze flickered to Dylan, receiving only a nod in response.
He gave a noncommittal grunt and stepped back.
Dylan nodded at Ally. “Please, continue.”
“He ducked out on his handler, Edgar, three days ago.” She forced herself to keep talking, pushing past her nervousness at revealing family secrets. “After Edgar called, I flew here. He’s been tearing up the town but can’t find Vincent. We’re trying to find him without asking the authorities—we’d rather keep this off the record if at all possible.” Ally ran her hands through her short hair. “In blunt terms, Vincent is an alcoholic. A very bad one. Blackout drunk, I believe is the technical term. A family tendency I choose not to follow.”
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