“I took another look at your notes, and the two women we rescued advised that someone took them from some nicer hotels to a private party,” he said, emphasizing the party part with air quotes.

  Roni nodded and smoothed her hands across her hips again. “Heath and I had only just identified the two hotels the women had visited the night they were drugged. I have him working on getting lists of any staff that might have been on duty around the time that the women were taken so we can interview them.”

  “I guess we can start at the first hotel and get a feel for the crowd there as well as the staff. Maybe nose around until Williams can provide the information only... Can we trust anything that he gives us?” Trey asked.

  * * *

  TREY PEERED AT her as emotions flitted across her face. Uncertainty. Determination. Sadness. “I wish I could, only... Heath was the only one I told I was going to Barnacle Bill’s.”

  Trey considered that and with a dip of his head, he said, “I guess we should add getting his cell phone records to what Sophie and Rob are doing.”

  Roni shook her head, lips pursed in disgust. “He’s only been my partner for a couple of weeks, but enough for me to know he’s smart. If he made a call, I’d put money on him using a burner phone.”

  “True,” Trey said and nodded. “Let’s head to the hotel and nose around. See what’s happening. If there are these kinds of private parties going on, someone has to know more about them.”

  “And if they do?” Roni asked and smoothed her hands across her hips again in a seeming attempt to draw the fabric down just a little more. The action totally failed and only served to draw attention to the long, muscled length of her legs in the oh-so-high heels.

  His gut tightened in reaction, and he sucked in a slow breath to rein in his desire and answer her question. “If the intent of the parties is to draw in attractive women, well...” He coughed into his hand and looked away. “You’d fit the bill pretty nicely.”

  “I—I guess we should go, then,” she said, and as she walked past him, he couldn’t fail to see the telltale color on her cheeks, but then again, his own were hot with embarrassment.

  It made him wonder if involving her in his investigation had been a horrible idea. But she was smart, and their cases were clearly overlapping. And after the attempt on her life, there was no way he was going to leave her to fend for herself.

  Not that she would want his protection. If anything, she’d hate the fact because she’d think herself capable of protecting herself. And maybe she was, but he wasn’t about to take that chance.

  He followed her headlong rush into the elevator, down to the main office floor where one of their nighttime security guards stood sentry by the reception desk. The man nodded as they walked over to the public elevator bank and rode it down to the parking garage.

  The Camaro SS sat where they’d left it earlier that day, but he hesitated.

  Roni turned to look at him when he stopped. “Something wrong?”

  “If someone’s been watching, they may know what I’m driving. We can take one of the company cars instead. Wait here,” he said and walked toward a nearby booth. After Trey had a quick word with the guard manning the booth, the man handed him a key and gestured in the direction of a low-slung, charcoal gray BMW convertible parked by the far wall of the garage.

  “Gracias,” he said to the man, walked to the car, got in and wheeled it around to pick up Roni where she waited for him.

  Her perfectly manicured eyebrows shot up at the sight of the car and then she fired a nervous look at her dress again. With a shrug, she opened the door, stepped in and then dropped into the passenger seat, tugging at the hem of her dress to hide her legs.

  The heat of desire snaked through his gut again at the sight of all that creamy skin, but he battled it back. This is Veronica, he told himself. Annoying little Veronica who tagged after you and Ricky as a kid. Carolina and Mia’s best friend.

  And an amazing and beautiful woman, the little voice challenged.

  Forcing away those thoughts, he said, “I still haven’t been able to reach Eddie. We may need to have someone track his phone.”

  “Do you think he’s still alive?” Roni asked and worried her lower lip.

  Trey shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. But if he is, he may know more about whoever is behind this human trafficking.”

  “And where my missing college students may be,” Roni added with a frustrated shake of her head.

  “Yes, especially where they might be,” Trey confirmed with a nod as he pulled onto the causeway to take them back toward South Beach.

  There was volume on the road as they drove past Terminal Island and memories assailed him of the night of the shooting. Hands tight on the wheel, he continued past the exclusive Venetian Islands, home to some of the most expensive homes in Miami and the Gonzalez family enclave.

  As he came off the causeway and drove toward Ocean Drive, traffic slowed considerably, which was typical for a Friday night in South Beach. He detoured to Collins and rode it down to one of the larger hotels, the Del Sol, where he pulled in front of a valet station. He handed off the key and hurried around to open the door for Roni and help her from the car.

  Arm in arm, they walked toward the entrance and up the carpeted stairs into the hotel. There was a small lobby in the building, which was an eclectic mix of modern and eighteenth-century French flourishes. They continued into the bar area, which opened to a pool deck where a dance party was already underway.

  He shot a quick look at Roni, who tipped her head in the direction of the pool deck. Playing the part of the loving couple, they joined the dancers there, moving to the beats. A DJ at the far end of the pool mixed the music pouring loudly from speakers positioned all around the area.

  But even as they danced, he scanned the crowd, searching for their suspect or any signs that something was amiss. A peek at Roni confirmed that she was doing the same thing. Her hazel-eyed gaze skipped all around the location, searching. Vigilant.

  He returned to his own surveillance, noting the way one of the waiters in the bar kept on delivering drinks to tables of single women, seemingly at the behest of a man at the bar. Behavior that might be normal in a situation where a man might want to meet an attractive woman, except this was going on way too often and with too many women.

  The man was dressed in an expensive silk suit and an electric white shirt open to midchest. Trey detected a hint of a gold chain, and as the man waved at a bartender, he exposed an expensive gold watch on one wrist. Dark blond hair was cut short on the sides, but longer up top in strands plastered in place with gel. He looked like many of the other men at the bar, but something told Trey that there was something off. Plus, the man had the same general look as the suspect in their sketches.

  When Roni laid a hand on his arm, drawing his attention, she inclined her head in the direction of the bar and the man he had noticed.

  “He looks a lot like our suspect,” she said in a soft whisper.

  “Is he the man you saw that night? The one in the car?” Trey asked.

  She clenched her jaw and did an uncertain lift of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe. I need to get closer.”

  Normally he would split away from his partner in a situation like this, but with what had happened earlier that day, he was uneasy about doing so. He had to remind himself that she was a cop and could take care of herself. With a nod of his head, he hesitantly agreed and said, “I’ll take the bartender.”

  “I’ll try to draw out the man. See if I can get a better look.”

  “Give me a push,” he said, and she did, playing up that they were having an argument. She shoved hard against his chest and pivoted on one high heel to walk away from him, her hips swinging in rhythm to the music. Catching the eyes of various men in and around the pool area. It ignited heat in his core and unwanted jealousy at the attention she was garnering.

  Including the attention of the man at the bar.

  Trey turned away from the sight of her, playing the role of the jilted boyfriend, and marched from the pool deck. But from the corner of his eye, he kept sight of Roni as she found an empty spot at a small table at the edge of the bar area.

  Taking the long way around to the bar, hopefully far enough away to avoid being noticed by their possible suspect, he inched close and leaned on the marble bar. It took a few minutes for the bartender to get to him since the place was so busy.

  “Seltzer with a twist of lime and mint,” he said. He needed to stay sharp, especially since the aches in his shoulder and ribs where he’d been shot were coming alive. He normally held off as much as he could from taking a painkiller, but he suspected he wasn’t going to be able to avoid it tonight. The pain was just building too quickly. But not until both Roni and he were safe and sound back at the South Beach Security apartment.

  Fighting back the hurt, he watched as their possible suspect stared at Roni. The ghost of a smile passed across the man’s face and Trey understood. A woman alone would be far easier to take than a woman who came with friends to watch over her.

  Long minutes passed until the bartender, a young Latino whose name tag said Mateo, placed Trey’s drink in front of him. He tossed down two twenties, earning a calculating look from the bartender.

  Trey jerked his chin in the direction of their target. “¿Quien es?” he said, hoping the bartender knew something about him.

  “What’s he to you?” Mateo said, clearly defensive.

  “He’s eyeballing my woman, that’s what,” he said, forcing a harsh tone into his voice and glaring toward the man.

  Mateo inched on tiptoes to peer over the edge of the bar as if to confirm what Trey was complaining about. With a shrug, he said, “He’s a regular. I think he’s in the penthouse suite.”

  Trey was about to press him for more when patrons at the far end of the bar signaled to Mateo. Without another word, he rushed off to help them and Trey returned his attention to Roni as a waiter brought her a drink that the suit had ordered.

  She waved him off, refusing the drink, and Trey chuckled and sipped his seltzer.

  Smart girl, he thought. Playing hard to get was bound to make the man even more interested in her. Enough to get him to walk over so she could get a better look? he wondered.

  As long minutes passed, the man seemed to have accepted the rebuff without a care, especially as another group of women accepted the round of drinks he sent and raised them in a toast in his direction. Taking that as an invitation, he rose and approached the table that was only a few feet from where Roni sat.

  * * *

  FROM THE CORNER of her eye, Roni watched as their possible suspect mingled with a group of young women who were clearly out for a night of fun. The women appeared to be in their early twenties, right around the age of the missing college students and the sex workers they had saved from their Terminal Island captivity.

  Focusing on their conversation, she tried to hear what was being said, but the music was too loud for her to catch anything but a word here and there. In light of that, she shifted slightly in her chair, wanting to see the group and memorize the women’s faces, just in case.

  The women were typical of the crowd you’d get in a hot spot known for its nightlife. Dressed to entice, perfectly coiffed and made-up, and wearing the kinds of heels that sent an obvious message. A message that the man had clearly heard—hence the drinks and his approach.

  Turning her attention to the man, she eyed him up and down without artifice and he noticed. He eyed her and smiled as if to say, “Look what you’re missing.”

  What she was missing was a very expensive bespoke silk suit over a well-toned gym rat body. Dark eyes, almost black in the dim light, remained on her face even as he was chatting with the young women at the table. As he realized he had Roni’s full attention, he smiled, his full lips parting to reveal perfect teeth.

  Those dark eyes were off. She could have sworn the man she had seen, the man with the cold dead eyes, had blue eyes. But his hair was close in color to what she remembered of their suspect. The style, however, was like that of many of the men in the club.

  Is he the right man? she pressed herself, hating that she was experiencing doubt.

  In that moment, she realized she had to make a split-second decision. Engage him or turn away. Make the call, Roni, she told herself.

  Chapter Seven

  Roni shoved herself to her feet, grabbed her clutch and hurried away from their target and the women busily fawning over him.

  She swore she could feel the man eyeing her as she hurried toward the bar, making sure that Trey noticed what she was doing. Hopefully he would shortly follow at a discreet distance.

  Pushing through the patrons headed in the direction of the bar and the pool dance party beyond that, she quickly moved toward one side of the lobby where she’d likely be out of sight.

  She guessed she had done a good enough job when Trey reached the lobby and stopped abruptly, clearly having lost sight of her. But with a sharp look around, he found her and marched to her side.

  “Did you get a good look at him?” Trey asked, but as he did so, Roni caught sight of the man and the women heading toward the elevators. Grabbing hold of Trey’s waist, she inched him in front of her and whipped out her phone, using his big body to screen her. She snapped off a burst of photos, hoping that some of them would be clear enough to identify the man.

  “I did, but I’m still not sure,” she said, suddenly doubting her own memory of the man she had seen with Doug and the one who had tried to run her down. It had all happened too fast. Much too fast.

  Shaking her head, she said, “Maybe we’ll have some clear photos to show our victims. Maybe they can either confirm or deny that this is our suspect.”

  Trey peered over his shoulder at the entourage as they stepped into the elevator. As soon as the doors had closed, Trey said, “The bartender I talked to thinks the man is in the penthouse suite.”

  “We can ask the desk for his name, but legally they can tell us to go pound sand,” she said as Trey shifted to allow her a glimpse of the people coming and going in the lobby.

  “They could, but maybe there’s another way,” he said and walked to the housephone, Roni chasing after him.

  He picked up the phone, dialed the operator and said, “Hola, I was hoping you could help me. I have a delivery for Mr. Henderson in the penthouse suite. At least I think that’s his name. It’s really smudged on the address slip.”

  She couldn’t make out what was being said at the other end, but then Trey said, “Are you sure? It’s Mr. Wilson in the penthouse suite? Do you have a Mr. Henderson staying with you at all?”

  Another quick burst of noise came across the line, apparently with enough information for Trey to end the call. “I appreciate it. I’ll have to check with the sender. Gracias.”

  “Wilson? Any first name?” Roni wondered as she walked beside Trey across the lobby, his big hand splayed at the small of her back again. The touch possessive and protective all at once.

  “John,” Trey replied.

  Roni shook her head. “There could be thousands of people with that name.”

  With a quick dip of his head, Trey said, “And that’s assuming it’s not an alias. But hopefully you got a good photo that we’ll be able to run through the facial recognition software.”

  “Hopefully,” she said as they stepped outside and down the stairs to the valet area. The delay while they were waiting for their car had her peering up at the tower of the hotel and second-guessing herself. “Do you think I was wrong to blow him off?”

  * * *

  TREY TILTED HIS head to one side and jammed his hands into his pants pockets, considering her carefully before he answered. Then with a strong nod, he said, “I trust your judgment, Roni. Especially with all that’s happened. Once we know more about Mr. Wilson, we can decide how to proceed.”

  The tension and indecision fled her body with his words. “Gracias. Do you want to check out the second hotel Williams and I identified?”

  “It makes sense. This activity with Wilson could be just a coincidence. I doubt it, but it’s possible,” he said, urging Roni in the direction of the car as the valet drove to the curb. He held the door open and provided her a steadying hand. She slipped into the seat, displaying an enticing length of leg once again.

  He forcefully looked away, swung around and into the driver’s seat. Pulling away from the curb, he drove to the lower-numbered streets off Ocean Drive and Collins. Because of the difficulty of parking on Ocean Drive, they’d have to walk to the second hotel that Roni and her partner had identified.

  Unfortunately, that meant circling until he found a parking spot a few blocks from the hotel. It worried him to have Roni exposed for that long, but hopefully whoever had tried to run her down had not had a chance to follow them from the South Beach Security location. Regardless, he kept his head on a swivel and Roni tucked close to his side where he could shield her.

  Luckily, he didn’t pick up on anything as they made the short walk and entered the hotel, which was a few doors down from the location they had been surveilling on the night Doug had been killed. It made him wonder if their unsub chose his possible victims not at this hotel, but at the club where Roni had seen him with Doug.

  “Something wrong?” Roni asked, looking at him.

  He hadn’t realized that he’d tensed up with those thoughts. “I’m fine, only... Are you sure this is one of the places where your unsub selected his women?”

  There was no mistaking how Roni stiffened with the question, clearly seeing it as a challenge. “I’m as positive as I can be based on the victims’ interviews. Do you doubt me?”