Chapter 7

  When Paul emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, combed and shaved, Haley wasn’t there.

  What in the hell had Haley done? Had someone come for her? Had she fallen in a trap? It took him a full thirty seconds to pull out his phone and dial her number.

  And then saw her cell on the table by the couch where she’d been working, just as it started to buzz a call. She’d put it on silent while they’d been investigating.

  With his brain heading into full gear, overgear, he went for the phone, as though the left-behind article could give him a clue to what had happened to her.

  Had she been in touch with someone else, besides her attorney and the Las Vegas police, without telling him? Made some kind of arrangement to gather information?

  Oh God, had she fallen prey to someone who was out to get her because the visitor to her home had led someone to her as he’d feared?

  Why in the hell had he agreed to bring her to Vegas with him?

  And to think, he’d come out of the bathroom ready to tell her that her plan to accompany him that evening was not only solid, but that he’d decided to accept her offer. His options would be greater with Haley as a cover.

  He didn’t like it. Couldn’t come to terms with her in any kind of danger, but for all he knew, she’d be in more danger at home in California where the unknown man had first found her.

  At least with her right by his side, he had a chance to protect her...

  Her phone was password protected. Before he could even finish his first guess, he heard a key swipe at the door, and quickly put the phone back where he’d found it—reaching for the gun he’d just strapped to his ankle...

  It spoke to his training, and the seriousness of his choice to be the best at what he did, that he had the revolver in hand and pointing toward the door by the time it opened.

  He almost dropped the thing when Haley walked in. Alone.

  And completely...done up.

  Stunned, he stared, felt his arm fall to his side, the revolver hanging there against his thigh, while he took in the remarkable beauty of the woman who used to be his wife.

  He’d seen her fully made up before, of course, a couple of times. Their wedding day, certainly. But the woman with perfect, more mature curves, standing there in a skintight black dress that ended a few inches above her knees...the high heels...

  His gaze slinging back up, it stumbled onto those bright red lips, the flawless skin, eyes that seemed to have grown twice as large with lining or whatever she’d done to them.

  And the hair, blond with soft curls and falling everywhere...

  He swallowed.

  “Were you just pointing a gun at me?”

  No mistaking the tone in that voice. Or the voice in general.

  Nor did the sound, or the words, ease the constriction that continued to pound uncomfortably beneath his fly.

  “I didn’t know where you’d gone. If you were okay,” he said, suspecting that he sounded as out of control, as defensive, as he felt.

  “I didn’t have dress clothes. I went downstairs to get some, and then, figuring you’d still be in the bathroom, popped into a bathroom stall downstairs to get dressed so I’d be ready to go when you were...”

  Made perfect sense. Rational. Professional.

  Made him look like a fool.

  Why hadn’t she left a note to tell him?

  So instead, he was left standing there, fearing for her safety. Pulling a gun on whatever bad guy had been coming back to, what, get him? Take him along so he could watch her being held captive? Or worse...

  Shaking his head, Paul took a much-needed breather as he bent to replace his gun in the ankle holster he wore pretty much every day of his life.

  By the time he’d straightened, he had himself back in check. Firmly, he hoped.

  Either way, he was going to do the job for which he’d been hired. He was going to find Kelsey’s supposed fiancé, find out if there’d been a pregnancy, and if so, find the baby.

  And then he was going to walk away from Haley Carmichael for a second time and never look back.

  Or die trying.

  * * *

  Paul meant business. He’d always been serious about his studies, about making a difference in the world, about being different from his fun-loving, jet-setting playboy father.

  But the way he’d held that gun...as though it was an extension of his hand, something he was master of and wouldn’t hesitate to use...that was new to her.

  And attention getting.

  As she rode silently beside him in the gathering dusk that was turning the mountains pink in the distance, she was quite put out to admit to herself that the gun thing kind of attracted her.

  Not having it pointed at her...but him...being so...strong and in control of it.

  And as it had turned out, he’d already decided she should accompany him. And, once he’d put his gun away, had calmly told her so, collecting keys and reminding her to pick up the phone she’d left on the table on their way out the door.

  Which further baffled her. Where was the man who always wanted to fight with her? The one who was so passionate he couldn’t always find his zen around her?

  That man had driven her nuts.

  Hadn’t he?

  When he hadn’t been taking her to heaven. Or making her laugh so hard she peed her pants.

  Or saying something so moving he brought tears to her eyes.

  And the night she’d found out he’d been unfaithful to her...he’d broken her.

  She couldn’t forget that.

  He’d denied it, of course. Repeatedly. Adamantly.

  Had even offered to call the woman to confirm that he hadn’t been with her.

  But who wouldn’t deny it? And how much of a stretch would it have been for a woman to lie about such a thing to protect the man she’d just been with? Or to protect herself? Or her future with him?

  She knew the woman side of things. Had watched it happen with both Gloria and Kelsey.

  But sitting there with Paul, seeing what he’d become, what he’d made of his life—exactly what he’d said he was going to do—she wondered, not for the first time, if she’d been wrong about his infidelity.

  Not that it mattered in the long run.

  He’d thought she married him for his money. She thought he’d been unfaithful.

  The sad truth had been that they hadn’t trusted each other.

  That was what had ended their marriage.

  That and the fact that they brought drama into a home they’d promised each other would be drama-free.

  They’d both grown up with emotional chaos in their homes. Neither of them had been willing to face a lifetime of it.

  And they hadn’t seemed to be able to stop from getting riled up around each other.

  So, yeah, the new Paul could turn her on. But he couldn’t play games with her.

  She couldn’t go back, and neither could he.

  No matter how his eyes had widened as she’d walked in the hotel door. Or how his mouth had hung open.

  No matter how deep the pool of desire grew to be inside her.

  A fact of which she reminded herself as she walked with him into the softly lit club an hour later, posing as his date.

  Now this was business. He’d gone over an exit strategy with her on the way in, first giving her a spare key to the SUV that he’d left parked just a few feet down from the club. He’d made sure she had 911 dialed on her phone, only requiring one finger push to send the call. She needed to keep her back to the wall and trust no one. And if she needed to, she had a can of pepper spray he’d supplied her with. She’d use it and ask questions later.

  While Haley knew she should be afraid, she wasn’t. Not consciously, anyway.

  More, she was determined to make Paul proud of her.

  And most importantly, to find her sister’s captor and make him pay.

  And still, as the doorman let them in the vestibule, a renewed surge of want hit her down below as Paul offered her his arm—just as he had on their wedding day.

  When she saw the large amount of cash he had to turn over as a cover, she leaned in and whispered, “I’ll reimburse that. Just add it to your expense report,” partially to remind herself that they were working. They were not there as a couple. Or even as a couple of friends.

  He didn’t answer, and she was too distracted by her entire body’s state of fissure as he slid his arm around her, resting his warm hand at her hip. Letting herself lean into him was more of a natural reaction than a response chosen to keep up their act, and she put herself on high alert. She didn’t just need to worry about whoever might have killed her sister, stolen a baby, and been after Haley, too. At that moment, it seemed as though Haley’s biggest threat came from within. It was like putting on the fancy clothes, the makeup and changing her hairstyle had transformed her into someone she was not.

  Someone she could not only not afford to be, but someone she didn’t even want to be.

  Paul took his time guiding them toward the bar where he ordered them each a shot of whiskey and a glass of soda, and, handing her one of each, took the other two to a nearby table along the wall.

  Pulling his chair close to hers, he leaned, his lips right and her ear, and said, “I’m going to lean over the table to adjust that chair.” He nodded toward the empty seat next to her. “When I do, act like you’re pouring the shots into the soda, but dump them in the centerpiece instead.”

  He half stood then, his arm covering the distance between his body and the table, as he reached with his left hand to push the vacant seat away from Haley.

  By the time he sat back down, the shot glasses were empty.

  And Haley, with a silent apology to their plant, couldn’t help admiring the man her ex-husband had grown to be.

  * * *

  Paul had seen no sign of Gladstone. No sign of anything covert or underhanded. Just wealthy people drinking, eating fancy appetizers and visiting. The small stage at one end of the lush room was dark and empty. Canned classical music provided background for conversations and occasional bursts of laughter.

  Mostly, he wasn’t sure what people did there on a Saturday night. He could see the venue for business meetings. High-dollar deals finalized over only the best alcohol.

  But a place a young wealthy man would go every Saturday night?

  Unless it was to have some kind of private liaison...

  Haley lifted her glass, glanced his way with a smile as she took a sip. She was playacting. His mind fully grasped the concept. But his body, already hard as rock, didn’t.

  But no way was he going to let anything get in the way of his trace, finding the answers he sought and ensuring that neither Haley, or any baby that might exist through Kelsey, was in danger.

  Nothing.

  And that focus paid dividends. After noting the fourth man walking alone down a hall to the right of the rest room alcove in the far back of the venue, Paul leaned over to excuse himself, enduring one more flowery whiff of hair and woman. Reminding Haley of her exit strategy in case he didn’t return, he walked calmly off to the bathroom.

  He wasn’t letting her out of his sight for more than a second or two at a time. But he had to know where those men were going and why.

  If his hunch was correct, if there was a high stakes card game being held at the club on Saturday nights, he’d know why Gladstone was there.

  And have another puzzle piece to throw on the table with the rest of them.

  Almost to his destination, Paul took a quick glance back at Haley and saw another man, walking alone toward him. Not him personally, just the place where he was heading. Bending down, he untied his shoe, worked slowly on retying it, making certain that he was done just after the other man passed him and then headed on seemingly toward the restroom.

  Bingo.

  His timing perfect, he got a good glimpse inside the room. Didn’t make out much. No Thomas Gladstone.

  But he saw the tables. The players. Male and female. Old and young. Serious expressions. And he saw the large piles of chips in front of them.

  Gambling was legal in Nevada.

  And some Vegas games were reserved only for the most serious players. The ones with thousands to bet on one hand.

  He had no idea yet what a Gladstone heir’s potential gambling problem might have to do with Kelsey Carmichael, or any offspring she might have had, but he was one piece closer to finding out.

  Turning, eager to let Haley know what he’d seen, his gaze sought hers...only to meet a muted gray wall. And empty chairs with half-filled soda glasses at the table he’d left.

  Blood turning cold, he made a quick visual search of the room, aware of his gun, of the innocent people filling tables and milling at the bar...

  And there she was. Standing off from one edge of the bar, with a man cornered in front of her. Her prey would have to make a scene to escape the wall-and-table prison she’d managed to trap him in by stepping in front of him at just the right time.

  To anyone else, it would have looked like two friends catching up. Or interested parties saying hello.

  But not to Paul.

  The man seemed amused, if you didn’t take in the glint Paul caught shining from his eyes.

  He recognized the man, of course, from the pictures he’d been perusing on and off all day.

  Thomas Gladstone.

  Chapter 8

  With only one thought in mind, to get to Haley and keep her safe, Paul sped in their direction. He slowed when he got close and slid an arm around her back, almost weak with relief, as he had her where he could protect her once again.

  He’d need to face those feelings. But not until their business at the club was done.

  Thomas, a young man who, even cornered, wore his privilege with a nauseating stance, a half smirk...and that glint...didn’t even seem to notice Paul until he was standing there holding Haley. The younger guy would be comical looking, something straight from a movie set, if he hadn’t been taking on Haley.

  “Look, man,” Thomas addressed Paul without so much as an introduction between them. “She came on to me. I was just here minding my own business, getting a drink, and she approached me.”

  “But you like her type, don’t you?” Paul asked, with a little, confident cock of his head. As long as the other man didn’t have bodyguards hiding out at the tables behind them, he could take the punk with one hand, keeping Haley safely tucked with the other.

  Haley knew his type, of course. And knew, done up like she was, she was it. She’d used the information. An admirable choice in his work world.

  Paul wasn’t feeling admiration toward her at the moment. He was mad that she’d walked into danger alone.

  “Seriously,” Gladstone said, backing up a half step and glancing over Paul’s shoulder. Signaling his goons for help?

  Did a guy bring his goons along to a high stakes poker game his father might not know about?

  The question bore some weight. As did the puzzle piece that was seeming to settle.

  “You eager to get to your game?” Paul asked, as though he knew far more than the little he’d actually seen.

  “What game?” Thomas drew his head back, shrugged as though he had no idea what Paul was talking about.

  “The one that’s going on through that door back there,” Paul said, motioning to the other side of the room. “That’s why you’re here every Saturday night, isn’t it?”

  Haley might have cornered their suspect physically, but Paul knew how to put people in corners that generally produced results.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Thomas’s tone changed, held a note of steel as he put his drink on the empty table beside him and rocked back on his heels. “So, if you’re here, working for my old man, you’re going to have to just go right back to him and report that you got squat. Would I be hooking up with a pretty lady if I had other plans?”

  “So, you admit you hit on her?” Paul put on the pressure, finding the job a little too easy to be as enjoyable as he’d have liked.

  “He approached me,” Haley said, staring straight at Gladstone. “I came up to the bar to get another shot, and he offered to pay for it.”

  Paul took a step forward.

  “Look, man, whatever he’s paying you, I’ll double.”

  “I’m not on your father’s payroll.”

  Even as overconfident as Thomas Gladstone was, he hadn’t been able to hide his surprise at that one.

  Because while the guy thought he was pretty smart, Paul was quickly figuring out he really wasn’t.

  Paul wasn’t ready to show his hand, mostly because there were too many cards he didn’t yet have, but with Haley having forced the issue, he knew he had no other choice.

  “I’m here to find out why Kelsey Carmichael’s credit card was used in places she would never go. But where you would.”

  Everything stilled for a second. Even the air seemed to stop moving. Paul was that focused. And Thomas was that shocked.

  And when the world started turning again, Gladstone was clearly agitated.

  Paul could read questions in his expression. The younger man didn’t ask them. He glanced at Haley again, and then at Paul. If he suspected that Haley was Kelsey’s sister, he didn’t say. Might not even have known that she had one.

  Didn’t much matter at the moment.

  Finding the truth, and rescuing the baby if there was one, were the only things on Paul’s table.

  “That...um...was over a year ago.”

  “I know.”

  “Why does it matter now?”

  Paul took another half step forward. “Now that she’s dead, you mean?”

  “No...” Backing up, Gladstone shook his head. Back and forth. Repeatedly. “No way, man. If you think I had anything to do with that...or her...no way, man. I haven’t seen Kelsey since she told my old man I mistreated her and walked out. She ruined my life. No way I’d go near her again.”