A security expert puts everything on the line when a woman from his past turns to him for protection...

Kellie McGarry is off-limits to Trey Riker. Building a security empire is the perfect distraction for him, but a threat against Kellie changes everything. In jeopardy and caught in a terrorist group’s web, she’s the one woman Trey will do anything to protect.

For Kellie, the sparks between her and Trey are more than inconvenient. She’s torn between the evidence that implicates him and her instinct to trust him. Determined to get the truth about Trey and save her own life, Kellie must make a choice now—but the wrong one could be her last.

“Shoot them before they shoot you.”

Kellie shook her head. “Before all this, I never would have imagined a scenario where it was necessary for somebody to say that to me.”

“You could do it, though, right?” he asked. He saw a tear in her eye.

“I’ve done a great many things in the last forty-eight hours that I would not have anticipated ever doing. I can do this, too.”

Trey knew that she was close to the edge. “Kellie, you caught a bad break. But you’ve done a terrific job of—”

“I’m okay,” she added, her voice still soft but stronger. “Now get going. I’ll see you in five.” Then she leaned in, so close, and brushed her soft lips against his.

His heart lurched in his chest. It had been innocent, a kiss that a ten-year-old girl might give a ten-year-old boy. But the overture, combined with the trust she’d demonstrated by allowing Rico and Seth to take the papers, was humbling. He would not fail her.

* * *

Don’t miss the next romance in Beverly Long’s exciting miniseries, Wingman Security!

Dear Reader,

I’m excited to offer you Kellie and Trey’s story. It’s a story of loyalty—to our families, to our friends, to those we love the most.

Kellie, a geologist, knows a secret. One that can get her killed. But she’s afraid to tell anyone because her brother may be involved. When Trey Riker, her brother’s best friend, tries to help her, she doesn’t trust him, either.

Trey, a security expert, is confident that Kellie is hiding something. When her apartment is trashed and she’s suddenly missing, he’s confident that she’s in terrible trouble. Following a trail that leads him across the desert, he tracks her down.

Unfortunately, he’s not the only one looking for her, and Trey and Kellie are soon apprehended by someone intent upon Kellie never sharing her secret with anyone.

Ultimately, Kellie and Trey must rely upon each other. Neither can escape on their own but together, they have a chance. It will take everything they have, every bit of courage and strength and smarts.

But sometimes a great love is worth all that.

I hope you enjoy Power Play.

Beverly

Power Play

Beverly Long

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BEVERLY LONG enjoys the opportunity to write her own stories. She has both a bachelor’s and master’s degree in business and more than twenty years of experience as a human resources director. She considers her books to be a great success if they compel the reader to stay up way past their bedtime. Beverly loves to hear from readers. Visit beverlylong.com, or like her author fan page at Facebook.com/beverlylong.romance.

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To Gerry, who is my personal MacGyver. I appreciate the block and tackle demonstration.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Trey Riker grilled a steak, tossed a salad and uncorked a bottle of wine. He ate outside, enjoying the quiet of the Vegas night. His place, twenty minutes from town in the foothills, was a continent removed from the blitz and glitz of the strip.

He’d had a rare day off and spent it digging post holes for the fence that he’d hoped to put up six months ago. But one shouldn’t complain about business being good. He and his three other partners, Royce Morgan, Rico Metez and Seth Pike, had opened Wingman Security more than four years ago and hadn’t looked back since. A few crazies in a basically good world spooked people, and both personal and property security were high priorities for many.

He tipped his wineglass up, drained it and considered a second. But the knowledge that he was due at the job at five the next morning had him pushing back from the table. He was never late, couldn’t understand others who were.

He went inside and locked up behind himself. Put his plate and silverware in the stainless steel dishwasher that he ran every three days, usually just for the hell of it. He’d bought his house two years ago. The 2800-square-foot ranch was probably too big for a single guy, but he’d loved the location. Every night he could sit on his patio and see the sun set. Every morning he could look out his bedroom window and see the sun rise.

He made sure the coffeepot was set up for morning and ten minutes later, he was in bed, lights off, listening to Bach’s Toccata in D Major when his cell rang. He reached for it, not recognizing the number. “Riker,” he answered.

“I had a hankering for Beethoven...”

“You wouldn’t recognize Beethoven if he came up and sat next to you,” he said, stretching his toes, settling in for the conversation. Anthony McGarry didn’t call often but when he did, it was generally a marathon. There was nobody better at taking a five-minute story and turning it into fifteen minutes of chatter. “Did you get a new number?”

“Yeah, made the mistake of giving it to a patient who I thought was just needy but, as it turned out, she was really, truly crazy. Hailey got tired of the phone ringing and was punishing me by making me get up with the baby.”

“Dr. McGarry, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I’m a surgeon, not a psychiatrist.”

He was one of the best spine surgeons in the country. But didn’t like to talk about it. “How are the queen and the princess?” Trey asked.

“Magnificent,” Anthony answered. “Didi will be a year on Sunday.”

He knew that. Was genuinely happy for his friend who’d fallen hook, line and sinker for a fellow physician. Wasn’t his life. Maybe someday. If it was absolutely right.

“What’s keeping you busy?” Anthony asked.

“I put up a fence today.”

“What? You had some bubble gum, toothpicks and a letter opener?”

His friends frequently teased him about his MacGyver tendencies. Give him a Popsicle stick, a battery and some dental floss, and he can power up a small country. “Funny. I actually had real boards and nails. No challenge at all.”

There was a moment of silence before Anthony cleared his throat and said, “Hey, there’s this thing.”

Trey sat up in bed. Something was wrong. Anthony’s voice had changed. “What’s going on, my friend?” he asked.

“Listen, I hate to ask but I was wondering if you could do something for me?”

“Name it.” A lifetime ago, when he’d been a freshman in college and Anthony McGarry had been a sophomore, Anthony had saved Trey’s life. It took a long time to pay back that debt.

“Do you remember my sister, Kellie?”

“Uh, sure.” Trey had met her once. His freshman move-in day. She’d been a twelve-year-old with braces who was sobbing at the idea of her older brother leaving home for college. He’d been nervous about meeting his roommate, though, and hadn’t given the guy’s little sister much thought.

“She lives in Vegas now,” Anthony said.

Trey had not known that. “For how long?”

“About six months.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m not sure,” Anthony said evasively.

Trey knew he was lying. Anthony had always thought Trey was a bit of a hound dog. Probably because Anthony had only dated his high school sweetheart, until that had ended badly in medical school, and then Hailey. He had some crazy idea that Trey had a different woman every night. Had teased Trey about needing a spreadsheet to keep track.

Trey hadn’t bothered to defend himself. He’d dated a lot of women. But the last time he’d checked, that wasn’t illegal.

But being an older brother himself, he understood his friend’s reluctance to bring his little sister into the mix. Friendship only went so far. “What’s she doing here?”

“She finished her doctorate in geosciences last May. Worked her butt off. I contacted Rodney Ballure to see if he might have something.”

Ballure had been the third roommate in their triple dorm room. Anthony and Rodney had always been tight but Trey hadn’t felt the same. Had good reason, but that was old news.

When they’d opened Wingman Security in Vegas four years ago, he’d known that Ballure was already in the area because he’d been involved with mining in Nevada since he’d gotten his degree. He’d never felt the inclination to look the man up. Had run into him once at a restaurant, had a couple minutes of very awkward conversation, but that had been at least two years ago. “And he did?” Trey said.

“Yeah. I really appreciated that. Damn hard to find that first job sometimes. Anyway, says she likes the work. But I’m worried about her. She’s normally really good about returning calls but I’ve left messages over the last few days and haven’t heard back.”

“Maybe she’s just busy,” Trey said, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He put the phone on speaker and picked up his jeans.

“She’s got two jobs, so that’s probably true,” Anthony said, his voice full of pride. “She’s got a lot of school loans. Won’t let me help her. Says I have my own loans to pay off.”

That was probably true. Mrs. McGarry had not had the resources to help her children with college expenses. She’d given them a great deal of love, however. And Trey, by virtue of being Anthony’s friend and roommate, had gotten included in the outpouring.

“I’d just feel better if somebody I trusted had eyes on her,” Anthony continued. “I thought about calling Rodney since he probably sees her at work but I think Kellie might not like it if I drag her boss into our personal lives.”

“Considerate it done,” Trey said. “What’s her address?”

Anthony rattled it off and her phone, as well. “But she’s probably at Lavender tonight. She’s a cocktail server there on Friday and Saturday nights. I did call there but they’re jerks about passing personal phone calls through to their employees.”

He’d never been to Lavender but he recalled that his partner Rico had mentioned it a few months back. New to the strip in the last year, it was building steam as a place to see and be seen. Had a chef from New York who was supposed to be amazing.

He squinted at the clock. It was a twenty-minute drive from his house. He could get there, make sure she was fine, and be back in bed by eleven. “I’ll call you within the hour,” Trey said.

“I owe you, man,” Anthony said.

Not even close. “Keep your phone on.”

Traffic was very light and he was circling the right block in seventeen minutes. But then he lost a few finding a parking spot. Finally, he was walking up the marble staircase to the second-floor restaurant. There was a young woman in a short black dress with a stack of leather-bound menus. “Table for one, sir?”

Anthony had said Kellie was a cocktail server. “Just the bar.”

She made a sweeping motion with her arm, ushering him through an oversize archway. The carpet got thicker, the music louder and the lighting dimmer. It was a big bar, with two long sides that came to an outward V in the middle. Lots of brass and glass and mirrors that made the most of it.

He took an open spot, three from the end on the side closest to the lobby. There were two bartenders, both males, both probably in their early thirties wearing dark pants and white shirts. One came his direction and slid a cocktail napkin with a lavender L on it toward him. “What’s your pleasure?” the man asked, his tone easy.

“Scotch, straight up,” Trey said.

He turned on his bar stool so he could see the tables in the bar area. They were low and surrounded by equally low couches and chairs. Lots of grays and violets and darker purples. He counted five, no make that six, different cocktail servers. Most had their backs to him as they took orders. They all wore black skirts and white shirts.

The bartender set down his drink. Trey threw a twenty on the bar. “I’m looking for Kellie McGarry.”

There was a subtle shift in the man’s posture. “Oh, yeah?”

Trey nodded. Took a sip. “Looking her up for a friend,” he said.

The man hesitated, then pointed at a server across the room. “Don’t give her a hard time, man. She’s had a rough night.”

What the hell did that mean? Trey wanted to drill him for information but at that moment, the woman he’d pointed at turned.

Long dark blond hair caught the light. Shimmered.

Three steps.

Her short black skirt was tight, her white sleeveless shirt maybe a little tighter. Three more steps.

Her tanned legs were bare and a mile long.

She was smoking hot.

And he felt wildly off balance.

She was no longer a gawky twelve-year-old. Maybe if he’d been at Anthony’s wedding seven years ago, but he’d been in the middle of a tour, unable to come home. If he’d seen her there, he now wouldn’t feel as if he’d taken a punch to the gut.

He watched her go to the far side of the bar and enter her order on a touch screen. She smiled at the other bartender.

Trey picked up his drink, leaving the napkin and his change on the bar. He passed the point of the V, kept going, until he was standing right behind her. She turned, tray in hand, drinks on tray.

Startled, she jerked but nothing spilled. “Excuse me,” she murmured, shifting to the side. Her eyes were hazel and her face was a perfect oval. Her hair, parted deep on the side, swept across her forehead. She wore very little makeup, didn’t need it. Her lips held just a hint of gloss.

“Kellie?” he asked.

She said nothing. But he got the feeling she was just about to run. She’s had a rough night.

He stepped back, giving her some space. “I’m Trey Riker,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m friends with your brother, Anthony.”

Still, she said nothing. And the bartender was looking a little too interested in their conversation.

“I was his college roommate. He was the smart one. He stayed and I decided to go to war.”

“Anthony has mentioned you,” she said. She looked California and she sounded pure Texas.

That and her sexy painted toes peeking out of her black heels were a hell of a combination. But crashing upon that thought was the realization that he was having these thoughts about Anthony’s little sister.

Which was almost as bad as if he’d had the same thoughts about his own sister.

“Your brother gets worried when he doesn’t hear from you,” he said.

Something, maybe regret, maybe frustration, he wasn’t sure what, flashed in her pretty eyes. But then she summoned up a smile that would have made her orthodontist proud. “I hope you weren’t in the middle of something important when he sounded the alert.” She cocked her head, narrowed her amazing eyes. “I think he’s always been secretly envious of your life.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. Actually, his brain felt really scrambled. “Are you sure he was talking about me?”

She nodded. “Absolutely. But I didn’t realize you were in Vegas. I thought you were from Texas like us.”

“Been in Vegas about four years,” he said. “I understand you’re pretty new to the area.”

She nodded.

“Anthony’s not going to sleep until I assure him that everything is just fine.”

“Of course,” she said quickly. “I’ve just been so busy. Working, you know.”

“Sure.”

The silence stretched on.

“You’ve...uh...got drinks to deliver,” he said.

“I do.”

He stepped aside. She hesitated for only a second and then walked past him. He caught a whiff of a scent—something dark and complex. He went back to his spot, sat on his stool.

And sipped his Scotch. Trying to get his head straight.

He’d seen beautiful women before. Dated many. And he’d never had a reaction like this.

She delivered her drinks and moved onto a middle-aged couple who had empty glasses sitting in front of them. They smiled, then shook their heads. Next stop was a table of three young men. All had beer bottles in front of them, all seemed to be talking at the same time, waving their arms.

And then one arm reached out and a hand landed on Kellie’s hip.

He was half off his stool when she gracefully edged away, efficiently clearing up empties. She came back to the bar, set the bottles down and waited to get three fresh ones. Didn’t look his direction. He discreetly picked up his phone, clicked on the camera and took a picture of her. Then he sent the photo of Kellie to Anthony. He added, Eyes on little sister. Working at Lavender. Said she will call you soon.

Within seconds, he had his reply. Thank you. Now I can go to bed.

Which is where he probably should be. But Kellie was on her way to deliver beers to the table of drunks.

When she set down the bottles, she was careful to stand on the other side of the table, away from the idiot who wanted to play grab ass. The man kept his hands to himself but Trey didn’t like the looks he was giving Kellie. And when he said something that she appeared to ignore, Trey wanted to be closer so that he could hear.

Trey nursed his drink. Kellie moved away from the drunks and slid easily between other tables, clearing glasses, discreetly offering checks in little padded folders. It was fifteen minutes before she walked his direction.

“It was good of you to come check on me,” she said. “Really.”

He got the distinct impression she was trying to get him out of the bar. Wasn’t that interesting? “The bartender mentioned that you’d had a hard night.”

He could tell by the quick press of her lips together that didn’t make her happy. “I had a four-top that had two rounds of drinks and they walked out without paying.”

“Are you on the hook for that tab?”

“Yes.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t happen very often. But rent is due next week, so the timing was bad.”

“How much do you need?” he asked.

She looked startled. “You don’t even know me.”

“You’re Anthony’s little sister,” he said. “I would give him the shirt off my back. I can certainly float you some rent money.”

She stared at him. Her sexy mouth in the shape of a small O.

And he felt something shift. Something inside of him.

“Mr. Riker, I can pay my own bills,” she said, her tone a little frosty.

Damn. “If it makes you feel better, I’d have been willing to charge you outlandish interest,” he said, wanting to get back to where they’d been before he’d offered the money. He sure as hell hadn’t meant to offend her.

“Tell my brother that I’m fine,” she said. “I’ll call him...really soon.”

Trey picked up his phone, held it out to her. “I already did.”

She read the message. “Very efficient.”

It didn’t sound as if she meant it as a compliment.

“Well,” she added, “good night.”

He rather desperately wanted to run his hands through her long blond hair to see if it was as silky as it looked. That likely made him no better than the drunk at the table.

“Right. Good night,” he said.

He watched her walk away. Waited until her attention got snagged by a new table in the corner. Then he raised his hand, got the bartender’s attention, and pointed to his glass. “One more,” he said.

* * *

Kellie McGarry remembered Trey Riker. And given that she’d been twelve and had only met him once, somebody might think that was odd. But she remembered every trip to drop off Anthony. Every tearful goodbye.

It had been Anthony’s sophomore year. When they’d arrived at his dorm, Trey was already there, had already hung an ugly picture of flying pigs on his wall.

She hated that college. Hated that it was taking her brother away from her. It didn’t matter that they’d already been through the drill the previous year. Having him home for the summer had made it a fresh wound.

Anthony had been her hero. Still was.

Which made it seem impossible that he was involved in this thing. But the proof had been there in black and white. She couldn’t call him. Not until she figured out what to do.

She walked through the bar, checking on her tables. People generally sipped drinks at Lavender. Beer went for ten bucks, wine and well drinks for thirteen and brand-name cocktails for sixteen. The bill got big fast if you were pounding them back.

Every once in a while, there would be somebody who was in a mood to be overserved, but the bartenders at Lavender were well trained to deal with that. Hagney and Bryce, the two behind the bar tonight, wouldn’t hesitate to turn somebody away if necessary.

She assumed it was Hagney who had talked too much to Trey. Since her very first night at Lavender four months ago, they’d clicked. Not romantically. He had a wife and two little boys at home. But they’d become good friends really fast. He’d been super angry on her behalf when the table had skipped. He probably would have hidden it but the assistant manager had been on the floor and had seen it go down.

It was likely that part of Hagney’s indignation had stemmed from her reaction, which on most nights would have been quiet indignation that somebody could be so inconsiderate. Tonight, a few tears had slipped out. She’d made up the excuse about rent money being tight, both to Hagney and to Trey later, but that wasn’t the truth. Well, not the whole truth. Rent money was always tight but the tears had slipped out for a much simpler reason.

Lately, she’d felt like crying about everything.

But to tell anybody that, and tell them why, could be disastrous. If she was wrong, she’d be making a serious allegation against people who wouldn’t forget her lapse. She could kiss her job goodbye. Maybe any job because that kind of thing would follow a person. She’s the one, people would whisper. Can you believe she made a mistake like that? Anthony would be incredulous that she could ever suspect him of something so heinous. It would ruin their relationship.

If she was right, however, it would be worse. How was she going to face her mother, face everyone who cared about Anthony? Didi was her godchild for goodness’ sakes.

Trey Riker had been quick to offer a loan. Seemed as if it was an authentic offer which, for just a second, had touched her. But then she thought of her most recent conversation with Rodney Ballure. I know you appreciate the limb I’m perched on because I offered you this job. The words themselves were not horrible, but the way he’d said them made her feel uneasy. His tone had been suggestive. As if there was some expectation of repayment.

She wasn’t going to get into another situation like that with one of Anthony’s friends. Although, Trey was considerably more handsome than Rodney. His light brown hair had a good cut that made the most of the thick texture. The lights in Lavender had picked up the natural gold highlights. Great bone structure, with a wide jaw and a very nice mouth. Dark lashes meant to make every girl in the room jealous.

When she’d first arrived in Vegas, she thought about how nice it might be to meet a guy. She would be twenty-nine in two weeks. Most of her friends were either married or in serious relationships. She’d dated, of course, and had one rather long relationship that had fizzled out in the end. But she’d been mostly busy getting a doctorate degree. It had taken a couple extra years because she’d worked a series of part-time jobs—waitressing, retail, telemarketing, you name it—to offset the expense of her degree. But now she had her first real job.

And as she’d unpacked her boxes at her new apartment, looking out at the low mountains that surrounded Vegas, she’d been excited about the possibilities. Romance. Marriage. A child. That last bit was all sweet little Didi’s fault. Nothing better than the pudgy arms of a baby around your neck.

It could be so good.

But now, six months later, she couldn’t think of any of those things.

She needed to stay sharp. Watchful.

Which was why Trey needed to take his offers down the street. In this town, there would be plenty of takers.

She stopped at the two-top in the far corner. The newly arrived couple was holding hands across the table. They were in their early thirties. Both wanted champagne with a side of chocolate-dipped strawberries. The woman was busy looking at her ring finger that had a sparkly diamond on it.

“Congratulations?” she ventured.

They both beamed. “We got married today,” said the man. “Didn’t tell a soul we were doing it. Got on a plane in Chicago, arrived at three and here we are.”

“That’s wonderful,” she said, meaning it. Just because circumstances had put her life on hold, it didn’t mean she couldn’t be happy for others.

On her way to enter the newlyweds’ order, the three men who’d been initially fairly polite but, after five beers each, were getting rather obnoxious, waved her over. She kept a smile on her face. Earlier, when the one had grabbed her butt, she’d quickly stepped away. Hadn’t made a scene. Things like that happened in bars. But there was a line and she thought these three might be just about to cross it.

She kept a safe distance. “Ready for your check?” she asked.

“Hell no, darling,” said the one who hadn’t been able to keep his hands to himself. He smiled at her. “Come closer,” he said. He patted his leg.

Not on your life. “Got to scoot,” she said. “Bosses don’t like it if we keep the customers waiting.”

“I’m a customer, darling, and I could give you three suggestions on how you could make me real happy,” he said, his tone full of innuendo. The other goofballs at the table laughed, maybe a little uneasily.

She kept the polite, yet distant, smile on her face that she’d perfected when she’d started cocktailing. “Then, another round?” she asked.

He tapped the table, as if he couldn’t be bothered to speak. Great. She didn’t intend to talk to them any longer anyway. She’d let Hagney know that this trio had worn out their welcome. He’d deliver the bad news that there weren’t going to be any more drinks and they’d be gone by the time she got back with the strawberries.

She walked back to the bar and entered her orders. She ignored Trey Riker, who appeared to have ordered another drink. What the hell was he doing? He’d come, he’d checked and reported back to her brother. His work was done here.

She motioned for Hagney to lean close. Told him that his services were needed. “I’m going to run back and get the strawberries,” she said.

He nodded and cracked his knuckles. She winked at him.

The kitchen was behind the dining room. Bar staff were not supposed to cross the dining room, but rather, connect to the kitchen through the back hallway. It was rather inconvenient and required them to sidestep around customers on their way to the restroom, but she understood the rationale.

She was coming back, with two plates of delicious-looking chocolate-dipped strawberries, when it all went to hell. Table-tapper came out of the men’s room. He saw her and headed her way.

“Darling, I don’t like being told that my business isn’t wanted.”

“Happens to the best of us,” she said lightly. “Have a good evening,” she said, working to keep her tone even, polite. De-escalate. First rule of handling an unhappy customer.

Sometimes it didn’t work all that well with a drunk. And it looked as if this was one of those times. The man swaggered toward her. She tried to sidestep around him but he was faster on his feet than she anticipated. He grabbed her upper arm and swung her toward him. She lost her grip on the plates and heard them shatter over the roar in her ears.

He pushed her up against the wall, pushed himself against her and tried to kiss her. She screamed, knowing that it would be hard to be heard over the music in the bar and the noise in the kitchen. She flung her arms and tried to kick, but he had at least seventy-five pounds on her.

He gripped her chin hard. “Kiss me, damn you.”

No. No. No.

Chapter 2

Trey Riker watched Kellie enter her drink orders into the computer. Then she said something to the bartender before disappearing through a swinging door. He sipped his second Scotch and watched the bartender lift the pass-through section of the bar and head directly to the drunks’ table. Whatever he said, they didn’t seem inclined to argue. One of them handed the bartender a credit card. He returned to the bar area, rang it up, and by the time he got back to the table, the trio was standing.

Then they were walking to the door. Good.

He turned on his stool. Could see them hanging out by the woman with the menus. They were ignoring her, just chatting. And then he realized they were a man short. And he got a bad feeling.

“Hey,” he said to the bartender. “Where does that door lead?”

“To the kitchen,” he said.

“That’s it?”

“No. There are restrooms, too. Entrance off the lobby,” he said and went to pour a drink.

Something told him to hurry.

He ran through the lobby and pushed open the door. He saw the drunk had Kellie pinned up against the wall, while he did his level best to grasp her breast. Trey charged down the hall and grabbed the man by the back of his shirt and whirled him around. The man’s shoulder knocked against the wall. Trey hit him hard enough to jar loose some teeth. Saw that he was down, and turned to Kellie.

She had her back pressed up against the wall, her palms splayed flat against the gray paint, as if she was hanging on. Her face was white.

He wanted to reach for her, to hold her, to tell her that it would be okay, but he doubted that’s what she needed right then. “What can I do?” he asked gently.

“Get him out of here,” she said, her voice trembling.

“We’ll call the police,” he said.

“No,” she said sharply. Then visibly pulled it together. “I’m not hurt. I just want him out of here.”

He wanted to rearrange the man’s face. “Okay, then stay there,” he said gently. “I’ll be right back.”

Then he yanked the drunk up to his feet, who was now very quiet, as if he couldn’t figure out exactly how he’d gotten his bell rung. Trey propelled him back to the lobby, back to his friends who looked as if they might want to make a break for it.

“Get your friend out of here,” he said. He got in the man’s face. “And don’t come back. And don’t come anywhere near that woman ever again. You’re lucky she doesn’t want to press charges. But your luck is going to run out fast if you think that I’m not serious about this.”

The man squared his shoulders. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said to his two buddies. Neither of them wasted any time and the trio left. Trey watched them get to the door before quickly turning and running back to Kellie.

She was sweeping the floor.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Somebody else can get that.”

“It’s my mess.”

“It is not your fault when somebody else is a damn idiot,” he said. “Tell your boss that you’re done for the night, that you’re going home.”

“I can’t do that,” she said, still sweeping. “I’ll be fired and I’m already in the hole for the evening. Doubly so, now. I’ll probably have to pay for these strawberries. Why couldn’t they have just ordered cheese sticks?” she said, a trace of humor in her tone.

He was glad she was bouncing back. Wasn’t so sure about himself.

She looked up, made eye contact with him. “Thank you,” she said. “I was losing the fight.” She paused. “Please don’t tell my brother about this. He’s...protective. He was the man of the house after our dad died. Took and continues to take his role seriously.”

“Your brother is a good man,” Trey said. He would never want to disappoint Anthony.

“Yes,” she said. She stood there, holding her dustpan and broom.

“You look a little like Cinderella,” he said.

She tilted her chin down. “What do you know about Cinderella? I don’t take you for the type to have watched the movie.”

“I have a younger sister,” he said.

“I see. Favorite part of the movie?” she challenged.

He feigned a grimace. “When the glass slipper finally slides onto Cinderella’s foot. I like it when the parts go together.” He held up a hand and his face got hot. “Sorry, that sounds really sexual. Didn’t mean it that way. Especially after—” he waved a hand “—all this. See, I was a mechanic in the air force. Things that fit nice and tight...” He stopped. “I’m going to shut up now.”

Now she had a full smile. That was well worth him fumbling over his words.

“Did you fix planes?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“You dropped out of college to enlist, right? I remember hearing the story.”

“Yeah. I ultimately finished my degree online like a lot of enlisted folks do. And then I got a call from my good friend Royce Morgan to join him, Rico Metez and Seth Pike in Wingman Security. We provide personal and property security services.”

“So this—” she looked at the pile on the floor “—was just your cup of tea.”

You would think so. Shouldn’t have been any big deal—neutralize the creep who was causing trouble and move on. But his heart, which seemed to still be skipping a beat here and there, didn’t seem to think so. “Just glad I had my cape with me.”

“A superhero, right?” she said, immediately getting it.

“Just had to prove that I watched guy stuff, too.”

The door at the end of the hall opened and out came a guy wearing a white apron. He was carrying two plates of chocolate-covered strawberries. Kellie held out her broom and dustpan. “Thanks, Miguel. I’ll trade you,” she said.

“Nobody else even knows this is the second set,” he said, making the switch. Miguel’s hands were shaking and Trey wasn’t confident that the second set of strawberries was going to fare any better than the first.

“You’re the best,” Kellie said.

The man mumbled something in response. He didn’t seem to be able to make eye contact with either of them.

Kellie shook her head as she watched Miguel go back through the kitchen door. “That was odd. He’s normally cracking a joke about everything.”

He wasn’t sure what to say about that. She was still very pale and she was making no effort to go anywhere with the strawberries.

“I think I just need a minute,” she said. “To clear my head.”

“Want to talk about something else?”

“Sure,” she said, sounding relieved.

“I put up a fence today. At my house. Next, I got to dig me some big holes for a few new trees.” Now that he finally had the fence up, there was no reason to procrastinate on the landscaping.

“What kind of trees?” she asked.

“Somebody suggested desert willows.”

“That’s a good choice,” she said. “They’re so disease-resistant and they respond really well to the soil in and around the Vegas area. Hummingbirds love them and they flower, too.”

“You sound like you really know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“It’s what I do,” she said.

“I thought you were a geologist,” he said.

“I am. What do you know about mining?” she asked.

He was happy that she seemed more relaxed. “Not much. Know that it’s big business in Nevada. Gaming is probably first but mining has to be in the top five.”

“You’re right. It employs more than eleven thousand people in this state and creates a lot of jobs in the secondary market, as well.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” he said. “Wingman Security has done work with several of the mining companies, everything from providing security at mine sites and corporate offices to personal security for mining executives. It’s good business. But what exactly is your role?”

“Part of the process of mining is that before a new site can start up or before an existing footprint can be enlarged, there has to be a plan in place for land reclamation and the mining company has to prove that they have the resources available. It’s to avoid lots of damage to the environment without there being a plan to mitigate it.”

“And that’s what you do?”

“Yes. I mean, I’m pretty new. I’ve only been on the job for about six months. But I’m involved in a couple smaller projects. One of the things I’ve done is learn about trees and other plants that can be used in the reclamation process.”

“Do you like it?”

She paused. “I like what I’m doing very much. It’s exciting to know that we can extract these very important minerals from the earth, minerals that we need for technology and medicine, but that we don’t have to do it at the expense of the environment.”

There was something odd in her tone. I like what I’m doing very much. But she didn’t seem happy about it. There was just the slightest hint of sadness in her tone—as if she was working hard to keep her voice neutral but a little real emotion had seeped out.

Interesting.

She drew in a deep breath. “Okay. I’m ready to go back. The folks who ordered these strawberries can only stare into each other’s eyes for so long.”

“Maybe forty or fifty years, right?” he said, feeling very off center.

“If they’re lucky.” She started to walk away from him.

And he thought about going back to the bar, finishing the drink he didn’t want. But he told himself that that was crazy. He had delivered the message that he’d come for. Had assured Anthony that she’d be calling soon. Had been in the right place at the right time to offer some assistance. But now she was fine and the drunk was gone.

His five o’clock assignment was looming.

But more important was the pressing realization that he was attracted to Kellie McGarry. Initially because she was Victoria’s Secret–model gorgeous, and then because she was funny and smart and resilient. All qualities he admired.

If they dated it would no doubt be lots of fun.

But when it ended it, which it likely would, since most relationships ended, Anthony would be sharpening his scalpel in anticipation of cutting Trey into small pieces.

“Hey,” he said.

She stopped, turned.

He took five big steps, pulled a business card from his pocket and passed it to her. “Take this,” he said.

She hesitated, then reached out her hand.

The tips of their index fingers touched. His was just a little crooked at the last joint—that’s what you got when you broke it twice. And callused. Her skin was smooth and her nails were short, perfectly rounded and painted a dark purple.

Everything about her was so damn sexy.

“I’m not going to call,” she said. Her pretty eyes were wide-open, her gaze intense.

That was probably for the best. “Just in case,” he said.

* * *

Kellie finished her shift and at twenty minutes after two, kept a smile on her face as she sat down at the bar, in front of the cosmo that Hagney had poured for her. It was a ritual that the staff enjoy a nightcap together before heading home. She was tired, and for a brief second she debated ducking out. But then admitted to herself that she wasn’t in any big hurry to get home. Because then she was going to have to open her backpack and do something.

What that something was, she had no idea.

But she couldn’t sit on this much longer.

She flexed her tired feet, grateful that she’d gotten out of her heels and into the hiking boots she’d had in her locker. Which was where, every other night, her backpack stayed while she was working. But tonight, she’d broken bar policy and stuffed it under the counter of the bar, behind lots and lots of bottles. She’d grabbed it at the end of the shift when everybody else was busy shutting down the bar or counting tips.

The straps were now looped over one knee.

Hagney took the stool next to her. “Miguel told me about the guy in the hallway.”

She’d been afraid of that. “No big deal,” she said.

“I should have decked him when I had the chance,” he said. “Damn it, I’m sorry,” he added.

“My brother’s friend was helpful,” she said.

“Seems like a decent guy,” Hagney offered. “Unattached?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“He wasn’t wearing a ring,” Hagney said. “No tan line, either.”

“Smarter than the average bear.” Too many times both men and women came in without rings for a night of bar crawling, not realizing the tan line was a dead giveaway.

“He was getting some interested looks from other women in the bar but he was pretty much laser focused on you,” Hagney said.

She felt the heat in her cheeks. “He was passing on a message from my brother. No big deal.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. She could hear the chant in her head. Trey Riker had a very sexy, rough-around-the-edges look in his tight T-shirt, faded blue jeans and scuffed work boots. His short, just-shy-of-scruffy beard completed the bad-boy look.

He definitely looked very different from the freshman goof who’d been lying on the wrong end of the bed, with his feet on his pillow, reading a car racing magazine. That had been a boy. Now, he was definitely a man.

Handsome for sure. But what else did she know about him?

He was smart. He hadn’t dropped out of college to join the air force because he was struggling. No. She could remember overhearing her mom talk with her friend about Anthony and his two roommates. I think they put the three smartest boys at UCLA in the same room.

Of course, after five minutes with Rodney, you knew how smart he was because he told you. It was an office joke that wasn’t really funny for those who ran into his ego several times a day. She’d not had much interaction with him, but on the few occasions they’d talked, she’d walked away with a bad taste in her mouth.

Trey Riker hadn’t seemed as affected by his own self-importance but that didn’t mean she could trust him any more than she trusted Rodney right now. He’d surprised her when he’d given her his business card. She should have simply accepted it, but for some reason had felt the need to be honest.

He hadn’t tried to convince her that not calling was a mistake, which made her think he’d simply done it as a perfunctory gesture. Maybe so he could tell Anthony that he’d not only checked, but that he’d given his little sister a lifeline, too?

But this was no game show. She wasn’t calling a friend or asking the audience for help. She was on her own.

She sipped her drink, her backpack feeling heavy on her leg. She knew she was imagining that. There were just her heels and papers inside. Papers that might lead her to the truth.

She tossed back the rest of her drink, feeling a slight burn down the back of her throat. “I’ve got to get going,” she said.

“I’ll walk you out,” Hagney said.

“Finish your drink,” she said. “I’ll be fine.” All staff parked on the first level of the parking deck across the street. It was one of the perks of working at Lavender. It was brightly lit twenty-four hours a day and she always felt safe getting to her car.

She waved goodbye to the rest of the team and walked down the interior stairs. She stood in front of the doors, wishing she’d worn a coat to work. It had been really warm when she’d left but was probably in the upper fifties now. She was going to get chilled.

She opened the door, walked to the corner of the street and pressed the walk button. She had her backpack strapped on, leaving her arms free. She wrapped them around her middle.

“Where’s your coat?”

She jumped a damn foot. Might have screamed if she hadn’t recognized the voice.

She turned and saw Trey. He was taking off his lightweight jacket. He handed it to her. “Here.”

She shook her head. “My car is right over there. I thought you went home. What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “Please,” he said, continuing to hold out the jacket.

She realized she wasn’t going to get an explanation until she took the coat. She put it on, over her backpack. She probably looked ridiculous but she didn’t intend to have it on that long.

“Thank you,” he said. “I hung around, just in case. I thought that idiot might have had one too many beers in his system to make a good decision and stay away.”

“You’ve been standing guard for over three hours.” She was amazed.

“It’s a pleasant night,” he said. “Good for people watching.”

She thought he probably couldn’t care less about people watching. She took a step backward and heard the angry blare of a horn.

Chapter 3

“Be careful,” he said quickly, pointing to the traffic behind her.

Be careful. He was right. She needed to be very, very careful. “It’s late,” she said.

“I don’t need that much sleep,” he said. “And—” he looked at his watch “—I don’t have to be at work for another two and a half hours. Actually, now I think I’ll just stay up. I probably should get something to eat.” He put his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “Ever since you said cheese sticks earlier, I’ve been a little obsessed.”

Maybe it was the drink she’d gulped down on an empty stomach, but his offer sounded so good. Fun. And she desperately wanted not to overthink it. To write it off as simply a cool thing to have a handsome guy ask her out.

But Anthony, Rodney and this man had been roommates. Best friends, to hear Anthony tell it. Would do anything for one another. Anthony had mentioned several times since she’d started working at the mine that he wanted to come see her, to spend some time with Rodney. Trey would naturally be part of that socializing.

Was it possible that he was part of something much worse? She’d seen no evidence of that, but then again, she was less than a third of the way through the documents. Had he stuck around for hours and was now inviting her for a late dinner because he had some idea of what was in her backpack?

How was that possible?

She wanted nothing more than to run to her car, to seek the safety of her little apartment, but since lately she’d been in the business of turning over rocks—not as a geoscientist but as an amateur detective—maybe the smart thing to do was better understand Trey’s interest. “A bite to eat might be okay,” she said. She did not intend to get into a car with him. “There’s a little bar around the corner. They’re open until four. Really good burgers and sweet potato fries. I suspect there might be a cheese stick or two somewhere in the kitchen.”

“Breaded, deep fried? Marinara sauce on the side?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Sweet,” he said. “Let’s go. Different shoes, I see.”

Her black skirt and brown hiking boots weren’t a fashion statement but she didn’t care. She was a geologist. Definitely more at home in boots than heels. “The other are in my backpack,” she said. They walked at an easy pace down the sidewalk that was much less crowded than it had been at five when she’d come to work but still had a fair amount of foot traffic. Vegas never really did sleep, with most of the casinos open 24/7.

He easily moved around her, taking a position on the sidewalk closest to the traffic. It reminded her that her dad always did that—told her once, when she was just a little girl, that a gentleman always walked on that side. It was only later that she’d learned the custom was a throwback to earlier days when wagons would slosh through the street, striking potholes filled with muddy water, and gentlemen took the brunt of it to protect their women from getting their long dresses ruined.

She didn’t want him to be a gentleman. She wanted him to be a jerk.

It took just minutes to reach Jada’s, and Trey held the door open for her. This wasn’t the kind of place with a hostess, but rather, guests found an available spot and settled in. As late as it was, most of the tables were full. There was one up front, near where the band was playing, and she led Trey in that direction.

“This work?” she asked.

“Perfect. Cheese sticks and Billy Joel. What’s better than that?”

Not the real Billy Joel, but rather a piano player giving it his best with a young woman singing.

“I don’t recognize the song,” she said, reaching for a menu that was in the middle of the table.

“‘This Night’ off his An Innocent Man album. Early to mid-1980s.” He held up a finger. “Here it comes.”

She listened. “Nice,” she said.

“More than that. That right there was based off Beethoven’s Sonata Pathétique. Billy Joel gave credit where credit was due in the album notes.”

His comment made her remember something that she hadn’t thought of since she was a kid. “When Anthony came home at Christmas his sophomore year, he, of course, talked a lot about college. Said it was going good but that his new roommate’s music was driving both him and Rodney crazy. Said it was CC all day long. Our mom, who to this day lives for rock and roll said, ‘I love Creedence Clearwater.’ Anthony practically rolled on the floor. When he stopped laughing, he said, ‘No, Mom. Classical crap.’”

Trey laughed and she realized that if he was handsome when he was somber, he was almost magnetic when he laughed. It reminded her of how Anthony had talked about his good friend Trey, who had women practically falling over themselves to get his attention.

She wasn’t going to be suckered in.

The waitress approached with water glasses. Trey ordered a burger and cheese sticks; she ordered a turkey and bacon croissant with a side of sweet potato fries.

“How did the rest of your night go?” he asked.

“Good. We were really busy, which always makes the time go faster.”

“I hear that you’ve got a good chef. Vegas has a bunch of those now. All the foodies are happy.”

“He’s a little volatile,” she said, smiling. “I like Armand, I really do. But he can get into a snit when customers complain. I don’t have to deal with it much since I primarily serve drinks.”

“Customers can be tough,” he said. “The other day I had a really unhappy guy. Said I made his property too secure.”

“Why would he say that?”

“Because he set off the silent alarm when he was sneaking out and didn’t realize it. His wife, who was sleeping, got the telephone call from the automated system. Since she was up, she decided to follow him. Right to his mistress’s condo.”

She laughed and he reached out a hand. “Let’s dance,” he said.

That would be a mistake. But she didn’t want to make a scene or do anything that would make him think she was suspicious. He was her brother’s best friend. The reasonable thing to do was dance with him.

She pushed her chair back, securing her backpack strap under the leg. And when she got on the dance floor, she made sure she could see their table.

“Afraid somebody is going to steal your shoes?” he teased.

She shrugged.

“They are pretty remarkable,” he added, then sighed. He pulled her into his arms.

She couldn’t answer. Her head was whirling. She was a physical scientist—a geologist. She understood many things. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out the energy field that seemed to pop up when she stepped into his arms.

He didn’t hold her too close but he was confident. Within a couple minutes, two other couples joined them.

“See, somebody just needs to get it going,” he said, his lips close to her ear. Her whole body hummed in response. She was five-seven but he still had at least five inches on her, making her head fit nicely under his chin. The music changed and he easily shifted tempo, slowing it down.

“I’m pretty sure they played this at my senior prom,” he said, his voice amused.

This song she recognized. Who wouldn’t? “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion. She’d been in middle school when Rose and Jack had sailed the ill-fated Titanic. “I loved that movie.”

“Of course you did,” he said easily.

Another couple edged onto the tiny dance floor. As she and Trey rocked back and forth, she told herself to breathe. Just breathe. Then realized that was a mistake when she drew his clean soap smell into her lungs.

“Who did you take to senior prom?” she asked, desperate to think and talk about something mundane. Anything so she didn’t focus on how good it felt to be dancing with Trey.

“Tracy Jones,” he said.

“Trey and Tracy. Cute. What happened to Tracy Jones?” she asked.

He smiled. “I’m not sure. We broke up that summer.”

“Haven’t seen her at any class reunions?”

“Never been to one,” he said. “Haven’t been back to Texas for many years.”

She loved going home. Loved getting to see her mom. “What’s your hometown?” she asked.

“San Antonio.”

“I love the River Walk. So much fun to take a stroll. Everywhere you look, people are having drinks or dinner or listening to music.”

“Easy place to lose yourself for a couple hours. When I enlisted, basic training was just around the corner at Lackland. So I became the unofficial tour guide to the city once other airmen found out it was my hometown.”

“I’ll bet your parents were glad to have you close again.”

“Parent. Raised by a single mom.”

“I see.” She had been, too. Because a drug-seeking addict had decided to rob a grocery store and had shot her dad when he’d responded to the call. “Did your dad...um...die?”

He shook his head. “Divorced. Still alive, at least I think he is. But my mom passed away when I was twenty-five. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. She’d lost a parent. By the sounds of it, he’d lost both of his, one to death and the other to absence. “When’s the last time you saw your dad?”

“I don’t know. Couple years ago.” She felt the change in his body and when he missed a step, she knew that while his tone suggested that he couldn’t care less, Trey did indeed care.

She wondered if she should apologize for bringing up the subject, but just then, the server delivered their food to their table. They took their seats. She looped her backpack over her knee again. Trey lifted his plate in her direction. “Cheese stick?”

She started to reach for one and he pulled his plate away. “Are you crazy?” he joked.

She smiled, relieved that the awkward moment on the dance floor was over. “I’ll trade you five sweet potato fries for one cheese stick.”

He lifted his plate again. “I appreciate a woman who drives a hard bargain.”

They made the switch. She bit into her sandwich. Chewed. Swallowed. “So, tell me about the interest in classical music,” she said.

“It’s probably not all that different than people who gravitate toward jazz or the blues. I like most music. I just really happen to like classical.”

“Do you play an instrument?”

“Does the trombone in middle school count?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then, no. Well, that’s not true. I’ve taught myself how to play the keyboard. It’s pretty easy. All kinds of tutorials online.”

“Favorite composer?”

He chewed. “Impossible to answer. I have a few favorite pieces, of course. Schubert’s Ninth Symphony, Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto. How about you?”

“I’m woefully ignorant,” she said. “But I do love Canon in D by Pachelbel. Hailey walked down the aisle to that and I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything more lovely.”

“I was sorry to miss the wedding. But I couldn’t get leave. I did—” he stopped and smiled “—have a little input on the music so I’m glad to hear that it resonated with you.”

He seemed genuinely touched that she’d remembered the music. This was crazy. If Trey was part of it, she had no business being here. Wasn’t sophisticated enough or devious enough to banter back and forth without making a mistake and saying something that would get her into trouble.

It Trey wasn’t part of it, that was equally as bad. She couldn’t pick a worse time to become romantically involved with someone.

She took two more bites of her sandwich but then stopped. It hurt to swallow, to get the food past the lump in her throat.

“Food okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just not as hungry as I thought.” The anxiety that she had mostly managed to keep at bay for the last several days seemed to take on new life. She pushed her chair back. “You know, I should go.”

“But we’re not done eating,” he said, looking very puzzled.

“Yeah, I know. You go ahead and finish.”

He studied her, then took the napkin off his lap and deliberately wiped his hands. Then tossed it onto the table. “I’ll walk you back to your car.”

“No,” she said, too loudly, getting attention from the next table. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to make sure you get to your car safely,” he said. He threw enough bills on the table to cover their meals and a generous tip. They walked out of the restaurant and walked in silence.

“Careful,” he said.

She wasn’t quick enough to sidestep the puddle of dirty water that had pooled in a low spot near a flowering planter that had been overwatered. The water soaked into the bottom and sides of her boot. She kept walking. And within minutes, they reached the garage. “I’m right there,” she said, pointing to her Toyota that was parked maybe a hundred feet away.

“Okay.” He stayed by her side, until she got close enough to open the door. “Look,” he said. “I’m not sure what just—”

Her chest felt tight, as if it was hard to breathe. “What just happened is that I wised up. Listen, this is a bad idea.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Look, this might be a little weird with you being Anthony’s sister. But I’m attracted to you. I’d like to get to know you better.”

She shook her head. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

He held up a hand. “Earlier you said something about Anthony being jealous of my life. Your brother, he’s a great guy, but he can exaggerate. He’s got some crazy idea that I’m...”

“A stud?” she finished.

The parking lot was lit well enough that she could see the red creep up his neck.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “And if that’s what this is about, I’d like to offer a different perspective.”

He looked so uncomfortable that she almost relented. But that would be terribly foolish. This man had been Rodney Ballure’s roommate. For all she knew, they still hung out together.

“I’m not afraid of your reputation,” she said. “I’m just not interested.” She opened her car door, got in and shut the door. He made no move to stop her.

She started her car and drove away. When she looked in the rearview mirror, he was still standing there, watching her.

Minutes later, she realized that she was shaking as she navigated the strip. Not because she’d been afraid of Trey. No, even though she suspected his motives, she hadn’t felt the least bit physically afraid of him. He’d seemed genuinely puzzled that she’d busted out of there.

The shaking came from the knowledge that she had absolutely no idea who she could trust. It made her crazy. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing. It was so unfair that she’d stumbled upon a land mine through no fault of her own. And now she had to see it through.

She took a moment to breathe deeply. In and out. Five counts to each breath. After a minute or so, she felt better. More in control. She hung on to the steering wheel with both hands.

Lately she’d had a couple very intense panic attacks and they’d scared the hell out of her. The shaking, the not being able to catch her breath, the pounding headache.

The feeling afterward that she might just be quietly going crazy.

Her phone buzzed and she looked at the number. Miguel. He sometimes needed a ride to work and was good about arranging it in advance. It was not out of her way and she was happy to do it. But now, she let it go to voice mail. She’d call him back after a few hours of sleep. She felt unsettled enough that she didn’t want to talk to anyone.

She lived north of the city, not quite in North Las Vegas, which was a separate town, but close. In twelve minutes, she pulled into her parking spot, in the eight-stall carport at the rear of the building. Everybody was tucked in beside her. She squeezed into her space, wishing the guy next to her had paid a little more attention to the lines.

Trivial things to worry about, a dent here or there. Her Toyota was eleven years old. Who cared about another scratch or two? She really just wanted it to keep running for another few years.

She got out, hitched her backpack over one shoulder and walked quickly toward the building. Heard a twig snap behind her and felt her heart jump in her chest. She whirled, saw nothing, but she still took off running toward her building. Fumbled with her key but managed to get it in the door. Whipped it open.

Pulled it shut behind her. Tried to catch her breath.

She was being ridiculous. She’d lived in this apartment for months and there’d been absolutely no hint of trouble. It was a very safe area. She was paying a premium for rent but it had been important to Anthony that she live in a secure building that had off-street parking.

She took the elevator to the second floor. As was her habit, she glanced out the window at the end of the hallway. Street side, there was an ornamental plum tree in bloom that the landlord lit up with a spotlight. It was lovely when she went by in the car but from above, the pink flowers and dark red leaves were majestic.

She stepped back fast and her heart was back to beating triple time. Rodney Ballure was down there, leaning up against a dark-colored car. She was sure he had not been there when she’d turned into the driveway. He had a phone in his hand.

It didn’t mean that he was a danger to her.

But there was absolutely no reason for her boss to come to her apartment in the middle of the night. No reason except for the information that she had in her backpack.

She wanted to run inside her apartment and hide under the bed. But she could smell the faint odor of smoke. None of her neighbors smoked—the landlord was a freak about it. Wouldn’t rent to a smoker.

But somebody could easily have a visitor who had lit up. Her door was shut—it did not look tampered with.

Was she being crazy?

Maybe. But a nagging little voice in her head warned her that she could not afford to make a mistake. She quietly opened the stairway door. Ran down to the first floor. Eased open the side door.

She had her keys. She could try for her car. But Rodney would hear the engine, would see her leave the driveway. If he followed, she was confident that she didn’t have the driving skills to outrun a determined pursuer.

Screw the car. There was another way. She crossed the yard between her building and the one next door at a full run. Got to the far side of that building and stopped. She was gulping in the cold night air. She wished she hadn’t given Trey back his jacket or had the good sense to wear her own. At least she could run in her boots, even if the one was wet.

Now what? Wait? Lurk back around behind, see what Rodney was up to?

If not that, then what? How far was she going to get without a car?

In the distance she heard two car doors slam. Then a car start.

And she prayed they wouldn’t catch her.

Chapter 4

Work seemed to drag on forever and that irritated Trey almost beyond reason because he was generally satisfied to be working. But he kept watching the clock. The job was easy enough—train the on-site security department at a small regional airport outside of Vegas. They wanted to do it on a Saturday because it was a slower day, since the vast majority of their freight shipments arrived Monday through Friday.

The six-person team was attentive enough and seemed smart enough that at the end of the day, he was satisfied they understood internal and external threats as well as response and containment strategies.

Just after five, he left the airport and headed home. It had been a long day on his feet and he was looking forward to putting them up and drinking a beer. The time had changed the previous week and the days were getting longer, so there was still another hour of daylight and it was a balmy 68 degrees. Spring in Vegas was hard to top.

He was a hundred yards from his exit, in the right-hand lane, with his turn signal on, when he decided to go straight. He was glad that there was nobody in the truck that he had to explain his indecisiveness to. He had every reason to go home, but he was headed to the crowded Vegas Strip.

To Lavender. To check on Kellie McGarry.

Who had haunted his dreams, which was a luxury he hadn’t been able to afford, since he’d been able to grab less than an hour of sleep. He could not get her out of his head. Which had pretty much been his constant state since he’d first seen her across the room at Lavender.

After he’d handed her his card and walked out of the bar last night, he’d had every intention of going home. But then he’d hit the street and, even though it had been close to midnight, the sidewalks had been full of people. The usual suspects, of course. The ones giving out discounted tickets to something, offering sightseeing tours of the Hoover Dam or selling knockoff sunglasses or purses.

There’d been couples holding hands. And groups of young women, one in particular caught his eyes because they were all dressed in white, except one who wore all black with a white sash across her chest that said Bride. They’d been laughing like loons and he’d easily dismissed them.

It was the young men who got and caught his attention. Especially those who were loud and obnoxious and seemed to think that everybody on the strip was interested in how many four-letter words they knew. It reminded him of the drunk and his friends, of the terror he’d seen on Kellie’s face when he’d pulled the idiot off her.

So instead of going home, he’d taken up a post where he could see into the lobby of Lavender’s building to know if the drunk came back in through the rear entrance, and close enough to the front door to be able to put out a sharp elbow to his throat if he or his cronies chose that option.

When he’d seen Kellie coming down the wide staircase at the end of her shift, his intention had been to step aside, to never let her know that he was there. She’d passed within three feet of him but he was good at blending into the background when he needed to.

He’d been home free.

And then he’d seen her wrap her arms around herself, clearly cold. And she’d looked very alone.

And his pulse had been racing. Just at the sight of her.

He’d caught her before she crossed. And once he’d approached and offered his coat, he hadn’t wanted the evening to end.

He was intrigued by Kellie McGarry.

And he’d pushed, maybe a little too hard, at getting her to eat with him. When she’d agreed, he’d been happy and thought the three hours of guard duty well worth it. And...he knew it sounded crazy, but he’d been confident, when he walked into the small restaurant and heard the Billy Joel song with its foundation in Beethoven, that it was fate.

He’d thought for a minute that she was going to refuse his invitation to dance. But then she’d stepped into his arms, and he’d gotten a lungful of her scent, and pretty much been toast after that. She was gorgeous, obviously smart, given her educational accomplishments, hardworking and fun to be with. A great date.

He’d thought it had been going well until she’d suddenly pushed back from the table. Had seemed to think it was perfectly reasonable that he’d let her wander back to her car alone, in the wee hours of the morning.

The walk to the garage had been awkward. He’d had questions burning his tongue but he’d kept his thoughts to himself, at least until they got to her car. And then he’d just had to ask. He rarely got embarrassed but it had been pretty damn uncomfortable to stumble around the idea that Anthony had put Trey on some kind of sexual-hero pedestal. She’d made light of it but still he’d wondered. Nobody wanted to think they were just more of the same. But it would have been super weird if he’d tried to convince Kellie of that last night, after less than an hour in her company.

So he’d backed off. Had thought about asking her to wait, to give him time to get his truck so he could follow her home, but decided there was another way. After all, he had her address. He’d watched her pull out of the garage, and then hustled to his vehicle. But by the time he’d reached it and got under way, he knew he was at least ten minutes behind her.

He’d followed his GPS to her apartment building, verified that her car was in the carport and then driven home. Less than an hour later, his alarm had screeched and he’d been back on the road, headed for the job site.

All that added up to him being officially an idiot for not making tracks now, as his partner Royce Morgan would say, to his house, shoveling some food in and falling into bed for about ten hours.

Instead, he was headed into Vegas on a Saturday night. Traffic was heavy and parking was nonexistent. He finally pulled into a lot, gave the attendant the required twenty and an extra ten to park his truck close, and walked the two blocks to Lavender’s entrance. He went up the stairs and straight into the bar.

Hagney was the only one serving up drinks. It was early yet, and he figured more staff came on later in the evening. There were four cocktail servers. None of them were Kellie. He took a stool.

Hagney slid a napkin his direction. “This must be your new favorite place,” he said, acknowledging that he recognized Trey from the night before.

“Thought of something I needed to tell Kellie,” Trey lied.

“She’s not working tonight.”

Trey studied the man’s face. Something wasn’t right. “I thought she worked every Friday and Saturday night.”

“Well, she was a no-call, no-show tonight, which puts her in enough hot water that she’s going to be lucky to keep this job.”

Hagney was acting as if he couldn’t care less, which totally didn’t jive with the interactions between Kellie and Hagney that he’d witnessed the previous night. “Does she frequently no-call, no-show?” Trey asked.

Hagney shrugged. He looked at the napkin. “You want a drink or not?”

No, he wanted answers, but it didn’t look as if any were forthcoming. He pulled a business card from his pocket. “Take this. If you think of anything that might be helpful, I’d really appreciate a call.”

Hagney’s only response was to slip the card into his shirt pocket. Trey was out of the bar and back to his truck. The attendant looked at him as if he was a crazy man to have paid thirty bucks to park for five minutes. He didn’t care.

He didn’t for one minute think Kellie was the type of employee that was a no-call, no-show problem. She worked two jobs. She’d gotten a damn doctorate in geosciences. On her own dime. Next to the word responsible in the dictionary was her picture.

He pulled out his phone, found his contacts where he entered the number Anthony had provided and clicked on it. It went directly to voice mail. “This is Trey Riker. I stopped in at Lavender and you weren’t there. Call me, please.”

He called the number again. To voice mail again. He did not leave a second message. He pulled out of the lot. The drive that had taken fourteen minutes last night took almost twice that now. By the time he arrived at the two-story brick apartment building, he had imagined several different horrible scenarios.

He parked on the street and verified that her old gray Toyota was still in its parking place. Then he went in the front door and took the elevator to the second floor. He knocked on her door. No answer. He turned the knob. Locked. No problem—nothing that couldn’t be handled with a credit card. He was prepared for the bolt lock to also be engaged but it wasn’t.

He opened the door and caught his breath.

The apartment was trashed. Furniture upended, books and other items dumped from the five-shelf bookcase. The drawers of the entertainment center had been ripped out, the contents emptied onto the floor, and holes punched through the cheap bottoms.

Terribly afraid of what he was going to find, he moved through the apartment. It was a one bedroom, one bath. The bedroom was in a similar state, with the mattress and box spring tossed around and slashed and everything pulled from the closet. But there was no Kellie. Not on the bed, under the bed or in the closet.

She was gone. What the hell did that mean?

He was going to have to call Anthony. The man deserved to know what had happened. Then the police.

His cell rang, a number he didn’t recognize. “Riker,” he answered.

“This is Hagney, from Lavender. I’ve thought about what you said and I might know a little something.”

He was going to take a chance. “Did you know that her apartment was trashed?”

The man sighed, loudly. “No, but she suspected that someone was there.”

Suspected? Her door had not been damaged or tampered with. No way to imagine the chaos inside. Yet she’d suspected? That didn’t make sense. But he needed to focus on what was most important. Hagney had lied when he’d said she’d been a no-call, no-show. He had definitely talked to her. “Where is she?” Trey demanded.

“I don’t know for sure. But she came to my house last night. Said that she had to get out of town for a couple days and needed some cash. I had a couple hundred bucks and gave it all to her. Then I dropped her off at the bus station.”

She had a car. Why the hell wasn’t she driving it? “Where was she going?”

“She didn’t say.”

There couldn’t be that many buses leaving Vegas at that time. He could figure this out. “Why did she need to leave town?”

“I really don’t know. She wouldn’t say, said it would be better if I didn’t know. Told me not to tell anyone, but I’m worried because I think she was really scared. After ten-plus years as a bartender, I’m a pretty good judge of people and I don’t think you want to harm her. I hope to hell I’m not wrong.”

“You’re not,” Trey said. “I tried her cell phone. It went right to voice mail.”

“She left her phone with me, with the battery out.”

The only reason she would have done that was because she was afraid that somebody would use the phone to track her. Who? The people who had ransacked her apartment?

He needed a better timeline. She’d walked out of Lavender at 2:30. She’d been back to her car by shortly after 3:00 which meant that she’d likely arrived home by 3:15 or so. He knew her car had been parked in the carport at 3:28 when he’d cruised by. “Did she walk to your house?”

“Yes,” Hagney said. “She was cold. I gave her one of my wife’s sweaters.”

“What color?” Trey asked automatically.

“Pink. A cardigan.”

“Okay. What’s your address?”

Hagney gave it to him and Trey quickly plugged it in and mapped the distance between Kellie’s apartment and Hagney’s place. His phone said it would take forty-six minutes to walk there. Of course, she could have taken a cab, but if she was cold when she arrived, the likelihood was that she’d hoofed it. His gut tightened at the thought of her being outside in the middle of the night, easy prey for any of the many crazies out and about at that time. “Hagney, what time was it when she arrived? The more exact, the better.”

Hagney sighed. “I didn’t look at a clock but I think I’d only been in bed for maybe fifteen minutes. I wasn’t sleeping yet. I left Lavender at 3:30.”

“You know that for sure.”

“Yeah. I have an alarm on my phone. It rings and I’m out the door. That’s the agreement I have with my wife. A few times I got home when the sun was coming up and she wasn’t too happy about that.”

“What’s your drive time?”

“That time of the morning, it’s twenty minutes.”

“How long were you home before you went to bed?”

Hagney laughed. “Like a minute. I’m beat at the end of a shift.”

Trey did the math. Hagney had arrived home around three fifty, gone straight to bed and believed Kellie had knocked about fifteen minutes later. That would have been 4:05. That made sense. If she’d run from her apartment around three twenty and it was a forty-five-minute walk, the timing worked, give or take a couple minutes. Close enough that he was satisfied she hadn’t gone anywhere else besides straight to Hagney’s house.

“How long were you at your house before you took her to the bus depot?”

“Not long. Maybe five minutes.”

Trey pulled up the address of the bus depot and mapped it to Hagney’s house. Eighteen minutes. Probably less at that time of the morning. Now, he just needed to figure out where she’d gone from there. “Thank you for calling,” Trey said. “I mean that. And if you do happen to hear from her, tell her to call me right away.”

“What are you going to do?” Hagney asked.

“Go after her,” he said. He hung up but didn’t put his phone away. Instead, he dialed Anthony’s cell phone. It rang four times and went to voice mail. He did not leave a message. He found his office number and dialed.

“Dr. McGarry’s office. How may I help you?”

“Dr. McGarry, please.”

“This is Dr. McGarry’s answering service. May I take a message?”

Of course. It was a Saturday night. His office receptionist wouldn’t be working. “I need to reach Dr. McGarry,” he said.

“One moment, please.”

He waited, thinking of the best way to tell his friend that his sister was in trouble.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, coming back on the line. “Dr. McGarry’s status is that he’s unavailable for the next six hours.”

“But—” Trey said. He wasn’t answering his cell and wasn’t taking calls through the answering service. Based on past experience, Trey knew that he was likely in surgery.

“I’m sorry. One of his partners is taking calls if you need to speak to a physician immediately.”

“No. Thank you. I’ll call back.” He hung up.

In six hours, he better have found her.

The next call he made was to Rico. They weren’t high-priced physicians but each week, one of the partners was also on call, in the event that there was an after-hours emergency. They had a gentlemen’s agreement that if anybody was going to be suddenly unavailable or out of commission for any reason, they needed to let the on-call person know.

“Anything I can do to help?” Rico asked after Trey gave him a brief rundown.

“Yeah,” Trey said. Rico could data mine better than anybody in the company. “There is. Get me everything you can on Kellie McGarry. Age twenty-eight or twenty-nine. Not sure of her birth date. Moved to North Las Vegas about six months ago.” Information was power and Kellie had just given up all rights to privacy.

On one hand, he was incredibly happy that Kellie had escaped the destruction at her apartment. But he was really frustrated that instead of calling him for help, after he’d just offered it hours earlier, he was now chasing after her. What the hell kind of trouble could she be in and where could she be headed?

He knew that the right thing to do was contact the police about the damage at Kellie’s apartment. But that could delay him for hours. Instead, he simply turned the lock on the door and closed it behind him, leaving it how he’d found it. He walked out the front door of the building, toward the carport. He wanted a better look at her car.

From the outside it appeared fine. But when he looked inside, he immediately saw that the glove compartment door, which had been shut last night when he’d watched her get in her car, was now hanging open. She could have opened it, of course. But given the damage in her apartment, he thought it very possible that someone had been in her vehicle. He saw no obvious signs of entry but it was easy enough to get into a locked car with the right tools.

He put two fingers under his shirttail and then tried the door. It was unlocked. Last night, he’d watched her use her fob to unlock her car. For most people, especially people who lived in places where their car wasn’t in a secured spot, it was habit to lock the doors. He suspected it was her habit.

But if he was right and somebody had searched her car, they hadn’t cared enough to lock up after themselves. Hadn’t cared enough to shut the glove compartment. They hadn’t been careful. Just like they hadn’t been careful in her apartment.

He walked back to his truck. Hagney had said he dropped her off at the bus station. Trey quickly used his phone to see the early morning bus schedule. There were a couple options. She could have headed north toward Reno or west toward Los Angeles. This was like looking for a needle in a haystack. His only option was to go to the bus station, see if there was anybody working now who had been working the previous night, and hope they remembered Kellie. Rico would verify there had been no credit card activity, but he wasn’t expecting any. She’d gotten cash from Hagney and that’s what she’d be spending.

When he got to the depot, it was busier than he’d anticipated. People coming and going into Sin City. What were the chances that somebody was going to remember her? Given that she’d purchased her ticket sometime around four thirty in the morning, that might help him. There had to be far fewer people traveling at that time.

There was no one at the information desk, so he had no choice but to wait in line to talk to a cashier. He was a young white man with an earring hanging from his nose. “My sister took a bus out of here really early this morning,” Trey said. “Maybe 4:30 or 5:00. It’s very important that I find her, a family emergency. Do you know who I might talk to who would have been working then?”

The young man shook his head. “Night shift comes on at seven. They all work twelve-hour shifts.”

Damn. That meant the same people weren’t working every night. Full-time employees probably worked three or four shifts a week. He had to hope that somebody scheduled for tonight had been here last night and that they had seen Kellie. “Okay,” he said. He had fifty minutes to kill. He walked back to his truck. Considered his options. He could call Rodney Ballure. After all, Kellie worked for him. He was a pompous moron with nonexistent morals but he would no doubt be concerned about Anthony’s little sister. But what had Anthony said the night before? Something along the lines that he didn’t think Kellie would be too happy if he involved Rodney in trying to reach her. She’d likely feel the same way if Trey reached out to Ballure now.

He really didn’t want to piss her off. He wanted to find her, ensure she was safe and convince her that whatever was the problem, he could help.

While he waited for the night shift to come on duty, he would go home and get better prepared for travel in the event it was necessary. He had a handgun in his truck, always carried it. But since he believed in being prepared, he’d also grab a rifle and lots of ammunition. Some clothes, too.

He drove fast, his mind reviewing the chaos he’d seen in Kellie’s apartment. It could have been random destruction but he was confident that somebody had been looking for something. And they hadn’t cared about being neat. They hadn’t cared that Kellie was going to know that somebody had been in her apartment.

Which meant that maybe they’d been there when she’d gotten home, waiting for her. That thought practically made him run his vehicle off the road.

But somehow, he didn’t think she’d gone inside. She’d told Hagney that she suspected somebody was inside. If she’d seen the destruction, she’d likely not been able to lie about it like that, she’d have been too shaken. So she’d seen something or heard something that made her think there was trouble inside. And headed right to Hagney’s house. There wasn’t any space in the timeline for her to dawdle or think about next steps.

Why the hell would she have thought her only option was to run? This had to be something serious. His first thought was drugs. Was she dealing? He just couldn’t see that. She was the picture of the all-American girl. She certainly wasn’t using. Too healthy.

Could it be more personal? Had she gotten involved with a married man and now the wife was causing her trouble? Maybe. But again, didn’t fit in his head.

Or had she gotten involved with a man and tried to break it off and was he now trying to convince her that she’d made a wrong decision. He knew it was a long shot but he picked up his phone and dialed a friend in the police department.

“Hi, Trey,” Gus Warren answered. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” he said. “Hey, I’ve got a case and I just need to know what I’m getting myself into,” he said. “Can you tell me if there have been any police responses to 5331 North Maggie, Apartment 2C in the last six months?”

“Sure, hang on.” There was a few minutes of silence. “Nope. Nothing.”

“Any protection orders for a Kellie McGarry?”

Again, silence. “I got nothing,” Gus said.

Trey didn’t know if he felt better or worse. Everything was a dead end. “Great. Thank you,” he said.

“No problem. Call me when you want to lose some money at cards.”

“I’ll do that,” Trey said. He liked playing with Gus. He was a smart card player. Still, Trey very rarely lost to him.

He pulled into his driveway and quickly got out of his car. It took him less than five minutes to pack what he needed. He tossed everything into the bed of his truck, on top of the tools that he always carried with him. He made sure the top was affixed and then took off.

He drove directly back to the bus depot, pulling in at 7:05. When he walked in, he picked the shortest line to stand in. Finally got to the window and pulled up the text that he’d sent to Anthony. The middle-aged Hispanic woman looked at it. Eyes on sister. Was that going to be enough that she’d believe his story? Since it was all he had, he was going with it.

“I’m looking for my sister,” Trey said. “She bought a ticket very early this morning, probably around 4:30 a.m. We have a family emergency and must get in contact with her. Were you working last night?”

“I was,” the woman said, staring at the photo. “Such lovely hair.”

Trey discreetly slid a fifty dollar bill across the counter. The woman barely glanced at it before pushing it back in his direction. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not allowed to give out any information about passengers.”

“Our mother,” Trey said, “is dying. I have to let her know.”

The woman sighed. “Sorry. Are you buying a ticket or not?” she asked.

He shook his head. He would try the other windows. Maybe somebody would be swayed by the money. He stepped away and almost bumped into the young man with the nose ring who he’d spoken to earlier. “Sorry,” Trey mumbled.

“Hey, you came back,” the kid said. “You were looking for...”

“My sister.” He showed him Kellie’s picture.

“Right.” The kid looked smug. “She is pretty hot, I admit, and it probably takes some talent to have two guys running after her.”

Trey’s brain scrambled to catch up. “Two?” he said.

“Yeah. Fifteen minutes after you were in earlier, another guy came in. He talked to two other agents before he got to me. His also had a picture, although a different one, and his story was a little different, too. He said she was his wife, that they’d quarreled and he wanted to apologize. Even had a dozen roses with him.”

Kellie McGarry wasn’t married, he was confident of that. Somebody else was spinning stories and looking for her. A cold chill ran up the length of Trey’s spine.

“You get this man’s name?”

“Nope.”

“Got a description?”

The kid shrugged. “Thirty or forty, I guess. Brown hair. Maybe. I can’t really remember.”

“Tall or short?” Trey asked.

“About your height. Maybe your weight. You know, I got to get going. My ride is waiting.”

Trey wanted to press him for details but knew it was likely fruitless. Firsthand witnesses were notoriously bad at remembering pertinent details. “What did you tell him?” he asked.

“The same thing I told you. Nothing. Because I don’t know nothing. Good luck, man, whatever the truth is.” He walked around Trey and left through a door marked Employees Only.

There was little doubt in Trey’s mind that the man searching for Kellie was somehow connected to the damage at her apartment. Trey had known to come here because Hagney had told him. Who the hell else had he told?

He went back to his car and dialed the man’s cell. It rang four times before going to voice mail. “Hagney, this is Trey Riker. I really need to talk with you again. It’s important. Please call me back as soon as you get this.”

The man was no doubt busy with his bartending duties. His cell might not even be on him. Trey knew there were places that made their employees keep their cell phones out of customer areas.

Still, he tried twice more before deciding that he had no choice but to go back to Lavender. He was frustrated as he drove to the bar, weaving in and out of traffic, honking when other drivers didn’t get out of his way. He parked in a no-parking zone and ran up the stairs. Hagney was waiting on another customer and Trey barely controlled himself. Finally, he got the bartender’s attention.

“Who else did you tell that you dropped Kellie off at the bus station?” he asked, not willing to spend any time on pleasantries.

Hagney shook his head. “Nobody.”

Was he lying? Trey didn’t think so. But of all the places to look for Kellie, what was the likelihood they would just happen to go to the bus station. Almost none. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Could anyone have overheard our phone conversation?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I was back in the kitchen when I called. I guess it’s possible but I didn’t see anybody.” Two new customers came and sat down. Hagney made eye contact with them, letting them know he’d seen them. “Look, I have to go. Is Kellie okay?”

“I don’t know. Listen, if anybody comes around asking about her, please don’t tell them anything. Try to get their names. Then call me.”

He left Lavender as quickly as he’d entered. His truck had thankfully not yet been towed. He got in, pulled away and tried to think about everything he knew about Anthony and Kellie McGarry, tried to find some thread to unravel that would tell him what direction to go.

His cell phone buzzed minutes later. It was Rico.

“What do you have for me?” Trey asked.

For the next ten minutes, Rico spewed out information. Hospital where she’d been born. Grade school, middle school and high school that she’d attended. College scholarships received. Score on her SAT. Allergies noted in her medical record. Names of her college roommates. Airline flights she’d taken in the last five years. Trey sat up straighter in his seat. “What was that?” he asked.

“She flew from Las Vegas to Los Angeles four months ago, stayed at the Beverly Hilton in Beverly Hills in a block of rooms labeled Howell/Thompson Wedding Party.”

“Before that, you said Amanda Howell was her college roommate.”

“For four years.”

“Where does Amanda live now?” Trey asked.

He could hear keys clicking in the background. “Amanda Howell-Thompson and her husband have a home in Palm Springs, California.”

She could have taken a bus from Vegas to Los Angeles and then another from there to Palm Springs. “Text me the address,” he said. “And thank you.”

“Good luck,” Rico said.

He was going to need it. Somebody else was looking for Kellie and Trey needed to find her first.

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