Chapter 3 #2
Or was that just an excuse to see Emerson again? That alpha was the most dangerous man in the world for him. He’d avoided the Walker clan since Macklin had been caught. That needed to continue.
He lowered the paper to his desk and walked closer to Eliott. “I get no hints about what I’m walking into?”
Eliott straightened Dash’s tie and brushed away some imaginary lint. “I didn’t get a hint before he walked in. Why should you?”
“You’re so cruel,” Dash said, fighting a smile.
“And don’t you forget it,” Eliott whispered with a wicked grin.
Dash brushed past Eliott and strode to the conference room.
As soon as he opened the door, the older little man inside stopped his pacing and turned to face Dash.
As short as he was, his first instinct was omega, but on second thought, Dash sensed beta.
There was nothing graceful about him. His appearance was harsh with a sharp, beak-like nose and a thick mustache that looked like ravens’ wings.
The overhead light hadn’t been turned on, so only the gray morning outside illuminated him, giving him an even more solemn, somber appearance.
“Finally! I’ve been waiting for nearly half an hour.”
Dash frowned, then tensed. “When I left around eleven last night, I had no appointments this morning,” Dash said, switching his tone to one of cool indifference. “Did I miss your name on my schedule, Mr—?”
“Felix Crenshaw. As in Crenshaw and Mather,” the man snapped. “Your boy out there should’ve called you. I don’t have all day to sit around.”
Dash had heard of the firm and their ruthlessness—more Crenshaw, less Mather—but that didn’t intimidate him one bit. First impression? He was facing a bully with an inferiority complex. Wouldn’t be the first, wouldn’t be the last. They were a dime a dozen in the province.
“I had some business to attend to first thing,” Dash fibbed. He casually sat down and swept a hand over to urge the man to sit opposite him. “How may I be of service, Mr. Crenshaw?”
Crenshaw didn’t sit. He stood with his hands on the back of the leather chair, glaring at Dash from a perceived height advantage. “Are you familiar with Jennings Lachlin the Third?”
Dash had never met the man, but he had seen and heard enough to know he was a verified prick.
Wonderful. “I’ve heard of him but never had the pleasure.”
“He’s my client and has need of you, Mr. Keller.”
Birds of a feather…
“Only you. This needs to be handled by you and you alone. Not one of your lackeys.”
“I employ a strong team of professional investigators and bodyguards, I assure you.”
Crenshaw narrowed his eyes at Dash. “We’ve been told you’re the best in the provinces, and Mr. Lachlin requires the best. It’s either you or nothing.”
Did every wealthy alpha read from the same script? He’d heard that line too many times since opening the doors. The best. All they wanted was the best. Perhaps he needed to screw up on occasion to avoid men like that in the future. Too bad screwing up wasn’t in his wheelhouse.
“Why don’t you have a seat and explain why he requires my service before I agree to anything.”
Crenshaw sat, glaring at Dash. He leaned down under the table before he slid a single sheet of legal paper Dash’s way. “First, I need you to sign an NDA. We need assurances you won’t discuss what I’m about to tell you.”
Dash sighed before lifting the sheet. It wasn’t his first NDA, either.
He hadn’t realized how many he’d be forced to sign to operate his business and was beginning to hate them.
A quick perusal showed it was fairly standard.
He pulled a pen from inside his suit jacket pocket and signed his name across the bottom line.
Crenshaw snatched it as if Dash would yank it away before he could. It was gone in a flash. “It’s his child, Jaye. Or rather, Jennings Jaye Lachlin the Forth. He’s… missing.”
A billionaire’s missing child should have the Red Guard crawling all over it. “And the Guard isn’t investigating?”
“No. The family wants to keep this out of the news, as I said.”
Dash frowned as he pulled his notepad and scribbled the boy’s name across the first blank page. “How many hours has he been missing?”
“Nearly two weeks.”
Dash’s head whipped up. Something wasn’t right. “His age?”
“Thirty-four.”
Dash eyed the man, slowly exhaling to mask his irritation. “We’re not talking about a child, then. He’s a grown man.”
“Legally, yes, he’s an adult—but he’s not grown. He’s a large child in a man’s body.”
“Developmentally delayed?”
Crenshaw snorted. “If only that were the case, his behavior could be explained away. No. There are no delays other than Jaye’s unwillingness to grow up and act responsibly.”
“I see,” Dash replied, inwardly rolling his eyes. “Alpha, beta, or omega?”
“Alpha,” Crenshaw said.
“Is he employed?”
“If revelry and wasting money were a career, he’d excel at it,” Crenshaw answered.
“He could just be out on a bender, then?”
The attorney narrowed his eyes. “He’s lazy and rarely leaves home. He prefers his vices be delivered. His weekly house parties are apparently legendary.”
“Rarely isn’t the same as never. If there’s even a remote chance he’d go elsewhere, I need to know.”
“On occasion, he might disappear for a couple of days—but never for this long. His father keeps a tight leash on his bank account and credit cards to ensure he doesn’t blow his trust funds in one fell swoop.
He’s never gone for more than two or three days before he comes begging for more cash.
” Crenshaw scoffed. “It’s been eleven days.
There’s no way that boy has two pennies left to rub together. ”
“I wasn’t aware one could keep a trust fund out of the hands of its beneficiary once they’d reached the required age,” Dash said.
“You can if you own the bank the trust sits in,” Crenshaw replied with a smile just this side of evil.
“Some might call that illegal.”
Crenshaw snorted. “His millions would already be gone if his father and I hadn’t protected them. It was in his best interests.”
Maybe he should’ve used that same energy and raised a better man—then he wouldn’t need me to pull his adult son out of the gutter. Dash forced a smile. “I wonder if he sees it that way.”
“You can ask him. After you find him,” Crenshaw snapped.
Dash weighed what he’d heard. “Honestly, any decent P.I. could probably find Mr. Lachlin’s son. I’m afraid my plate is very full at the moment.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re not taking the case?”
“Unless you’ll allow me to hand this over to one of my associates—no, I won’t be taking the case.” He was tired of rich assholes and their entitlement, plus there was nothing about the case that got his juices flowing. A missing manchild wasn’t exactly thrilling work.
Crenshaw’s face twisted into one of disgust. “You’re telling Jennings Lachlin no?”
“No. I’m telling you no. You’ll get the honor of passing along my message—along with my heartfelt hope his son is found quickly and in one piece.”
Crenshaw’s eyes widened for a split second. “You don’t tell a Lachlin no.”
“Odd, because I believe I just did.”
The attorney’s face grew a bit ruddy, yet a smile stretched across his face. “You know, I did a little digging into you.”
Dash did his best not to tense.
“Wasn’t your grandpapa a Lachlin before he mated into the McCreary family?”
“So I’m told. If you’re trying to use familial guilt to force me into taking the case, I’ll let you know now that I’ve never met anyone from the Lachlin side of the family and only recently met some of my McCreary cousins. I was raised firmly middle class. No entitled asshole here.”
“No, just an arrogant prick.”
Dash smiled slowly.
“Well, how about we wipe that self-satisfied smile off your face?”
Dash sighed, already growing bored with the conversation. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in the chair.
“Isn’t it odd a man of your age would’ve retired from the most elite level of the Guard?
You were only twenty-nine, correct? You graduated university early and were recruited before you even walked the stage.
Brought into a position men twice as old work their entire lives to attain.
Most failed, but you were supposedly so brilliant they had to have you.
And then, what? Less than a decade later, you’re retired with a small pension? ”
Dash’s smile faded.
“I made a few calls and while I didn’t get the full story, I got enough to sense there was something inappropriate that occurred inside those hallowed halls. I’m sure I’ll come up with something. If I keep at it.”
“You have nothing—because there is nothing. You’re not going to blackmail me into working for you or your client.”
“Oh, it’s definitely something,” Crenshaw said. “I heard mention of… a locker room shower, but that’s all I’ve been able to dig up.” The attorney grinned. “So far.”
Dash’s smile faded as he attempted to contain his rage.
“Oh, there he is,” Crenshaw whispered, eyes glittering with a victorious light. “That’s the man who’s going to find Jennings Lachlin’s son.”
Dash’s stomach knotted. He narrowed his eyes and did his best to remain cool and collected, employing every tactic he knew to not lose his shit. “I have no idea about any locker room, so dig away.”
“Or you could simply take the case—and I’ll stop digging altogether,” Crenshaw said, sliding a large check across the table.
Dash didn’t move. He kept his hands clenched tightly in his lap.
Crenshaw chuckled. “You’re a tough nut to crack. I like that.” He rose. “I’ll enjoy finding all your secrets even more.”
The man would go down, come hell or high water, but Dash was at a slight disadvantage.
The attorney had had time to research him.
Dash needed some time of his own. A man like Crenshaw had plenty of skeletons in his closet.
He simply needed to find the one with the most leverage and use it to ensure his secrets remained safe.
“And if I agree to take the case, what happens then?”
“I stop digging. Bring Jaye home and I let it go,” Crenshaw said.
Men like Crenshaw brokered in secrets. There was no way he’d stop digging for gold.
Dash needed to find his own nuggets to maintain his safety.
“I’ll need everything you have on Jaye. Basic info, stats, photos, addresses, email accounts, usual haunts, a list of friends and associates—and dealers, if you know them. ”
“Who said anything about drugs?”
“You mentioned vices, and I assumed,” Dash replied.
“I’ve heard stories of the occasional party favors being supplied in his home, but I’ve found no proof they were purchased by him.” Crenshaw pulled a thick folder out from a satchel he lifted from the floor and slid it across the table. “Everything you need should be in there.”
Dash opened it, scanning through the first few very detailed pages. “His father has had a detective following him?”
“Off and on for a few years,” Crenshaw said. “Jaye has disappeared before, as I said. It’s why the financial reins were created in the first place. His father likes to keep an eye on him now. Jaye has learned a few tricks for evading his tail, though.”
“And why, might I ask, are you not using the same P.I. to handle his disappearance? He’s already familiar with Jaye’s habits and hangouts.”
“You mean the P.I. who lost him and hasn’t found anything in eleven days? He’s been fired. We need a new detective to help keep track of Jaye’s whereabouts. I think your firm will do quite nicely.”
“I have no problem finding him this time, but I don’t run a daycare, nor do I stalk petulant overgrown boys. I won’t be keeping tabs on him.”
“You can use one of your agents after he’s located.” Crenshaw rapped his knuckles on the check still lying at the center of the table. “Perhaps this will persuade you?”
Dash eyed the many zeroes and inwardly rolled his eyes.
For that kind of money, they could afford two new hires to just follow Jaye Lachlin all over the province, twenty-four-seven, and a couple more to handle new cases—plus a few well-deserved bonuses for his existing staff.
He lifted the check, hating that his attention had a price tag.
“I’ll discuss it with my business partner and get back to you—but I offer no promises.
This can cover our initial investigation into Jaye’s disappearance.
We’ll bill you the rest after he’s home safe and sound. ”
“Your initial investigation, not our,” Crenshaw said, forcing a smile that looked anything but pleasant. “Your case. No one else’s.”
“Of course,” Dash said, tucking the check into his front pocket. “Though, I may need to bring other team members in for backup, depending on what Jaye’s gotten himself into.”
“They’ll need to sign NDAs first. Send them to me before including them in anything—and everything is need to know,” Crenshaw said.
He rose, fishing something out of his pocket.
He held a keychain up, two keys dangling from it.
“Jaye’s townhouse in the Highlands. Address is in the file.
I stopped by already but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
Maybe you’ll find something I missed. Doubtful, but possible, I suppose. ”
Dash took the keys in hand.
“You’ll go there today,” Crenshaw said. “Correct?”
“Possibly,” Dash said through a clenched jaw. “As I said, Mr. Lachlin isn’t my only case and since we’re not discussing a helpless child here, he’s not even at the top of that list.”
“The check I just handed you ensures he’s your only case,” Crenshaw said. “There’s a sense of urgency for my client to find his son.”
Dash was tempted to refuse again, but he needed time to find weak spots.
It’s not like it would be difficult to find an entitled thirty-four-year-old brat who’d likely run out of money?
There was only so far he could go within the walls of the province—and if he’d left, there would be records.
“I’ll review the notes in his file and reach out if there’s anything else I need to know. ”
“And the townhouse?”
“I’ll go—unless something proves more promising.”
Crenshaw glared.
“Let’s get something straight. I won’t be micromanaged,” Dash said to the man. “You demanded the best and you’ve got him. I earned that reputation for a reason. Either let me do what I do, or go, do your worst—and I’ll do mine.”
Crenshaw stared at him for a few seconds. “You better live up to that reputation. I’ll be watching.”