Chapter Seven
T hey kept defying him, and it was getting fucking old. Flyboy had successfully evaded the smash-and-grab crew, and now they'd disappeared from her house. And for the first time he wondered if she'd hired the Air Force douche. If they weren't a couple so much as a she was a job. If that was the case, he'd just have to up the stakes a bit.
He logged into his department's database, wondering how long he'd still have access. He'd known, when he left South Carolina, that he was leaving it all behind him. His time there was up. The department was becoming too PC and he'd heard rumors that IA was looking at him for some missing evidence and for taking bribes. And if they looked hard enough, they'd find more than enough to hang him. So he was done anyway.
He'd taken precautions, made arrangements, spent the money from his little side hustles well. Once he had Katie, they'd head south, to a little town in Mexico where he already had a villa set up. It was the kind of town where no one asked questions, and where women did as they were told.
But before he could make that a reality, he needed to find Katie.
And as he surfed through what there was of Ivy Foster's life online and in national databases, he found his leverage.
~~~
Just like the day before, Clay rose several hours before Ivy, and when she emerged from her bedroom she was just as bleary-eyed.
He handed her a cup of coffee and settled back to watch her come alive.
It was an apt description, he thought, watching as she poured a second cup and sipped it more slowly.
She looked comfortable here, even though it was the diametric opposite of her home. She wore a strappy tank top with sunflowers on it and a pair of shorts that were almost indecent, even in Vegas.
Because he didn’t want to battle his hormones—again—he very purposefully gave her time to go through her morning ritual, scrolling through the information Dev had sent over just a little while ago while she caffeinated.
She sat down at the little dinette with a happy sigh, her third cup in front of her. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” he replied. “We’ve got some intel from South Carolina if you’re ready to hear it.”
She took a sip, squared her shoulders. “Give it to me.”
“Greg Hamilton is a deputy with the Dorchester County Sheriff’s Department. From what we can tell he only dated Katie for a few months. But he has a type.”
Ivy stomach churned and she ignored the fact this Greg asshole had almost put her behind bars. “How can you tell what his type is?”
“Dev hacked into his dating apps, in addition to what we all saw on his open Facebook page. A cop should know better.”
“Do you think that Katie was hiding from him, here in Vegas?” Ivy asked, afraid she knew the answer already.
“Yeah, I do. I think she was smart enough to get away from him. I think that’s why the apartment is still in your name, I think that’s why her social media presence is all about the business, a business that she started when she moved to Vegas. Something made him start looking for her again. Warren may have more on that. Regardless, he found her. She figured it out and ran.
As much as it pained her, she had to agree with what he’d said. She just wished Katie had said something. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.”
“She was trying to protect you,” Clay said. “I don’t even know her, and I can see that. Guys like this jackass never stop.” He looked at her tight-knit brow. “I’ve known you for all of four days and I can tell that you would have wanted to try to do something about it.”
Ivy opened her mouth to argue, then shut it because he was right. She would have tried to do something to stop Hamilton. She would have tried so he couldn’t prey on another woman.
“Is he still in South Carolina?” Then a bad thought bloomed in her mind. “Wait. She’s not back there with him willingly, is she? I haven’t sent everyone on a wild goose chase, have I?”
He shook his head. “No, she’s not there. But neither is he. He took vacation time three days ago and no one has seen hide nor hair from him since.”
She took a long sip of coffee, studied him over the rim of the cup.
“I had to ask, since I may have been accused of butting into people’s lives and trying to make them better.” She sat back in her chair, her posture defeated for a moment before she sat up straight again. “So what’s next? What’s going on with Dev’s hacker?”
“Whoever they are, they’re good, and most certainly not Greg Hamilton. Warren talked to a few of his fellow deputies and the general consensus is that he’s an adequate cop who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. He’s also quicker with his fists than he should be, both with suspects and his partners. Did a stint in the Marine Corps and thinks he’s a fucking SEAL.”
Ivy’s stomach rolled. Had he hit Katie? Worse?
“Warren’s on his way back already. Dev’s working on getting a trace on Hamilton’s phone. Should have it within the next few minutes.” His words were concise and did everything to calm the nausea churning in her stomach.
What had Katie been drawn into?
“And what about the guys on the street yesterday?” she asked.
“That one’s a mystery,” he answered. “The license plate was from a stolen car, but the vehicle itself reminds Jordan of some Southside bangers. They’re obviously not the hackers; that’s a different level of muscle and brains entirely. If Hamilton is in Vegas, maybe he had something to do with it, but he’d have to tap into that element pretty quickly. Jordan will be looking into it, with the blessing of the LVMPD, as soon as we're finished this morning.”
Ivy pondered his words. Saw no real way forward that wasn’t predicated by someone else’s decisions. And it made her twitchy. She didn’t like other people directing her actions.
“So where do we go from here?”
Clay shrugged, seemingly as ill at ease as she was. “We sit tight and see what happens when we find Hamilton.”
Ugh. “Well, if we’re in a waiting game, I’m going to grab a shower and think.” She stood and deposited her cup into the sink.
Clay still sat at the table, the teacup framed by his big hands. “We’ll find her, Ivy,” he said. “Let Dev do his magic. It’s only been a few days since you reached out, and there are other avenues of inquiry the team is pursuing.”
She started to ask what those avenues were, then slowly closed her mouth. By the look on his face, he didn’t want to tell her yet, and she wanted a minute to think and ponder and pull everything apart and put it back together, and there was no better place for that than in the shower.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have any revelations. Didn’t discover any secrets or pull any threads she hadn’t already talked with Clay about. It was frustrating as hell. It also gave her way too much time to think about her protector.
What he’d shared with her last night broke her heart. She’d lost people, most notably her father, and that had devastated her. But to watch your best friend die? To think you were going to be killed yourself, and contemplate suicide rather than capture? She couldn’t even wrap her head around that level of terror, of despair.
She wondered if he’d been this serious before the crash. She got the feeling he had, that what had happened in the desert so far away had been yet another layer added to the weighty shell of responsibility. The call from his father certainly hadn’t dispelled that impression.
It almost felt like a mission to her to help relieve some of that burden.
And while she felt that way most of the time, that interjecting some positivity into people’s lives was part of her cosmic duty, with Clay it was more, bigger than it should have been after only several days.
Like a bolt of lightning it hit her, made her stand stock still in the middle of the bathroom, halfway through drying herself off.
She was falling for him.
It didn’t matter that it’d only been a few days. Something about Clay had called to her from the moment she saw him. It wasn’t only attraction, it had been more than that from minute one.
The thought simultaneously filled her with joy and trepidation.
Because she was pretty sure Clay wasn’t on the same page. He may be attracted to her, but his heart and soul were so very carefully guarded.
And as she dried her hair, she smiled.
Clay was in for one helluva ride. But finding Katie was their first priority. That and staying unharmed from this secondary danger. Whatever it was.
She entered the living area to find him bent over the dinette, a scatter of paper across the table. He turned and met her gaze.
“Feel better?”
“Physically, sure,” she said. “Mentally, not about Katie or our attackers yesterday. I thought I might have a revelation or two about that. No such luck.” She gestured to the table. “What’s all this?”
“Dev couriered over some stuff,” he said. “And we found Hamilton. He’s in Vegas.”
“Well, hell,” Ivy said, her stomach doing a tumble, all her shower thoughts melting like ice cream in the sun.
“That’s not a bad thing,” Clay stood and grasped her gently by the shoulders. The heat of his hands almost seared her. “We know where he is and what he’s doing. Jordan’s tailing him right now. Katie isn’t with him, and he seems to be doing a lot of sniffing around. We don’t think he knows where she is either.”
Relief flowed through Ivy. Relief and the need to feel more of his touch, to discover what drove him. But he stepped away, running one hand down her arm, as if he couldn’t stop himself, and she smiled internally, not wanting to scare him away.
“We’ll watch him for a bit and see if he can give us any leads as to where Katie is, and then Tate will have a nice little chat with him.”
And that didn’t sound foreboding at all.
“So if we know where he is, can I go home?”
Clay shook his head. “Not yet. We have to be positive that you’re not in danger, and until we figure out who took a run at us yesterday, we’re laying low. Dev wants us to meet as a group. We’re handing off surveillance on Hamilton to a trusted contractor for a few hours and meeting at the hotel next door in half an hour for lunch and a sitrep. Warren’s due to land in a few minutes.”
Ivy stood. “Then let me finish getting ready and let’s take the next step.”
~
Clay watched Ivy disappear down the hallway. Everything inside him wanted to follow her. The feel of her skin under his hands had almost undone him.
But they were on a schedule, and he couldn’t touch. Not yet anyway.
He wasn’t sure what was going to happen between him and Ivy when they found Katie, and the uncertainty was eating at him. He hated uncertainty. He wanted a plan, needed one, even if it fell apart and he needed to move on to the next one. It was the logistician in him. The child that had lived an uncertain existence and the man who’d tried to control everything he could in response, then had it all stripped away in the desert.
But those were tomorrow thoughts, and they needed to deal with the here and now. They had several variables coming at them at once which made his specialty—planning—almost impossible. He was glad for the team at his back and their ability to shift focus and tactics on a dime. If shit was going to go down, he couldn’t think of anyone more competent than his friends.
Ivy rejoined him, having done female magic that made her eyes appear both huge and smoky.
She wore another tank, this one snow white, with a colorful riot of a skirt, her feet in chunky earth sandals, her hair pulled up into a tidy ponytail that exploded into a riot of chestnut curls.
Everything inside him went hot and hard and he had to forcibly restrain himself from picking her up and sprinting to the nearest bedroom. Hell, the dining room table looked just fine as well.
But he wasn’t a caveman.
Then he saw the quirk of her lips and knew she’d seen the arousal on his face. And realized he didn’t care anymore.
Something had shifted between them in the last twenty-four hours.
He wanted her unlike he’d ever wanted anything else, and if he was going to suffer until this job was wrapped up, then so could she.
So he smiled, making it as feral as he felt and saw her doubletake, her long blink. A constriction of her throat that was more reflex than swallow.
Still smiling, he stepped forward and offered his arm. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
~
Holy shit. Ivy’s mind stuttered, then stopped entirely as she took in the beauty that was Clay unfettered. He’d been hiding a lot. Magnitudes of a lot.
She took his arm, felt the corded strength beneath her fingers, the slight coarseness of his hair. And she wanted with a ferocity that was almost blinding. Made everything within her clench.
“Why thank you, sir.”
Was that her voice, all soft and sexy and sultry?
His smile intensified and she wondered for the first time if she could handle this version of him.
She’d thought him a warrior before, but this side of him, smoldering and playful, was edged by a darkness her sunshine wanted to banish, all the while basking in its sexuality.
But even as they walked, as she regained her equilibrium, she knew Clay’s demons were an integral part of him, and when she took him into her bed, she’d be accepting that part of him as well.
Everything inside thrilled with that knowledge. Relished the challenge. Even as the rational part of her said it wouldn’t be that easy. Nothing as good as the promise in Clay’s eyes was.
So she held herself a little straighter, even though her head only came up to his shoulder. They rode the elevator down to the lobby in a charged silence that made every one of her nerves go alight.
She felt him next to her practically pulsing with sexuality. God, she couldn’t wait till this was over, so she could have a taste.
The lobby of the high-rise was as lush, as privileged, as the penthouse. Gleaming marble floors, tasteful accent lighting that complemented in addition to providing illumination and security.
They crossed the lobby, and Clay punched a code into a discreet door half-hidden behind an enormous potted plant, ushering her into a hallway. The walls were white, sterile, spotless. It looked like a surgical suite.
“This connects us with the casino next door,” Clay explained. “Just in case someone is watching the penthouse.”
Ivy couldn’t imagine why anyone would go to that much trouble to find her, but then again, she hadn’t expected to be attacked yesterday either, so she’d go with whatever Clay and SMS wanted her to do, at this point.
The hallway was short, and they exited into a casino floor with the same vibe as the building next door. Understated. Elegant. The kind that made you think of James Bond and martinis and women with innuendo-laden names.
Here she was, hippy Ivy, among the rich and polished. She felt like a country cousin.
With that doubt came a cascade of others. Clay was used to walking in this world. What did she possibly have to offer a man like him beyond sex? Sure, they had chemistry. It was off the charts. But if this was the world he lived in regularly, their similarities ended with that chemistry.
She wanted to make a good impression, she realized. Wanted his friends to think of her as solid, dependable. Not flighty Ivy. The hippie artist. And even though that’s what she was, she wanted to be more for him.
The butterflies in her stomach were in full swarm now.
Clay stopped in the middle of the casino and looked down at her, concern evident in his face. “Is everything all right?”
“I feel a little bit out of place here,” she admitted, shaking her head in self-deprecation. “This is a little rich for me.”
He looked around, scanning the room for a threat, she assumed. “Yeah, not really my cup of tea either.”
She snorted in response, and realized he was trying to make her feel more at ease. Clay and his cups of tea. Both of them were fish out of water here, and that knowledge warmed her inside as little else could have.
He moved them across the lobby quickly toward yet another set of doors. He pushed through them into a high-end conference room. A massive screen took up one wall, anchored by a glossy table and a dozen plush chairs.
In those chairs were his SMS teammates.
Devin Beck sat at the head of the table just as movie-star handsome as she remembered, and a perfect fit into the glitz and glamour of the penthouse and the casino. Right now, he was frowning at the woman to his right.
They both looked up as Clay and Ivy entered. Devin’s expression went from scowl to smile in a heartbeat, and he stood, crossing the space and holding out his hands to her. “Ivy,” he said, his voice warm. “How are you feeling?”
“Bet she'd be better if the circumstances were different,” said the leggy blonde who’d been sitting next to him. She stood and approached, holding out her own hand. “I’m Cali Masters.”
She was long and willowy, but strong in a way that Ivy couldn’t really describe. She looked like she could pick up every single one of the men in the room and not break a sweat doing it. Her blonde hair was cut in a bob that ended just at her shoulders. Smooth and sleek, she looked like this was all just a little bit beneath her. Not that she made you feel small, just that maybe she had places to be and things to do.
Devin stepped aside. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you some coffee? Or something to drink? There are sandwiches on the sideboard, as well as some other nibblers the casino provided.”
Ivy shook her head. The butterflies in her stomach had calmed down now that the team was in front of her. She recognized the woman at the end of the table from yesterday, when she’d been arrested. There was one other man, and boy was he huge.
He dwarfed his chair and everyone around him. He was handsome, just like Clay and Devin, but in a more understated way. He reminded her of a football player, or maybe a lumberjack, all husky and bearded and silent.
Clay ushered her forward with his hand at the small of her back. Warmth rushed through her. He held out her chair then began introductions. “You met Jordan Gonzales briefly yesterday.”
Ivy nodded at Jordan and Clay continued the introductions.
“This is Tate Lyons,” he said, indicating the man at the end of the table.
“Ma’am,” Tate said with a dip of his head. It made her feel about a million years old even though she was probably younger than he was.
“Warren should be here any minute,” Devin said as he seated himself again and Cali followed suit.
“While we wait for Warren, let me bring everyone up to speed on the incursions,” Devin said, his voice grim. “I’ve done a complete sweep of the computers, the security systems, our finances, and anything else you can possibly think of, and we were breached. Hard. If I had to guess I’d say NSA. I left their bugs alone and set up firewalls they can’t get through, but they’ll have to really look for them to see that I’m onto them. We’ll let them think they’re monitoring us by having just enough activity on their side, when instead I’ll be watching them .”
Ivy had no idea what they were talking about, computers were not her thing. But Devin seemed pretty pleased with himself, so she had to guess he had the upper hand. Beside her Clay shifted restlessly and she looked at him in surprise. In her experience, Clay was solid, steady, unflappable.
“Do you think this has anything to do with finding McAllister?” he asked, and she understood the reason for his disquiet. There were too many things going on that seemed totally disconnected. But what if they were parts of one whole?
Devin looked down the table. “Jordan?”
“It doesn’t have that vibe,” she said, shaking her head. “Now’s as good a time as any for an update on our McAlister activities. The car that ran you off the road is a confirmed banger’s car. It was found abandoned in the shittiest part of Vegas, stripped of all identifying marks and torched. I reached out to my CIs to see if they have any further intel but haven't heard anything back yet. Deputy Greg Hamilton put the warrant out for Ivy four days ago. Even Jones agrees it’s bogus, so we don’t have any worries there." She paused, looked at Devin. "I haven't told Jones that we put eyes on him already, but I'm going to have to soon."
Dev nodded. “Agreed, but not quite yet. Let's hear from Warren first. Did Jones get anything on Tobias Davenport?"
Jordan shook her head. "Not that he's telling me. You're probably going to have to ask for yourself. I'm treading a fine line here."
"I know," he said, "And I'm sorry to put you in that situation. Compromising you is the last thing I want. I'll reach out when we're done here. Switching back to Hamilton, are we agreed that he's not connected to our breach?" He looked around the table, and everyone nodded.
The door opposite Ivy opened on well-oiled hinges, and a striking chestnut-haired man strolled in. There was no other word to use for it. He sauntered like he hadn't a care in the world. Like he was out for a walk in the park. He walked directly to the table, pulled out a chair and settled in, then looked across the table and gave her a slow, devastating smile. “Ivy, I’m Warren Bowman. It’s very nice to meet you.”
Oh, he was a charmer, with dancing eyes and a neatly trimmed beard that framed kissable lips. And if she hadn’t already tasted Clay, she could see taking him for a spin. He would be pure, unapologetic fun.
“Same to you,” she said. She looked down the table at what seemed to be wildly divergent personalities, and wondered, if it hadn’t been for that fateful crash, if these people would have ever been in the same room together.
“Our boy is definitely an asshat,” Warren said, diving right in. He leaned back in his chair, propping one leg over a knee. “He and McAlister were a thing for a good two months, and then she ended it. He kept after her, off and on, as he rolled through other women but just couldn’t seem to let her go. Showed up at her house, followed her around, and popped in at her work. Standard stalker MO. She filed complaints with the Sheriff’s Department, but it was her word against his, and he’s a cop. He kept telling his peers she was the one who got away. When she ended up in the hospital just over two years ago, she didn’t press charges, just disappeared and buried herself deep. About a month ago he must have figured out where she’d gone, because he pivoted his focus to Vegas.”
How had she not seen this? “How did I not know? She’s my best friend.”
Warren gave her a sympathetic look. “She was really good at it. Hell, I have to give her props. Whoever she hired to disappear her is top notch.”
As dismayed as his report made her, Ivy could admit that it was peak Katie to do something so well that even professionals were impressed.
Warren ran a hand through his wavy hair. “Hamilton’s a possessive bastard and obviously didn’t like the way she disappeared. Once I started asking around, I discovered has a history of unreported violence with other women. When he was done with them, he’d threaten them or their loved ones and move on to the next.”
Ivy closed her eyes, disbelief and anger coursing through her in equal waves. Why hadn’t Katie said something?
Warren continued his report. “He was on thin ice already with the Sheriff’s Department, but they never had anything solid they could pin on him, just an ongoing internal affairs investigation regarding rumors of alleged detainee abuse. Some questions about seizures that never made it into evidence. None of his peers were willing to come forward, and he never abused his power on duty that anyone could prove, except for now, to come after Ivy.
“His bosses are pissed. What he did shows they don’t have control over their own people, and they’re a hundred percent on board with helping us to save some face. Since he bailed a few days ago two of the female members of the force came forward about hazing. Apparently, he never did anything that could be considered outright harassment, but he made it clear they weren’t welcome and should be at home in the kitchen tending to babies.”
“I think we can rule out human trafficking then, since this asshole looks like our guy,” Jordan said. “McAlister is doing this on her own, which is a relief. I’d much rather try to find her on our terms rather than someone else’s.”
Ivy could wholeheartedly agree with that, but it begged a question that made her ache inside. “Should I even be looking for her?” she asked. “Am I putting her in more danger by hiring you?”
“I don’t think so,” Warren shook his head. “Hamilton is the type of guy who always gets what he goes after. She dumped him then disappeared, so now he’s fixated. She’s in more danger now than she ever was in South Carolina, so we need to find her. You coming to us is the best possible thing you could have done.”
Pure relief replaced Ivy’s dread. What he said totally made sense. “What do we do now?”
“We keep looking,” Devin said. “Hamilton’s beating the bushes for her, so we’ll let him do some of the work for us.”
“And in the meantime, Ivy and I keep our heads low,” Clay said. “Hamilton doesn't know where we are right now, and he obviously knows Ivy’s phone number and address." He looked at Jordan. "Could he have someone inside LVMPD?"
Ivy watched as she considered it, then shrugged. "It would make sense. He might have been watching when Ivy was taken into custody, or someone may have been reporting back to him. I don't know that there's any way to find out who, or if it's even worth our time to go down that rabbit hole, especially since we already have eyes on him."
Ivy felt everything within her settle. Each of the team spoke with confidence, even when they were discussing options. They all seemed to be on an even playing field, although they did defer to Devin on overarching matters. It made her confidence that everything was going to be all right soar. But she wished she could go home.
“We should be fine to work out of HQ from now on,” Devin said. “I just wanted to have this initial meet with Ivy away from there and let her see our faces, since this job has gone through varying shades of weird," he smiled as she said it, and Ivy knew his words had been meant to put her at ease. They worked.
Ivy stood and had just slung her purse over her shoulder when her phone chirped. “Anonymous number.” She looked at Clay. “Should I answer it?”
Everyone around the table had gone silent and still. Devin nodded, “Yeah, but put it on speaker.”
Ivy placed her phone on the table face up and hit the receive button and the speaker button at the same time.
“This is Ivy.”
“What did you do with her, bitch?” The voice on the end of the line was a snarl. “I know you’ve got her hidden somewhere, that she came running and hiding to you. She’s mine, no one else can have her.”
Ivy stood frozen for a long moment, but when she answered, she didn’t look to Devin for permission to do so. “Listen here, asshole, you leave her alone. I know who you are, I know what you did to her. You think you’re so high and mighty? Did you think you could have me arrested? That I don’t know people who could get me out of it?” Her voice shook with barely restrained fury.
His reply was a string of curses, then, “You’ve got her hidden somewhere, she always comes running to you. You’ll take me to her, or else.”
“You really think you can threaten me? What could you possibly have, what could you possibly do, to make me frightened of you?”
The silence at the other end of the line was long, and down the table Devin was rolling his finger, telling her to draw it out while he did something furiously on his own phone. “I’m not scared of you,” she said. “You’re a bully with a badge. You should have stayed in South Carolina.”
“Oh, you should be frightened,” his voice had gone from pure rage to silk and immediately made Ivy apprehensive. “It's amazing how much information police databases have now. I’m sitting in front of your house right now.” He chuckled at Ivy’s indrawn breath. “You can call these friends of yours all day long, but they’ve got nothing on me. I’m a U.S. citizen on vacation in Vegas, visiting a neighborhood I’m considering buying a house in. And heck, maybe I’ll become interested in charity as well and go sit at lunch with a bunch of old hags like your mother, Agnes. There’s not a damned thing you can legally do about it. Besides, I slipped the bullshit amateur tail thirty minutes ago. I’ll call you in twenty-four hours with the location for a meet up. Bring Katie to me and you and dear old mom will be safe and sound again.” He disconnected, and Ivy stood there for a long moment, his words echoing in her ears, before she braced her hands on the table and slowly lowered herself into the conference chair. Her pulse thrummed in her wrists, her heart, pounded in her ears. Terror clutched at her throat. “Oh God, oh God, he found my mother.”
Clay picked her up out of the chair and draped her across his lap, folding her into his arms, surrounding her with warmth and heat and safety. “He won’t touch your mother. I’ll kill him first.”