Chapter 5
LOCKE
I stand across from Nate, watching him rub his temples and glare at me like I’ve just told him I lost millions at the blackjack table. The obnoxiously large kitchen island is the only barrier between us. Which is probably a good thing since I can see how badly he wants to punch me right now.
I scan the room, waiting for him to say something.
The suite is nice, sure. But at this point, I’ve stayed in too many of these places to care.
They all blur together after a while. Perfect.
Polished. A facade. The only thing remotely interesting about it is the little thief that was here last night.
I shove that thought down, trying to ignore the fact that my clothes still hold traces of her perfume. Bright citrus mixed with jasmine and a hint of vanilla. I shouldn’t enjoy it, so why am I?
Nate exhales through his nose, jaw tight. “Let me get this straight, brother.” That last word, dripping with annoyance. “You brought a random girl from the bar back here last night. What was her name? Aiden? —”
I exhale sharply. “Arden.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He says, waving a hand in my direction. “You brought her here, fucked her, and then, sometime before you woke up, she slipped out with your overpriced watch, our father’s cross, and your knife?”
I shift my gaze to the floor, rubbing the back of my neck. It’s a little more embarrassing when it’s all laid out like that.
Nate leans forward, bracing his forearms on the counter. “You couldn’t keep it in your pants? Couldn’t wait until the next Hollywood event to pick someone a little more… I don’t know, suitable? You had to go for some low-life girl in Vegas?”
His eyes narrow as he continues his lecture. “And now you think you’re going to hunt her down? For what?”
I keep my expression neutral. Maintaining the controlled mask I’ve perfected over the years.
I could lie. Tell him I’m just after the cross.
That it’s sentimental. Maybe that’s part of it.
.. but the truth is, I’m curious. I want to know why she did it, if she does this often, if she even hesitated, and if she felt the same magnetic pull toward me that I did toward her.
But, even more than that, I think she might actually be useful.
When I finally speak, I do my best to keep my mask in place. “She might be exactly what I need for the Jaxon Wilde situation.”
Nate blinks. Then laughs, a single, humorless chuckle.
“You’re kidding.” He shakes his head. “You want to hire her?”
He stares at me for a moment, waiting for a response, but I just stare back.
“You actually might be insane, Locke. You’ve truly outdone yourself this time.”
Right on cue, Sebastian strolls in, completely unaware of the hellfire he’s just walked into. It only takes him one glance between us to realize.
“Are you guys fighting again?” He stretches, looking obnoxiously refreshed for someone who drank half the bar last night. “Come on, give it a rest, Nate. Locke finally got laid. You should be happy! Maybe he’ll actually be in a good mood for once.”
Nate levels a very flat stare at him. Then at me.
He exhales sharply, pushing back from the counter. “Fill your idiot friend in. Then, let me know how you plan on fixing this.” He grabs his phone, muttering, “Unbelievable.”
He turns back to me, unimpressed. “You owe me.”
The door slams shut behind him. Sebastian raises a brow at me, waiting.
I grit my teeth into a forced, razor-sharp smile. “Well,” I mutter, “that went well.”
Sebastian isn’t just some idiot I keep around for entertainment. We’ve known each other for almost our entire lives. Our fathers ran their slice of the Irish mob together. Now they share a prison cell, while we take advantage of the money and connections they left behind.
That’s why I need him. I deal in power and influence.
I run with the people who pull strings behind the scenes.
Sebastian? He knows the streets. He’s not afraid of the people who learned to navigate them out of necessity rather than convenience.
Even though his upbringing was the furthest thing from rough, he’s always had a way of gaining their trust. When we combine our skills, this entire city belongs to us.
The head of casino security looks like he already regrets letting us into the surveillance room. He keeps glancing at the closed door, like he’s waiting for someone to walk in. Or praying for it.
“You said she took something?” the man asks, voice gruff.
“Yeah,” I reply. “A watch worth more than your entire camera system.”
His jaw tenses, but he clicks through the footage anyway. He keeps glancing at Seb, who isn’t saying a word. Just watching, arms crossed, eyes scanning the monitors.
A few minutes in, I spot a blur of black satin in the sea of flashing lights. “Stop, that’s her. Back it up three seconds.”
He rewinds. There she is, weaving through the maze of slot machines, casual and calm as if it’s just another day. The doors glow with the blue light of dawn as she slips outside.
Seb moves closer, squinting at the screen. “What street is that?”
“First,” the security guard answers quickly. “Looks like she took a right. Probably headed down Fremont Street.”
“Thanks,” I say, pressing a folded $100 bill into his palm. “For your trouble.”
The moment we step outside, Seb pulls out his phone. “Calling in that favor. I need as much camera footage going south on Fremont Street as you can get. Look for the girl in the photo I’m sending now.” He hangs up and sends the message as we walk.
Moments later, image replies start coming in. Grainy shots from traffic cams, hotel exteriors, even a convenience store. In one clip, they circled her. Another highlights a neon sign she passed.
I pull out my phone, zooming in on the map to trace her path with my finger. “This is the store she passed. There are three pawnshops within a few blocks of it. She definitely hit one of them.”
Seb nods, looking over my shoulder at the cluster of red dots. “Then let’s start knocking on doors.”
I nod in agreement as we head toward the closest shop.