Chapter 23
Tate
As soon as I made the connection, Sutton and I went straight to Hayward’s office.
Given everything that had gone down with the family, Sutton felt Charles needed to hear the information from someone other than just me.
That I shouldn’t go in alone, not when there was a chance Hayward would dismiss everything I said out of spite.
The receptionist recognized Sutton immediately, and something in our expressions must have conveyed urgency because she let us directly through to Hayward’s office without hesitation.
He was on the phone when we entered, and his expression soured the moment he saw me. His gaze shifted to Sutton. “Excuse me, you can’t just barge in here—”
“Where’s Bridget?” I demanded.
Charles frowned at me. “Who?”
“Bridget. Red hair. One of your paralegals,” I said urgently. “The one dating your son.”
“She took the day off.” Hayward’s scowl deepened. “Why?”
Sutton stepped forward, cutting me off before I could say anything else. “We believe she’s actually Siobhan O’Hagan, daughter of Michael O’Hagan.”
Recognition immediately flickered across Hayward’s face. He spoke briefly into the phone—“Something’s come up. I’ll call you back.”—and hung up. “Michael O’Hagan. I remember that name. He was part of an organized crime syndicate.”
Organized crime had built Vegas, and while people liked to think those days were behind us, the reality was far more complicated. The mob didn’t exclusively own this town anymore, but it hadn’t disappeared either.
“You put him away for life ten years ago when you were a prosecutor,” Sutton explained.
“He died in prison two years into his sentence of cancer. His daughter was fourteen when he was convicted, sixteen when he passed. We believe she’s your stalker.
Until we have concrete proof for the police, your family needs to stay away from her at all costs. ”
“My son wouldn’t have the poor judgment to date someone like that,” Hayward snapped.
“With respect, sir, he absolutely would.” The words escaped before I could stop them, earning me a sharp glare from the other man for even speaking.
“This woman is intelligent and calculated. She’s been playing a long game, changing her identity, working her way into your firm, getting close to your son.
She wants revenge for what she believes you did to her family.
She’s going to hurt Stella, and she’s going to hurt Charlie. ”
Hayward pointed an angry finger at me. “The only person manipulating anyone is you,” he said, referencing my investment offer to Stella.
Sutton positioned himself between us, his calm cutting through the tension.
“The fact is, this is the first credible lead we’ve had.
Siobhan O’Hagan vanished from all records around the same time Bridget appeared.
Facial recognition confirms they’re the same person.
The only difference is hair color. She has every reason to hate your family, and she’s clearly concealing her identity for a purpose. ”
“Why take a job at the law firm of the man who destroyed her father,” I added, “unless she planned to do something about it?”
Hayward studied me, then looked back at Sutton. “Your team is certain about this?”
Sutton nodded curtly. “We have no doubt, but our role is to present evidence to the police. They’re the ones who can legally charge her. Our job is keeping your family safe, and that means complete separation from this woman.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Hayward challenged. “What if my son’s girlfriend and my employee is being falsely accused?”
“You’re a lawyer,” I snapped, my temper getting the best of me. “Suddenly you’re afraid to accuse someone who clearly has a reason to target your family?”
“Tate.” Sutton’s voice was firm.
I clenched my jaw and forced myself to stay quiet.
“We don’t act unless we’re certain,” Sutton continued smoothly.
“We’ve worked this case for weeks. Every other lead has been a dead end.
Bridget and Siobhan are the same person.
I’d stake my reputation on it. If her presence here turns out to be innocent, I’m sure she’ll understand why it appeared otherwise. ”
Hayward’s frown deepened. “If you want charges to stick, you’d better have your evidence ironclad before you prosecute.”
“We’re not the police,” Sutton replied. “But we do need to build a case solid enough to convince law enforcement to arrest her. You hired us because you trusted our judgment. I’m asking you to trust it now.”
“Where’s Charlie?” I asked, calmer now. “We need to speak with him about Bridget and find out what he knows.”
“Probably at the bar around the corner. Most of the staff goes there after five to unwind.”
“And Stella?”
Charles hesitated a moment before replying. “At home with the security detail.”
I exhaled, relieved that at least she was safe. For now.
We were on our way to the bar to talk to Charlie when my phone rang with Xavier’s name on the display. “What’s up?” I answered.
“She’s fucking gone,” he said, his voice tight with fury. “Stella. She snuck out of the house. Got into a car with some woman, a redhead, and I’m using the tracking on her phone to follow them. They’re heading toward the Strip.”
I came to an abrupt stop, my stomach clenching. “Stay on her and send me your location. I’ll meet you there.”
“They’re heading into Club Halo,” Xavier reported. “I’m valeting now. I’ll get inside as soon as I can.”
“I’m on my way.” I hung up and glanced at Sutton, panic tightening in my chest. “Stella is with Bridget. Club Halo. Let me handle this. Please.”
Something in my expression must have conveyed the desperation I was feeling, because Sutton nodded without argument. “Go. I’ll talk to Charlie and see what he knows, then catch an uber back to the office. Keep me posted.”
I sprinted back to my vehicle and tore out of the parking garage, weaving through traffic with my heart slamming against my ribs. Every red light felt like an eternity. Every slow driver a personal affront. I laid on the horn, cut across lanes, and drove like a man possessed—because I was.
Damn it, Stella. What the hell was she thinking?
But even as the question formed, I knew the answer. She’d been going stir-crazy, trapped in that house with her family. Bridget must have reached out, offered an escape, and Stella—desperate for freedom—had walked right into a trap.
And I was probably part of the reason she’d been so desperate to get out.
The way I’d left her—pulling back, putting distance between us, giving her nothing but professional reassurances when what she’d needed was to know that I still cared, not as her bodyguard, but something more.
I’d seen the hurt in her eyes, the confusion, and I’d walked away anyway, telling myself it was for the best.
Instead, I’d left her feeling abandoned. Alone in that house, probably wondering if everything between us had meant nothing at all when the truth was the exact opposite. She meant everything to me.
The thought of losing her—really losing her, permanently and irrevocably—hit me like a blow to the chest. All those doubts I’d been nursing, all those questions about whether I was good enough, whether stepping back was the noble thing to do, none of that mattered now.
None of it would matter if I was too late.
It took me nearly twenty minutes, and when I finally reached Club Halo, police cars were already there.
An ambulance was parked near the entrance, its lights flashing.
My blood ran cold and I jumped out of my car and pushed through the gathering crowd until a police officer stopped me from advancing any further.
“I’m working a case. My client is inside and I need to find her.” I flashed my security badge, trying to project calm when I was feeling anything but. “What is going on?”
“A server called 9-1-1 when a man collapsed inside the club. Appears he was drugged.” The officer consulted his notes. “We’re now hearing there may have been another victim. A woman who left through the back exit with a female companion.”
I didn’t wait for permission. I pushed past him toward the ambulance and saw Oliver sitting inside. He looked like hell, barely able to hold himself upright. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, struggling to track my face as I approached.
“Oliver! Where’s Stella? What happened?”
He opened his mouth, but only a slurred mumble emerged. His brow furrowed in confusion, like he couldn’t quite remember who I was or why I was shouting at him.
“Sir, he’s in no condition to answer questions,” a paramedic said, pushing me back. “Whatever he was given, it’s still working through his system.”
Fuck. I wanted to shake him until the answers fell out, but it would be useless. He was completely out of it.
I spun around, scanning the crowd of staff and patrons being questioned by police, wondering where the hell Xavier was. “Did anyone see the woman leave out the back exit with a redheaded female?”
A young woman in a server’s uniform stepped forward hesitantly. “I... I might have seen something.”
“Tell me,” I demanded, the words coming out sharper than I’d intended. “Everything. Now.”
She twisted her hands nervously. “There were three of them together. The blonde in a pink dress, the redhead, and the man.” She gestured toward Oliver.
“They got drinks. The blonde and the redhead went to dance, and then... I don’t know, the blonde started looking really out of it.
Like, way too fast to just be drunk. Her friend helped her toward the bathroom, and I followed because…
I don’t know, something felt off. But they didn’t go into the bathroom. They went straight to the back exit.”
Fuck. “Did you follow them outside?”
She shook her head. “That door locks from the inside. If I’d gone out, I would’ve been stuck in the alley, and I was working. I figured her friend had it handled.” She pointed toward Oliver. “When I came back to the main floor, that’s when he collapsed. I called 9-1-1 right away, but by then...”
By then it was too late. Bridget had drugged them both. She’d used Oliver as a distraction, knowing his collapse would draw all the attention while she slipped out the back with her real target. With Stella.
I thanked the server and jogged around toward the back of the club until I found the exit. The door opened into a narrow alley—dumpsters, scattered trash, the distant glow of streetlights. No one was there.
I didn’t waste time going back inside the club when I knew Stella wasn’t there. I followed the alleyway, trying to figure out where Bridget might have taken her as I pulled out my phone and called Xavier.
“Where are you?” I demanded as soon as he answered.
“Inside the club. They wouldn’t let me in at first—VIP only. By the time I talked my way past the bouncer, the cops were everywhere and I can’t fucking find her.”
“Stella’s gone,” I told him. “Bridget took her out the back.”
A string of curses met my ears. “Her phone is pinging down the street, between Lambert and Alto.”
As soon as he said the street names I headed in that direction and saw the parking lot, reaching it in under a minute. No Bridget. No Stella. And no fucking surveillance cameras.
I stood there, chest heaving, staring at the vacant spot where a car must have been parked…and that’s when I saw a cellphone on the ground. I picked it up, and my heart sank when I entered Stella’s code and the phone unlocked.
Stella was gone, abducted by a woman who’d spent a decade planning her revenge against Charles Hayward. I’d promised to protect her. I’d promised that nothing would happen to her, that I would keep her safe, that she could trust me.
And I’d fucking failed.
My hands shook as I called Sutton. “She’s gone.” My voice cracked on the words, despair and fear colliding inside of me. “Bridget took her and I don’t know where.”
“We’ll find her,” Sutton said, his voice steady and sure. “We’ll find her, Tate.”
But the words felt hollow, because somewhere out there in the neon-lit darkness of Las Vegas, Stella was alone with a woman who wanted to destroy everything Charles Hayward loved.
And every second that slipped away felt like a countdown to something I refused to let myself imagine, something I knew would shatter me completely if I didn’t reach Stella in time.