Ace in the Hole (8 page)

“It’s time to call the police,” Stone said grimly.

Tucker glanced at Christian in the rearview mirror. “You’re the slick talker. You call the police.”

“I think we’d better call Mrs. Lacey first. If this thing goes public, I don’t want her blindsided.”

Christian reluctantly placed the call to the senator’s wife and put her on speakerphone. “Good morning, Mrs. Lacey. How’s Texas?”

“Do you know why there’s no sinning in Texas during the summer, Christian?”

“Why, ma’am?”

“Because Satan himself would rather stay in hell than come to Texas at this time of year.” Stone smiled as the woman asked, “What can I do for you this morning, Christian? It’s a little early in the day for Jack to have messed up already.”

“I’m afraid that’s not true, ma’am. You haven’t by any chance heard from him in the past twelve hours or so, have you?”

“No. Why?” The keen intelligence Christian had mentioned before had obviously kicked in, and her voice was sharp with concern.

Christian winced reluctantly. Had the two of them been alone in the vehicle, Stone would have been inclined to give the guy a supportive smile. “Jack has disappeared from his hotel room, ma’am. There’s no sign of a struggle and no ransom demand to indicate there was any foul play. However, we also can’t rule it out.”

“What about that fancy security firm he hired? How did they lose him?”

“They terminated the contract and refunded his money last night. Jack was… singularly uncooperative… with them, and they felt they couldn’t guarantee his safety. Ethically they felt obliged to pull themselves off his security detail.”

Jill swore rather more saltily than one would expect of a genteel Southern woman, and Stone grinned reluctantly.

She asked tartly, “Has the Wild Cards’ man left Miami yet?”

“No, ma’am. He’s here with me now.”

“Hire him to work for me. I need him to find Jack and keep this whole thing from turning into a media circus.”

Stone stared down at the phone and up at Christian.

“Speaking of which….” Christian trailed off, obviously unsure of how to tell her delicately about Chesty.

“Jesus H. Christ. There’s a woman involved, isn’t there?” she asked baldly.

Give the woman full marks for knowing her husband.

Christian winced. “Uh, there might be, ma’am.”

“Don’t pussyfoot around with me, Christian Brandeis. I know my husband. How bad is it this time?”

“She’s a porn star. Famous enough that the media would have a field day with it.”

“Tell your man from Wild Cards to prepare a quiet plan to dispose of Jack’s body, just in case.”

Stone started. He was willing to cross a lot of lines in the performance of his job, but murder was not one of them. She continued, “And tell your guy he’d better find Jack before I do. Because I am going to pull his scrotum over his head and feed his balls to him one by one before I choke him to death.”

“Got it, ma’am. Scrotum. Balls. Choking. Check.”

Christian’s dry comment made her laugh just enough to break the tension a little.

“We’ll find him for you. Don’t you worry, Mrs. Lacey.”

“I trust you completely to handle this with speed and discretion, Christian. It goes without saying that there will be no police or FBI. Cops gossip like old women, and we can’t afford a leak to the media. If Jack doesn’t get the infusion of cash he’s getting paid for this publicity junket, he’s going to have to suspend his campaign.”

Stone was startled. He’d had no idea the senator’s campaign was in such dire financial straits. No wonder Christian was stressed out.

“What about his scheduled appearances over the next several days, ma’am?” Christian was asking.

“We can’t cancel them. Find Jack and make him appear. He’s got to go to every scheduled appearance. Each one represents a
large
campaign donation.”

“But, ma’am.” A pause. “He’s not here. I can’t make him materialize out of thin air.”

“You’ll figure out something, Christian. You always do.”

Right. Because Christian could fix anything. Stone did not envy the guy this particular toxic-waste cleanup. The mess might be too big even for him to manage. He glanced back at Christian, who looked nonplussed. What the hell did Jill expect the guy to do, anyway?

Christian replied blankly, “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

Brave man.

Christian disconnected the call and stared off into space, either thinking hard or just completely in shock. At length he roused himself to ask, “So. Stone. Any chance I can interest you and your employer in a new client with a missing husband she needs found very, very quietly?”

STONE
had no idea if Wild Cards even took missing-persons cases. “Let me call my bosses. I think this one will take both Martin’s and Pere’s sign-off.” He called the cofounders of the firm, got them on a conference line, and filled them in briefly.

“What’s your gut telling you about this one?” Pere asked him grimly. “Did this guy take a runner with his porn star?”

“That’s my belief, sir.”

“Can you find him?”

“He’s not that smart. I can find him.” He added grimly, “But it’s a hell of a risk for you to take with a new company that’s still trying to establish its reputation.”

“We are aware of that, thank you,” Martin replied wryly. “Pass the phone to the senator’s aide, Mr. Brandeis.”

It took a while, off speakerphone, for Christian to talk the owners of Wild Cards into taking the job. They weren’t happy at the prospect of having to deal with Jack Lacey in any capacity. Eventually, for an exorbitant fee, Stone was back on the job, this time working for Jill Lacey.

“Thank God,” Christian muttered as he disconnected the overseas call. He looked grimly at Stone. “You’re up, Slugger. Find my boss.”

“Here’s the thing. If this is an actual abduction, we’ve got nothing, and the kidnappers have an insurmountable head start. We would have to sit tight and wait for a ransom demand.”

Christian frowned.

“So,” Stone continued, “we’re going to operate on the assumption that Jack was not kidnapped, and that he and Chesty are having a good old time.” He pulled his pistol out of its holster and reversed it in his hand, holding it out butt first to Christian.

“What are you doing?” Christian asked sharply.

“Handing you my weapon.”

“I don’t want it!”

“If I pull a B&E in Chesty’s place while armed, it’s a third-degree felony. If I’m not armed when I do it, it’s only a second-degree misdemeanor. Take the gun.”

“Whoa. Wait. As in breaking and entering?”

“As in taking a look around inside for any leads and not disturbing anything,” Stone replied.

“But it’s a crime!” Christian exclaimed. “I can’t let you do this. I’m an officer of the court.”

“Take a nap. This is what Mrs. Lacey is paying all that money for.”

Christian subsided, but he looked mutinous. It was sexy as all get-out the way he glared at Stone, promising hell to pay later. Not that Stone anticipated having a minute alone with him until the senator was located. Dammit.

As break-ins went, this one was as straightforward as they came. Chesty’s backdoor lock was ridiculously inadequate. He could’ve opened it with a paper clip. He checked the sink: no dirty dishes. He opened the refrigerator: no milk. No fruit or fresh vegetables either. Nothing that would spoil quickly. Either Chesty was an extremely neat person who ate no healthy food, or she’d been planning to be out of town for a while.

A quick look around the house revealed that all the laundry was done and key toiletries missing from the bathroom. She’d definitely buttoned up her house.

A blinking light on her answering machine shed more light on the situation. “Chelsea, it’s Bob. Pick up the damned phone. You missed
another
audition yesterday. You’ve got to quit doing this. You’re going to get a reputation for being a flake, and you can forget getting decent paying roles once that happens. There are a hundred girls hotter than you, younger than you, and kinkier than you just waiting to take your place in the adult film industry. So get off your ass and call me, or I swear, I’ll dump you as a client.”

Stone guessed that ruled out Chesty being gone on location at a film set. There was no more to see in the house. He headed back outside, locking the door behind himself.

He reported his findings to the other men.

Christian frowned. “So, if she was planning to be out of town for a while already, did she kidnap Jack?”

An interesting theory. He replied, “She would be a rocket scientist among porn stars to plan a kidnapping in advance, manage to catch Jack’s eye at that party among all the other professional talent working the joint, and then to successfully disappear with him.”

Tucker added, “Not to mention Jack left the hotel without a fight. If she was, in fact, abducting him, she tricked him into walking out under his own power.”

Stone shrugged. “You two know your boss better than I do. Is he that gullible and/or that ruled by his dick?”

Both men snorted. Okay, then. Jack Lacey was stupid enough to let a porn star hoodwink him, and he was addicted enough to sex to let it ruin his life. Part of him wanted to let this jerk go down in flames and not get found in time to avoid a scandal. But one look at Christian’s stricken, pale face and Stone cursed under his breath. Fine. He’d find the damned senator.

“Where to now?” Tucker asked.

They had to find a trail. No matter how faint nor how cold. They needed a starting place from which to move forward. “Back to the hotel. If they snuck out, they probably didn’t walk to their final destination. Let’s check out the taxis that worked the hotel last night.”

The next several hours were tedious and frustrating as they combed through what hotel security camera footage did exist. But eventually Christian pointed at the video monitor. “There. That’s him.”

Stone leaned down over his shoulder to peer at the grainy image. “The guy in the baseball cap?”

“I’d know his walk anywhere.”

Stone watched a nondescript sedan pull up at the curb in front of the senator. Chesty stepped into the camera frame briefly before sliding into the backseat of the car. Baseball Cap followed her, never showing his face to the camera. But Christian was convinced the faceless man was Lacey. Stone had to agree that the height and build were right.

“That looks like an Uber ride,” Christian commented.

“Possible. The good news is Jack and Chesty weren’t being herded into the vehicle at gunpoint. I think we can safely say the two of them took off voluntarily.”

“What the hell is he thinking?” Christian burst out.

“Did you get a good look at her? I don’t think thought has much to do with it.” They made brief eye contact, and Christian looked away guiltily. Yeah. Neither one of them was in a position to cast stones at Jack Lacey on that score.

A quick call to Wild Cards, Inc.’s operation center yielded the destination the Uber driver had delivered the senator and his girlfriend to. Stone reported it tersely to Christian. “The South Miami Marina.”

“Oh God. He’s gotten on a party boat with a bunch of women, booze, and drugs,” Christian groaned. “The press will get ahold of this for sure. How soon can you get him back here, Stone?”

“Depends upon where he is. If they’re fucking their way through the Florida Keys, pretty fast. A quick call to the Coast Guard, and they’ll have him on a helicopter back to Miami in a few hours.”

“And if they’re not in the Keys?”

Stone shrugged. “If he’s gone outside of US jurisdiction, it could take longer.”

“He’s got a major appearance at a Latin American Chamber of Commerce event the day after tomorrow. Massive campaign donations will come from it. You’ve got to get him back.”

“I’ll do my best. Let’s head down to the marina and find out what boat he’s on and where it’s headed.”

It turned out not to be that easy, however. Stone had to more or less threaten the marina manager’s life before the name of the yacht—the
Wrastle Castle
—was forthcoming. As for its intended destination, the beleaguered manager disappeared into a back office to get the navigation plan.

“Do you always bully people into giving you what you want?” Christian muttered.

“Do you want to find your boss or not?” Stone muttered back. “Mrs. Lacey didn’t hire me to be nice. She hired me to get results.”

“Yes, but your tactics are making enemies for my employer.”

“Do you care?”

“In this case, not particularly. Jack created this mess. He can deal with the fallout. But in general, no, I don’t approve of such tactics.” Christian tilted his head, considering Stone. “You don’t stick around long enough after a job to face the consequences of your actions anyway, do you?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You cause havoc and then split. You move on and leave behind a mess for other people to clean up.”

“Is this about you and me?” Stone demanded under his breath.

“No.” A pause. “Yes.” Another pause. “Maybe.”

“Take pot shots at me later,” Stone bit out. “Right now we need to find Jack.”

“That wasn’t a—”

The marina manager stepped out of his office.

“
Later.
”

CHRISTIAN
winced. Stone had a point. The first priority was to find Jack Lacey. They could deal with the fact that the senator’s disappearance was their fault
after
they found Jack.

Not to mention that he wasn’t in the habit of dragging personal crap into the office either. His ambitious family had taught him that lesson at an early age—long before they realized their golden-haired scion was gay and the family name irrevocably disgraced.

“Oh, for the love of God. Check out your boss’s destination,” Stone said grimly.

Christian took the float plan with grave trepidation and glanced through it. “Barbados?” he squawked. “How long will it take to sail down there?”

The marina manager supplied helpfully, “On the
Wrastle Castle
? Four or five days.”