Haven 1: How to Save a Life (27 page)

Older than his father.

What did Kevin see in him? And how in the hell could they make this work?

Walter wasn’t sure there was a way, but God, he wanted to figure it out. More than he’d wanted anything in a long time.

His phone rang on the nightstand. He reached for it as Kevin slid off his lap. He checked the phone’s display. Tension coiled in his gut. “It’s Vargas.” He answered the call.

There was no
hello
, no
how are you.

“Get down here. Another man is missing. He was last seen talking with a big guy earlier tonight, and now his friends can’t find him. They all three came together and were supposed to leave two hours ago to meet up with more friends at another bar. They say it’s not like him to take off and not tell them.”

“We’re on our way. I’ll call Gibson and have him meet us there.”

“Thought he was off the case. What can he do?” Vargas didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m calling the cops now.”

Walter got up and opened his closet for a shirt. Kevin had already pulled out socks and a T-shirt from his bag, his expression serious, his reporter persona firmly in place.

Vargas was talking again. “I’ve got security searching every inch of the club.”

Walter asked, “What’s the guy’s name who’s gone missing?”

Vargas gave the name, and Walter didn’t want to end the call. Because that would mean he’d have to tell Kevin. He slowly set his phone on the table. “Hurry up. We’re going to the club.”

Kevin was pulling on the T-shirt. “Another one missing?”

“Yes. Can you let your dad know we’ll have to wait on giving him a hand?”

“Of course. Is it someone you know?”

“No.” Walter paused. He knew what Kevin would feel, and he’d do anything to avoid that for him. “Someone you know.”

Kevin stopped, a sock in each hand. “Who?”

“Dylan. The one you waved at the other night.”

“Oh God. I should’ve said something.” He dropped the socks and grabbed the back of his head in both hands. “Oh God. I should’ve warned him.”

“Vargas posted a warning the other night.”

“But
I
should have told him that first night. He’s about the same age as the others. I was just…”

Distracted?

“This is not your fault, Kevin. We barely knew anything the first night.”

“I knew enough.”

Walter gripped Kevin by the arms and forced him to look up. “This is not your fault. Now come on. We’ll help with the search. And we’ll take Tucker with us.”

“He’s here?”

“He’s your security goon tonight. He’s out in the hall.”

“Somebody stays here all night?”

“I told you, I’m not taking any chances with your life.”

Chapter Twenty

Walter scanned his ID at the Haven’s front door and nothing happened. He turned to Kevin, and without a word Kevin slid his card through the reader. Still nothing. Tucker had never been to the club and was as straight as they come. They were out of options.

Walter raised his fist to pound away, but before he got in one good knock, the door swung in. Vargas stood on the other side. “Get in here.”

Two men marched past Vargas, exiting the club, looking pissed as they moved by Walter, Kevin, and Tucker.

Vargas mumbled a thank-you and spoke to Walter. “All IDs have been disabled. We’re issuing new ones. The club is closed for the rest of tonight. And who the hell knows, maybe forever.” He took off, charging toward the dining room.

All the lights were on in the place, the dining room and bar brighter than Walter had ever seen either room. Several men were filing down the stairs. More were headed toward the exit. Every seat in the dining room was empty. One nearby table still had four plates full of untouched beef tenderloin, a baked potato, and a side of glazed carrots, which had probably been one of the specials that night. The club did not look right like this.

Vargas stopped at the base of the stairs.

“What did the cops say?” Walter asked.

“What you’ve said they would all along. If I find evidence of a struggle or violence, I can call back to report that.”

“What about the cameras outside?”

“Nothing. No one went out any window. I watched the rest of the recordings and can’t find a sign of him in the crowd.”

Which left Walter wondering the same thing he’d been trying to figure out since the first night. If this guy was taking them against their will, how was he getting them out of the club?

Vargas continued. “Not that I know what I’m looking for. Dylan’s friends said the guy had short, dark hair, so he’s probably changing his appearance. I called in all the guys from security. They’re searching the rooms, knocking on every door, telling everyone we’re closing early.”

“That’s not going to make you very popular.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Vargas paced at the base of the staircase. “They’ve searched all the public areas, the employee locker room, checked all the unreserved rooms, the kitchen, the basement, the storage areas. It’s been hours now. There’s no way the guy’s still here, but to be sure, I’ve got them going over everything again, starting at the top and working down. I told the staff to report whatever looks suspicious. My best hope is they’ll find something so the cops will have a reason to take this seriously.”

“I can go help with the search,” Kevin said. Maybe he sensed Vargas needed to vent his frustrations to Walter.

Walter didn’t want to let Kevin out of his sight, but it was clear Kevin was freaking out about Dylan and needed to do something, anything to help.

Tucker stepped forward. “I’ll go with him, boss.”

Walter hesitated for another moment, his gaze locked on Kevin’s. “All right.”

Vargas glared at Kevin, clearly not ready to trust the reporter. Finally he said, “Check with my head of security. He just reported in. They’re finishing up on the fourth floor.” He turned and crossed the room to the bar.

Kevin gave Walter a nod and walked away.

“Hey.”

Kevin stopped.

Walter pointed at Tucker. “Stay with him.” Every instinct screamed at Walter to go with Kevin, but he was worried about Vargas. He’d never seen the man so out of it before, not like this, and Vargas had probably been right about the Protector being long gone.

Kevin gave another nod and headed up the stairs. With the empty dining room and staircase, he looked small, younger than usual beside the much taller and bulkier Tucker.

When Walter reached the bar, Vargas was pouring a glass of Glenlivet. Walter sat on a stool beside him.

Vargas knocked back the scotch and slammed the glass on the bar. “I’ve had it. Drugs in my club. Shit getting stolen every week. Someone messing with the access cards. Missing young men. And now another.” He looked to where Kevin had left. “Is he going to report on this?”

“He hasn’t yet, but he will. Soon.”

“Maybe he should. I started this club so gay men would have a safe place to go. For sex or dating or not to feel alone in the world. Now I’ve given some sick asshole a convenient place to prey on them.” He finally met Walter’s stare. “You haven’t found anything yet?”

“Not much. Nothing that’s leading us anywhere.”

Vargas downed another mouthful. He poured more scotch, watching the long arc of liquid flow from the bottle to the glass. At this rate he wouldn’t be sitting up much longer. He slammed the bottle down, keeping it close. “You think they’re dead?”

“No.” Walter wasn’t sure why, but he’d had the same hunch from the beginning. They were still alive. For now. “Are you really keeping the place closed?”

“What choice do I have?”

“It’s not like you to give up.”

“You should talk. The Walter Simon I used to know has been gone for a long time now.” He paused. In a softer tone he added, “Until recently…”

Walter stood. “We don’t have time for this.”

Vargas joined him, swaying on his unsteady legs, gripping the edge of the bar in both hands. “Let’s go see what they’ve found.”

“You going to make it?”

Vargas ignored the question and headed for the stairs.

Walter followed and asked, “We find this guy, are you going to reopen?”

“You think this asshole Protector is the answer to all my problems lately?”

“I think it’s all related somehow.”

Vargas didn’t respond. Just gave a slow nod as they reached the top of the stairs. Then he said, “That kid with your hired gun might be the answer to yours.”

“I don’t have any problems. My life was sailing along fine until these disappearances.” He’d been lonely, maybe, but fine.

“Sounds boring.” Vargas jabbed a finger at Walter. “And don’t fool yourself. You let him walk away, you’ll find yourself lonelier than before he walked into your life.”

One of Vargas’s security personnel exited the elevator. “We’ve got teams finishing up the other floors. We’re ready to start here.”

“Good.” Vargas led them down the hall toward the rooms, his stride surer than before the scotch.

Though Vargas was long gone, Walter said, “He didn’t walk into my life. He tripped into it.” And the desire to do everything he could to keep Kevin from being yanked away was strong.

Stronger than the knowledge he was too old for Kevin?

Right now the answer to that was a resounding yes.

* * * *

Kevin exited the elevator onto the fourth floor with his bodyguard leading the way. Tucker looked like he was ready for an all-out assault or was posing for an action film poster.

Tacked to the wall across from the elevator was a notice printed on bright orange paper warning all club members about a dangerous man who’d been passing himself off as a member and was possibly assaulting and abducting men. There was a brief description of what they did know about the Protector, with a rough sketch based on how Nelson had described him.

They rounded the hall corner and went for the first open door, where the head of the club’s security team was stepping out into the hall. He spotted Kevin. “Mr. Price. Do you need something?”

“Vargas sent us to help with the search.”

The security guard closed the door behind him. “We’re almost done here. I sent everyone else to check on the other floors. I’ll take this next room.” He pointed to Tucker. “You can search the one across the hall.” He gestured to Kevin. “You take the last one closest to the elevator. Check under the bed, in the closet, and the bathroom. Check every cabinet, then lock and shut the door when you’re finished.” He used a key card to open each of the rooms he’d pointed at.

Tucker followed Kevin into the room he’d been assigned. “We’ll check ours together.”

The room was very different from the one Kevin had been in before. No carpet on the floor. No chairs. No bed or luxury bathtub. One wall was made up entirely of brick. Or faux brick. Or whatever material could be used to simulate the wall of a building down a dark alley, complete with graffiti and a barred window. Kevin had the sudden desire to take a sledgehammer to the wall to see how sturdy the brick actually was. Chains hung from various locations along the wall. Each one ended in wrist or leg cuffs.

So maybe real brick then.

Other than a couple of storage cabinets, the only other item in the room was an enormous X-shaped piece of leather furniture—or whatever you called a sex device like that—standing in the far corner, looming over Kevin.

Tucker opened the bathroom door, and Kevin went to the window. He peeled back the curtains but found nothing. This room didn’t have access to a ledge or a fire escape. Tucker returned to the main room and began opening the cabinets. Inside were chains and whips and various sizes of clamps. What did Tucker think of the place? Or had Walter filled him in when he’d hired him? Kevin couldn’t bring himself to ask. Some reporter he was behaving like. Perhaps this entire case had crossed over into the personal zone on one too many levels.

When they’d finished looking everywhere, they moved on to the next room. It was the same as the first.

Just as Tucker went to open the last cabinet, Kevin spotted something.

“Wait.” He pointed to the floor beside the cabinet. “That’s been moved.” A groove of scratches had been worn into the floor where someone had dragged the piece of furniture along the wall.

Together they shoved the cabinet to the side, revealing a hole in the wall, almost as tall and wide as the cabinet, definitely large enough for a man to climb through. Inside the wall was an open space over three feet deep, like a hidden passageway.

Tucker pulled out his gun. “I’m going to have a look. Wait here and call Walter.” He climbed through the opening and disappeared behind the wall.

Kevin got out his phone.

A soft bang came from the hall. Probably the security guard. Kevin stuck his head out the open door, but there was no sign of anyone. Then came a louder bang, like someone had run into a wall around the corner toward the elevator.

“Tucker, I hear something.”

Then there was a whimper.

Kevin took off and shouted, “Tucker!” He rounded the corner. The elevator door was open. He couldn’t see inside from that angle.

He moved forward, glancing back the way he’d come. Tucker was nowhere in sight. He must not have heard him.

Another moan, like someone having a bad dream. The elevator doors started to close. Kevin raced forward and stuck his arm into the shrinking space between the doors. They jerked to a stop and opened.

He got a brief look inside. Two men, one slumped on the floor. The other was tall—huge, really—and coming right for Kevin.

He collided with him and shoved Kevin away from the elevator, ramming him into the opposite wall. Kevin’s head smacked the plaster. He slid to the floor, darkness blurring the edges of his field of vision. The large man returned to the elevator and bent to haul the nearly unconscious man up.

Dylan.

Kevin forced himself to focus on the taller man. His size fit Nelson’s description of the Protector, but not much else. He had dark hair. No ponytail or baseball cap. No goatee. He held a knife to Dylan’s throat.

“Let him go.” Kevin didn’t like the scared sound of his own shaky voice.

The man with the knife stilled. He dropped his hand—and the knife—to his side, then lowered Dylan to the floor beside him.