Into the Night (14 page)

A few minutes later he disconnected the call, clipped his cell phone to the waistband of his jeans, and strolled into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she said, greeting him with a smile while trying to gauge his mood.

“Morning.” Seemingly less on edge than when they’d parted ways the previous evening, he headed straight for the pot of coffee and poured himself a cup, keeping it straight-up black. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“Sure.” Her dinner last night had consisted of a few hors d’oeuvres at the art gallery, and she was definitely hungry this morning. “What’s on the menu?”

“How about an omelet?” he suggested.

“Only if you’re making it.” Honestly, she hated to cook and would rather have a bowl of cereal than labor over a stove.

When he glanced her way, she caught a glimpse of humor in his eyes. “Ham and cheese okay?”

“That sounds great.” Glad to see that the strain between them had eased, she leaned a hip against the counter opposite him as he crossed the kitchen toward the stainless-steel refrigerator.

Wrapping her hands around her warm mug, she sipped her coffee and watched as he diced up some ham and began frying it in a pan on the stove. He cracked the eggs with one hand, dumped the contents into a bowl, and whipped the yolks into a creamy, frothy consistency. He looked so relaxed and self-assured, and she had to admit that there was something incredibly sexy about a man who knew his way around a kitchen.

“Sit down,” he said, as he finished making her omelet and topped it off with shredded cheese.

She slid onto one of the bar stools at the granite counter overlooking the kitchen, and he placed a fragrant breakfast in front of her. Taking a bite of the savory egg, ham, and cheese, she gave a small groan of appreciation; it was delicious.

He grinned and turned back to the stove to make his own meal.

“I’m impressed,” she said, meaning it. The omelet was better than any she’d ever had at a restaurant.

“Why?” He cast a quick, amused glance over his shoulder as he poured another round of the beaten eggs into a hot pan. “Because I can cook?”

“Yes, and do it well.” She scooped up another forkful of the omelet. “Most bachelors I know are fast-food junkies.”

He added chunks of fried ham and bits of cheese to the mixture and shrugged. “Actually, I really like to cook.”

Smiling, she took a drink of her coffee. “Does that have anything to do with you growing up with three older sisters?”

His chuckle was deep and warm. “Yeah, I guess it does. My oldest sister especially, who always managed to rope me into helping her in the kitchen while she tried new recipes for the family. She’d put me to work cutting up vegetables or stirring sauces, and taught me what spices and seasonings to use in what dishes. Cooking with her was fun and I enjoyed it.” After flipping the omelet, he glanced over his shoulder at her. “That sister is now a sous chef at a five-star restaurant in San Francisco.”

“Did she make you wear an apron when you cooked?” she teased.

He slid his breakfast onto a plate, grabbed a fork from a nearby drawer, and gave her a mock reproving look. “She might have suggested it, but real men don’t wear aprons.”

She laughed, having fun with their light, playful banter, which reminded her of their flirtatious exchanges the night they’d met—before everything between them had turned so serious. “Of course they don’t.” And she knew for a fact that Nathan was 100 percent male, every lean, hard inch of him.

Finished with her breakfast, she set her utensils on her dish and took another drink of her coffee before turning the conversation to their business arrangement. “I heard my name being dropped while you were on the phone earlier. Who were you talking to?” Considering the bargain they’d struck to work together as a team, she had a right to know.

He didn’t hesitate with his answer, proving to Nicole that he wasn’t trying to hide anything from her. “That was my boss, Caleb Roux.”

“Define
boss
. Is this your casino boss or your undercover boss?” She still found those two connections very confusing.

“Both.” He remained on the other side of the counter separating them as he finished his omelet, his gaze suddenly too guarded for her liking. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

She refused to allow him to shut her out when it was imperative she knew everything she was up against. “Then enlighten me, because I need to understand who I’m going undercover with.”

Releasing a deep breath, he set his empty plate in the sink, then grabbed hers and did the same. He pinned her with a direct, uncompromising look. “This is off the record.”

His meaning was clear. Whatever he was about to tell her wasn’t fodder for an article or story. “You have my promise.” As a journalist, she prided herself on being honest and ethical, and her oath to him was no different.

Nathan braced his hands on the edge of the counter across from where Nicole sat at the bar area, knowing he had to trust her with a lot of private information in order for this partnership of theirs to work. He’d received Caleb’s permission earlier to divulge his own involvement with TRG, just as long as Nicole didn’t exploit it.

Ultimately, he chose to believe she wouldn’t betray him, a first step in forging a strong alliance between them. “Caleb is the operations manager at The Onyx, but he’s also the head of a private organization called The Reliance Group, and that’s where the undercover work comes in.”

She tipped her head to the side, her expression intrigued by what he’d just disclosed. “What, exactly, does The Reliance Group do?”

“TRG is a private organization that takes on complicated cases other agencies won’t get involved with for various reasons,” he explained. “Such as the situation with Angela Ramsey and Preston Sloane.”

“I thought Angela was a runaway,” she said, her tone confused. “Or did Sloane kidnap the girl?”

He shook his head. “No, she’s classified as a runaway. Honestly, this case would have been much more cut-and-dried if Sloane
had
kidnapped her. At least then the police would have reason to arrest him.”

“Right, but Sloane wouldn’t put himself in that position.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” he said, his voice filled with disgust as he refilled his mug with hot coffee. “And unfortunately, the guy doesn’t need to. He has a way of finding young, vulnerable girls and luring them into his world in a way that keeps him completely beyond the law. Which is why no one has been able to nail him yet.”

She was quiet for a moment, seemingly processing everything he’d just told her before speaking again. “Isn’t Angela from Arizona?”

He finished taking a drink of his coffee. “Yes.”

“Your investigation report has her listed as a sixteen-year-old minor,” she replied thoughtfully as she crossed her arms on the counter in front of where she sat. “So why not just place a call to Vegas Metro and let them handle the problem?”

A logical question from a very intelligent woman, he mused. “Angela’s parents tried doing exactly that after their PI tracked her here to Vegas and Sloane’s estate in Summerlin. The police paid a visit to Sloane’s place, but didn’t find Angela.

“Then there’s the added complication that according to Nevada state law, since Angela is sixteen years old, she’s legally the age of consent as far as any sexual activity is concerned,” he continued, both frustrated and outraged by that particular law, especially in a city where sexual corruption ran rampant. “So even if she is having sex with Sloane, it’s not a crime.”

“But harboring a runaway is, no matter the age of consent,” she countered, obviously familiar with the statutes.

“There’s absolutely no proof that he’s holding Angela against her will, which is why Nevada authorities aren’t doing anything more about the case,” he said. “The police didn’t find any evidence that Angela was at, or had been at, Sloane’s estate, and it’s the perfect excuse for them to quietly sweep the whole incident under the carpet. Which is why Tom Ramsey contacted TRG to track his daughter down and get her safely back home.”

She nodded in understanding. “Well, we have the private party with Sloane tomorrow night, which will hopefully give us the chance to see if Angela is at the nightclub. If not, I can give Sloane a call and set up a time to go and see his artwork collection, and use that as a way of getting into his estate and finding Angela.”

“You’re not going near Sloane without me.
Period
.” The thought of anything happening to Nicole on his watch made his stomach churn. “We’re doing this
my
way, remember?”

She sighed, but didn’t bristle under his demand. “Yes, I remember.”

“Good. We really need to be careful how we handle this mission. Right now, we have no idea if this is going to be a hostile rescue or if Angela is going to cooperate with us.” Not to mention Angela’s mental well-being if she’d been influenced to stay through brainwashing techniques or strong-arm tactics, or even drugs. There were so many unknowns, which made this situation an unpredictable one.

Leaving the kitchen, he headed into the living room and grabbed the case file before returning to where Nicole was sitting. He sat down on the bar stool next to hers, and set the folder—now fatter than when she’d found it a few weeks ago—on the counter in front of her.

“I know you’re familiar with the details of this case,” he said, referring to the confidential material she’d pilfered the night they’d met. “But here’s the file now that it’s been updated with recent information on Sloane. You also need to take a good look at Angela’s photo so we can single her out at the nightclub tomorrow if she’s there.”

Nodding, Nicole opened the folder and studied the attached high school picture of Angela, then moved on to the other information Caleb had accumulated on the case, while Nathan tried not to think about the huge mistakes the young girl had made. First, running away from the security of home and parents who loved her. And second, trusting someone like Preston Sloane, even for a second.

At sixteen, Angela was still a baby, a spoiled kid who had so much growing up to do. A teenage girl who believed there was something better and more exciting to life than the rules she was expected to abide by at home. And predatory men like Sloane knew exactly how to take advantage of that innocence.

Nathan scrubbed a hand along his jaw, knowing that the girl had been gone long enough for Sloane to have completely immersed her in his world, and that included drugs, alcohol, and other forms of physical and mental control. Most likely, she’d been sexually exploited, emotionally manipulated, and they had to find her before Sloane passed her off to someone else—or worse, decided he was done with her and dropped her off on the streets to fend for herself.

Nathan knew exactly what would happen after that. He only had to think of Katie, and the way Sloane had used her, discarded her, and left her with only the option of turning to the cruel, unforgiving life of street prostitution.

Ultimately, she’d ended up dead.

He couldn’t go through a scenario like that again, and the thought was enough to make Nathan feel nauseous. And now he wasn’t responsible for just one civilian life, but two. Not only was he expected to rescue Angela, but he had to make sure that he protected Nicole, as well.

There was so much riding on this mission, and this time he prayed he wouldn’t let anyone down. Himself included.

Chapter Nine

After a busy day spent prepping for tomorrow night’s appearance at Sloane’s club and discussing all the possible scenarios that could come up once they arrived, Nicole was ready to help Nathan find Angela and save at least one girl from making the biggest mistake of her life. And if she was able to get a story out of the recovery mission, all the better, to her way of thinking.

That afternoon, at her request, Nathan had driven her to Forever 21, a trendy store that catered to the fashion sense of teenage girls. She’d bought a fitted black lace tank top and a cute purple ruffled miniskirt that the salesgirl had promised her was all the rage. She’d found a pair of black strappy platform wedge shoes to complete the outfit and also purchased a sparkly black-and-silver butterfly necklace and matching earrings. The ensemble was casual, but fresh and flirty enough to give her the impression of being a teen—and attract Sloane’s attention in the process.

While they were out, the two of them stopped at an Italian restaurant for a light dinner, and once they returned to Nathan’s place, he’d announced he was heading downstairs to the fitness center to work out. She changed into her PJs, then settled on the couch in front of the windows overlooking the Strip and fired up her laptop to get some work done while he was gone.

She checked and answered her e-mail, visited her favorite blogs on the Internet, and eventually logged in to her online dating account at CupidsArrow.com to see if she had any hits. There were eleven messages awaiting her response, notes from men who were interested in contacting her based on the information she’d typed into her profile and a compatibility test she’d taken when she joined. She began checking out their profiles in turn, knowing the next step in researching her article was to set up a chat with a guy she found suitable to her tastes and personality to get to know him better.

Unfortunately, the only man she was remotely interested in was Nathan, who returned from the gym nearly two hours later. Despite being completely drenched in sweat, he looked incredibly hot and sexy in a fitted T-shirt and cotton shorts, his body all buffed from lifting weights. He disappeared into his room, closed the door, and she heard the shower turn on a few minutes later, which prompted all kinds of wicked, naughty fantasies of him completely naked and water sluicing down all those taut, sleek muscles of his.