Wilde at Heart (21 page)

She was definitely running. But from what?

And wasn’t it interesting that she always chose nature-themed names? Made him suspect her real name was something similar, except nobody matching her description with a nature-themed name had been reported missing five years ago, which was when “Violet Smith” miraculously rose from the dead and got a job waitressing at a topless bar in New York City. And he was positive Violet had been her first alias, because he couldn’t trace her beyond that.

As far as her financials, he came up empty. She never used bank accounts, even when she was settled into her life as Lark Warren. If she was smart—and he thought she was—she probably kept her money close at hand for an easy getaway. She didn’t have any loans or credit cards, and her twelve-year-old car had been sold to a chop shop before she left town.

Brick wall.

Reece was so wrapped up in the puzzle of Lark Warren, he didn’t hear Vaughn enter his office until his brother sat down in the creaky chair next to his desk.

“Lark?” Vaughn asked, picking up the printouts of the new identities he’d uncovered.

“Yeah.” He pushed back from his desk and rolled his head around, cracking his neck. He’d been hunched over the computer for too long. “Vaughn, man, she doesn’t want to be found. Maybe it’s time to drop it.”

“No.” Vaughn folded the printouts and slid them into his pocket.

“All right. It’s your call, but I really think you should let her go.” When he only received a dark scowl in reply, he shook his head and changed topics. “You wanted to talk to me about the fire at The Bean Gallery?”

Vaughn settled back in his seat and folded his hands over his abs. “I looked into it like you wanted. I assume you’ve known all along that Shelby owned the place?”

“Yeah, I knew.”

“Blows my fucking mind, but figured as much. It went down about like the arson investigator said. Molotov cocktail through the front window. There might have been a little something extra in the mix to give it some oomph, because the place barbecued fast. But of course you already know that because you were there, you sneaky bastard. Here’s the weird thing. Security cameras monitored the store, and the fire never reached the back office so the computers were salvageable. Everything was there, employee schedules, financial information—and surprisingly Shelby was making a solid profit—but the security footage was missing.”

“But Shelby and I were the only two people there before the fire and neither of us touched the computer.” A ripple chased down Reece’s spine. Excitement, dread. Probably both. His blackmailer had sent him the security footage with the first email. Was it possible Shelby’s fires and his blackmail problem were connected?

“Except,” Vaughn continued, “the footage didn’t disappear until
after
the computer was collected into evidence. The investigators hadn’t even looked at it yet and were all shocked that it was gone.”

“Who would have access besides law enforcement?”

“Nobody.”

Reece sat back in his chair and rubbed at the unshaved stubble on his chin. Why would a cop blackmail him? It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense and he was so fucking tired of having more questions than answers.

“There’s something else,” Vaughn said.

Reece groaned. “There always is.”

“Cam told you about the fire at the house across the street from Eva’s a few years back? I looked into that too. Eva was out of town, and Shelby had just moved in after breaking up with a boyfriend. The guy, Steven Moore, was the number one suspect in that fire. The going theory is he wanted to get back at Shelby for ending things, but flambéed the wrong house. He disappeared shortly afterward and hasn’t been seen since.”

“So he could be behind the Molotov cocktail at The Bean Gallery. And…” His parents’ house, the last link he’d had to them, was gone. His stomach lurched at the reminder and he cleared his throat. “And last night.”

Vaughn inclined his head. “It’s a possibility, if Moore’s back in town.”

“We need to find him.”

Vaughn said nothing for a beat. “I’m not dropping my search for Lark.”

“I didn’t say you have to. But, man, I seriously need your help right now. If there’s a firebug gunning for Shelby, we need to stop him. She’s escaped two fires already. Odds are not on her side that she’ll escape another.”

Another stretch of silence. Finally, Vaughn nodded and shoved out of his chair. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.”

Vaughn paused at the door and glanced back. “Have you heard from Greer?”

“Nothing. You?”

“Nope.” He scratched at his chin. “I know it’s not the first time he’s pulled a Houdini on us, but…this time feels different. Should we be worried?”

It did feel different. And, yes, his gut told him something was wrong. “I’ll go over to his place when I leave here, look around.”

Vaughn grunted. “I’m going to kick his ass when he turns up.”

“I’d pay to see that. Especially given your recent fashion accessory.”

Vaughn scowled down at his walking cast. “Fucking thing comes off in a week, and then I’m burning it.”

S
ince the twins had the office covered, Reece decided to pack it up and go get some work done at DMW Systems. But, first, a trip to Greer’s place.

Greer lived on the other side of a postage-stamp-sized park out behind the Wilde Security office. It was usually faster to walk over, but the wind had bite today and Reece opted to drive around the block. He pulled into the compl
ex’s parking lot and scanned for Greer’s ten-year-old Jeep Cherokee, but didn’t see it.

Inside, the apartment building was light-years away from his in terms of style. Where his looked like a swanky hotel, Greer’s building opened into a drab corridor with mailboxes on one wall, elevators on another, and stairs in the back. There was also an empty desk, presumably for a security guard, but in all the years Greer had lived in the building, Reece had never seen anyone manning that desk.

Greer lived on the second floor, so Reece didn’t bother waiting for the elevator, which was notoriously slow, and pushed through into the stairwell. He took the steps two at a time and strode to apartment 211, a man on a mission.

His knock received no reply. He waited a moment. Pounded on the door again, harder. Still nothing. Or at least nothing from Greer’s silent apartment. The door across the hall opened, though, and a pretty woman with short dark hair peeked out.

“Sorry to disturb you,” he said gently, not wanting to scare her. “I’m looking for my brother. He lives here. Have you seen him?”

“No,” she said after the briefest of hesitations. “I picked up a package that was left by his door after it had sat there for a week. I thought you were him returning home, was going to give it to you.”

“So he hasn’t been around for a while?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, I usually pass him on the stairs or see him at the mailboxes, but it’s been almost two weeks since the last time I saw him.”

“I’d better take a look around his place.” Reece dug in his coat pocket, found his keys, and searched for the extra Greer had given him. The door opened easily, and he flipped on the light. Nothing moved. The apartment smelled abandoned even though Greer’s few possessions were exactly where they should be. There was food in the cupboards and some leftover Chinese still in the fridge, but he’d bet it was past its best-by date since the milk was also outdated by a few days. The sink was empty, the dishwasher full, but it looked like the dishes inside were clean, so it had been run. There was a blanket wadded up on one end of the couch and a pillow at the other, as if Greer had taken a nap there before he pulled his vanishing act. The bed in the bedroom was made with military precision, and his suitcase from Vegas sat next to the dresser, still packed. A quick scan through the closet didn’t tell Reece much. Greer didn’t have a lot of clothes, but it was impossible to tell if anything was missing when he had no idea how much had been there to start. Only things he didn’t find were Greer’s cell phone and wallet.

He returned to the living room and stood there for a second, at a complete loss. The whole place looked as if Greer would return at any moment. And maybe he would. He had before.

A sound from the door caught his attention and he turned to find Greer’s neighbor standing there. “I brought the package over.” She nodded to the box on the floor just inside the door that appeared to be from an online retailer.

Yet another clue that wherever Greer had gone, he had expected to be back in time to receive whatever he’d ordered online. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She was wearing a huge sweater over leggings and the material swallowed her thin frame as she folded her arms over her chest. “Is he okay?”

“I hope so.” He grabbed his wallet and picked out a business card for her. “If you see him, I’d appreciate a call. My name is Reece.”

“Natalie.” She accepted the card, backed out into the hall, and waited for him to shut and lock the door. “I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

“Thanks, Natalie. And if you happen to talk to him, tell him his brothers are worried.”

Back in the Escalade, he called the office to tell the twins—and Jude, who must have arrived shortly after he left—what he’d found at Greer’s place. Cam suggested they file a missing person’s report, while Jude said they should wait. After all, Greer was a thirty-five-year-old man and could drop off the face of the earth if he wanted to—and he’d done so before. Multiple times. He’d eventually turn up again, just like the last few times he’d disappeared, and act like he hadn’t been gone. Vaughn agreed with Jude, and it was decided they’d give him a week—the same amount of time he’d been gone before—to show up. If he didn’t, then they’d reevaluate the situation.

Goddamn Greer. None of them needed this stress right now. And from
him
of all people? What the fuck was going on?

Reece barely made it into DMW’s office before he was cornered by Alicia. “What happened to you last night?”

“I wasn’t feeling well—”

“You were caught in a fire?” She all but shrieked it. “It’s all over the news! Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“And Shelby?”

“She’s fine. We’re both…fine.” And let’s see how many more times he could use the word “fine” in a sentence. He edged past Alicia and hit the button to call the elevator. “Is Cliff here?”

Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t usually come in on Saturdays. Why?”

He’d have to call him later, then. The elevator arrived and he stepped inside, pushing the button for the top floor. “Nothing. Where’s Dylan?”

“In your office.”

Reece shot out an arm to catch the door before it closed. “Why?”

She bit her lip. “Irving James is here.”

“On a Saturday? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I was about to. He just got here maybe five, ten minutes ago.”

“Fuck,” he muttered and let the doors slide shut. He hardly recognized the man he saw in the reflection on the polished steel doors. He looked like he’d been dragged through hell. He rubbed his hands over his unshaven face and through his hair, trying to tame it.

Jesus, he wasn’t even wearing a tie. How could he have forgotten a tie?

He found Dylan and James seated in the leather chairs in his office, deep in discussion. Dylan did a double take when he spotted him.

“Reece! I wasn’t expecting you in today. You should be home.”

“I’m fine.” And there was that word again. He needed to come up with a better adjective. He plastered on a smile and strode toward James, hand outstretched. “I’m sorry I had to leave the party early last night. I wasn’t feeling well.”

He must have looked the part of an ill man, because James used a small bottle of sanitizer after the handshake. “I heard you were also caught in a fire last night?”

He nodded and kept his face calm and pleasant, even as his insides jumped around in complete panic. “At my parents’ house.”

A frown pulled James’s brows into a crease over his eyes. “And didn’t your wife’s coffee shop burn down recently? I seem to remember reading something about it.”

“It did,” he admitted, wincing internally. “But I can assure you, I’ve not let my recent troubles affect DMW Systems.”

“I was just assuring Mr. James as much,” Dylan said smoothly. “We’re still operating full steam ahead, and our profits have never been better.”

James’s lips twisted in distaste. “And as I was telling Mr. Porter, I’d like to have my accountants look through your books before we finalize anything.”

“Absolutely,” Reece said, a spark of hope flaring deep in his chest. He’d been expecting this request, so maybe everything hadn’t been fubar’d yet. “I’ll make it happen.”

“Good.” James relaxed and even smiled. “Now that business is out of the way, I’m attending a charity gala for the Washington National Opera tomorrow night. I’ve heard you’re both WNO patrons. Are you feeling well enough to attend another event? I’d like to introduce you to some of my business partners. The invitation extends to your wives as well.”

Shelby at the opera. That was exactly the situation he’d hoped to avoid putting her in. Damn. But what other choice did he have?

He again forced a smile. “We accept. Gladly.”

Chapter Twenty

S
helby woke to an empty apartment, shocked that Reece was already gone for the day. Was the man a machine? Because he’d taken a category five emotional wallop last night, and no average human withstood that kind of heartache and got up for work the following day. Just wasn’t natural. It hadn’t even been her house and she was sick about its loss, maybe even more so than when she’d lost The Bean Gallery.

Which reminded her. She was going to be late for her meeting with the arson investigators if she didn’t get moving.

The meeting went about as well as she expected, given the fire last night. They told her the security footage had gone missing before anyone had the chance to view it. She told them about Steven and her suspicions that he might have come back to terrorize her, but left off the part about thinking he was dead because The Headhunters had killed him.