Forever Hidden (Forever Bluegrass #2) (20 page)

“Of course.” Ben motioned to the empty chair across from him as he sat down. But Sophie had another idea. As soon as Ben sat, she took her seat . . . in his lap. The man was obviously surprised but was too nice to say anything.

“So, what brings you to Keeneston?” Sophie asked as she looped her hands around the man’s neck.

“I’m starting a new job this weekend. In fact, that’s what I’m doing here. I’m getting ready to meet the man I’m replacing. Are you all right? Do you need any assistance?” he asked.

“You know, I do. And I have the perfect idea for how you can help me.”

The man took her meaning at once and smiled kindly at her. “I don’t think I can be that kind of assistance for you.”

“Why not?” Sophie asked as she trailed a finger down the man’s chest. “Are you gay?”

“No, not gay.”

“Married?”

“Not technically.”

Sophie pouted. “So you have a girlfriend?”

The man shook his head. “No girlfriend.”

“Then I don’t see the problem.” Sophie smiled.

“Ah, Miss Sophie, I see you’ve met my replacement,” an older man’s voice said from the door to the café.

“Holy—” Sydney gasped along with everyone in the café.

“Shit.” Sophie finished what her friend had started as she looked up into the kind old face of Father James. Father James grinned at her as he walked over to the table. Sophie looked between him and the man whose lap she was sitting on. “Replacement?” she stammered.

“That’s right. I start this Sunday,” Ben, rather, Father Jacobs said.

Sophie jumped up so fast that she would have fallen backward had Father Jacobs not caught her. “I’m going to hell.”

Ben smiled kindly at her. “No, you’re not. At least, not for hitting on a priest. Do you need a ride home, Miss Davies?”

Sophie shook her head as she looked at the clock on the wall. “No, thank you, Father. I have to catch a flight. Um, sorry about that. I’m not normally like that. It’s just that I haven’t had sex in a while and then Nash . . .” Sophie snapped her mouth shut. She was in the Blossom Café, not the confessional.

“Ben is fine," the young priest assured her. "And I’m sorry there seems to be a personal issue upsetting you. You’re always welcome to stop by to talk if you need to. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

Sydney took mercy on her cousin and leapt up. “Look at the time! We need to be going. Father, Ben, um, I’m Sydney Davies, and that’s Sienna Parker, Layne Davies, and Piper Davies. We’ll see you around. Welcome to Keeneston.”

And in a flash, Sydney and her cousins had Sophie bundled up and out the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Deacon had spent the next day with Zain going over the details of their cover. Nabi’s men had given them a notebook full of pictures, facts on the people involved, and a map to each party. On the other hand, Sydney had spent all day finalizing her outfit and sending anonymous tips to the media about coming out of retirement. She had planted leaks about who was escorting her: all the way from Hollywood’s sexiest star to the quarterback who would be playing in the big game that night. Syd sat quietly in her living room, tweeting and submitting these anonymous tips as she listened to Deacon and Zain. Every now and then, she would give her advice to the men. But as the night grew dark, the only unanswered question had been how to keep Sydney close without drawing attention.

Sydney had smiled and turned her phone for them to see. The gossip sites were all trying to figure out who her date for the evening was and what her new look would be. Sydney had been notoriously private as a model and now her long bleached-blond hair had grown out to her natural golden blond. Her curves were more pronounced, and instead of the natural makeup that made her look fresh-faced, she was going to look shocking in bright red lipstick. On top of that, she had been seen in nothing but business attire for years now.

“It’s easy. Zain will be my date. Who better than a prince to escort me? Then after the first party, his bad influence of a friend can show up and try to hit on me,” Sydney had winked.

And that was the plan they went with. The group reviewed the cover story as they drove to Indianapolis. After arriving at the hotel, Deacon and Zain had quickly donned their tuxedos for a series of dinners with politicians. Sydney came out of the bathroom in a bathrobe with her hair pinned up to say goodbye to them.

“You two behave. Find out everything you can, and let me know if you find Bailey. I’ll meet you back here in three hours. Hopefully, I’ll be ready by then.” Sydney smiled as she leaned forward and gave Zain a quick hug.

“You need three hours to get ready?” Deacon asked.

Sydney leveled him with a glare. “No, it usually takes four. But someone made us late.”

Deacon grinned. He’d done that, and he didn’t feel one bit guilty about it either. “You’re beautiful already. Stay in here with the door locked. There’s security outside if you need anything.”

Deacon pulled Sydney into his arms and kissed her goodbye. She might be on Zain’s arm tonight, but it was him she was kissing. Deacon couldn’t wait for this to be over so he could do a little more kissing afterward—naked kissing. However, right now Zain was tapping his Italian leather-covered toe impatiently.

“I’ll see you soon. Text me if you need anything,” Deacon said as he pulled away from Sydney.

“I will. I love you. Be safe.” Sydney smiled tightly at them as they followed a horde of security guards who were under Nabi’s orders to protect them at all costs.

Deacon opened the digital file for the first party as soon as they were ensconced in the limousine. Senator Albert Bucks, the five-term senator from Indiana, was hosting the first party. He had cleared the background check with only the normal political skeletons in his closet—bribery, prostitutes, and corruption. The party was for high-ranking Indiana politicians: the governor, the mayor of Indianapolis, the other US senator, and the congressmen from their state. And of course, the politicians were surrounded by their allies and
yes men
.

“This isn’t my area of expertise, but nothing really sticks out to me here. What should I be looking for?” Deacon asked Zain as they drove toward the restaurant.

“Nothing in particular. Just the usual. Politics is all about power. There are some good people who really want to change the world for the better. But the dark side of politics usually beats them down. Look closely at their dates. Lots of times they tell their wives it’s a men-only party. Or if their wives are back in DC, they will bring their ‘secretary’ or maybe an ‘aide’ or ‘intern.’ If they say it with a wink, then you know they’re prostitutes. The high-priced escorts who aren't being forced into these situations will take every opportunity to talk down the cheap, unprofessional girls that are likely being forced into the line of business. They take their jobs seriously, and getting rid of the competition increases their own bookings,” Zain explained.

Deacon took a moment to really look at Zain. His face was impassive, but there were tight lines around his mouth and eyes. He hated this. “You don’t like politics, do you?”

“Despise it,” Zain answered quickly.

“Then why are you a diplomat for your uncle and father?”

“Because I’m one of those who still thinks he can make the world a better place. Stupid, isn’t it?”

Deacon shook his head. “No. It’s not. Maybe the better question is, how do you know so much about high-priced escorts?” Deacon teased.

Zain finally smiled. “Some of them are really nice. Some of the women are trying to save money to pay for school or to pay off student loans. Some really enjoy it and would have gone into politics if they could. But it’s such an old-boys club that it’s hard for someone new to break into. However, their dates don’t realize this and usually talk freely around them. I’m nice to them, and they trust me. I learned a lot about what was going on in politics from them. Plus they don’t hit on me, aren’t trying to become a princess, and generally don’t give a shit who I am. They are surprised and relieved when I’m a nice person.”

“You’ve hired them before, haven’t you?” Deacon asked with surprise.

Zain grinned. “I don’t need to hire women for sex.”

“Not for sex but as a professional date for all these dinners.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret. I bring my advisor for foreign affairs to these things. We’re a good team. Plus, she’s a lesbian. I take her with me when I need a date, and she brings back all the information from the ladies’ room. You won’t believe what they talk about in there.”

The limousine came to a stop before Deacon could crack one of the greatest mysteries in the world. The door was opened, and Zain climbed smoothly out into the flashing lights of cameras. He buttoned his tuxedo jacket and smiled as the journalists tossed out questions.

“Your Highness, what are you hoping to accomplish with the international summit you’re hosting this summer?” a reporter asked as a microphone was shoved forward.

Zain turned to the reporter and gave a nod of acknowledgment. “I’m hoping that with open discussion among several world leaders, we can find a way to work together to support each country facing troubles stemming from infectious disease outbreaks, health crises, and cyber attacks. While it seems some of those issues are the problems of one country alone, in fact they are global, and we need to find a way to put aside geopolitical tensions so we can be better prepared to secure and help those citizens and leaders who require assistance. That can’t happen until we’re in the same room together,” Zain said with a slight smile before moving on to the next reporter.

Deacon fell back into the pack of assistants and bodyguards as the politicians moved down press row, each eating up the limelight, except for Zain. While he appeared calm and collected, he was clearly not getting off on the attention like some of the others were. Especially when the third reporter in a row asked about his personal life.

Zain smiled mysteriously in reply to the question and fueled rumors by saying they may find out later tonight. Deacon had to take a deep breath as he walked through security and into the private room at the restaurant. The media would be all over Zain and Sydney later. It made it easier, knowing them both as he did. He trusted Zain and he trusted Sydney. However, it would still be hard to watch when all Deacon wanted to do was shout his love for Sydney for all to hear and claim her as his. But that could wait. He didn’t know how he hit the jackpot of earning Sydney’s love, but right now he needed to focus on Bailey. After that there would be plenty he and Sydney had to work out before they could continue on as a couple.

The room Deacon entered was full of cigar smoke, deep chuckles, and high-pitched giggles. Considering most of the men in the room were over fifty-five and all of the women in the room were in their early twenties, Deacon guessed Zain had read the situation correctly. There wasn’t a wife to be found in the room. He was sure the girls had arrived early and had slipped in through the kitchen.

A moment after entering the room, Zain came to a stop beside him. He casually looked over the guests as he picked up a drink from the tray circulating around the tables. “They’re all escorts,” Zain said before taking a sip of his drink.

“I guessed that,” Deacon said dryly. “Know any of them?”

Zain nodded right before a pretty woman disengaged herself from an older man and sauntered over to them.

“Zain,” she smiled before placing a kiss on his cheek. “It’s good to see you again. Who’s your friend?” the brunette bombshell asked. She was dressed conservatively. They all were, but it was the way she carried herself with a quiet confidence that was the reason most of the eyes in the room were on her.

“Jessica.” Zain smiled as the woman smacked him on the arm.

“Don’t say that too loud. I don’t want these old goats to know my real name. You and your mysterious network—I still don’t know how you found out my name,” she said as she looked cautiously at Deacon.

“Don’t worry,” Zain said softly, “he’s with me. Jessica, meet Deacon McKnight, a PI from Atlanta. But tonight he’s like you, undercover. Call him Dean. Deacon, this is Jessica Samburg, tonight known as Jackie. She’s a third-year law student at Georgetown.”

Deacon held out his hand, and she shook it, looking relieved. “Well, Dean, what brings you by tonight?”

“We’re looking for a girl,” Deacon said softly as some of the men started inching closer. “An eighteen-year-old girl named Bailey. A man named Vic, who claims to be a modeling scout, convinced her to leave her mother so he could make her famous. We have reason to believe she’s at the game, and we’re trying to find her.”

Jessica shook her head. “You think she was trafficked?”

Deacon nodded.

“She’s not here. I know that. High-priced or low-priced?”

“We don’t know for sure, but there’s a private party later tonight Barrett Bischoff is hosting. A party that cost me fifty grand to get into with supposedly high-class entertainment,” Zain explained.

Jessica made a sound of disgust. “Barrett is sickening. He thinks women are objects made to please him. None of the women I know will accept jobs from him anymore. He’s too rough and doesn’t know the meaning of the word
no
. It’s a good place to look for her. Let me check in with some of my sources, and I’ll let you know in a couple minutes.”

Jessica sent them a wink and then turned to schmooze her way through the crowd. Deacon kept an eye on her as Zain introduced him to politician after politician. Ten minutes later, Jessica and some of the girls excused themselves to powder their noses.

“I’m a big supporter of the oil business,” a politician Deacon had met droned on. “We could be of mutual help to one another if you have anything that needs to get a vote through. I have an election coming up next term.”

Deacon saw Jessica come back out and smile at him. He turned his attention to the politician he remembered seeing on the news talking about the evils of oil just last week and smiled. “We’ll talk later. For now, I see something a lot more interesting than oil.” With a wink, Deacon headed over to Jessica.

“How do you tolerate these idiots?” he whispered, causing her to laugh.

“You get used to it. It’s just a big production. You fluff their ego, and they pay for you to go to law school. Plus, they won’t be able to turn me down when I ask for a recommendation for a clerkship on the Supreme Court. Oh, they’ll huff and puff when they find out there's blackmail involved, but knowing they’ll cave is what puts a smile on my face,” Jessica said so innocently that Deacon chuckled behind the glass of bourbon he pretended to drink.

“So your girl, we don’t know if it’s her specifically, but the rumor is that this Vic character is trouble. Plenty of our girls have been approached by him to become a model. One went with him, and the last time anyone saw her was in a mug shot in the paper for prostitution. That’s the trouble with trafficking. The victims are often arrested, and the officers look no further.”

Deacon nodded. “That’s what I found, too. It’s also a way the traffickers manipulate the girls into staying put.”

“We found out he has a new batch of models with him tonight. Good luck. I hope you find her,” Jessica said before placing a kiss on his cheek. “You and Zain are the good ones. Senator,” Jessica said loudly as she beamed a killer smile at the man who had been making his way toward them. “I was just saying how amazingly sexy your filibuster was.”

Deacon watched as Jessica slid her hand down the senator’s arm and walked away. Zain approached with his still full drink and watched as Jessica focused all her attention on the older man.

Deacon filled him in on what Jessica had told him. Zain handed his glass to a waiter walking by. “We’ve found out enough here; let’s hit the other parties.”

An hour and a half later, Deacon had lost all hope in politicians. Their spouses, however, were a barrel of information. Zain had learned from the wives that a junior congressman, who got elected by his daddy’s famous last name, was going to a private party later. Deacon stood nearby talking to the husband of a congresswoman as he heard the women confiding in Zain.