Into the Night (9 page)

As for Nathan, she could only hope she didn’t run into him again. But if their paths did cross during her investigation of Sloane, she’d just deal with the situation when, and if, it happened.

*   *   *

If waking up to find Nicole had snuck out on him sometime in the early-morning hours wasn’t enough to bruise Nathan’s male ego, then finding her brief message thanking him for a great time only added insult to injury.

After rocking his world last night, more than once, she was gone—and had left him the equivalent of a Dear John note. There was no explanation for her hasty departure, and while he knew every inch of her body intimately, he realized he had no information on how to contact her. No phone number, no e-mail, no home address,
nothing
.

Hell, he didn’t even know her last name.

The only thing he did know about Nicole was she was a writer of some sort, and she’d attended the speed-dating event to research an article about dating trends. But that information was too general to find out who she was, or to track her down. Not without a last name to help his search.

Last night, in the heat of passion, pertinent information about her hadn’t been a concern, mainly because he’d thought this morning they’d have plenty of getting-to-know-you time to exchange those personal details about each other.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t given them the opportunity.

After getting over the initial blow of finding Nicole gone, Nathan took a shower and tried to focus on work and preparing a plan to get close to Preston Sloane. He was determined to write off the entire situation with Nicole as a one-night stand, which had become his regular mode of operation over the years, ever since his downhill spiral after Katie’s death and the loss of his fiancée, Jill, due to his alcohol abuse.

Emotionally, he just wasn’t ready to give any woman what she needed out of a relationship, and he wasn’t sure he ever would be. He’d already failed too many people in his life. He found it much easier to be alone and responsible only for taking care of himself; he didn’t have the worry of disappointing someone he cared about.

Nowadays, hooking up with a female was all about physical pleasure and little else. He didn’t do long-term relationships or emotional involvement, and he was always the one to walk away when things turned too demanding.

He realized Nicole had used his own tactics on him, and he didn’t like being on the other end one bit. He couldn’t remember a woman ever getting under his skin in just one night the way she had. So much about Nicole intrigued Nathan, and he would have bet money she’d felt the same about him—even if she had ditched him before the light of day.

Despite his frustration, he turned his concentration to the Internet and digging up as much information on Sloane as he could find. When he checked his e-mail later that afternoon and discovered a note from Cindy in regards to the speed-dating event, he felt a glimmer of hope that Nicole had checked his name on the scorecard, as he’d done for her.

I’m very sorry. No matches were made.

She was the only woman he’d said yes to, but as he read the generic message blinking on his computer screen, he was forced to accept the fact that she truly didn’t want to be found.

The final rejection stung, more than he cared to admit. But he’d never chased after a woman before, and he wasn’t about to start now. In fact, she’d probably done him a huge favor by ending things so abruptly. With the Ramsey case demanding his undivided attention, and going undercover in the next week or so, the last thing he needed was a hot, sexy female distracting him.

Chapter Six

Nathan spent the next two weeks attending the same social events as Preston Sloane in an attempt to gradually work his way into the other man’s social circle. Because of how personal this case was to Nathan, he was anxious to put an end to the assignment as quickly as possible and return to his job at The Onyx.

Thanks to Lucas Barnes’s unsurpassed skill in creating forgeries of official documents, Nathan now had a new identity as Alex Keller, along with an ironclad background as a wealthy entrepreneur who had just moved to the Vegas area.

To keep in sync with his new affluent persona, Nathan had also endured an image overhaul. Faded jeans and T-shirts were replaced with slacks and designer-label collared shirts. He was now the proud owner of a high-dollar, tailored suit with a collection of designer shirts and ties. His too-long, shaggy hair had been shorn into a short executive cut, and he’d sat through his first-ever manicure to give his hands a polished, rich man’s look.

The best perk of immersing himself into Sloane’s prominent world was the black Ferrari he now drove—a temporary rental car, but a very cool upgrade nonetheless. As Alex Keller, he’d taken on a short-term lease at Turnberry Towers and was currently living in a fully furnished suite. The luxurious condominium building wasn’t the type of place he’d ever choose to live, but all the trappings were necessary to authenticate his new identity and image.

Networking in the same places Sloane frequented had paid off for Nathan. After discovering that Sloane preferred to meet with a personal trainer at a private athletic club for his morning exercise regimen, Nathan had arranged his own workouts to coincide with the other man’s and afterward, in the sauna, had struck up a few casual conversations with him. During those times Nathan had managed to feed the other man information about his lifestyle, as well as drop subtle comments about his interest in the younger teenage girls who frequented the gym, rather than the mature women.

Nathan had also finagled an invitation to an elite, private casino-night party and had played a few games of high-stakes poker with Sloane sitting at the same table. A few times Nathan had deliberately arrived at the same restaurant where Sloan had reservations for lunch or dinner, and made sure he went up to the other man to say hello. Every move Nathan made in regard to Sloane was a calculated attempt to build their acquaintance into a more personal relationship—one that would eventually gain him access to a party at Sloane’s estate so he could locate Angela Ramsey.

Over the past two weeks, Nathan had gotten plenty of face time with Preston Sloane, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to figure out a course of action to gain the man’s trust in a way that would get Nathan what he ultimately wanted. He hoped tonight’s appearance at an art gallery exhibit that Sloane was also attending would finally present him with the opportunity.

He turned into the parking structure for the Ethan Layne Gallery, located downtown in the Las Vegas Arts District, and brought his Ferrari to a stop at the valet. An attendant hurried over to the driver’s side, the eager gleam in the other man’s eyes telling Nathan he was looking forward to getting behind the wheel of such a rare, turbocharged sports car. Nathan tossed the young guy the keys, retrieved his claim ticket, and headed inside the building, where he took the elevator to the fourth floor. The double doors opened directly to the spacious gallery, where tonight’s reception and exhibit was in full swing.

A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne, and Nathan took one of the crystal flutes to sip on while he mingled with the crowd, pretended interest in the framed, black-and-white photography artwork on the walls, and kept an eye out for Preston Sloane. Husky feminine laughter caught his attention, and he turned his head to see a young woman with long, wavy brunette hair, exotic dark brown eyes, and a willowy body draped in a black silk dress.

He immediately recognized her as Stephanie Diaz, the pretty, up-and-coming nineteen-year-old artist whose photography was on display tonight. After a bit of digging, Nathan had discovered that Stephanie was linked to Preston Sloane, who’d arranged tonight’s exhibit for her with his very good friend Ethan Layne.

Apparently, the girl had been one of Sloane’s “favorites” for the past few years, and tonight’s reception, teeming with the who’s who of Vegas, was his way of giving Stephanie a jump-start on her career now that she was getting too old for him. From what Nathan knew, the girls Sloane preferred ranged in age from fourteen to eighteen; he either discarded anyone older or—if she was deemed special—made sure her future was secured.

Katie, the girl Nathan had sworn to protect during his time as a vice cop with Las Vegas Metro, hadn’t been as fortunate and had met with a tragic ending to her young life. Chances were that Angela Ramsey and the many other girls who passed through Sloane’s estate home in Summerlin wouldn’t be rewarded with the kind of generosity he had bestowed on Stephanie.

Pushing those dark thoughts out of his mind, Nathan shook off the tension gathering across his shoulders and continued perusing the gallery, the guests, and the artwork on the wall. He had to admit that Stephanie had talent. The black-and-white pictures she’d taken encompassed a wide range of subjects, from landscapes, to nature shots, to portraitures, and with Sloane’s help she’d no doubt achieve success.

As he turned a corner that led to another section of the crowded gallery, he finally caught sight of Preston Sloane standing with two other couples, engaged in a conversation that was occasionally dotted with jovial laughter. For a man in his mid-fifties, Sloane had managed to keep the aging process at bay, most likely with the help of expensive cosmetic procedures. His hair was still thick and dark brown, without a hint of gray or signs of balding. The skin on his face and neck was tanned and taut, and his body was lean and toned, giving the appearance of a man in his thirties.

With so many people around, it was difficult to find an opening with Sloane, and Nathan mulled over the various ways he could steer him away from the other guests for a little one-on-one conversation. Reining in his impatience, he took a small drink of his champagne and pretended interest in the photograph of the Nevada desert on the wall in front of him before moving on to the next picture.

That’s when he saw the girl across the room, slightly turned away from him as she took in the artwork on display. In a sea of women decked out in sophisticated, designer outfits, she stood out like a breath of fresh air in her simple white summer dress. The hem, ending modestly just below the knee, was trimmed with floral cutouts, a pale pink ribbon cinched her small waist, and a sparkly pink headband in her blond hair completed the outfit.

He could only see the soft lines of her profile, but he pegged her age at around sixteen. She was the first young girl he’d seen tonight and he wondered who she was with. She moved on to another picture, and Nathan noticed that Sloane’s gaze was now following the girl, watching her with the kind of avid, predatory interest that told Nathan this girl had just become new prey for the older man.

Nathan tensed as old, protective instincts surged to the surface, flooding his veins with a rush of adrenaline. Refusing to let the girl become one of Sloane’s casualties under his watch, Nathan circled closer just as Sloane excused himself from his group of friends and started toward the girl, leaving Nathan a good ten paces behind the man. Sloane reached her before Nathan could and said something to her that made the girl turn her head and smile at him.

Instantly recognizing those soft, velvet blue eyes and that pretty feminine face, Nathan jerked to an abrupt stop about five feet away from the couple.

It was Nicole—though a much younger-looking version of the woman who’d blown his mind with a phenomenal night of uninhibited sex.

Shock and disbelief warred within him. He gave his head a hard shake, but the vision of Nicole remained. Gone was the artfully applied makeup she’d worn when he’d first met her, along with her sexy, tousled hairstyle and head-turning pink dress. In her place was the look of a sweet, fresh-faced, guileless teenager.

No way
.
No fucking way
.

He heard her giggle as Sloane did his best to charm her, much different from the husky, sensual laughter she’d shared with him during their night together. She’d never divulged her age to him, but as an ex-vice cop, he
knew
she wasn’t as young as she looked today. She’d been too sophisticated and experienced with him, and no one under the age of twenty-one had been allowed to participate in the speed-dating event.

So what the hell was she doing here? And why was she pretending to be so young? He quickly flipped through his memory, recalling what she’d told him about being a journalist conducting research for an article on dating trends.

So, she was a reporter of some sort. Was she there to interview Stephanie Diaz on her debut at the gallery? If that was the case, Nicole’s youthful appearance and the way she was subtly flirting with Sloane didn’t jive with what he’d expect of a journalist.

Suddenly feeling on edge, he set his half-empty glass of champagne on a passing tray. This whole scenario didn’t sit well with Nathan, and he needed a better handle on the situation and Nicole’s reasons for being here before confronting her. And he
would
confront her, just as soon as he could get her alone.

He casually moved behind the duo so that he wasn’t in their line of vision, but remained close enough to hear their conversation while he stared at another piece of artwork. Sloane was currently complimenting Nicole on how lovely she looked and she ducked her head demurely at his indulgent praise and murmured a bashful “thank you.” Yet another reaction that belied the confident woman he’d met two weeks ago.