Wicked Games (McCade Brothers 1.50)

He stifled a curse, and the urge to text back a pissy “Would I have asked if she was with me?” Instead, he typed, No. See her?

It took a few moments, but Trevor came back with No.

The breath he didn’t realize he held drained out of him like a slow leak. Dammit. He had a bad feeling.

His partner texted again, in his annoying thirteen-year-old-girl style. U let her shake u? Not smart.

No kidding. Don’t move, he typed. I’m coming to you.

Impatience built as he shouldered his way to the bar. Just walking from A to B constituted a full-contact sport. He endured more than a few elbows to his ribs, high heels trampling his toes, a half-dozen ass grabs, and one anonymous hand of undetermined gender groping his crotch.

Finally, he shoved through to where Trevor stood scanning the crowd.

“Spotted her?” Stupid question, Ian knew, because he couldn’t see her, and Trevor was only a couple inches taller. His view wouldn’t be materially different.

“No. But don’t worry yet. Kylie went to the ladies’ room with Lee Ann and Ginger. They probably ran into her there.”

His nerves jittered. “Text her and find out.”

Now Trevor turned and looked at him. “She doesn’t have her phone.”

“What?” True, Stacy hadn’t been carrying hers either, but Kylie was the responsible twin.

“You saw what she’s wearing. You think she’s got a BlackBerry built into her shoe?”

“I was hoping.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble. I don’t suppose Stacy told you what she did on her way in to the party?”

The bad feeling came back. Stronger. “She said something about handling her pen pal.”

“She scooped him. He threatened to reveal that she used to strip for a living. Stacy decided to break the news herself, so she rolled out of the limo this evening and held herself a press conference, during which she mentioned she’d spent two years dancing at Deuces.”

He actually felt the color drain out of his face. “Holy shit. Exactly why am I not supposed to be worried yet?”

Trevor shrugged, but returned to inspecting the crowd. “She could be right. Now that he’s got no hammer to hold over her, he’ll lose interest.”

“Maybe. Or could be he’ll choose a more direct method of forcing her out of the picture?” He took a deep breath and realized her smell lingered on him like a ghost. The thought sent sharp claws skittering up his spine. “He could move in for the kill tonight—literally—and nobody would realize anything had happened until…” The rest of the words hung there, unspoken…until it was too late. Adrenaline surged through his bloodstream, making it impossible to stand still. “You stay here. I’m going to circle over to the restrooms, see if I can catch them and find out if Stacy’s with them—”

“Hold up, Detective,” Trevor slapped a restraining hand to Ian’s chest. “They could be headed back here as we speak.”

“If they’re on their way back to the bar, I’ll intercept them.”

“Doubtful. Intercepting anyone in this crowd would be like finding a needle in a haystack. You’ll just end up passing them, and then having to make your way right back here. Stay put until they come back. If Stacy’s with them, great. If she’s not, then we’ll break the club down into three zones, fan out, and conduct a logical, methodical search.”

He knew Trevor’s approach made sense, and going off half-cocked on a solo search amounted to a giant waste of time and energy, but standing there, waiting, taxed his patience.

After an eternity he saw the pointy top of Ginger’s witch hat cut through the crowd and come their way. Kylie followed, then Lee Ann, and then…nobody. He wanted to put his fist through the bar. Trevor aimed a warning glance at him and turned to Kylie. “Have you seen Stacy?”

Kylie’s big blue eyes shifted to Ian and widened. “I saw her with you. I watched you two leave the stage together.”

He pretty much had to read her lips. Trevor’s low voice carried decently well over the noise of the club, but Kylie’s lighter, higher tone got lost in the din.

“They got separated,” Trevor offered, diplomatically succinct.

“She’s got to be here. She wouldn’t leave without telling me.”

Yeah. Not willingly. Kylie’s expression assured him there was at least one person in the club as anxious about Stacy being MIA as he was, but he didn’t take any comfort in the realization.