She pulled out her phone to make a few notes about the conversation. While she tapped them out and stepped through the front door, she almost bumped into Trevor.
“Ain’t she a piece of work?” Sam’s employee asked.
A mild snort blasted from Sam’s face. “I can handle her.”
“What’s worse? The paranoid mom, or the entitled daughters?”
“Like I said, I can handle her.”
But the “her” on Sam’s mind right now wasn’t Vivianne. She wanted to check in with Bianca. While she wasn’t going to disclose what Vivianne had told her in confidence, she needed to ensure Bianca understood the seriousness of the security situation. I need to make sure we’re on the same page. Especially since I’m practically flying blind. Because no matter how Sam did the math, some things were not adding up.
She attempted to call Bianca to let her know she was dropping back by. As the elevator lurched down one floor, Sam was sent straight to voicemail. Was her phone off? Out of battery?
Instead of calling or texting again, she approached Bianca’s door and knocked. Nothing. She knocked again. A minute later, she buzzed the doorbell. When Bianca didn’t answer, Sam immediately feared the worst.
What if she’s had a—what had Bianca called it? A hypo? Sam almost called Vivianne to bring down the spare key, but as she pulled out her phone again, she realized that was the fastest way to lose Bianca’s trust.
Fortunately, there was another option.
Sam produced the lock-picking kit that never left her pockets, much like her phone and wallet, and got to work. I should talk to Vivianne about how weak these locks are. Anyone could bust this thing in. That went double for someone as skilled as Sam, who had picked up lock-picking in the military on a lark. It had turned out to be a very useful skill as a bodyguard.
She was in Bianca’s apartment in five seconds. “Bianca?” she called. Perhaps her charge was in the shower. Or passed out on the bathroom floor. “Bianca, are you here?”
She better be.Sam should have been the first person to know if Bianca had gone back out for the night. Yet as she swept the rooms of Bianca’s apartment, she found them all empty. Save for the guest bathroom, where a very cranky Spike was hiding, perched at the top of the shower with hackles raised.
He hissed as Sam approached. You’d think he’d be used to me by now. But he still saw her as an intruder.
She left the guest bathroom. No Bianca. No signs of a struggle. No signs of a health malfunction. Of course, there was another possibility.
Bianca had snuck out like a teenager on the lam.
Sam cursed. Bianca was being a bad girl, all right. The only question was, where had she gone?
I’ve got to find her. And give her a piece of my mind.
She entered Bianca’s bedroom. Unlike when they’d arrived home that evening, the bed was now strewn with outfits, as if Bianca had tried on half her closet before heading out. More evidence that she gave me the damned slip.
And all the outfits were the kind of thing a young woman like Bianca would wear on a night out. A party. A trendy bar. A nightclub. Bianca had taunted Sam with the idea of going out dancing earlier that evening. Apparently, she hadn’t been joking.
But Seattle had a crazy number of clubs that could appeal to someone like Bianca. Never mind that she might have gone to a private party. How in the world was Sam supposed to find her? Kidnappers left more evidence.
Sam searched through the clothes, looking for anything that might give away Bianca’s location. Beneath a romper and a silky dress, she unearthed a pair of lacy black panties that were so tiny they could barely be called underwear.
She tossed them aside. As she did, she spotted a piece of paper that had fluttered to the carpet.
Sam snatched it up, unfolding the creases until she discovered a flier advertising ‘Ladies’ Night’ at one of the trendy gay hotspots she had heard about but had never gone to.
The last piece of the puzzle, fallen into place. Some small part of Sam felt satisfaction at the confirmation that Bianca was interested in women after all.
But the rest of her? All it cared about was tracking her charge down and dragging her back home.
Kicking and screaming, if she had to.