The Ambush

  A silver Lamborghini with blue running lights peeled away from the corner curb.

  A couple argued over directions.

  A bachelorette party charged unsteadily toward a near-by nightclub.

  The hotel driveway yielded no result, and I could follow up with the valets, but I doubted she'd gone that way. The long stretch of sidewalk in the other direction was empty besides a line of yellow cabs. That was the direction we'd been facing when Leighton disappeared.

  I turned toward the hotel lobby. Maybe Leighton had slipped back inside and was already causing another scene in the hotel bar. Before I could check the bar, however, I saw Devlin charging for the desk already yelling at the desk clerk, demanding to see the hotel security footage.

  “Do you know who I am? Do you know who she is?” Devlin asked. He sounded pissed off and rude, but I could hear the undercurrent of fear in his voice. “Half the guests who stay here are on my payroll, so get me your head of security, your manager, your goddamn mother if that's who can show me those tapes.”

  “Sir, I can't do that,” the desk clerk squeaked. His eyes were wide, face pale.

  The burly security guard who'd escorted Leighton downstairs earlier that evening appeared next to Devlin and the desk clerk breathed a sigh of relief as he scampered away. Devlin spun away from the pair and turned on me.

  “All your training, all those honors the army gave you, all that combat experience, and you can't keep track of one spoiled girl?! It's not like she was at a rave or a rock concert. You lost her during a fucking family dinner!”

  I kept my voice low and even, despite everything I was feeling. “Sir, I will find her. She can't have gone far.”

  “Leighton has money,” Devlin snapped. “She could be on a plane to Thailand now if she wanted.” He pulled out his phone and sent a series of furious messages.

  I assumed he was freezing her accounts, or at least hoped that's what he was doing. The best way to get Leighton back was to make sure she didn't have the resources to go far.

  “Someone will spot her soon,” Devlin said. He seemed to be regaining control. “My granddaughter's not really the low profile type.”

  He'd contacted his network of people in the city, I realized. That was good. If someone saw her, they'd let Devlin know and I could go after her.

  It seemed safe to speak again. “She might still be in the hotel, sir.”

  “I hope you're right.” The lines on Devlin's face suddenly looked more pronounced. “The only other alternatives are...worrying.”

  Worrying wasn't the word I would've used. If Leighton hadn't come back into the hotel, the only alternatives were she'd run away or she'd been taken. I could feel the worry weighing down on Devlin as I laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “Why don't you check the bar, sir, and I'll go up to Ricky's suite. She probably just went straight back to him.” My gut clenched at the thought, aggravated all the more by the fact that I was actually wishing that's what she'd done.

  I stepped into the elevator and held my breath until the doors slid closed. Only then did I let myself close my eyes.

  I should have known, I thought. This was all my fault.

  The truth was, Leighton and I were wrecking balls, causing damage if we swung toward each other or away. I thought of the last time we'd collided, in the sun-drenched guest apartment above the beach house garage. Leighton's bare skin like cream against the white sheets, our bodies fitting so perfectly together that I'd known I was lost.

  When she'd gone back to Ricky – when I'd practically shoved her back into his arms – I should have focused on protecting her, anticipating any threats to her safety, including her own rash decisions. Instead, I'd let my own feelings drive me away.

  Angry at myself and cursing Leighton's underhanded moves, I strode from the elevator as soon as the doors opened and pounded on the suite door.

  “What in the hell–” Ricky stumbled back as I pushed into the hotel room.

  “Did you know Leighton was leaving? Did she pack a bag?” I asked.

  “Leighton's gone?” Ricky asked. He shook his head. “No, that can't be right. She told me to get dressed. We're going clubbing.”

  I rifled through the dresser in the master bedroom and kicked open Leighton's Louis Vuitton suitcase to find it half-empty. “She took the essentials,” I muttered to myself. “She'll probably just buy new clothes.” I looked at Ricky as he came into the room. “How much cash does she have?”

  “She left me?” Ricky sank onto the king-sized bed. “Why would she leave without telling me?”

  “Doesn't an open relationship work both ways?” I snapped.

  “We stopped that. We were together. Leighton told me she just wanted me.” He pointed to the nightstand, a dazed expression on his face. “I put five hundred dollars cash in there.”

  I yanked open the drawer, wondering how much of Ricky's behavior was genuine and how much was drugs. “It's gone and so is Leighton. Any idea where she'd go? Did she mention anything?”

  “How could she do this to me? I gave up Monaco for her,” he said.

  “You came back and shacked up with Leighton's best friend, Paris, remember?” I straightened, trying to think of where she'd go next.

  “She told you that?” His face was flushed, but I had a feeling it was anger, not embarrassment.

  “She didn't have to.” I pushed him out of the way as Devlin called from the suite's open door. “In here, Devlin. Ricky, was Leighton drunk when she left?”

  Ricky gestured to the room service cart with an unopened bottle of champagne. “No. We, ah, slept all afternoon. I ordered this after she left.”

  “Drugs?” I hated to ask, but I'd seen enough to know it was a possibility.

  Ricky shook his head. “I offered her some E, you know, to get in the mood, but she wouldn't take it.”

  I pushed down the anger burning inside me as I tried to think. She'd used Ricky until I backed off and left hotel security to walk her down. That had allowed her to make a scene outside the hotel restaurant and appear drunk. The loud, drunk Leighton could never slip away unnoticed, and since that was how we'd seen her, she'd been able to disappear.

  “She only pretended to be drunk,” I said to Devlin. “The essentials are gone along with five hundred dollars cash.”

  “Good.” Relief showed on Devlin's face. “At least we know she left and she wasn't taken.”

  “Taken?” Ricky asked.

  Devlin gave Ricky a dismissive look.

  “Never mind that,” Devlin said.

  Ricky punched his phone. “She's not answering my calls. You have to tell me when you find her. I'll wait here in case she comes back.”

  I looked around the luxury suite and fought off the urge to punch Ricky in the face. Instead of rushing out to find his girlfriend, Ricky was opening the bottle of champagne and settling onto the sofa. He was already dialing other numbers, looking, no doubt, for someone to play with. Maybe even Paris.

  Devlin marched out the door, on his phone as well. He seemed better now that he knew Leighton had left under her own free will. Except that didn't necessarily ease my anxiety. Sure, she'd walked out on her own, but what if her stalker had seen her leave by herself? Leighton might've started off intending to disappear on her own, but that might not have been the direction things had ended up going.

  The knot in my chest constricted my breath and I paused to lean on the hotel suite door. Devlin had insisted we keep the threats from Leighton because he hadn't wanted to scare her. Now she was alone in LA, with no idea how much danger she was really facing.

  I had to find her and keep her safe but, more than that, I needed her in my arms again. I'd never be able to live with myself if something happened to her.

  Chapter 14

  Leighton

  I turned away as soon as their attention was on Ian as the cab he was in pulled away from the curb. Both Grandfather and Haze believed I was stumbling drunk, barely able to stand. They'd never think that I could g
et away without them noticing.

  I moved fast, away from them and down the block to the corner. I'd ordered a town car to meet me there, away from the regular line of hotel traffic. I could see the black car waiting at the curb and I started towards it.

  Suddenly, I paused and leaned against the corner of the hotel, second-guessing myself. My plan to run away wasn't exactly well formed even though I had felt the urge for days. I wanted to go where no one knew me, where no one would recognize me as the heiress, the LA party girl, the spoiled brat, the girl with no direction, or the reckless mess. I was sick of how everyone I knew saw me.

  Especially Haze, I thought and my chest burned again.

  I didn't want to think about him, or what he thought of me. I knew it was different than what everyone else thought. He expected more, believed I could do better, be better. Except he didn't understand that what he expected and what I felt weren't the same. I was never going to be anything more than a spoiled rich girl.

  But I didn't want to be her. That was the whole point of this, to get away and start again. Except I now realized that I'd gone into this like I'd gone into everything else in my life. No plan. No real thought. I had five hundred dollars in my pocket and I suddenly realized that I didn't know how to survive on what I'd once considered pocket change. I'd enlisted a town car, but didn't know where I was going to have him take me.

  Further proof that I really was that flighty, flaky heiress who couldn't think her way out of a paper bag.

  Still, if I didn't want to let myself be found, I had to get away from the hotel, away from my grandfather and Haze. Just as I took another step toward the black town car, a silver Lamborghini slid up to the curb.

  “Hey, pretty lady, where's the party?” the driver said.

  I recognized him, I realized with a start. He'd been a top financier for my grandfather's production company and made millions off of an action series that featured a robotic spider spy. He'd been 'let go' for reasons I didn't know. Now all he did was party and spend his money.

  I made what I knew was a rash decision.

  “Anywhere but here.”

  He jumped out of the car and smoothed back his obviously colored dark hair. He was older than me by at least a decade, but handsome. He pushed the car door open for me and gave me a brilliant smile.

  “I don't remember your name,” I admitted.

  “Well, Leighton Machus, I'm crushed.” The tires squealed as we bolted from the curb and I latched my seatbelt. “But I'll get over it. Name's Dean.”

  I didn't ask if that was his first or last name. I didn't care. Through the Lamborghini's tinted windows, I saw Haze's blond head over the crowd. The burning in my chest had to stop. I wanted to forget about Haze and my brother and the entire mess of my life. If I couldn't get a fresh start, I could at least try to forget for a little while.

  “So, Dean, you got anything to drink in this tin can?” I asked.

  He laughed, changed gears, and the sports car leapt forward so fast my head was thrown back in my seat. “Bottle of scotch somewhere around here. Why? You want to party with an old man like me?”

  I grinned at him, an empty smile, but I knew he wouldn't care. “Maybe I need your experience. Don't old men just live to share their wisdom?”

  I fished out the rolling bottle of scotch from the floor of the car. The liquor burned as I swallowed, but I welcomed it. It replaced the other feelings and I turned the bottle back up, drinking more. Dean tore through the LA traffic, alternately gripping the gear shaft and my bare knee. His dark eyes glanced over at me when there was a near miss on the street, and when I didn't flinch, he laughed and slid his hand higher on my thigh.

  “So what wisdom do you need me to impart to you?” Dean asked.

  I cocked my head and gave him a stern look. “Is this all there is?”

  “You mean the scotch or life?” Dean screeched through a red light and up a steep hill to a canyon road.

  “Both.”

  “Well, we can always get another bottle,” Dean said.

  A giggle bubbled up through the warm cloud of the liquor. My head was warm and fuzzy. I liked it.

  “Then drive faster,” I said.

  “Aye aye, captain,” Dean said. He gestured towards the glove box. “Just light up that joint and help me smoke it.”

  I found it easily enough, took a long drag for myself, and then held the joint to Dean's lips so he could smoke while driving. Soon, the inside of the Lamborghini was as hazy as my thoughts. I leaned back in the leather seat and let him navigate the curves. His hot hand ventured from the gear shaft to my inner thigh as often as he could, and I dropped my legs open just to tease him, earning small groans and annoyed sounds.

  “How about we get out of these hills and onto the highway,” he suggested.

  “I'm just along for the ride,” I said flippantly.

  The scotch had warmed me, the marijuana drifted away my worries, and the car took me away from where I didn't want to be. I didn't care where we went or what Dean wanted. I was gone, if only for a while, and that was all that mattered.

  We dropped back onto the Pacific Coast Highway, and when I held the joint to Dean's lips, he kissed my palm before taking a long drag. He wasn't my usual type and I wasn't even sure I found him attractive. But it was as good a way as any to help me forget. I wriggled deeper into the smooth leather seat and let Dean's hand trace up my inner thigh again.

  We were on a smooth stretch of uninterrupted highway, so this time he didn't have to stop. His hand squeezed and then drifted higher, under the hem of my dress. I moaned as he traced a finger over the thin cotton of my panties. I wasn't wet yet, but if he kept that up, I would be soon.

  “You got somewhere you want to get back to?” Dean asked. His finger rubbed around in slow circles as he drove back towards where he'd picked me up.

  “No. Take me with you.” The heat was building in my body, almost blocking out the rest of my tired thoughts.

  “You got it.” He pulled his hand from between my legs as he slammed the car into high gear and flew through the city.

  We arrived at his building a few minutes later. As the elevator doors closed, he took a long drag of the joint and yanked me into his arms, exhaling between my lips during a long, hard kiss. His lips were thin, his mouth tasting of pot and something with garlic. Not exactly the best kiss in the world, but it kept me from thinking, and that was the most important thing.

  When the elevator doors opened, I had to admit that I was impressed. Dean's condo glittered with black marble and stainless steel. Floor to ceiling windows made it feel like there was nothing between us and a dizzy view of LA.

  Dean popped the cork from a bottle of champagne and let it splash into two crystal flutes. He wrapped one arm around my waist as he handed me the fizzing drink and I pressed myself against him. The friction ignited the heat in my body again, but not enough. I needed to forget and this wasn't going to do it.

  I kissed him, the champagne still sparkling in my mouth, and he groaned with pleasure. Both hands were on my waist, rubbing up and down my back, dragging my dress up over the curve of my ass. I felt the cold counter against my skin as he pressed harder into the kiss, one hand sweeping between my thighs.

  “Think you can take me some place good?” I asked.

  His answer was a deep, guttural growl. He lifted me up onto the black marble countertop, and then dropped his head down to kiss my bare thighs. I leaned back on my elbows and let him push my dress up higher.

  “Let's get high, baby.”

  He fumbled open a nearby drawer and took out a small vial of powder. He held it toward me, but I shook my head. Pot, some prescription meds, maybe a little E from time to time, all those were fine, but I stayed away from the hard stuff.

  Before I could sit up, he shook it out onto my thigh and used a business card to scrape it into a line. The snorting inhale tickled me and my laugh ended in a gasp as he buried his head between my legs. His hot breath and the wet rub of his
tongue against my panties finally blasted away all rational thought.

  This...this was what I'd wanted. I closed my eyes and let myself go.

  A bang had me jerking upright, eyes flying open. As I watched, Haze burst into the room.

  “What the hell...”

  “Get off her right now,” Haze said, eyes dark and dangerous.

  “You're dating a fucking action figure?” Dean asked as he sprang back from my open legs. He held up his hands as he back away from me.

  I sat up, yanking my dress down over my thighs. My temper was burning away some of the haze and that just made me angrier. “You're breaking and entering, Haze. You want to get arrested?”

  “Did this man grab you? Did he take you?” Haze asked as he took a step toward Dean. I was pretty sure the other man was going to piss his pants.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Did he kidnap you?” Haze asked.

  “Whoa, no, none of that,” Dean said, his tone almost frantic. “She's a friend. I mean, I know her grandfather. Shit, does that make it worse? Do you work for Devlin?”

  “Shut up, Dean.” I jumped off the counter, cold and angry as I turned on Haze. “Can't I have one moment away from all of that? Can't I have one night where I'm not trapped by him and you?”

  “Who is this guy?” Haze gave Dean a look of pure disgust. “Why are you here with him?”

  I sighed. “He's some guy who worked with my grandfather, like he said. And we were having a little fun. I like to party. I like to have fun. Remember?” My voice was too loud, but I couldn't stop. “I can see you judging me. Is that why Grandfather hired you, so you could walk around embarrassing me and judging me?”

  Haze's voice was flat, unemotional. “I'm here to make sure you're okay, to get you home safe.”

  I knew there was no use arguing with him. He did what he was told, like a good little soldier. Dean wouldn't stand up for me, wouldn't make Haze go away. He was a coward. Haze wasn't a coward. He wasn't afraid of anything. Hell, he didn't feel anything.