Blood & Lace Page 4

  A few months ago, she’d posted several cozy-looking photos with the photographer Karen Kingston had told him about. So far all he’d found on Sebastian was that the man was originally from Brazil and the models he worked with all seemed to enjoy posing intimately with him. From what Gage could tell, the man spent as much time in front of the camera as he did behind it.

  Kingston’s description of him appeared pretty accurate so far.

  He drove to the last known address for Sebastian—a hillside community he knew would have gated access. He hoped Sebastian would have something helpful to say, something he could take to Chloe to appease her concern about her missing sister.

  Pulling up to the gate, he pressed the intercom button and told the guard on duty he was an agent with the FBI and had the necessary credentials should he need to see them.

  “I need to speak with Mr. Sebastian regarding an ongoing investigation,” Gage told the intercom speaker.

  The voice from the intercom told him to hang tight before it went silent for several moments. The wrought iron gate opened slowly, and Gage flashed his badge on his way past a small brick structure.

  The gray-haired guard inside pointed to the right. “Follow the signs to Thirteen Seventy-Seven Meadowbrook Lane. He’s expecting you.”

  Gage nodded and thanked the older gentleman before continuing up the winding roads. When he saw the sign that indicated the addresses between 1000 and 1500 were to the right, he turned and slowed, eyeing the house numbers carefully until he found Paulo’s place.

  “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. The Spanish-style structure could have housed Gage’s entire apartment building. He pulled into the driveway beside a sleek silver Audi convertible and got out of his truck, pocketing his phone while keeping his official ID and badge handy.

  Before he’d made his way to the door, a familiar burgundy Toyota Corolla pulled in behind him.

  Gage stopped and stared as the real-life version of the woman who’d haunted his dreams the night before stepped out of the car.

  Her blond hair was down today, cascading past delicate shoulders that were left bare by a black tank top. One glance and he could see that her legs were even longer than he remembered. Tanned and toned, they taunted him from beneath crisp, white pleated shorts. Gage forced himself to keep his eyes from dropping below her face for more than a split second.

  “What the hell are you doing here? How did you get past the gate?”

  Chloe shrugged and lifted her sunglasses to perch them atop her head. “I told the guard I was with you.”

  He frowned. “You followed me? Why?”

  Her cheeks pinked as she came closer. He suspected it wasn’t the California heat warming her skin. “Um, I didn’t exactly. I saw some pictures this Paulo guy took of my sister at her house, and I was coming to ask him when he’d seen her last. I couldn’t get past his receptionist on the phone, so I headed here. Then I saw you turning in, so it was just good timing.” She gave him a sheepish grin, and he sighed. “But you’re here now. So you are taking the case then? You believe me?”

  “Look, you asked for my help, and I’m doing everything I can, just like I promised. But you can’t just show up everywhere I go. I took you with me to see Karen Kingston because that was a safe, secure setting, and she wasn’t a suspect in any way. But I won’t always be dealing with decent people. Sometimes, most of the time, I deal with dangerous people who”—who I don’t want you anywhere fucking near—“who wouldn’t respond well to a reporter tagging along, if you get my drift,” Gage clarified.

  Chloe nodded. “I promise not to stalk you, Agent Pierce. I just considered it good fortune that you happened to be here at the same time, so I took advantage of the opportunity.” She took another step closer. “Could I come inside with you? At least hear what Paulo has to say about the last time he saw my sister?”

  No.

  Gage removed his aviator sunglasses and tucked them into the front of his shirt.

  Say no. Tell her hell no.

  Her pleading eyes and pouty lips were destroying his resolve.

  “Just this once,” he told her. “I mean it.”

  Her smile was even more blinding than the sun. “Thank you. I’ll behave. You won’t even know I’m here. Swear it.”

  Yeah, that was impossible as far as Gage was concerned. Every cell in his body was acutely aware of her presence.

  “Let’s go,” he said, nodding toward the house.

  She stood close to his side as he rang the bell beside the solid oak door. He raised his fist to knock just as an attractive redhead in a skimpy black string bikini opened the door.

  “Paulo,” she called out over her shoulder in an accent Gage couldn’t place right away. “You have company.”

  When the photographer appeared in the doorway, Gage flashed his badge and ID. “Special Agent Pierce with the FBI. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Eden Sterling.”

  “Of course. Come on in,” Paulo told them, stepping back to allow them to enter. The dark-haired, dark-eyed man was shorter than Gage, but he had the kind of confident presence that explained the handful of half-dressed women strewn around his living room. Through the glass wall on the back of the house, Gage could see that more women were out by the pool, even though the sun was about to set.

  “Sorry to interrupt your party, Mr. Sebastian,” he began, once they entered an empty sitting room.

  Paulo looked confused. “No party, Agent Pierce. Just a few friends hanging out. Can I get you anything to drink?” He poured himself half a highball glass of caramel-colored liquor from a crystal decanter on a side table.

  Gage shook his head. “No, thank you.” So this was a normal Tuesday for this guy then. Must be a tough life. “I’ll get right to the point and let you get back to your company. I—”

  “Eden?” Paulo noticed Chloe for the first time, and his dark eyes brightened. Without asking permission, he reached out and touched his thumb to Chloe’s lower lip. An image of ripping the photographer’s hand off Chloe flashed through Gage’s mind. “No. Mouth is different. You must be the sister. How rude of me. Welcome.” He leaned forward and kissed Chloe on both cheeks. Gage fisted his hands at his sides as the man fawned over her. “She told me she had a twin, but I didn’t realize you were identical. What beautiful shots we could get with the two of you. Do you model, er—”

  “Chloe,” she supplied for him. Her discomfort was palpable. “And no, I’m sorry. No modeling for me. I’m a reporter.”

  The photographer stepped back as if she’d burned him. “I have no comment,” he said immediately. Gone was the friendly host-with-the-most demeanor from seconds earlier. “I was already questioned by the police a few days ago. I haven’t seen or heard from Eden in weeks. And as you can see, I’m very busy. So if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Mr. Sebastian, we’re not here to write an article on you,” Gage broke in. “You’re not even a suspect of any kind at the moment. We’re just trying to nail down a time line. Can you tell me specifically when the last time you heard from Eden was?”

  The photographer aimed a distrusting glare at Chloe before answering. “End of last month. She retrieved a few items she’d left here and that was that.”

  “A few items? Can you be more specific?” Gage pressed.

  Paulo’s eyes darted from Gage to Chloe and back again. “Lingerie mostly. A few toys. You know, the kind for grown-ups.” He smirked when Chloe scoffed out loud. “You don’t like to play, twin sister? Eden feels differently.”

  Gage stepped forward to block the other man’s view of Chloe. “Did she seem upset when she left? Worried? Distracted?”

  Paulo waved his hand between them. “She was fine. The man who had upset her was committed to some type of hospital or something. We had already broken up.”

  The man being Epstein, Gage gathered.

  “And why was that? The breaking up, I mean.”

  Paulo shrugged. “She was done fucking me, I guess. It happens. She w
asn’t crazy about sharing, but we were never heading toward exclusivity. It’s not my style, and she knew that. I figured she’d either gotten busy with that show she was hosting or had met some settle-down type and moved on.”

  Gage could feel his forehead creasing as he processed the new information. He hadn’t seen any evidence that indicated Eden was dating anyone new or that she’d been hosting a show of any kind.

  Before he could inquire further, the tagalong reporter fired off a line of questioning of her own.

  “So do you screw all your models?” Chloe piped up. “Or ‘play’ with them like your toys until you’re done? Is that a requirement for working with you, Mr. Sebastian?”

  Paulo placed both hands palms up. “I do my job. And if one of the beautiful women I work with wants more, I handle that too. It’s not a requirement but a perk, in my opinion. A mutually beneficial one. It’s also not a crime, last I checked. Life is short, and pleasure is a beautiful thing.” When Chloe didn’t look convinced, he continued. “Photography is a sensual business. My time with Eden ran its course, as all things do. If you change your mind about modeling, I’d be happy to work with you.” He narrowed his eyes at both of them. “But if you have any more questions about a mutual acquaintance you believe to be missing, you can contact my attorney. His name is Isaac Lewis. Bridgette will see you out.” He snapped his fingers and the redhead who had greeted them escorted them to the door.

  “My card,” Gage said, slipping it to Bridgette before he stepped outside. “If Mr. Sebastian or anyone else has any information on Eden Sterling, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

  Bridgette gave him a polite smile before closing the door in his face. He turned and pinned Chloe with a hard stare.

  “That was you behaving?”

  “Ugh,” Chloe said as they walked to their vehicles. “He was so . . . smarmy. I can’t believe my sister even dated someone so—”

  “Smarmy?”

  “It fits, don’t you think?” She shivered like her skin was crawling with insects. “ ‘Photography is a sensual business,’ ” she repeated, mocking Paulo’s thick accent. “Gross. He was a total creep and wasn’t helpful in the least.”

  Gage huffed out a frustrated breath. “He might’ve been helpful if you hadn’t been volunteering information about your day job. Or interrogating him and questioning his professional ethics.”

  Chloe’s eyes rounded and her shoulders fell. “Do you think he might’ve known more than he was telling? Did I screw it up by telling him I was a reporter?”

  Gage took a calming breath. “I don’t know. I’ll keep an eye on him. You asked for my help and I’m giving it to you. I know you’re concerned and you want answers. But if you keep interfering in my investigation, I’ll arrest you myself for obstruction.”

  Chloe wore a petulant expression all the way to her car. Gage held the door open for her, closing it firmly once she was safely inside. She rolled the window down. “Would you really arrest me?”

  He clenched his jaw. “Yes. For your own good, if necessary. Go home, Chloe. I will contact you with any new information.”

  She shot him a disappointed glance before driving away. Once she was out of sight, he put his hands atop his head and closed his eyes.

  Gage had a serious problem.

  Well, a couple.

  But one that was more distressing than the others.

  Now that he’d said it out loud, he would never be able to get the erotic image of her in handcuffs out of his head.

  It was going to be a long fucking night.

  7

  Stalking is illegal, probably in all fifty states by now, Chloe told herself as she watched Agent Pierce leave the FBI field office a little after eight the following evening. Stalking a federal agent was probably an even more severe offense than stalking a civilian.

  But she’d convinced herself that this wasn’t stalking. This was her simply making sure everything that could be done to find Eden was being done.

  She’d been relieved to see Agent Pierce at Paulo Sebastian’s home the night before. Mostly because it meant they were on the same track, and that she hadn’t had to deal with the slimy photographer alone. But the fact that a federal agent had only come up with exactly what she had—the obligatory move to check out the ex-boyfriend—was a little disconcerting.

  Agent Pierce had resources she didn’t have access to. She’d hoped he’d be way ahead of her by now. Maybe he was, and he just wasn’t sharing information, since she’d made an ass of herself the previous evening. Her face still flamed when she remembered the way she’d behaved.

  One thing was certain—Gage Pierce had an effect on her. He ruffled her feathers, as her mother used to say. She felt unsteady and off-balance around the solid, careful man. As if she were a reckless mess careening into the path of a freight train that refused to be derailed.

  But once they actually collided, she found herself gravitating toward his strength, his presence, and the sheer maleness he projected.

  As someone who couldn’t remember the last time she’d leaned on another human being for support of any kind, this was downright terrifying. She tried to shake off the unsettling feelings Agent Pierce provoked. She needed his help to find Eden and was grateful that he’d been willing to give it—that was all. Her feelings for him centered on gratitude. Nothing more.

  And denial is a river in Africa, she thought to herself.

  She pulled out into the traffic filling the highway and stayed a careful distance behind his truck. Earlier that afternoon she’d traded her burgundy Corolla for a silver Acura MDX at the rental office in hopes of not being recognized as she trailed the observant agent. Even the employee at Enterprise had looked skeptical about her need for “a little more leg room.” She was five foot nine. Seemed like a feasible excuse to her.

  She’d told herself it was best if Agent Pierce didn’t know she was keeping tabs on his every move, planning to follow behind and make sure he didn’t miss anything that could be relevant to her sister’s disappearance. And yet, the thought of getting caught, of him turning that steely stare on her and threatening to put her in handcuffs again . . . it set off a series of tingly sensations in her stomach that fluttered around under her skin until it felt as if her entire body should be vibrating.

  “Where are you going tonight, Pierce?” she muttered under her breath as they exited the freeway and headed toward the run-down industrial backside of downtown.

  It didn’t escape her that wherever he was going might not have anything to do with her sister’s case. But she sincerely hoped it did. Or she did, until she saw where he stopped.

  Several blocks later, he parked on the street in front of an abandoned strip mall. Nothing stood out to her about the string of dilapidated brick buildings except some vibrant graffiti. Most of it was in Spanish, and she could identify only a few words.

  Knowing she couldn’t very well pull in behind him, disguised rental car or not, she continued down the street and around the block. Several one-ways caused her to travel a little farther than she meant to, so she pulled into the parking lot of an all-night coffee shop.

  Just before cruising carefully by where he was still parked, Chloe tugged her Red Sox cap down a bit and slipped on her sunglasses, even though the sun had already sunk below the horizon. From the looks of it, Agent Pierce had his sunglasses on as well. But even with his gaze hidden she could see where it was aimed—at a warehouse across the street that had several lights on and more cars parked around it than made sense.

  Chloe traveled a short distance past where Agent Pierce was parked and pulled into an alleyway.

  She had two choices. Wait him out and follow him when he passed by—hoping he traveled in that direction. Or confront him now and find out what the deal was with the warehouse and if it had anything to do with her sister’s disappearance.

  His threat about arresting her rang in her ears. Her mind conjured a vivid depiction of him behind her—his muscular chest to
her back, cuffing her and pulling her tightly against him, telling her to spread her legs—heating her core until she was painfully hot all over. She could practically feel the warmth of his breath on her neck.

  Dear God, forgive me.

  Chloe and Eden had been raised Catholic, but the church they’d attended as kids no longer practiced traditional confession. In that moment, she wished they did. Clearly she was overdue.

  After several minutes passed, Chloe backed out of the alley. A horn honked loudly as she narrowly missed backing into a red Honda Civic. She swore under her breath, hoping against hope that the near miss hadn’t caught the agent’s attention. After ensuring that the coast was clear, she eased out onto the street, only to see that Agent Pierce’s shiny black pickup truck was on the move. He was coming right toward her. She parked behind a beat-up minivan.

  The agent passed by without so much as a glance in her direction. Planning to pull out and follow him, she put the SUV in reverse, only to see that he was turning right and driving slowly beside the warehouse he’d been watching moments earlier.

  Chloe frowned and scrutinized the warehouse as closely as possible. It was one of those commercial, garage-type buildings that had parking in the basement and what had probably once been loft-style studios and apartments above. But now there were broken windows on the higher floors and serious-looking locks on the lower ones. Even with the streetlamps coming on, there was no signage of any type indicating what the warehouse was currently being used for.

  She drove slowly around the block until she reached the back of the building. Her mind struggled to process what she saw there.

  While Agent Pierce was nowhere to be seen behind the warehouse, several highly expensive vehicles were. Two foreign imports she didn’t know the specific make and model of—but suspected cost more than her yearly salary—sat side by side. Beyond them sat a black BMW and a silver Mercedes, both looking like they could easily outrun the police. Even her investigative reporter brain couldn’t conjure an explanation for what those types of cars were doing in that part of town.