Blood & Lace Page 7

  “Well this is a shock,” Gage huffed out. “Are you actually telling me what your plan is this time? Or should I just wait until the locals find your body in a Dumpster outside of some random club?”

  Chloe’s face transformed from a mask of hurt to one of sheer pissed-off. “I don’t know, Special Agent. Are you going to tell me the next time you have a lead? Or if you think there are suspects involved? Because the only reason I went into that club blind was because of what you failed to mention.” Her chest rose heavily as she stepped toward him.

  Gage stood his ground. But fuck, that dress was killing him. The shoes weren’t helping either.

  “I told you, you weren’t supposed to be going anywhere. You are supposed to let me handle the situation and the investigation like you asked me to do.” He could hear his voice rising to an inappropriate level, but he couldn’t help himself. “Instead, you’re right up my ass at every turn, and now you’re going out of your way to obstruct the path to any leads I might have.”

  “Well, let’s see someone you love go missing, Agent. Then you see how easy it is to sit around and do nothing while being kept in the dark about—”

  Chloe covered her hand with her mouth. Her eyes widened and met his narrowed ones.

  He knew her reporter friend’s notes would’ve been extensive enough that it was probably dawning on her at that very moment that someone he loved had gone missing. His partner. Who had been on the verge of becoming his fiancée. And by the time he found her it was too late.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “How about we take this down a notch?” Alyson—who Gage still couldn’t help but think of as Da Vinci—broke in. Chloe and Gage turned to look at her, both having nearly forgotten she was in the room. “Maybe you two should get some air, or, I don’t know, return to your separate corners of the ring, and I’ll keep working on this for a bit.”

  Gage gave a curt nod before making his way to the front door. He needed more than air.

  He needed to fight. Or fuck. Or both.

  But neither was an option at the moment. Fighting with Chloe didn’t get them any closer to finding Eden. Fucking her wouldn’t either, but at least he would let off some of the pent-up anger he had about her defying his every request and putting herself in danger.

  He let the door slam behind him—effectively shutting Chloe Sterling out of his sight.

  If only he could shut her out of his head.

  11

  Chloe winced as the wooden door slammed shut behind Gage’s back.

  She nearly winced again as she realized she now thought of him as Gage instead of Agent Pierce.

  Fighting with his impossible ass had brought on an unwelcome sense of familiarity where he was concerned. She clenched her fists at the memory of his saying she was in his way and obstructing his investigation. She wasn’t trying to impede the process—she was trying to speed it up.

  She knew from her own line of work that kidnapping victims had twenty-four hours where authorities believed them to still be alive. After that . . . the odds decreased by the hour.

  Eden had been missing for over a week.

  And they still didn’t know when and where she’d been abducted, who might’ve had a reason to take or hurt her, or have any leads on where she might have been taken.

  All they had was a bunch of models who claimed she’d left a shoot almost three weeks ago excited about her visit with her sister, a repulsive photographer ex-boyfriend with nothing to offer except sleazy come-ons, and now this production company that Eden may or may not have been working for.

  It felt like a bunch of random pieces to a puzzle she couldn’t see the final picture of, much less even try to begin working at solving.

  “Hey,” Aly said softly, interrupting Chloe’s trance in which she glared at the door as if she could light Agent Pierce on fire on the other side of it. “I think I found something. It might be Eden’s last webcast before . . . um, and I can see the transcript of the live chat.”

  Chloe stepped over to the computer but before she sat back down on the couch, the other woman flicked her wrist in the direction of the door. “You should go get him for this. Or I can.”

  Chloe sighed. “I will.”

  “He’s not a bad guy,” Aly offered. “In fact, he’s one of the rare good ones. And . . . don’t take this the wrong way, but he’s bound by laws and protocols because of his job. He’s taking a big risk bringing me in on this, a risk I’m assuming he wouldn’t take for just anyone.”

  Chloe paused at the door. She hadn’t even considered that Aly didn’t work for the FBI. She’d assumed she was a type of federally approved consultant or something.

  “He is?”

  Aly nodded. “Yeah. He is. This is all types of illegal, and anything I find won’t be admissible as evidence against whoever took your sister—if someone did take her, I mean. But it will probably help find her a lot faster. Problem is, whatever the outcome, questions will need to be answered about how certain information was obtained, and he’ll be the one who’s held accountable.”

  Chloe digested that information. It didn’t go down smoothly.

  She’d been giving him a hard time, doubting him, second-guessing his every move. But he really was going above and beyond, just like he’d promised. Even risking his own career, or at the very least, his reputation, to help her.

  Stepping outside, she closed the door behind her much softer than he had.

  “Gage?”

  He sat with his back to her on the front steps, not turning even an inch at her approach, but she saw his shoulders stiffen. “Yeah?”

  Chloe was stubborn, and she hated being wrong, but she didn’t have a problem admitting when she was. She lowered herself and sat beside him. “I’m sorry about tonight. About the warehouse, and the way I acted at Paulo’s. Honestly, I’m sorry for not trusting you.” She pulled in a lungful of warm evening air and hoped courage would come with it. “It’s hard for me, relying on someone else. I’ve been depending on only myself for a long time. But you were right. I asked for your help, and I should stay out of the way and let you do what I asked you to do.”

  “Yeah, you should.” Gage let out a low sound that sounded almost like a laugh. “But we both know you aren’t going to. So how about I make you a deal?”

  Chloe watched as he stood, his broad frame unfolding before her and blocking out the sight of the streetlamps behind him. He reached out a hand to help her up and she took it. His skin was warm. She was almost sad when he released her.

  The glow of streetlights shining around him made him look like an angel. Or maybe an angel of destruction.

  “Okay,” Chloe breathed. “What are the terms of this deal?”

  “No more hiding anything from each other. If I suspect someone at Red Light of foul play, or anyone from anywhere for that matter, I’ll tell you. I’ll inform you of every move before I make it.”

  Chloe knew what too good to be true sounded like, and this was it. “What’s the catch?”

  Agent Pierce gave her a wry smile. For a moment, he looked almost boyish. Handsome and sweet all at once, so much so that Chloe longed to place a kiss on his smirking lips.

  “The catch is that no matter what I tell you, you stay put and let me pursue the lead. And if you have an impulsive idea, like heading into a club to question people for your own edification, you clue me in beforehand so I can at least be close by. No more jumping the gun or secret undercover operative missions. Agreed?”

  Chloe opened her mouth to argue, but the door opened behind her before she could speak.

  “Um, guys, I hate to break this up but I got impatient and started watching the most recent webcast. There’s something you should see. Now.”

  Chloe met Alyson’s panicked stare. She got the impression that the levelheaded hacker didn’t often get rattled. But something had upset her. Something bad, from the looks of it.

  She practically ran the woman over to ge
t inside. Gage was close behind her, the warmth of his hand on the small of her back making her feel slightly steadier but not much.

  When she reached the computer screen, she saw Eden. But it was a version of Eden she’d never seen before.

  An ink-black wig cut in a blunt stylish bob covered her sister’s long blond hair. Beneath that, a black lace mask framed her heavily kohl-lined eyes. Plump red lips pursed, frozen in a seductive pout because the video was on pause.

  The lighting was low, but Chloe was pretty certain it was filmed in her bedroom in the house they were currently in.

  “Listen,” Aly began, “this is . . . this is without a doubt the last webcast. And it wasn’t live. It’s a partial recording I found buried in her file. She hadn’t hit publish. And whoever else is monitoring her site kept it for some reason but buried it under enough firewalls to keep out . . . well, pretty much everyone except me.”

  “Just play it, please,” Chloe prompted, buckling under the weight of the suspense. Her chest constricted so tightly it felt as if she might have a heart attack any moment. It looked like tears were threatening to form in Aly’s eyes. And she didn’t even know Eden. “Whatever it is, just play it.”

  Aly’s fingers hovered over the mouse pad while her eyes darted over Chloe’s head to meet Gage’s in a pleading glance. Chloe could read the plea in the girl’s shining eyes. She wanted him to say no, to tell Chloe to wait in the other room. She prayed he wouldn’t do that to her, not when they were so close to making progress on his letting her in on the investigation.

  Chloe glanced back and saw him give his nod of approval.

  “Go ahead. Hit play.”

  12

  “There is power in submission,” Eden Sterling’s voice said in a low seductive tone. “The submissive actually has a great deal more control than the dominant.”

  Gage’s eyes darted between the screen and Chloe’s face as her sister continued speaking.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Eden continued, a small smirk teasing at the edge of her mouth. “But the submissive determines the hard and soft limits, the submissive has the freedom to use the safe word at any time, and the entire purpose is to pleasure the submissive. In most encounters, the end goal is not the dominant’s release but the submissive’s.”

  Gage watched as Chloe’s eyes widened and brow creased. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

  After a deep intake of breath, Chloe spoke. “I don’t understand what the point of—”

  “Keep watching,” Alyson instructed without tearing her own gaze from the computer.

  Gage wanted to touch Chloe, soothe her, reassure her that it was going to be okay. But he wasn’t in the business of lying.

  He had no clue what was coming, but judging from the way it had affected Alyson, it was bad.

  “For instance,” Eden whispered so low Alyson had to raise the volume on the monitor, “in my deepest, darkest fantasy, my dom has one hand around my neck and the other—”

  “How much longer?” Chloe blurted out, drowning out the remainder of Eden’s explicit discussion.

  “Less than a minute,” Alyson said softly. She hit pause and waited for Chloe to regain her composure before pressing play again.

  Gage wished he could fix this for her, make it hurt less, or hell, not at all. But he knew the limitations of what he was capable of where she was concerned.

  “. . . and then just as I start to come, he takes the black leather whip and—what are you doing here?”

  All three of them leaned forward to determine the creator of the shadow that suddenly blocked Eden’s light.

  In a split second, Eden went from sitting upright in her chair in front of her computer to being practically horizontal as she was gripped roughly from behind and jerked to the side. Whoever grabbed her wore black gloves. All that could be seen were his or her hands.

  Her piercing scream was cut short by the sound of a solid thud. At the edge of the frame a black gloved hand appeared and closed the computer. The feed turned to static and cut off immediately after.

  The silence was painfully deafening. Gage rubbed his forehead and turned to a distraught Chloe. No, she was worse than distraught. She was wrecked. Ruined. Devastated beyond comprehension.

  Her pain washed over the room, blanketing all of them momentarily.

  “I know that was hard to see, Chloe,” Gage began. “But at least now we have proof of foul play. I’ll take it to my boss and get a team on this immediately. With additional FBI agents and resources on hand, we may make some headway sooner than we could if it were just me.”

  Her eyes were moist and glassy, but no tears fell as she nodded. “Okay,” she said softly. “Do we go now?”

  “It’s late,” he reminded her. “I’ll go into the office, meet with the agents on duty, and file the report. They’ll want your statement tomorrow, but for now I’ll use what you’ve already given me. You get some rest.”

  Her eyes were round, wounded, and full of fear and panic. “After seeing that, whoever it was, he was here. I don’t know if I can stay . . .”

  “Technically this is a crime scene that needs processing now, so I’m going to get you checked in at the hotel where Da Vin—um, Alyson—is staying. Is that okay?”

  Chloe glanced at Alyson and nodded slowly. “I guess so.”

  “Keep your phone charged and on you at all times. I’ll check in with you periodically. Be sure you answer when I call.”

  Again, she nodded stoically, and Gage wished he could stay with her tonight. Could hold her in his arms and keep the demons at bay. He knew she was likely seeing that video on replay in her head, because he sure as hell was.

  But for now, all he could do was drive her and Alyson to the Hilton a few miles across town and get to work.

  Erin Anderson-Wyatt was the field office director and an LA transplant from South Carolina. Her accent showed it. She was petite with short hair and sharp, masculine features that always reminded Gage of the chick from Silence of the Lambs. Her first week on the job he almost called her Clarice twice.

  Which would have been the end of his career because she was as no-nonsense as they come.

  “Let me get this straight. This young woman came into this office to solicit your personal services and you agreed?” Her tight features pinched as she squinted disapprovingly at him.

  “Yes, ma’am. I did. Because I honestly believed she had a valid case, which it turns out she does, but at the time there wasn’t enough evidence to—”

  “Special Agent Pierce, are we not paying you enough? Because if you’re double-dipping to take special requests on the side for some supermodel’s sister, then you must be pretty—”

  “Twin sister,” he corrected. And immediately wished he hadn’t.

  “Ah. So is that it? Attractive women strut in here, bat their lashes at you, and you’re a rogue superhero ready to save the day? Is that how it works?”

  “No, ma’am.” Gage had spent enough years as a Navy SEAL to know when to keep his mouth shut and take his licks. So that’s what he did for the next five minutes.

  When she was finished, she propped her elbows on her meticulously organized mahogany desk and folded her arms.

  “I suppose since this is your area of expertise, being on the Dark Net and all, you want to be the lead on this one?”

  Gage chose his words carefully. “Yes, ma’am, I would.”

  “Any other requests, Special Agent?”

  It was so not the time. But he had requests.

  Sucking in a lungful of courage he met her challenging gaze. “I have two civilians, possibly three, that I’d like to bring in on the case. This is complex even for me. Red Light Productions is operating so far underground that I wasn’t able to access their video feed without help.”

  “Oh, is that all? Three untrained civilians? On what could possibly turn into a high-profile murder case? Sure, Pierce. That sounds like a fantastic idea.”

  Her tone contracted her words.

>   Gage nodded as if he’d missed the sarcasm. “One more thing.”

  Director Anderson-Wyatt’s eyes practically bulged out of her head. “Do tell. The suspense is killing me.”

  Gage glanced at his hands. This was out of line in some ways but he didn’t care. “I want to bring in the locals. Have a discreet security detail put on the sister. They’re identical twins, and she isn’t exactly keeping a low profile. Whoever did this may want two for the price of one, and I think she’s a target already.”

  “Based on?”

  “She’s been staying at the sister’s house, where Eden was abducted from. And she went to a club where some Red Light employees hang out. To ask questions on her own when I couldn’t provide enough answers. Her tires were slashed. Violently. On a rental not even registered to her. So someone is already watching.”

  The director huffed out a breath. “Or she was a victim of random vandalism in downtown Los Angeles. Which most people are, at one point or another.”

  “Since when do you believe in coincidences?”

  She sighed again. “I don’t. I’ll contact the locals and get someone assigned to her around the clock.” She moved to retrieve her cell phone from her desk. “I know the chief personally. I’ll call him now.”

  Gage exhaled a relieved breath. One less thing to worry about for the time being. “Thank you. I’d prefer them to keep it low-key. No reason for her to know she’s being tailed. And the civilians?”

  She frowned at the reminder. “Call them and get them here to be briefed. Fill out the paperwork. I don’t have a problem with it as long as you’re all operating within the bureau’s guidelines.”

  Gage wasn’t about to inform her that it wasn’t that simple and that they’d be operating in a completely different universe, one that didn’t play by any set of rules or guidelines—the bureau’s or anyone else’s.

  Holt McCain wasn’t a contact he could just dial up. The man kept his lines of communication limited. Only a few people knew how to get in touch with him. Luckily Gage was one of them. But he didn’t fill his boss in on the details. He just nodded and excused himself to get started on what he needed to do. If Holt’s younger brother Jaxon was in town, he’d bring him in on this too.