“We’ve got our plan,” he reminded Thorpe, tamping down his anxiety. “Let’s stick to it.”

The club owner nodded absently, running for the stranger waiting in the distance. Logan’s friend Elijah was big, bald, and menacing. The former SEAL didn’t look like someone he’d want for an enemy. Nor was he much for small talk, which suited Sean just fine.

Within seconds, they’d taken the keys to the man’s truck and paid him to rent a car. The idea wasn’t perfect, but it wouldn’t leave a completely obvious trail for anyone to follow. Since someone in a uniform had known to follow Callie to Vegas, the guy might also be keeping an eye on him and Thorpe, too. They’d have to lie really fucking low in order to both find her and figure out who followed her.

The moment they reached Elijah’s Jeep, Sean slipped behind the wheel. He’d done an undercover stint in Vegas about two years ago and knew his way around the city reasonably well. The second Thorpe’s ass hit the passenger seat, the man had his burner phone open and was calling folks in the local fet community. Sean doubted that Callie would fall back into a kink environment. She might find it comfortable, but he suspected she would choose to be as unpredictable as possible. It had kept her alive and free this long.

In the meantime, Sean pulled out his own phone as he tore away from the airport and started calling some less-than-legal guys he’d met here previously. He asked questions delicately because he wasn’t about to tip off known criminals about a woman with a two-million-dollar bounty on her head. No one had seen a new girl in town working the seedier side of life who matched Callie’s description, but Sean didn’t think it would be long. She hadn’t had time to plan her escape to the last detail. She’d have to fall back on existing skills for fast cash until she could come up with a better plan.

Thorpe slammed his phone on the console with a curse.

“I take it that means you came up empty-handed?” Sean asked.

“Yes, damn it. I know a club owner named Talon who’s connected to nearly everyone in the life here in Vegas. But he hasn’t seen or heard about anyone new who fits Callie’s description in the last day or so. Then again, she’ll already have some sort of disguise.”

Undoubtedly. He and Thorpe would have to factor that in. “We’ve made our initial contacts. Now we’re going to have to split up. You hit the fet joints and kink bars, make the rounds there in case she’s hiding out. I’ll hit dive bars, nightclubs, restaurants—anyplace that might have filled the need for quick help in the last day or so. We both just need to look past any disguise for that familiar face.”

“Absolutely. She won’t get away from me again.

“Callie won’t be working on the Strip,” Sean warned. “She’ll have found somewhere just off, maybe downtown, somewhere with a bit less sophisticated security, where she could make money without drawing too much attention to herself.”

“I’ll check into a few bars I know. If I come up empty, we’ll keep trying until something works.”

“And if you find her, you better not skip the fucking country. You got that?” Sean threatened. “It’s likely going to take more than one person to protect her, and if someone in a secret branch of the military wants her, then you bet your ass they can reach you down in South America.”

“I know,” Thorpe said, obviously resigned. “I’ve already thought of that.”

Sean nodded grimly and drove straight for the downtown area that had seen its glory days early in Vegas’s history, sixty years ago. Overall, the hotels were a little seedier, as were the people. Callie could easily get lost in this sea of humanity. A wig, a few new clothes, some colored contacts . . . No one would know her—or care. She wouldn’t stay long in this city. Callie must know that he and Thorpe would come looking for her. And if she knew someone official sought her and had shaken Logan’s protection, then she would want out of this city even faster. They had a few days. A week, tops. As soon as she saved a little money, she would slip out of town. Or out of the country.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself and stepped on the gas, lurching the car into heavy traffic.

* * *

TWO hours later, Thorpe had indigestion from a lousy piece of pizza he’d eaten while pounding the sidewalks. The two kink-oriented bars he knew were both half empty during the afternoon. It had taken forever to search the cavernous places. He’d seen some pretty girls with Callie’s height and build . . . but not the woman herself. Talon had greeted him at the Slip Knot with a drink in hand. Thorpe had declined the scotch and asked his friend to keep a lookout.

Finally making his way outside, he pulled out his phone and called Sean. Voicemail picked up after a couple of rings, and he took a taxi back to the parking lot of the hotel where Sean had left Elijah’s vehicle. When he got there, the Jeep was empty. No Sean. No keys. Great. Now he either had to stand here and wait or pound the pavement more.

As he pushed away from Elijah’s silver SUV, a realization hit him. Picking up his stride, he dialed Sean again, who picked up on the first ring.

“Jesus, I just finished listening to your voicemail. A little patience.”

“I think I’ve got an idea. Where are you now?” Thorpe had no more than asked the question when he looked up to see Sean striding through the parking lot.

They both hung up, and the fed looked at him with an expectant brow. Thorpe tried not to bristle.

“We’re not being smart,” he told Sean.

“Then enlighten me. What are we not doing right?”

“Think about it. Callie drove to Logan for help, but he put her on a plane. She doesn’t have a car.”

“I see where you’re going with this.” Sean’s eyes lit up with possibilities. “She won’t waste money taking a taxi to and from whatever job she’s managed to scrape together. And she would have had to lay her head someplace last night.”

Thorpe looked around the area with a look of horror. “Where the hell would she stay in this neighborhood?”

“Not at a casino hotel. They’re too public and probably a bit expensive. She likes extended-stay hotels, especially ones that aren’t part of a chain,” Sean reminded him. “I know this area. I can think of a few off the top of my head. I’ve got an idea. Follow me.”

God, wherever she was, it was likely a dive, some motel that doubled as a rent-by-the-hour haven for local pimps. Thorpe gritted his teeth and followed after Sean. They walked the pavement until they came to the first place.

The exterior was a faded pink. The sign advertised color TVs and air-conditioning as its big selling features. The tarred parking lot had long ago cracked and buckled under the heat of punishing Vegas summers. Iron railings overlooking droopy balconies were covered in rust. The swimming pool was an off-putting shade of blue-green.

The old man behind the counter looked half asleep, and he couldn’t have cared less that he had customers. He barely lifted one eye away from the little TV. His jowls hung over his wrinkled hand as he glanced their way.

“We’re looking for a missing person who might have checked in yesterday. She’s twenty-five and petite, with a fair complexion. Very pretty. May or may not have black hair and blue eyes.”

“Look, I rent rooms, not girls. Back in my day, I would have liked a broad like that, too, but I haven’t rented a room to anyone under fifty in at least two months. And I definitely haven’t had a dreamboat want to stay here. Can I get back to my show now? I’m missing Final Jeopardy.”

“Thanks for your time. If she comes by, can you please call this number?” Sean jotted his digits down on a sticky note that lay on the cluttered counter, then slid it toward the old man. “It’s urgent.”

“Sure.” But he didn’t look away from his show, listening instead to Alex Trebek.

Thorpe gritted his teeth as he and Sean exited. “That was a waste.”

“Maybe not. Callie might skip around for a while to confuse everyone on her trail. We’ll visit this old fart again in a few days if we haven’t found her.”

Trying not to be disheartened or give into exhaustion, he nodded. “Where to next?”

Sean led the way to a handful of motels that advertised weekly or monthly rates. All dives he didn’t ever want to call home. All looked as if they’d had their heyday during the golden age of the Rat Pack. Both gave them similar speeches. No one new renting here who fit that description, yadda, yadda, yadda.

“We need a plan C,” he told Sean.

The other man sighed heavily and raked a hand through his dark waves. “We’re both exhausted. I’m famished. Let’s take a load off and talk this through.”

Food didn’t hold much appeal for Thorpe now, but he could use a cup of strong coffee.

They made their way to a little greasy spoon. As long as they were there, they inquired about Callie. Of course, they came up empty-handed.

“I still can’t figure out why someone military might be looking for her,” Sean said quietly once seated at a table in the corner.

“I’m as lost there as you,” Thorpe vowed. “It barely makes sense to me that the FBI wants to keep tabs on her. I guess the fact that her father was a multibillionaire is noteworthy, but . . .”

“Why does the bureau care? Like I said, I don’t have any answers. And anyone in the military hunting her down seems way out in left field.”

“Exactly. I don’t see how she could have gotten mixed up with anything or anyone under my roof. Before you came, I watched Callie just about every moment of every day. And if I didn’t have eyes on her, Axel or one of his guys did. I did my best to protect her and keep her out of trouble.”

“You did.” Sean sighed. “Let’s assume this pursuit has something to do with her family’s murders. They were carried out by professionals. You could almost say with military precision.”

That didn’t make Thorpe feel better. “Any chance they’re trying to protect her from something?”

“Why wait nine years to even try?”

Good question, one without a logical answer. “When you put it like that . . .”

“Let’s assume they’re after her and that they’re dangerous. I’m guessing they just now got a lead on her. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they have come after her at Dominion?”

“But how the hell did they find her in Vegas before she’d even arrived?” Thorpe asked.

“I’ve wondered that, too.”

“We don’t know how Logan got her onto the plane, but he’s a clever bastard. He could have somehow managed to bypass the security screening. Or maybe she used ID from a previous alias.”

“It’s possible that something at the airport alerted whoever is hunting Callie. But there’s another scenario. Tell me, how much can we really trust Logan?”

“Implicitly. I’d vouch for him all day long.” When Sean still didn’t look convinced, Thorpe tried another tactic. “Why would he set Callie up with a safe haven and volunteer all the information to us if he just wanted to collect the bounty?”

“You’re right. Hell, I feel like I’m grasping at straws. Nothing makes sense.”

With a frown, Thorpe leaned across the table, pausing when the waitress came by to pour more coffee. “Let’s come back to how they found her later. The other big question is, why are they after her? Did her father have anything to do with the armed forces? Did he have any money in defense contracting? Have any sway with senators on the Armed Services Committee? Rub elbows with generals?”

“I’d have to go back and double-check her file, but none of that rings a bell.” Sean sighed. “I don’t want it, but I need some fucking sleep.”

As much as Thorpe would rather keep searching for her, he needed some shut-eye, too. He would be no good to anyone until he got it, and neither would Sean.

He looked at his watch. Late afternoon. “There’s a good chance that wherever Callie is now, she’s lying low and resting. If she’s singing, she’ll likely be doing it at night.”

“I agree. Since that will be her first choice of jobs, rather than serving food on her feet all the time, let’s go with the idea that she’s not working right now. After a nap, you and I will meet up again. Six sound good?”

Thorpe didn’t want to pause, but they both needed to be sharp. “Yeah.”

In silence, they walked to a cheap hotel nearby and secured a couple of rooms. The place was decent but older, took cash, and didn’t ask many questions since they’d paid for a week in advance. It was hardly the Ritz, and he couldn’t have cared less.