Into The Night

“Wow,” she said, the one word expressing her surprise. “Did you win the Mega Millions recently?” It was the only explanation that made sense.

He downshifted and made a left-hand turn onto Paradise Road, the street that led to the ritzy high-rise he now called home. “I don’t play the slots. Like I said, it’s temporary.”

And that was that. Trying to extract information from this man was like budging an elephant. Impossible. And frustrating as hell.

“So, what’s your real name?” she asked, figuring it was an easy enough question for him to answer truthfully. “Nathan or Alex?”

“It’s Nathan Fox.” He met her gaze for a moment, his mysterious eyes unreadable in the shadowed interior of the car. “But Preston Sloane knows me as Alex Keller.”

Interesting. “Why the alias?”

He gave his head a quick shake. “You don’t need to know specifics.”

She swallowed an exasperated groan. “It would help to know a few details.”

“Yes, it would.” He pinned her with a silent look that told her he expected those details to come from her . “We’ll have this discussion when we get to my place.”

She didn’t pressure him for more answers, but rather kept quiet as he let the valet at Turnberry Towers park his car, then ushered her into the elevator and up to the twenty-sixth floor of the high-rise. As soon as she stepped into the fully furnished suite, she gasped, awed by the luxurious contemporary decor and the magnificent view of the Las Vegas Strip right outside the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the impressive living room.

Nicole turned back around to face Nathan as he stripped off his jacket and loosened his tie. “Holy moly,” she breathed, the two words summing up just how blown away she was by his new digs. “Temporary or not, this place is absolutely amazing.”

The corner of his mouth quirked with the barest hint of a smile, giving her a brief glimpse of the fun, charming guy she’d spend the night with a few weeks ago. “I have to agree. The view of the Strip, especially at night, never gets old.” He headed into the gourmet kitchen, separated by a granite-topped breakfast bar and cherrywood stools. “Would you like something to drink?”

She shook her head. “I’m good for now, thanks.” She was far more interested in getting back to their earlier discussion, and didn’t hesitate to do so now. “I thought you worked security at The Onyx. Was that a lie, or are you also working privately for Sloane, or someone else?”

He strolled back into the living room to where she was standing, his fingers wrapped around the neck of what looked like a bottle of root beer. “Nosy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Persistent, too,” she added with a sassy grin, making sure he knew she could be just as determined as him when it came to extracting information. As a reporter, it was an ingrained skill. “I’m just trying to figure out your connection to Preston Sloane.”

“I’d rather we talk about your involvement with Sloane,” he countered easily, then took a long drink of his soda before continuing. “Are you trying to write some kind of expose on him?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to respond to his question. Not unless she got her own answers in return. “Ever heard of the term quid pro quo ?”

His dark brows lifted incredulously. “Are you suggesting we strike a deal that you’ll answer my questions if I agree to answer yours?”

“Maybe I am,” she said with a shrug. “We’re obviously at a stalemate, so it seems like the best option. We’re each involved with Sloane for our own personal reasons, so I’ll share if you do.”

Nathan’s first instinct was to flat-out refuse. He didn’t bend to anyone’s demands, especially not a woman’s. But it was quickly becoming apparent to him that he wasn’t dealing with an ordinary female here. Nicole was obstinate, independent, and smart enough to keep him guessing-and he couldn’t deny that those strong personality traits, and the woman herself, stimulated him mentally and presented a challenge he was more than willing to accept.

Considering they’d come to a standoff and he needed her cooperation, he relented. “Quid pro quo,” he agreed, and saluted her with his bottle of root beer in a promise to keep his end of the bargain. “I’m working undercover.”

“So am I,” she said, giving him nothing more than he’d given her.

The laughter glimmering in her eyes told him she was good at playing his kind of game, enjoyed it, even. He decided to change tactics and ask questions that required a more informative answer. “You’re a journalist. Are you looking for a story?”

She hesitated a moment, as if contemplating how much to reveal. “I know there’s one to be found with Sloane.”

He tipped his head curiously. “And you know this how?”

“The man’s a pedophile. He just hasn’t gotten caught yet,” she said, her tone laced with unmistakable disdain. “He’s obviously really good at covering his ass, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that a man like him has important people tucked deeply into his pocket to squash speculations before they turn incriminating.”

She’d done her homework on Sloane and had pegged his MO incredibly well. Gathering any solid evidence to nail the man had proved impossible while Nathan had worked for Metro. Word on the street indicated that he had friends in very high places-from the upper echelon of law enforcement, to powerful political figures, to a well-paid stable of lawyers who did a damn good job of protecting their client from prosecution. Sloane used his wealth to pay off, bribe, and intimidate witnesses and victims, and no one would testify against him.

Money, it seemed, could acquit the guiltiest of men, protected their lewd secrets, and shielded their depraved desires for young, innocent girls.

Nathan washed down the bitterness burning the back of his throat with a drink of his root beer before addressing Nicole again. “And you think you can nail Sloane where others have failed?” he drawled, a hint of sarcasm threading his tone.

Her chin lifted defiantly. “I’d like to try.”

Aggravated by her response and the uncompromising set to her shoulders, he set his empty bottle of root beer on the coffee table and started toward Nicole. She really had no idea what she was up against, and he planned to enlighten her.

He stopped a foot away and stared down at her, still shocked at just how young she looked with her hair pulled back, her fresh-faced complexion and youthful features belying her true age. He wanted to scare her, make her run far and fast from a situation that could get her killed-and heap more unwanted guilt on his conscience.

“You’re stepping into very dangerous territory,” he said in a low, harsh tone. “Sloane eats little girls like you for breakfast. He’s a ruthless man, and if he so much as suspects you’re playing him, you’re good as dead. And that’s not going to boost your career, now, is it?”

She tossed her head back, fearless purpose firing in her gaze. “What makes you think I’ll get caught?”

Jaw clenched, he leaned closer, intimidating her with his height and the anger now etching his features. “What makes you think you have the experience to deal with someone of Sloane’s caliber?”

She didn’t so much as flinch or back down from his direct, in-her-face tirade. “I’m very familiar with Sloane’s type,” she said, just as fiercely.

He jerked back, startled by her unexpected response and everything it implied. “Is this thing with Sloane personal or professional for you?”

“Maybe a bit of both.” As if realizing she’d revealed more than she’d intended, she sighed and turned away, putting distance between them. When she faced him a few moments later, she was composed once again, her expression all business. “What’s the story with you? I thought you worked for The Onyx, but you just said you were working undercover. Are you a cop?”

“ Ex -vice cop,” he told her, and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. “I do work at The Onyx, but I’m currently undercover on a private case that’s linked to Sloane.” He didn’t