Into The Night

beyond the gilded gates, an invitation from Preston Sloane himself was required.

Caleb absently tapped his finger on the red file folder. “Needless to say, they didn’t find Angela, or any evidence she’d been there. I suspect someone warned Sloane before the cops arrived with a search warrant.”

Nathan couldn’t disagree. While working for Metro, he’d quickly learned that the man was untouchable, and well insulated by people who were paid to protect him.

“So, either the girl is hiding and doesn’t want to be found, or she’s being held against her will,” Nathan speculated out loud.

“That’s what it narrows down to,” Caleb said with a succinct nod, then leaned forward and finally pushed the red folder across his desk toward Nathan. “It’s your job to infiltrate Sloane’s circle, get into the estate, and find Angela so we can bring her back safely to her father.”

Normally, Nathan would have reached for the file and given the contents a look just in case he had any other questions for Caleb. Hesitation rose within him now, though, along with deeper, darker emotions from the past he’d worked so hard to suppress.

“Getting close to Sloane is going to take time,” he said, his tone gruffer than he’d intended.

“Take a week and get everything set up,” Caleb said, not backing down. “After tonight, your shift at the casino will be covered so you can start on the case. All the information we currently have on Sloane and the case is in that folder, along with a current photo of the girl. Let me know if there’s anything else you need and I’ll get it for you.”

“Okay,” Nathan replied, unable to quell the churning in his gut, that sense of walking into trouble before it even began.

“Lucas is processing your new identity, and the documents you’ll need to support your new persona for the case will be here in a few days.”

Nathan nodded, familiar with the routine of undercover work.

Caleb stood and rounded the desk. Stopping next to Nathan’s chair, he gripped his shoulder. “I know you can handle it, Nathan, or I wouldn’t have put you on this assignment. You have the experience to tackle this case. You can save a girl and give her a happy ending. Her father is counting on that, and on you .”

Shit. Tom Ramsey’s unconditional trust in his ability to get his daughter home safely was the last thing Nathan wanted on his conscience.

Caleb left the office and closed the door behind him, leaving Nathan alone with that damn red file and his own turbulent thoughts. Leaning forward in his chair, he braced his arms on his knees, released a harsh breath that seemed to burn his lungs, and cursed the other man’s tough-love approach.

Caleb knew Nathan’s past, and the reason he’d quit the force. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing when he’d handed him this case. There were just too damn many similarities to his last undercover assignment as a vice cop.

He didn’t even know Tom Ramsey or his daughter Angela, but the case was fast becoming personal, which had been Caleb’s intent. The other man was forcing Nathan to face his greatest fears and failure, and was giving him the chance to right a wrong and maybe lay his guilt to rest.

If that was even possible.

Life had shown Nathan there were no guarantees, and promises didn’t mean shit because there was no controlling fate and her plans for a person. She certainly hadn’t forgiven him for letting a young girl die.

Swallowing hard, he reached out and picked up the red file folder. He opened it and finally put a face to Angela. The attached high school picture showed a pretty girl with blond hair and bright blue eyes shining with the kind of youth and guilelessness a man like Preston Sloane wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of. She smiled at the camera, capturing a moment of happiness that somewhere along the way had turned into teenage angst and defiance, and had driven her to run away from home into a world that would destroy her innocence and leave her a mere shell of her former self.

He’d witnessed that kind of transformation with other young girls who believed that working the streets and giving their bodies to strangers would give them the love and attention they craved. And they usually paid with their souls. Some, with their lives.

As much as Nathan wished this assignment didn’t exist, he knew he couldn’t turn his back on Angela. He refused to let another young girl die because he didn’t do his job.

He’d take the case, just as Caleb knew he would, his main goal to locate Angela and extract her from Sloane’s estate by whatever means were necessary. While he’d like to believe it would be a quick in-and-out mission, Nathan had to consider what he was likely to find once he managed to gain entrance into Sloane’s world.

If he was lucky, and fate truly was on his side this time, he’d find evidence that would finally put Preston Sloane behind bars for a very long time.

* * *

Finished with his surveillance shift later that night, Nathan made his way down to the main bar in the casino in an attempt to relax and unwind before he headed home for the evening. There were only a few guests at the bar, and Nathan grabbed a seat at the far end, away from the other customers. He waited for Sean, the bartender, to finish making a martini for an older woman, who eyed Sean appreciatively as he mixed the drink and flirted shamelessly with her.

Nathan grinned, his mood lightening as he watched Sean O’Brien, player extraordinaire, in action. The man possessed an abundance of charm and had a way with females most guys envied.

Once the martini was served, Sean strolled down to his end of the bar. “Hey, Fox.” The other man greeted him by his last name, as he always did. “What can I get for you this fine evening?”

“The regular, on the rocks.”

Sean shook his head, his Irish blue eyes dancing with unabashed amusement. “A root beer,” he emphasized in that drawl of his. “You are such a teetotaler.”

Nathan didn’t take offense, since the other man always enjoyed ribbing him about his drink of choice. “It’s what I like, so there’s no point in pretending otherwise.”

“Real men drink beer.” Sean continued to give him a hard time. “The kind that’s not sweetened.”

A smile quirked the corner of Nathan’s lips. “Luckily, I’m a secure guy and don’t need to prove myself by tipping a bottle of Heineken.”

“Yep, you da man.” Sean saluted him and moved to the soda station.

Admittedly, on rare occasions Nathan indulged in a shot of Johnnie Walker Black, but there’d been a time when his sole reason to drink was to forget. Still, after spending a good six months abusing hard liquor and existing in a continuous drunken state to keep his personal nightmares at bay, he’d finally pulled his head out of his ass and sobered up in time to salvage what was left of his life.

Unfortunately, he’d been too late to save his relationship with his fiancee, Jill. Unable to handle his mood swings and the guilt he hadn’t been able to resolve, she’d walked out on him and hadn’t looked back.

Not that he could blame her. He’d been a miserable son of a bitch after that last undercover mission, and his self-defeating behavior had put a huge strain on their relationship. Liquor had numbed his senses at a time when he’d badly needed it, and as much as he sometimes still wished he could drown that ever-present dull ache in his soul with a bottle of whiskey, dealing with reality, and everything he’d lost, had become his personal penance.

And soon, he was going to step right back into that dark life he’d once been a part of. Caleb Roux had made certain of that.

“Two’s your limit. I don’t want you driving under the influence,” Sean joked as he placed a tall chilled glass of root beer in front of Nathan, then glanced at his watch. “What are you still doing here, anyway? Can’t get enough of this place, or what?”

Nathan shrugged as he ran the tips of his fingers along the condensation gathering on his glass. “I’m not ready to head home yet.”