Angela from Arizona?”
He finished taking a drink of his coffee. “Yes.”
“Your investigation report has her listed as a sixteen-year-old minor,” she replied thoughtfully as she crossed her arms on the counter in front of where she sat. “So why not just place a call to Vegas Metro and let them handle the problem?”
A logical question from a very intelligent woman, he mused. “Angela’s parents tried doing exactly that after their PI tracked her here to Vegas and Sloane’s estate in Summerlin. The police paid a visit to Sloane’s place, but didn’t find Angela.
“Then there’s the added complication that according to Nevada state law, since Angela is sixteen years old, she’s legally the age of consent as far as any sexual activity is concerned,” he continued, both frustrated and outraged by that particular law, especially in a city where sexual corruption ran rampant. “So even if she is having sex with Sloane, it’s not a crime.”
“But harboring a runaway is, no matter the age of consent,” she countered, obviously familiar with the statutes.
“There’s absolutely no proof that he’s holding Angela against her will, which is why Nevada authorities aren’t doing anything more about the case,” he said. “The police didn’t find any evidence that Angela was at, or had been at, Sloane’s estate, and it’s the perfect excuse for them to quietly sweep the whole incident under the carpet. Which is why Tom Ramsey contacted TRG to track his daughter down and get her safely back home.”
She nodded in understanding. “Well, we have the private party with Sloane tomorrow night, which will hopefully give us the chance to see if Angela is at the nightclub. If not, I can give Sloane a call and set up a time to go and see his artwork collection, and use that as a way of getting into his estate and finding Angela.”
“You’re not going near Sloane without me.
She sighed, but didn’t bristle under his demand. “Yes, I remember.”
“Good. We really need to be careful how we handle this mission. Right now, we have no idea if this is going to be a hostile rescue or if Angela is going to cooperate with us.” Not to mention Angela’s mental well-being if she’d been influenced to stay through brainwashing techniques or strong-arm tactics, or even drugs. There were so many unknowns, which made this situation an unpredictable one.
Leaving the kitchen, he headed into the living room and grabbed the case file before returning to where Nicole was sitting. He sat down on the bar stool next to hers, and set the folder-now fatter than when she’d found it a few weeks ago-on the counter in front of her.
“I know you’re familiar with the details of this case,” he said, referring to the confidential material she’d pilfered the night they’d met. “But here’s the file now that it’s been updated with recent information on Sloane. You also need to take a good look at Angela’s photo so we can single her out at the nightclub tomorrow if she’s there.”
Nodding, Nicole opened the folder and studied the attached high school picture of Angela, then moved on to the other information Caleb had accumulated on the case, while Nathan tried not to think about the huge mistakes the young girl had made. First, running away from the security of home and parents who loved her. And second, trusting someone like Preston Sloane, even for a second.
At sixteen, Angela was still a baby, a spoiled kid who had so much growing up to do. A teenage girl who believed there was something better and more exciting to life than the rules she was expected to abide by at home. And predatory men like Sloane knew exactly how to take advantage of that innocence.
Nathan scrubbed a hand along his jaw, knowing that the girl had been gone long enough for Sloane to have completely immersed her in his world, and that included drugs, alcohol, and other forms of physical and mental control. Most likely, she’d been sexually exploited, emotionally manipulated, and they had to find her before Sloane passed her off to someone else-or worse, decided he was done with her and dropped her off on the streets to fend for herself.
Nathan knew exactly what would happen after that. He only had to think of Katie, and the way Sloane had used her, discarded her, and left her with only the option of turning to the cruel, unforgiving life of street prostitution.
Ultimately, she’d ended up dead.
He couldn’t go through a scenario like that again, and the thought was enough to make Nathan feel nauseous. And now he wasn’t responsible for just one civilian life, but two. Not only was he expected to rescue Angela, but he had to make sure that he protected Nicole, as well.
There was so much riding on this mission, and this time he prayed he wouldn’t let anyone down. Himself included.
Chapter Nine
After a busy day spent prepping for tomorrow night’s appearance at Sloane’s club and discussing all the possible scenarios that could come up once they arrived, Nicole was ready to help Nathan find Angela and save at least one girl from making the biggest mistake of her life. And if she was able to get a story out of the recovery mission, all the better, to her way of thinking.
That afternoon, at her request, Nathan had driven her to Forever 21, a trendy store that catered to the fashion sense of teenage girls. She’d bought a fitted black lace tank top and a cute purple ruffled miniskirt that the salesgirl had promised her was all the rage. She’d found a pair of black strappy platform wedge shoes to complete the outfit and also purchased a sparkly black-and-silver butterfly necklace and matching earrings. The ensemble was casual, but fresh and flirty enough to give her the impression of being a teen-and attract Sloane’s attention in the process.
While they were out, the two of them stopped at an Italian restaurant for a light dinner, and once they returned to Nathan’s place, he’d announced he was heading downstairs to the fitness center to work out. She changed into her PJs, then settled on the couch in front of the windows overlooking the Strip and fired up her laptop to get some work done while he was gone.
She checked and answered her e-mail, visited her favorite blogs on the Internet, and eventually logged in to her online dating account at CupidsArrow.com to see if she had any hits. There were eleven messages awaiting her response, notes from men who were interested in contacting her based on the information she’d typed into her profile and a compatibility test she’d taken when she joined. She began checking out their profiles in turn, knowing the next step in researching her article was to set up a chat with a guy she found suitable to her tastes and personality to get to know him better.
Unfortunately, the only man she was remotely interested in was Nathan, who returned from the gym nearly two hours later. Despite being completely drenched in sweat, he looked incredibly hot and sexy in a fitted T-shirt and cotton shorts, his body all buffed from lifting weights. He disappeared into his room, closed the door, and she heard the shower turn on a few minutes later, which prompted all kinds of wicked, naughty fantasies of him completely naked and water sluicing down all those taut, sleek muscles of his.
The sharp pang of arousal arrowed through her, revving up her libido and making her ache for the kind of pleasure and satisfaction she knew Nathan was capable of giving her. Shifting restlessly on the couch, she attempted to force her mind back to her online dating quest, but she just couldn’t drum up the enthusiasm to reply to any of the messages she’d received.
Her mind was on Nathan. The hungry way he’d kissed her last night, and how he’d valiantly tried to avoid their attraction all day long. Including now, considering he’d remained secluded in his bedroom for the past hour and didn’t show any signs of joining her for the evening.
She wanted him, and she was done waiting for Nathan to make the first move. Being the kind of woman who went after what she desired with a no-holds-barred kind of attitude, she decided to take the same approach with Nathan and make him an offer he’d be hard-pressed to refuse.
Powering off her laptop, she crossed the living room to his closed bedroom door, debating only a few seconds whether to knock or just walk in without warning. Opting for the element of surprise, she opened the door,
