Night After Night (11 page)

“Yes,” Caleb replied unflinchingly. He wasn’t a man who couched the truth, no matter how painful his answer might be.

“Well, now I’m openly offering my services. I’ll share whatever I know or find out about my father, as long as you keep me in the loop on your end, as well.”

Caleb thought about her proposition for a moment before agreeing. “Okay.”

Whether or not Caleb intended to keep his end of the bargain remained to be seen. Sean already knew plenty of things they were still keeping from her.

“Bottom line, I want to find my father to clear his name.” She continued laying out her terms, her voice direct and confident. “No matter what he’s being accused of doing, he has the right to defend himself. It’s as simple as that.”

So, she was playing the
my father is innocent until proven guilty
card, which was understandable. It was Zoe’s way of protecting her father, even if Grant Russo didn’t deserve her blind faith.

It would be so easy to put an end to any hopes she had of her father’s innocence by handing over the investigative reports Caleb had on Russo that outlined the man’s corrupt past in vivid detail. But those in-depth reports would also reveal Sean’s ties to Zoe’s father, and both Sean and Caleb had decided beforehand that opening that can of worms would do more harm than good. They’d also determined that doling out information on her father, or the case, would be done on a need-to-know basis.

And right now, they both agreed that Zoe didn’t
need to know.

“I’m also very worried about my father,” she said, her tone much softer now.

Caleb stopped writing on his note pad to look back up at Zoe, his interest obviously piqued by her comment. “Why’s that?”

For the first time that afternoon, Sean saw a crack in Zoe’s tough composure, her professional demeanor giving way to a more vulnerable side.

“For the past week, I’ve tried getting in touch with my father,” she said, sharing her own information with the group, as promised. “According to his secretary, Sheila, he’s away on a business trip, which is nothing out of the ordinary. But what isn’t normal is that he never returned any of my calls or the messages I left for him. And this morning, when I called his cell phone again, the voicemail box was full, which tells me he hasn’t picked up any of his messages recently.”

Caleb absently tapped his pen on the tablet of paper. “And why do you think that is?”

“There’s the chance that he forgot his cell phone when he left on his trip, but if that were the case, he would have gotten a new one right away. His cell phone is his lifeline when it comes to his business.”

Her explanation was logical and made perfect sense, yet the frown marring her delicate brows told them just how troubled she was.

“He’d never let his voicemail messages pile up like that,” she went on. “Nor would he ignore my calls for an entire week. Also, last night Sean told me that you were unable to trace my father to Chicago, where he’s supposed to be, and that’s something else that concerns me. I’m afraid that something
bad
has happened to him.”

Sean met Lucas’s gaze and knew what the computer guru was thinking. People who were on the lam didn’t take traceable electronics and other identifiable items with them. They used disposable cell phones and didn’t send e-mails since the originating IP address was easy to locate. They spent cash instead of swiping credit cards and used an alias.

Most likely, Grant Russo was operating under those basic principles, because Caleb’s top investigators had tried all those other traditional methods of tracking Russo, only to come up empty-handed.

At this moment, Zoe was in a state of denial about her father’s guilt, and they had to do everything possible to ensure her cooperation in this case—and not alienate her, or devastate her, by showing her proof of her father’s history as a con man. What she was proposing in terms of forging an alliance with them was something they didn’t want to compromise in any way.

“Your father hasn’t made it easy for us to find him, so it would be great to have your help,” Caleb said diplomatically. “Would you happen to have a key to your father’s house or his office?”

A look of confusion passed over her features. “I only have a key to his house. Whatever you might need from his office I can try and get from Sheila on Monday.”

“We’ll start with your father’s house.” Caleb made another note on his pad, then met Zoe’s gaze again. “I’d like you and Sean to head over there this afternoon if you’re free, to see if either of you can find anything that might give us an idea of where he might have gone.”

“Sure, we can do that,” Zoe said, obviously unnerved by Caleb’s directness.

Sitting to the left of Caleb, Lucas spoke up. “While you’re there, if you find any kind of computer, I need you to bring me back the hard drive.”

“Lucas is a data-recovery specialist,” Sean explained for Zoe’s benefit. “What’s on your father’s hard drive could be very helpful in terms of providing us with information on where he might be.”

“Okay then, let’s go see what we can find.” Zoe pushed away from the table and stood, her body language resolute.

Sean stood, too, and nodded at Caleb. “I’ll be in touch.” He hoped with some kind of information that would accelerate this case and give them a jump on Russo’s location.

As Sean followed Zoe out of the conference room, he couldn’t help but wonder how she felt about the two of them being paired up again. Obviously, she was still miffed at him and she was trying like hell to be cool and indifferent as far as he was concerned.

Sean was smart enough to realize that if he didn’t do something to diffuse the tension between them, they might end up at cross-purposes on this case, and that was the last thing he wanted. But after deceiving her once, he’d be a fool to expect her to immediately trust him again just because he wanted her to. Her respect was something he had to earn from scratch, and he didn’t doubt it would not be quick or easy.

That her forgiveness made a difference to him caused his chest to constrict with the knowledge of how much he’d come to care for her—and how much her opinion of him mattered. God, he was in way over his head when it came to her, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about the emotions she stirred in him that would undoubtedly cause her more pain than anything else.

His own personal feelings aside, there was one thing he could do that might help him earn a place back in her good graces. For once, he didn’t want to rely on his boyish charm, a bouquet of flowers accompanied with an endearing smile, or any of those other flirtatious tricks he’d normally use on a woman to soothe her bruised ego.

No, with Zoe, he was going to have to step up to the plate and do something more meaningful.

Sitting next to Sean in the close confines of his sporty black Camaro Coupe was agonizing for Zoe. Despite every valid reason she had to remain pissed off at him, her reaction to Sean as a totally hot and sexy man was chipping away at her resolve, bit by bit. Every breath she took was filled with the arousing scent of him, and with his arm resting on the console between them, if she so much as relaxed, her body brushed against his and the sensation and heat within her intensified.

God, even watching him shift gears with those long, strong fingers of his that had touched her so intimately and feeling the growl of the car’s engine reverberating through her entire body made her feel antsy.

Squirming restlessly in her seat and annoyed with herself for allowing him to affect her so profoundly, she glanced out the passenger window as they drove past various casinos lining the Las Vegas Strip. In the afternoon sunshine, the hotels lacked the glitz and glamour that they had at night, and during the day the town didn’t look quite as dazzling and exciting.

Since she and Sean had left the security offices at the Onyx, the only conversation they had engaged in had been out of necessity. He’d asked for her father’s address, and she’d given it to Sean to punch into his GPS system. Other than the mechanical female voice occasionally instructing him where to turn, the inside of the car had been uncomfortably quiet.

Finally, Sean spoke, his deep voice cutting through the silence and adding to the awareness swirling through Zoe.

“Zoe…can we talk?”

No.
His tone was so gentle and caring that she was certain any kind of interaction with him would be dangerous to the emotions she was desperately trying to keep
out
of this new business relationship of theirs.

Releasing a deep sigh, along with a good amount of tension gathering in her neck and shoulders, she glanced at Sean. He’d stopped at a red light, and he was watching her intently, his eyes a dark, sensual shade of blue that made her pulse kick up a notch.

Steeling herself against his irresistible charisma, she shrugged as if it didn’t matter what they did. “Sure. We can talk.”

The car started forward again, and he made a left-hand turn onto a street leading to the outskirts of Vegas.

“I owe you an apology.”

She closed her eyes and turned her head away.
Damn him.
She didn’t want Sean to be a nice guy. Didn’t want to soften toward him when he should stay at the very top of her shit list, right where he belonged.

But here he was,
apologizing,
which was something she never expected him to do. She would have thought he’d chalk up the fact that he’d deceived her to just doing his job and had done so without an ounce of regret or remorse. At least, that was
her
experience when it came to men and their egos.

Either that or she really did have
gullible
stamped across her forehead.

“I really am sorry for everything that happened last night, Zoe. And for misleading you.”

Her eyes shot back open when she felt his hand on her knee, his touch like a shock of heat to her entire system.

“The last thing I meant to do was hurt you.” Sincerity laced his voice, along with hope, too—that she’d accept his peace offering.

She completely melted. Zoe wasn’t the kind of person who held grudges, and she knew it was going to be impossible to stay mad at Sean. So, why even try?

Fine—she could forgive him so they could start fresh and work together toward a common goal without issues or animosity standing between them, but she wasn’t about to let her guard down with him again. As the saying went, “once burned, twice shy,” and this time around Zoe knew what to expect.

“Okay,” she said, and very deliberately she removed the heavy weight of his hand from her thigh, letting him know with that single action where things stood between them.

“Okay…what?” he asked cautiously, and cast her a quick, sidelong glance.

“Okay, I accept your apology.” She folded her hands in her lap, still feeling the burn of where his fingers had been on her thigh. “And thank you.”

He frowned in confusion. “For?”

“For being man enough to admit you were wrong.”

His brows rose in surprise, and the corner of his mouth twitched with humor. “Is that what I just did?”

She wanted to smile, too, but didn’t dare. “You absolutely did.”

“Okay, then.” Male amusement deepened his voice. “You’re very welcome.”

With those words, a truce was born. Zoe was relieved, because it was too hard to maintain her anger toward him and she honestly didn’t want to. There needed to be as much open communication between them as possible in order for this new alliance to work.

The car stopped at the guard shack in front of the gated community of Siena, where her father lived, and Sean rolled down the driver’s side window as a uniformed man approached the vehicle. The older man bent low to look at Sean, then saw her sitting in the passenger seat and grinned.

“Hi, Martin,” she said, knowing the guard by name since he’d been working the same day shift since her father moved into the area over six years ago.

“Hey, Zoe,” Martin greeted her in that jovial way of his. “Good to see you. Your father must be on a business trip, because I haven’t seen him in over a week now.”

“He is,” she verified. Martin knew everyone who lived in the community, and their extended family, and he took his job as a security guard very seriously. There was no way he would have let Sean past the gates without her with him. “My father asked me to take care of a few things for him at the house while he’s gone.”

“Sure thing.” Martin tipped his hat at them. “You two have a good day.”

Sean put the window back up while the big metal gates slid open, allowing them entry into the wealthy neighborhood. Secluded beyond a six-foot-high masonry perimeter was an exclusive community with a health-and-fitness facility and a wellness center, along with a club house and a pristine golf course landscaped with a lake, elegant gardens, and waterfalls.

“It must take a helluva lot of money to live in a place like this,” Sean said as he drove into the residential area and followed the GPS to her father’s street.

Zoe wasn’t sure what kind of point Sean was trying to make with his comment, nor did she understand the slight hint of resentment she detected in his tone. “My father is a developer and he
makes
a lot of money,” she pointed out, even though Sean and the organization he worked for had to be well aware of Grant Russo’s net worth.

“He knows how to spend it lavishly, too,” Sean muttered as he parked the Camaro in her father’s driveway, then cut the engine. “Let’s do this and get it done.”

Sean got out of the car, and she sighed in annoyance. After retrieving the key to her father’s house, Zoe tucked her purse beneath the passenger seat so she didn’t have to carry it with her, then met up with Sean at the paved walkway leading to the front of the house. Whatever his problem was with her father’s wealth, Zoe decided to take the high road and not call Sean on it. Besides, it was his issue to deal with, not hers.

She unlocked the main door, then stepped inside and quickly disengaged the alarm. Sean walked in behind her, his gaze sweeping the area, taking in the open Mediterranean architecture, the imported Italian flooring, and the rich décor embellishing the sprawling one-story house.

His jaw clenched ever so slightly as he glanced back at her. “Let’s start in your father’s bedroom and go from there,” Sean suggested.

She nodded in agreement. “It’s this way.”

Setting her key ring on a table near the door, she led the way down a wide hallway and into the spacious master bedroom. Everything was neat and tidy, including the comforter on the bed, which was smooth and undisturbed. The adjoining bathroom was also spotless, most likely due to her father’s housekeeper, who came by once a week to clean the house.

Sean started with the nightstand drawers and worked his way around the room from there while Zoe glanced through the bathroom drawers and medicine cabinet but couldn’t tell what toiletries were missing, if any. The clothes in her father’s walk-in closet were hung up in a neat and orderly manner. There was nothing to indicate he’d packed in a rush, nor could she find anything out of the ordinary to give her cause for concern.

Back in the bedroom, she watched as Sean continued searching through her father’s dresser drawers, then looked behind all the artwork hanging on the wall, his movements efficient and methodical. It felt wrong and invasive rummaging through her father’s personal things, but she knew it was necessary to find him and prove his innocence.

From there, she and Sean moved on, going from room to room and doing a thorough check of each, including the kitchen, and came up empty-handed. Zoe was both relieved that they didn’t find anything incriminating against her father yet disappointed there wasn’t anything tangible to confirm his business trip to Chicago.

But she and Sean still had one last place to search—her father’s spacious home office. If there was any information to be found, that would most likely be the spot where he’d keep his business-related paperwork.

As soon as she and Sean walked into the room the scent of leather, mingled with the rich, woodsy fragrance of her father’s cologne, wrapped around her like a warm, familiar embrace. The kind that reminded her of being a little girl and sneaking into her father’s office while he was working, and how he’d stop whatever he was doing to give her his attention and a piece of the candy he kept in one of his desk drawers just for her. It was a comforting childhood recollection she didn’t want tainted by something unpleasant, like the possibility that her father was capable of the things Sean had accused him of last night.

“Zoe?” Sean asked from beside her. “You okay?”

Realizing she’d gotten lost in her thoughts, she shook her head of the past and met Sean’s gaze. “I’m fine,” she said evenly, certain he wasn’t interested in hearing about those warm, fuzzy memories about her father. Not when Sean believed the worst about Grant Russo.

“Why don’t you check the bookshelves and I’ll go through the file cabinets and desk?” he suggested, obviously giving her the easier task.

Not that she minded, considering how just stepping into her father’s office had triggered her emotions. “Sure.”

Sean headed toward the desk and she veered to the right, where a wet bar and built-in bookcase lined the wall. She wasn’t sure what, exactly, she was looking for that might be stored in a bookcase, but she went ahead and scanned the hardback novels and expensive-looking trinkets sitting on the shelves. There was also a collection of bronze sculptures that had undoubtedly cost a small fortune, along with the Waterford crystal decanters of alcohol and glasses monogrammed with his initials that were situated above the wet bar.

Her father had always enjoyed the finer things in life—from the artwork he bought to the cars he drove and even the beautiful women he was attracted to, Collette Russo included. Zoe’s mother might not have come from money, but she sure knew how to spend it and even now, after the divorce,
depended
on it.

“Damn it,” Sean muttered from behind Zoe.

Curious to know what had set Sean off, Zoe turned around and found him tugging the handle on a drawer, which didn’t budge. “What’s wrong?”

Frowning, he checked the next drawer down and again met with resistance. “All the filing cabinets are locked.”

Zoe wasn’t surprised. Most filing cabinets held personal, private, and business-related items, and if her father was out of town for an unspecified amount of time, why wouldn’t he secure confidential paperwork until he returned? Still, Sean was clearly annoyed that he didn’t have access to the files.

“You mean to tell me you don’t know how to pick the lock open?” she asked, the teasing note in her voice overriding what should have been sarcasm.

“Sure I do,” he said, flashing her a sexy dimpled grin. “Except I left my lock-picking kit at home.”

She didn’t know if he was serious or not but was more inclined to believe a man like Sean knew his way around something as simple as a lock. “You could always do like MacGyver and try using a paper clip to toggle it open.”

Sean smirked at her attempt at humor. “You’re very funny.”

“You strike me as an innovative type of guy,” she said with a shrug. “Seriously, I think you’ll find whatever you need on the computer’s hard drive.” At least she hoped he did. She didn’t relish the thought of Sean, or anyone else for that matter, rifling through her father’s personal bills and business transactions, and unless speculation turned into guilt, she was going to do her best to dissuade anyone from that particular invasion of privacy. It was bad enough that they were pillaging information from his computer, but even
she
was hoping Lucas would find
something
that would explain where her father was.

“You’re probably right,” Sean said as he stepped back to the large desk and set his sights on the computer sitting on the surface. “But it would have been interesting to see if there was anything worthwhile in the filing cabinets.”

Worthwhile,
meaning evidence of her father cheating people out of millions of dollars. The thought made her stomach churn.

Exhaling a deep breath, she returned her attention back to the bookcase. She glanced at the last section of shelves, and the first thing that caught her attention was the handcrafted humidor she’d given to her father for Christmas a few years ago to store his favorite cigars. Absently she ran her fingers over the smooth lacquer finish and her father’s initials, carved into the mahogany wood, ridiculously happy to see that he actually used the box and had it on display.

Below that, on a separate shelf, was a framed picture of her and her father—a photograph she easily recognized as the one Jessica had taken of the two of them the day she’d graduated from the Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising in Los Angeles, magna cum laude. Her father had driven the four hours from Las Vegas to attend her ceremony and awards reception and to hand her the keys to a brand-new Lexus as a graduation gift.