"We'll come back tomorrow, Alexa."

"I know." But that didn't help Abby tonight.

"We're making progress."

She couldn't stand to hear another empty line of consolation. "Please, let's just go." Each step to the car was a struggle. The headlights flashed twice when Tucker hit the b.u.t.ton on the key fob. Alexa reached for the door handle and sighed out an unsteady breath as she looked around, staring into the shadows wearily, remembering Jack pulling his gun on three men. She'd never heard Jack's voice low and dangerous like it had been in that moment.

"Yo, Renzo," the outside bouncer called.

Alexa whipped her head around as a tall man gave the bouncer a knuckle b.u.mp. "Renzo," she whispered as she studied him, cast in the neon pink lights of the sign.

"What is it?" Tucker stepped closer.

"That man talking to the bouncer. His name is Renzo. My sister went out on a few dates with someone named Renzo."

"The photographer, right?" Tucker shut his door, hit a b.u.t.ton on the key fob, and the lights blinked again. "Take off your earring."

She tore her gaze from the entrance as Renzo disappeared inside. "What?"

"Take off your earring. We just realized you lost it. We should go in and look around."

Catching on, Alexa took off her jewelry and shoved it in her pocket as they hurried back to the door.

"My lady lost her earring."

The bouncer eyed them both. "So?"

"So, we want to go in and find it."

"It's one of my favorites." Alexa gave the bouncer a tease of smile as she looked up from under her long, sooty lashes.

"Fine." He moved out of the way.

Tucker grabbed Alexa's hand as she bolted inside.

"Take it easy," he warned as he reined her back to him.

"I want to see him. This is too much of a coincidence."

"I agree, but we need to play it cool."

It was hard to remain calm when every instinct told her that the man laughing and joking with the bartender had something to do with Abby's disappearance.

"Look for your earring, Alexa."

She tore her gaze from the well-built man in his designer jeans and navy short-sleeve polo shirt as she pretended to look under their table. She snuck another peek at Renzo while she moved the chair she'd been sitting in. He was definitely Abby's type. His charming grin and dark Italian features certainly would've caught her sister's eye.

Could he really be the guy Abby had gone to dinner with a handful of times? Was he the one Abby felt she had a lot in common with? Renzo didn't seem to fit in here in his expensive clothes and appealing smile any more than she and Tucker did.

As Alexa pushed the chair in, Blondie sidled up to the bar for the drinks the bartender poured. She placed a beer bottle and vodka tonic on a tray as Renzo moved to her side and said something close to her ear. Blondie's fingers tightened on the gla.s.s and she turned to leave. Renzo grabbed her wrist and yanked her back around. Blondie flinched when he tugged her forward, causing the beer bottle to topple on the tray. His eyes changed and the features of his handsome face contorted into something mean.

Alexa clutched the back of the chair as her heart pounded. That man had the answers to Abby's kidnapping. She turned to Tucker. "He did it. He took Abby."

"Okay."

How could Tucker be so calm? "He knows where my sister is," she tried again, wanting Tucker to feel the same urgency she did.

"Let's get out of here and go back to the house."

She looked at Renzo one last time as he took a seat on an empty stool, memorizing every feature of his face. Another waitress came to the bar, eyeing Renzo wearily. When she turned with her tray full of beverages, he pinched her naked b.u.t.t cheek. The tray crashed to the floor, and Alexa whirled while Renzo's laughter mixed with the bartenders. "I'm ready." There was nothing more they could do for Abby tonight, but she knew in her heart that Renzo was the key to bringing her sister home.

Tucker pulled up to the curb in front of the Matthew's house forty-five minutes later. The drive back had pa.s.sed in a blur of Tucker's non-stop questions. She'd racked her brain, trying desperately to remember the few details Abby had shared about her dates with Renzo. In the end, she simply hadn't paid enough attention. Abby's mention of her nights out with the photographer hadn't thrown up any red flags, nor did they make Alexa think that the handful of encounters were anything more than casual dinners.

Were there clues in Abby's e-mails or planner? Certainly there had to be something. The authorities took Abby's laptop and cellphone, but Alexa still had Abby's day planner. Surely there was some mention of Renzo she had missed. She'd read each page a thousand times with no luck, but now that she knew what she was looking for, she would try again.

Tucker yanked on the parking break as Alexa whipped off her seatbelt and opened the door. She pulled off the ugly red wig she'd forgotten about and hurried up the front steps, using the key Carol had given her. On a mission for answers, she rushed up the stairs and down the hall. As she reached for the doork.n.o.b to her room, Tucker took a right and shut himself in George's home office. She opened her door and came to a stop three steps inside. Jack slept in her bed with Livy snuggled in the crook of his arm. So many emotions swamped her: love, longing, despair. How many times had she hoped for this? How many nights had she lain awake, dreaming of her daughter knowing her father?

Everything about Jack and Livy was as it should be. There was already a strong bond between Jack and their little girl, despite the years apart. So why did she want to cry?

Because she needed Abby. Nothing would be exactly right until Abby came home. She couldn't move forward without her sister. Her heart was torn in so many pieces; she couldn't begin to put it back together until Abby was safe.

Alexa stared a moment longer, then tiptoed around the half-wall to the small sitting area with the view of the water. She rifled through her carry-on until she found the black leather book chock-full of Abby's past and future plans. She plopped herself on the edge of the plush couch as the refreshing breeze blew off the bay and through the open windows. Alexa painstakingly read each phone number in the contact list, placing a small red dot next to any name she didn't recognize. First thing tomorrow morning, she would start calling to find out who was whom.

Several minutes later, she started the tedious process of reading each hour of Abby's day, staring in December of last year. By the time she made it through late March, she teemed with frustration. Although the details of Abby's dates with Renzo had been sketchy, she was positive Abby had gone on at least two by that point. So why wasn't his phone number or the name of the restaurant they visited together scribbled down? There was nothing. Abby was so meticulous with her schedule-she was too busy not to be-but other than dinner written in a rectangular box blocking off the hour between sevenn thirty and eight thirty on March 15 and March 28, there was zilch to work with. Dinner where? Dinner with whom? She had an idea, but she needed solid facts.

Alexa steamed out a frustrated growl and started her own list of things to do. She would call her sister's roommates again and find out what they remembered about Renzo. Focusing on the calendar again, she scanned April and the first three weeks of May, noting three more dinner blocks from seven thirty to eight thirty. Those had to be the date nights. With no more answers than she started with, she shut Abby's planner and stared at her laptop.

The police had taken Abby's laptop, but could she still access the e-mail account? She'd never tried, fearing she might damage some sort of vital evidence, but she was willing to try now. The authorities weren't spending their time trying to help Abby; their only interest was Zachary Hartwell. Nibbling her lip, she typed in Abby's username and pa.s.sword. Seconds later, Alexa's screen filled with hundreds of unopened e-mails. She scanned two pages, recognizing many of the senders. The few addresses she didn't recognize, she opened. Most were from contacts in the fashion industry offering words of hope for a quick and safe return. Alexa sniffed and wiped at her eyes. Her sister was so well loved.

She pulled a tissue from the box on the small end table and dabbed at her nose as she tried to pull herself together. Sentiment wasn't going to help Abby. She took a deep breath and got back to work, scrutinizing each sender once more. She backtracked into Abby's opened mail, but she still couldn't find anything from Renzo. "What the heck?"

Sighing, she rubbed at her temples. The guy wasn't a d.a.m.n ghost. She'd seen him in the flesh herself-unless she'd jumped to a major conclusion and the Renzo at Lady Pink wasn't the person they were looking for. "No. No." She rested her face in her hands, afraid she would scream out her anger as she hit yet another dead end. Of course he was the right Renzo. The coincidence was too perfect. "Okay." She flexed her fingers before she typed Renzo in the search bar of Abby's account. A box reading, No messages matched your search, popped up. She tried Lorenzo next. The message popped up again. She flopped back against the cushion of the couch. What's his last name? Why hadn't she asked Abby? It was such basic information, yet she didn't have a clue.

One more try. She typed Renzo, Baltimore fashion photographer into Google. Several hits filled the screen. She clicked on the first and discovered that The Renzo was a posh restaurant overlooking the water, located not far from Abby's old row house. She clicked on the next hit with Renzo and fashion in it. A paper had mentioned a small fashion show the restaurant had hosted several weeks back, but that wasn't what she was looking for. After scanning five more hits with similar results, she gripped the edges of the laptop as her breath rushed in and out, hot tears filling her eyes. She set her computer down with great care, fighting the urge to throw it to the floor and watch it crack in to pieces, as she struggled with her unfamiliar rage. She'd never felt as helpless and angry as she did right now. For every step they gained in the investigation, something stood in the way to slow it down.

Alexa stood and walked to the window. The steady breeze and sounds of the night did little to soothe her. She needed Abby's cellphone. There was probably a text from Renzo, or at least a number, but the police still had it. Jack or Tucker would have to call the detective and have him check. She pressed her head to the window's wooden frame, trying to get a grip on her raw emotions. The inability to do anything more than wait on others was becoming too much to bear. There had to be something else she could be doing.

"Alex?" Jack stirred in the bed beyond the half-wall.

"Yeah."

The mattress squeaked with his movements. She didn't turn to face him as he walked from the other side of the room. She was afraid she might lash out. No matter how she tried, she couldn't bury the spark of resentment wanting to burst into flames. He'd promised her he would bring Abby home, but he hadn't. Abby had been right in front of them, and he watched her walk away. He protected people for a living, but he didn't protect Abby. Shamed to the marrow, more tears filled her eyes.

"How'd it go?"

"She wasn't there."

"She wasn't... Where's Tucker?"

She shrugged. "In the office."

He rested his warm, calloused hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Alex."

"Sorry doesn't do Abby much good," she bit off, unable to hold it all back.

Jack's fingers tightened against her skin, but then he dropped his hands.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "She was there last night. We should've called Detective Canon right away. You should have tried to take her."

"No, I shouldn't have. We already talked about this."

"I'm so sick of talking." She whirled. "Everyone wants to talk, but n.o.body wants to act. My sister needs help."

The room filled with tension as Jack held her gaze but said nothing.

"We saw a man named Renzo tonight."

Surprise flickered in his eyes. "What?"

"A man named Renzo came to Lady Pink as we were heading to the car. I heard the bouncer say his name."

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h." He jammed a hand through his hair. "I need to talk to Tucker."

"Renzo knows where my sister is. I know he does."

"Let me talk to Tucker. I'll put in a call to Ethan."

"What about Detective Canon?"

"No."

"Why?" she asked with exasperation. "He's in charge of Abby's case."

"And how many times has he called you with new leads?" His voice lowered as his eyes heated. "I can waste time listening to him rip me another a.s.shole for getting in the way, or I can get moving on this. We've uncovered more in twenty-four hours than the police have since she disappeared. Canon has to follow procedure. I don't. I've already told you they aren't going to act until they have the key players of this ring. Let Ethan do some digging into Renzo. Let me and Tucker work the angles on this for a day or two. If we can't bring anything else around, I'll call Detective Canon."

"Abby can't afford to wait."

"She also can't afford mistakes. There aren't any easy answers here, Alex. As much as you don't want to hear it and I hate repeating it, you're going to have to be patient."

Patient. If she was told to be patient one more time... She turned again and stared hard out the window. "They've already moved her. How long until they send her away? We tried your way last night, Jack, and look where that got us." She bunched her fists at her side, hating herself for being so mean. None of this was his fault. "I'm sorry, Jack. I-" She turned and he was gone.

She took a step toward the door but stopped and sat on the couch instead, lying against the cushion. What was she doing? She was hurting the only person who'd stood by her through this ordeal. When Jack came back from the office, she would sit him down and apologize, but as the minutes ticked by and she waited, she fell asleep.

Jackson rapped his knuckles on the door of his father's office and peeked in.

Tucker gave him a 'come on in' signal with a jerk of his head while he spoke on his cellphone. "Run that and let us know what you get. Yeah, we're going back tomorrow night. Okay, later." He set his phone down and propped his feet on the edge of the desk, ankles crossed. "I take it you spoke with Alexa."

"Oh, we talked." Jackson clenched his jaw and plunked his a.s.s on the arm of the couch. The angry hurt in Alex's eyes and barely controlled fury in her short, cutting words bothered the h.e.l.l out of him. "Abby wasn't at Lady Pink. Renzo was." He steamed out a long breath and stood again, too restless to be still. "G.o.dd.a.m.nit." He rubbed his fingers against his forehead. "Abby wasn't f.u.c.king there. Alex is p.i.s.sed."

"So, she's p.i.s.sed." Tucker shrugged. "You made the right call last night."

Jackson walked to the window and stared out at the dark waters. "Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?" Tucker dropped his feet from the desk. "Were you going to fend off a dozen bouncers with your fists, or better yet draw your weapon, shoot a couple of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, and go down for murder? Don't be stupid enough to take that on, Matthews."

Jackson let loose a humorless laugh and shook his head. He knew he'd done the right thing for both Alex and Abby-deep down he did, anyway. The odds of getting them out of Lady Pink safely had been nil, but that didn't make any of this easier. Abby was still being held against her will, and Alex's heart was broken. "I can deal with her anger. G.o.d knows she's been mad at me before. But when she looks at me with those eyes..." He bunched his fists. "They're so f.u.c.king sad. I can hardly stand it."

"This is tough, man. I don't envy your situation. All we can do is keep at it."

"I know." He turned back to Tucker, struggling to push his last 'conversation' with Alex from his mind. "Tell me about Renzo."

"He's in this up to his eyeb.a.l.l.s. My f.u.c.king spidey senses started tingling as soon as I saw him. They still are."

"Same Lorenzo Cruz I was investigating back in LA?"

"Yup. I pulled up his information again-couple of speeding tickets, but no criminal record. He's clean according to the law, but I look forward to Ethan's take. There's more to this guy than we're seeing. We just need to give Ethan time to dig. He said he'll get back to us tomorrow night at the latest."

Uncustomarily edgy, Jackson scrubbed his hands over his face. "All this waiting is making me ape s.h.i.t, man."

Tucker shrugged. "It's part of the game. You know that."

He did, but this was the first time the waiting affected someone he loved. Alex was being torn to pieces. The torture was unbelievable. "What am I going to do if I missed our chance? This whole thing is worse now that I've actually seen her and talked to her and touched her. Abby's f.u.c.king gorgeous. She and Alex could be twins. They're going to use and abuse her until they kill her..." Jackson stopped, and his gaze flew to Tucker's steady, impenetrable stare as he remembered. Abby's case couldn't be easy for Tucker to work. So many pieces were cruelly similar to Tucker's twin sister's unsolved murder. He'd been so wrapped up in Alex and Abby, he'd never stopped to think of the horror Tucker had lived through several years ago. "I'm sorry, man. I wasn't thinking."

Tucker gave Jackson his trademark shrug. "They're probably rotating her. She'll be back."

Jackson nodded, understanding that the subject had been dropped as quickly as it had been brought up. Tucker rarely spoke of his sister or the tragic circ.u.mstances behind her death.

Tucker stood. "I'm thinking I'll spend tomorrow spot-checking Renzo's house, his place of business, etcetera. Hopefully I'll have a few things to add to whatever Ethan finds. I have no doubt he'll uncover something. This guy's in deep. The waitresses are afraid of him. He knows the bartenders and bouncers. I can't figure out why a guy who looks like him and has a career like his would be hanging out at a place like that unless he had something to gain from it."

"Definitely raises a few flags. Now we have to figure out who he's working with and see if it leads us back to Hartwell. This could be big."

"Might be." Tucker stretched his arms as he walked to the door and opened it. "I'm f.u.c.king beat. I'm going to bed. Tomorrow's going to be a long one."

CHAPTER 14.

Alexa bopped her leg up and down while she sat in the moonlit living room, waiting. She glanced at the clock-again. It was three thirty in the morning. Where were they? She picked up her phone from the coffee table and started punching Jack's number in for the fourth time, but stopped herself before she hit the last digit. She set her cell down and wandered to the large picture windows facing the bay, nibbling her lip. She'd texted Jack at midnight for an update, and again at one. When she received no response, she tried to call and was immediately sent to his voicemail. "They're busy. That's all."

But what if they weren't? She turned from the window and swiped a loose strand of hair behind her ear, growing more frantic with every pa.s.sing minute. What if they were in trouble? Maybe the bouncers figured out that they weren't there to ogle naked women. Or maybe Jack and Tucker saw their chance to take Abby, and something had gone terribly wrong.

Alexa pressed a hand to her jittery stomach and tried a deep, calming breath. "They're fine. They have to be." But maybe they weren't. "d.a.m.n it, Jack. Be okay," she whispered, and bit her thumbnail.