He c.o.c.ked a curious eyebrow. "I haven't heard that term."

She laughed self-consciously. "It mostly involves spying on their kids. It's really scary when you see how many sleazebags are out there, trolling the Net and targeting young kids, and it's hard for parents to keep on top of it." She gave a shudder. "Through that first client I got several referrals. I also do some financial tracking, help people find a.s.sets their spouses might have moved to offsh.o.r.e accounts."

"And cheating spouses?" Ethan asked.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Not too much, but definitely more than I'd like to. It's bad enough when I have to show women the e-mails their husbands are sending to their girlfriends, but sometimes even that's not enough proof. Like last Friday I was out until three, waiting outside the Sheraton to take a picture of my client's husband."

"h.e.l.l of a way to spend a Friday."

Toni remembered the lipstick. While she'd been folded up in the front seat of her Honda, Ethan had been folded up around another woman.

She wondered if the plane came equipped with air sickness bags. "All I know is that even the most devoted husband will screw around if he thinks he can get away with it." And she'd certainly been proven right in her own love life.

"What about the wives? Haven't you caught any of Marcy's friends with their pool boys and their trainers?"

She heard the harsh edge creep into his voice. "I'm sure it happens," she finally said, "but so far I've only been hired by the wives."

He looked like he was about to argue but let the subject drop as the lights of the Las Vegas strip came into view.

Jerry picked up the phone on the second ring as the fifty-year-old Macallan he'd just swallowed turned to battery acid in his stomach.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes." He'd sent Manuela home, closed and locked the door to his study just to be safe. Taggart and that b.i.t.c.h Marcy had hired were on their way to Vegas, of all places, after finding a link to some guy they thought was Kara's boyfriend.

Kara's boyfriend, the amateur p.o.r.nographer. Jerry had never thought he'd see the day when he'd prefer his daughter be in the company of a wannabe p.o.r.n king, but even that would be better than where she really was. He'd been going crazy for the past day and a half, knowing Connors had her. Wondering what he was doing to her.

"Is Kara okay?"

"She's fine. Would you like to speak to her?"

There was the m.u.f.fled sound of the phone being pa.s.sed. Then, "Daddy? Are you there?"

His heart raced in relief as his gut twisted in guilt. "I'm here, Kara. Are you okay? Has he hurt you?"

"Not really," she sniffled. "But I want to come home. You have to get me out of-"

"As I said," Connors cold, clipped voice came back on the line. "She is perfectly safe for the time being. But if you want her to remain so, you will turn over the prototype without further delay."

"It's not ready yet." Cold sweat bloomed between Jerry's shoulder blades as the lie spilled from his lips. His conscience ate at him. What kind of man equivocated when his daughter's life was on the line?

But he couldn't give up the prototype. Not before he made a few more modifications. "You have to give me more time to run some more tests. The buyers won't be happy if it doesn't work."

"You let me worry about my customers." Connors's voice went even colder, if that was possible. "You have other, more important concerns."

"You'll have it in a few days. Just let Kara go. We can forget this ever happened. I'll turn over the prototype as soon as it's fully functional."

"Your daughter is very, very beautiful, Jerry. I'm sure you know that."

Bile burned at the back of his throat at the unmistakable tone in Connors's voice. "Don't you touch her, you sick f.u.c.k." It was a possibility he hadn't allowed himself to entertain for the past day and a half, ever since he realized that Connors had Kara. He'd calmed himself with the fact that this was a business transaction. Connors was p.i.s.sed that Jerry was waffling on delivering the BioChip prototype, so he was using the best leverage he could find. It made perfect business sense, in a f.u.c.ked-up criminal sort of way.

He didn't allow himself to dwell on the possibility that his daughter might be raped because of his mistakes.

"Don't worry, Jerry. Beautiful as she is, I have enough self-restraint not to sully the merchandise."

"Merchandise?"

"I wasn't always in high-tech. Prost.i.tution used to be a lucrative part of my business. But nowadays, women-even beautiful, seemingly unattainable women-are willing to flash their t.i.ts at the camera, f.u.c.k anyone who asks. It hardly makes it worth paying for anymore. Wh.o.r.es have become a commodity. Which is why I moved into the technology business," he said, as though explaining his resume during a job interview.

"But there is one thing men will still pay for, Jerry, because it has become so very rare. Innocence."

Jerry's blood froze in his veins.

"Though I personally prefer a more experienced woman, I can understand the appeal. There are men who will pay-and pay well-to have first crack at a young woman. Like your daughter, for example. She is so pretty, so fresh. She will generate a great deal of interest."

Jerry tried to speak, but all that came out was a garbled sound of horror and rage.

"Don't worry. I won't sell her to just anyone. The group I deal with is very exclusive. Wealthy men, much like yourself, who crave a taste of innocence. In the event that you do not deliver the prototype on time, I'm sure they will pay more than enough to allow me to pay my customers back."

"I can pay you back!" Jerry sputtered, finally finding his voice. "I'll give you back my cut, plus whatever they paid you. I'll double it, whatever you want, just let Kara go."

Connors's laugh cracked over the phone line, sharp as a gunshot. "Now Jerry, what kind of learning experience would I be providing if I allowed you to buy your way out of this? Besides, Kara is so beautiful, her virginity so unusual at a comparatively advanced age, who knows what price she'll fetch? I may make enough off her to earn a profit."

He spoke of selling Jerry's daughter's body with the same emotion as if it were a used car.

"You sick, perverted f.u.c.k. If you harm one hair on her head..." Jerry let the threat linger, though he had no clue what he would do if Connors hurt Kara. He had Jerry over a barrel and he knew it.

"Turn over the prototype and you will no longer have reason to worry."

Jerry ran a hand over his face, wishing he could wake up from this nightmare he had created for himself.

A nightmare in which he had to make a choice: hand over a technology that would sp.a.w.n the next generation of biological weapons, resulting in the deaths of millions, or allow his daughter to be raped by some disgusting old man who got off on f.u.c.king virgins.

"The latest version didn't work." It wasn't entirely a lie. In the last test, the prototype didn't work perfectly, but with a slight modification to the sample preparation, it produced results beyond anything they'd ever seen. If he'd continued to run his experiment, he would have eventually ended up with a measles virus immune to any vaccines or drug therapies.

"Yes, as you mentioned. For that reason, I will speak to my customers and tell them there will be a slight delay. But do not wait too long. My customers are eager to see a demonstration."

A shaky, hopeful breath billowed from his lungs. He could still modify the chip. Once he had Kara back, he'd grab her and Kyle, move all of his money to an offsh.o.r.e account, and go so deep into hiding no one would ever find him. Maybe he'd even fake their deaths, just to be sure. A plane crash- "You are lucky that the delay works in my favor. It will give me time to settle negotiations for Kara's fate in case something should go wrong." Connors's voice cut like a blade through Jerry's wild imaginings.

"Nothing will go wrong," Jerry bit out.

"I hope not. But I've taken some lovely photos just in case. Marketing material, if you will. You'll see them if you check your e-mail."

The scotch bubbled sourly in Jerry's throat as he pulled up Kara's computer. He'd hidden it from everyone, used it to communicate with Connors so there would be no evidence of their communication on his own computer. He logged in to his free Web mail address and clicked on the message. His extremities went numb with shock as he took in the image of his daughter. She lay on a bed, in a white nightshirt, her face a mask of fear as she stared at the camera.

She knew what would happen to her if Jerry didn't deliver.

G.o.d, none of this was supposed to happen. It had all seemed like such a great idea when Connors-at least that's what he called himself; Jerry didn't believe for a second it was his real name-had contacted Jerry.

Jerry had seen it as a way to stick it to the f.u.c.king board of GeneCor, who thought they could push Jerry aside, after he'd spent six f.u.c.king years of his blood, his sweat, his G.o.dd.a.m.ned money, turning his innovative idea for biological chips into a real product, a real company.

But then the company had gone public, and the investors decided that Jerry was too brash, too volatile, too lacking in focus and discipline to run the company. So they'd hired that f.u.c.king automaton and shoved Jerry into the proverbial bas.e.m.e.nt to tinker with his toys. Oh, sure, to the outside world, Executive Vice President of Technology Innovation sounded prestigious.

But everyone in the company, every board member, all of the men and women Jerry had made rich with his ideas and his products, knew it was all a load of s.h.i.t. At first he'd tried to take it seriously. For a whole f.u.c.king year, he had actually spent time and energy developing new product prototypes based on the existing platform.

They'd given him the equivalent of a pat on the head and told him to keep up the good work. When Jerry had complained to the chairman of the board, a man he'd always considered a good friend and trusted adviser, he'd been told that if he wasn't happy, maybe it was time for him to move on. GeneCor had netted Jerry hundreds of millions of dollars, making him financially free to do anything he chose, including starting a new company on his own, where he could develop whatever new products he wished.

Provided he paid GeneCor appropriate licensing fees.

A carefully worded, oh-so-professional way of telling Jerry not to let the door hit him in the a.s.s on the way out. Several days later Connors had contacted Jerry. He had well-placed sources everywhere, and somehow he'd gotten wind of what Jerry was working on. At the time, it had seemed like destiny. Divine justice for those who had tried to screw him over.

Connors's voice ripped him back to the present. There was no time to wallow in regret. What was done was done, and now it was up to Jerry to get himself out of the s.h.i.thole he'd dug for himself.

"This isn't the first time I've procured girls for this group. And nowadays the Internet makes them so easy to find. Girls just like Kara, proselytizing the merits of saving themselves," Connors said, as though Jerry hadn't spoken. "Did I mention that they videotape the girl's first time? They've sent me some of the footage for my own enjoyment-I've built up quite a collection. There's nothing that compares with the expression on the girl's face the first time she feels a c.o.c.k shoving inside her untried hole."

Jerry scrambled off the couch, barely making it to the garbage can before the scotch came boiling back up.

"I could send you copies, if you like."

Jerry slumped back on the couch, sick and scared. His little girl. And Jerry had delivered her into the hands of a monster. "I'll be ready. Just tell me where and when."

"I'll let you know the details of the exchange as the time gets closer. In the meantime, you will continue to keep the police uninvolved?"

"Yes. I've already posted to Kara's Web site."

"Good. And this investigator you were stupid enough to hire?"

"I've got him under control. The woman, too. Right now they're off looking for Kara in Vegas."

"As soon as they get back, you need to fire them. The more they dig around, the more the potential complications. I don't want to clean up any more messes than necessary."

"How can I justify firing Taggart if Kara's still gone?" He was already walking a tightrope with Taggart and the police, encouraging them to look under every rock while he planted clues that implied Kara was just another kid who'd gotten p.i.s.sed at her parents and was blowing off steam at a friend's house for a few days. If he suddenly backed off now, Taggart would smell it a mile away.

And if he didn't, the Crawford woman definitely would. Jerry was already afraid she suspected something, with her too-knowing stare burning from behind the lenses of her gla.s.ses.

"Leave it to me. You concentrate on getting the prototype and appropriate literature ready for delivery."

The connection broke before Jerry could ask what that meant. Cryptic b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

He poured himself another scotch, enough to dull the rough edges but not enough to impair his ability to drive. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he drove to GeneCor headquarters. He wouldn't sleep tonight, not with the images of what waited for Kara careening off his skull. But he would put the long, dark hours to good use.

He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, but he couldn't deliver the prototype without making the necessary changes. Jerry knew he'd doomed himself to h.e.l.l for many reasons, but he still had a chance to make sure that handing over the foundation for the world's most terrifying biological weapons program wasn't one of them.

CHAPTER 8.

H ALF AN HOUR after they landed, Toni followed Ethan through the front doors of the Wynn Las Vegas Hotel and Casino. Toni took her backpack and and ducked into the lobby bathroom to exchange her jeans and T-shirt for a dress and heels. She did a quick application of black eyeliner, a double coat of mascara, and a slick of s.l.u.t-red lipstick across her mouth, careful not to look at her reflection below her neck.

She knew if she did, she'd chicken out.

She exited the bathroom and quickly found Ethan. He'd also changed his clothes, from cargo pants and the form-fitting black T-shirt to black pants and a striped b.u.t.ton-front shirt that was fitted enough to show the contours of his broad chest and trim waist. He scanned the crowd, looking for her, and she took a few seconds to take him in while before he noticed her. He fit in perfectly, with his understated but expensive clothes, perfectly tailored to fit his big, muscular body, his strong, sculpted features that attracted the attention of every female who walked by.

One of the beautiful people, perfectly suited for this glamorous setting. But If you looked closely you could tell he wasn't in Vegas to party. He had an aura of alertness, an icy intensity in his blue gaze as he scanned the crowd, tension in his body as if he were ready to pounce.

Suddenly that icy gaze slid past her, caught, slid back again.

The look in his eyes went from icy to hot enough to melt her flimsy silver dress to her skin.

She met his gaze dead-on, c.o.c.ked her hip with a bravado she didn't feel. She'd pulled the dress from the back of her closet on impulse. A tiny confection of silver satin and chain link, she'd bought it on a whim after her friend Megan told her it made her look like a Bond Girl from the Sean Connery days.

She'd never had the nerve to wear it out of the house.

But when Ethan had given her outfit a scathing once-over and recommended that she find something to wear, his look saying he expected her to pull out a sack and some combat boots, she couldn't resist.

Now his eyes ran all the way from the manicured tips of her toes peeking out of silver peep-toe platforms, up her bare legs to her hooker-red mouth, all the way back down, and all the way back up again. He looked as if someone had punched him in the face.

He walked over to her, his stride purposeful and intent. The dazed look was gone, replaced with one that said he was thinking of tugging the flimsy straps off her shoulders and picking up where he'd left off back at her apartment.

He stopped just short of her, close enough for her to feel the heat of him through their clothes, close enough that she could feel his slightly accelerated breath stir her hair.

Her lips slid into an involuntary smirk. It wasn't often she got to knock a guy as hot as Ethan on his a.s.s.

She tipped her chin up. In her heels, she was almost as tall as he was and could look him straight in the eye. His were heavy-lidded, molten-hot blue flame, promising things she'd never even thought of.

His hand slid around her bare forearm, the heat from his palm licking up her skin and making her nipples tighten in hard points against the insubstantial satin of her dress. He leaned in, and for a minute she thought he was going to kiss her.

"Nice dress," he said, his breath hot against her cheek. She could hear the underlying amus.e.m.e.nt and frustration in his voice. "Now let's go find Kara."

Just like that, the moment was gone, and Toni was snapped back to reality. She was no hot girl in Vegas to party with her hot guy. She had a job to do, a friend to find, and she needed to keep that in mind and not get distracted by a s.e.xy exnavy pilot who looked at her like he wanted to dip her in cream and lick her all over.

But she couldn't stop herself from ogling his firm, tight a.s.s as he walked a few feet in front of her across the casino floor. Her fingers tingled at the remembered feel of it, so hard and resilient as she'd gripped it. The way the muscles bunched and flexed as he ground against her.

"Here's the place," Ethan said, stopping in front of the club where Toni had tracked Toby's most recent credit card transaction. "Now we just have to find him."

The doorman gave them a quick once-over before nodding them inside. They scanned the bar, looking for a face that resembled the picture Toni had downloaded from Toby's FacePlace profile, but the low light and dark furnishings made it nearly impossible to pick a face out of a crowd.

A waitress walked toward them, looking through Toni as she made a beeline for the bar. Ethan flashed the woman a smile and she halted, changed her course, and walked right over to Ethan as though pulled in by a tractor beam.

"What can I get you?" she asked, gazing up at him from under lashes that she could barely lift, with their thick coating of mascara. Her short, clingy c.o.c.ktail dress showed off acres of deeply tanned skin, which contrasted nicely with her almost white-blond hair.

Hair was fake. b.o.o.bs were questionable, she thought sourly as she watched Ethan grace her with one of his slow, heart-stopping smiles and lean in a little closer.