Trent nodded. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”
The bartender left to see to another customer and Elise stared at Trent in irritation. “Threesomes?”
“It was all I could think of. We came in together, and I wasn’t about to leave you unattended for every hairy-assed loser to hit on.”
“The point of being here is to mingle. Ask questions. I don’t care how hairy their asses are if they were here Friday night.”
“Fine. Mingle. Knock yourself out. Just stay where I can see you, okay? And don’t let your drink out of your sight.”
“I’m not an idiot, Trent.”
“Wearing that outfit here says differently.”
That was it. Elise was done trying to reason with him. She was here to hunt for information, so she was damn well going to go hunting.
Gary fed his guests, then bundled himself into his winter coat and pulled a knit hat down over his ears. He would be more comfortable if he put on gloves, but then he wouldn’t be able to feel Wendy’s skin under his fingertips.
He unlocked the walk-in freezer and sat on the wooden stool beside his wife. He uncovered her head and found her frozen fingertips beneath the sheet.
“I met someone today,” he told her. “Her name is Gloria. I think you’re going to like her.”
Her fingers were stiff in his—not at all like they used to be before the accident. He remembered how supple and warm they were as they twined with his, as they slid over his body. How they turned the prettiest shade of pink when he tied her up.
She had such beautiful hands, just like Gloria.
Gary had always loved women’s hands. Some men preferred breasts or asses, but he liked hands. They were the outlet of a woman’s creativity, the way she cared for others. They could bring exquisite pleasure, and yet it took so little effort to cause them excruciating pain. So many nerve endings, so many delicate bones.
Without her hands, a woman was helpless. Gary could see it in her eyes—that moment when she realized what she was missing, that she could no longer create, no longer feel, no longer fight. It was the same look Wendy had given him moments before her death. That one, single look of helpless pain had changed his life.
“I drove by Gloria’s place on the way home. It’s a little duplex tucked back away from the main roads. She just moved in and hasn’t put up curtains yet. I saw her moving around inside, putting away groceries. There’s a kind of grace about her that you’re going to love.”
Gary paused, even though he knew Wendy couldn’t respond. It was a habit he’d developed over the years they’d spent together. There was a natural cadence of conversation that flowed between them, and even though she’d been silent for a long time, he still felt his silence was a necessary courtesy.
“I’m going to go see her again tomorrow. I’ll videotape her so I can show you. I know how much you like that.”
He slid his finger down her cheek, following the ridge of a cut that had never healed—a cut she never would have had if he’d been more careful.
Guilt made his finger shake, but he didn’t tell her he was sorry. He wasn’t. She’d given him a precious gift that night—shown him a side of himself he never would have known about.
Her death had been both his deepest sorrow and his greatest joy. One day, he’d find a woman to replace her—maybe Gloria—but until then, he’d have to satisfy himself with the imperfect women he kept in the basement.
Their screams would have to fill that void until his search was over.
From his view on the balcony at Sally’s, Trent had no trouble keeping an eye on Elise. That sparkling dress made her easy to spot in the throbbing crowd of dancers. She was currently dancing with her third partner, writhing in time with the music.
Elise McBride was sexy as hell. Each movement was sinuous grace, a blatant invitation to stare. Her compact curves were fluid under that scant bit of fabric, and a couple of times, Trent thought he might have gotten a shadowy glimpse of cleavage—both front and back.
The music morphed to a different song and Elise pulled her partner from the dance floor toward the booth they shared with two more of her dance partners. Her drink had been left behind at a table with the other two men during the dance. Who knew what they could have drugged it with? Trent had meant to keep an eye on them, but the show Elise had put on had been a potent distraction.
She shimmied herself into the booth and toyed with her glass. She didn’t drink, even though he was sure she had to be thirsty after all that dancing.
Maybe she was smarter than he’d thought.
Not stupid. Desperate.
The man sitting next to her put his arm around her and slid his fingers over her bare shoulder. Trent knew for a fact how soft her skin was, and he hated it that this guy knew now, too.
It wasn’t as if he wanted to stake a claim or anything. He wasn’t even interested in dating. It just bothered him that she had to resort to using her body to get information.
Assuming there was any information to be had.
Whether or not he was interested in dating, Elise still had a way of heating his blood. Trent took a drink of his soda, praying it would help cool him off.
He wanted her, pure and simple. Not that he was going to do anything about it. There was no way he was going to take advantage of any woman when she was frantic and desperate, much less his neighbor’s sister.
Maybe after they found Ashley and everything had calmed down…
Nope. Not going to happen. Don’t even go there.
Trent scanned the crowd, more out of habit than because he thought he’d actually find something useful. There were a lot of sexy women here. A lot of bare skin and glowing female curves.
He wasn’t interested.
Maybe he should let Mom set him up with Busty. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He could make his mom happy and maybe even get laid in the bargain. It wasn’t a bad idea.
After they found Ashley, that’s what he’d do. If Sam didn’t get to Busty first with his juvenile claim of “dibs.”
Trent’s gaze went back to Elise. She was showing the three men at the table a photo of Ashley. One of them nodded and said something that made Elise hop up from the booth. She leaned down and hugged the man and then hurried off on those too-high heels, scanning the crowd.
On the off chance that she was looking for him, Trent ditched his empty glass and made his way down the metal stairs, keeping her in his sights.
A guy at the edge of the dance floor looped his arms over her neck and pulled her out into the mass of writhing bodies. Trent saw her trying to slip out of the man’s hold, but he’d wrangled her deeper into the crowd until she was caged in by dancers with no room to maneuver.
Trent cleared the stairs, but without the advantage of higher ground, he could no longer see her. He pushed his way through the mass of sweating bodies, heading toward the last place he’d seen her. It took forever to move, and the urge to simply shove people away was nearly overwhelming.
The only thing that kept him from doing just that was knowing that it would undoubtedly start a brawl, which would only make things worse for Elise. Not to mention it would get his ass thrown in jail.
Wouldn’t Mom love that?
He collected dozens of dirty looks from the dancers—the ones who weren’t already so high they didn’t even notice he was pushing them around. Finally, he spotted a flash of glowing blond curls against a shimmering dress. Another pair of dancers glared at him as he pushed past, but he didn’t give them a second look.
Over the crowd, he saw the artificially black hair of the man who’d taken her, only five feet away.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” shouted a young man, barely audible over the pounding music.
Trent ignored him and kept on wading through the mass.
Finally, he saw her. The guy with her had one arm locked around her waist and was grinding his dick against her, pretending it was a dance move.
Elise leaned back, trying to put some distance between them. Her hands were on his chest, pushing, but the guy didn’t seem to notice, or care. He’d covered her hands with one of his and was leering down at her.
Elise’s eyes darted around as if looking for a means of escape. When she saw Trent, her gaze locked on his, begging for help.
With pleasure.
Trent squeezed past the last few dancers in his way and said, “Hey, baby. There you are.” He glanced at the asshole. “Find yourself a plaything?”
Elise shook her head, her eyes wide with relief.
Trent gave the asshole an expectant stare. “Sorry, buddy. The lady’s with me.”
“Not right now she isn’t. I’ll give her back when I’m done.”
Elise straightened her backbone and dug her fingernails into the asshole’s chest. “Done? Do I look like I don’t have an opinion?”
“We’re having fun. Tell your boyfriend to go chill for a while and I’ll show you a really good time.”
She laughed, and somehow the sound of her mockery rose up through the pounding beat. “I’m sorry, but the only thing you can show me is why I’m with a real man. Now. Let. Go.”
“You heard her,” added Trent. “I’d rather not have to beat the hell out of you, but I will.”
The asshole gave a derisive snort and lifted his hands from Elise’s body. “Whatever. She’s not worth the trouble.” He turned around and muscled his way through the crowd, knocking one drunken woman off her feet.
“Thanks,” said Elise. Her voice shook, as did the rest of her.
Trent was still running hot, anger burning low and steady inside him. “I told you this place was dangerous.”
“And I believed you. That’s why I let you come.”
“We’re sticking together from here on out.”
“Yes, sir,” she snapped, but it didn’t have the same anger behind it as before. Her voice was still shaking too much to pull that off.
An enthusiastic dancer bumped into Elise and she grabbed Trent’s arm to steady herself. The feel of her fingers on his skin swept through him in an unexpected rush of pleasure. It had been so long since he’d felt anything like it, he simply stood there, staring at the spot where her slender fingers met his tanned skin.
“Sorry,” she said as she let go.
Trent wanted to grab her hand and put it back, but he resisted. He wasn’t thinking clearly. His fear for Elise still pounded through him, bringing out his more primal urges—ones that had no place anywhere near her.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“No, wait. I got a lead.”
Another dancer jostled them, so Trent moved toward an empty spot along the wall. He maneuvered Elise so she had her back to the wall and put his back to the crowd to keep them from bumping into her.
There wasn’t a lot of space, and they stood close enough that they could hear each other over the music. So close he could smell the sweet fragrance of her perfume and the underlying scent of warm woman. “What lead?”
“One of the guys I danced with says he remembers seeing Ashley here Friday. He said she was with a man, and she left with him before the party really got started.”
That would all fall in line with what they knew—she’d left before midnight.
“Did he know the guy’s name?” asked Trent.
“No. And he didn’t really remember what he looked like since he was so busy staring at Ashley. But he said that they have cameras all over this place, especially in the parking lot. I thought we might be able to get a look.”
“We should tell Bob. Let him get a search warrant.”
“What if they retape over old recordings? I don’t want to wait that long and take a chance that we might lose the evidence.”
“If something happened to her and we find evidence, it might not be admissible in court.”
“I don’t care about that. I only care about finding Ashley.”
Trent knew she’d change her mind about court if Ashley had been hurt, or worse, but the desperation glowing in her pale eyes made it impossible to fight her. Not to mention the fact that finding a lead sooner might actually prevent the worst from happening. “I’ll go talk to the bartender.”
“Let me do it. I’m less intimidating.”
“I’m not going to intimidate him.”
She raised her brow. “You may not try to, but you probably will. Besides, you catch more flies with honey. And cleavage.”
Against his will, Trent’s eyes dropped to the low neckline of her dress. It wasn’t as scandalously low as the back, but it was low enough. He could see the swell of her breasts, gleaming with moisture. Whether it was the sweat of fear from being swept away by the asshole, or her body heating from all the dancing she’d done, he wasn’t sure. What he was sure about was that it made her glow like a beacon, trapping his gaze.
The bartender had no hope.
“Right. Honey.” Sweet and sticky, begging Trent to taste.
His mouth had gone dry and he desperately needed another drink anyway. Time to hit the bar.
Trent cleared a path the best he could. Elise clutched the back of his shirt, pressing herself against his spine to avoid being swept away by another asshole. He could feel the swell of her breasts brush against him every few steps, and remembered just how nice they’d felt against his chest, too. If he ever got the chance to have her pressed up against a wall again, he was going to take the time to enjoy it.