Decadent. Suzanne Forster
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mouth tasted gritty. Her nerves had been a jangled mess for days, and lack of sleep didn’t help. Worrying about Vix had kept her awake all night. She didn’t know where or how her sister was being held, whether she was being abused, or even if she was alive. Ally had checked her e-mail on her BlackBerry several times, but there’d been no messages from her sister.
Vix had been traveling on her own since she was a child. A short hop to New Orleans was nothing to her. She’d made the trip to check out Tulane University’s undergrad program, and she’d been gone overnight when Ally had received that ominous e-mail from her. Ally had immediately called the hotel where Vix had planned to stay, but she hadn’t checked in. There wasn’t even a reservation for her.
Then Ally had called Vix’s close friends in Georgetown, being careful not to alarm them when she asked about her sister. None of them had heard from Vix since she’d left. Reluctantly, Ally contacted the rock musician her eighteen-year-old sister had been dating, only to learn that he’d received an e-mail from Vix the same day Ally had. He’d revealed that Vix’s e-mail had been upbeat and cheerful, and she hadn’t mentioned any concerns beyond her choice of schools. Ally had doubts about her sister’s boyfriend, but she had no reason to think he would lie about something like that. That was when Ally had decided to fly to New Orleans to check things out for herself.
Ally feared Vix might have gone to Club Casablanca out of curiosity. It was only a short drive from Tulane. She suspected her sister was fascinated with Jason Aragon because of the stories Ally had told her. She hadn’t been trying to intrigue her sister, just the opposite. She worried that Vix would make the same mistakes she had, and she’d wanted her to understand that impulsive decisions could do lasting damage. But her impetuous sister had found Ally’s walk on the wild side highly intriguing, and Vix had a rebellious streak, too.
She knew Jason Aragon to be capable of many things, but she didn’t believe him evil enough to kill or even to take sexual advantage of her little sister. It was much more likely that he was using Vix as a means to an end, and that end was Ally, herself. Ally was the catch, Vix the bait.
He’d become controlling and obsessive, refusing to let Ally go when she wanted out of the relationship. At first she’d found his fast-paced, sexy lifestyle exciting, but it had frightened her when his physical desires began to darken, and she never got used to the leering club members who considered the hostesses free game. Not her, of course. She was Aragon’s woman. No one touched her. But she didn’t want Vix exposed to any of that.
When the elevators door opened, Ally took a moment to orient herself. The first thing she had to do was find the chambermaid she’d persuaded to help her. Ally had offered the young woman cash, but she’d refused it. She hadn’t agreed to help until Ally disclosed that her sister was missing, and she was afraid for her safety. The chambermaid had lost her own sister to guerrilla forces in Guatemala, where she was born, and she’d been touched by Ally’s plight.
Following the room numbers, Ally quickly located the one she wanted. She was relieved to see the maid already there, industriously polishing the brass doorknob and escutcheon. She spotted Ally, gave her a nod and opened the door to Sinclair’s room.
“Hurry now!” the woman whispered as Ally slipped into the room. “You have five minutes, that’s all. If anyone comes in, I’ll lose my job, and you’ll go to jail.”
“Five minutes, and I’ll be out,” Ally promised, easing the door closed behind her. They’d agreed that the maid would remain outside to head off anyone who might show up, whether the hotel staff or Sinclair himself.
Ally swept the sitting room area, going through the drawers of the entertainment unit and the desk. She found nothing except the usual hotel stationery and sightseeing guides.
Next, she went through the entry closet, checked the guest bath and wet bar, and then lifted all the furniture cushions. As she worked, she noticed that every light in the place was burning. Sinclair hadn’t bothered to turn them off. She made a mental note to keep her hands off the switches—she didn’t want to give away that someone had been there.
Another thing she noticed as she moved through his suite was that other than a few toiletries and the expensive clothes hanging in the master closet, the place was as spartan and spotless as if unoccupied. That didn’t make sense. You couldn’t stay for any length of time in a hotel and not leave some trace of your presence—a scribbled note by the phone, an appointment book on the desk, pictures of family by the bed, a pay stub in the trash can. Something!
Unless you didn’t want anyone to know who you were.
The maid had told her Sinclair’s name, as well as ferreting out a few other details, like his profession. Ally needed more information. Much more.
She checked her watch as she entered the bedroom. The closet door was open, the light burning inside. As she darted over there, she had the craziest thought. Was this man afraid of the dark? Or was he expecting someone?
She fished through the pockets of the suit jackets that hung in the closet. Her efforts produced two sticks of Dentyne and the princely sum of forty-eight cents in loose change. She felt an odd tingle in the pit of her stomach and realized it was the gum. She would have thought it was nerves, except that the scent of cinnamon always reminded her of Red Hots candy, which had the strangest effect on her. Her first summer crush had been eating the candies when he kissed her mouth and a few other places, too. He’d left hints of the spicy scent on her breasts, and it had sent shivers through her days later. She’d refused to shower.
Ally figured that had to be the reason, but whatever it was, Red Hots made her hot. She held the gum to her nose and breathed in. Quickly she put the gum and the money back and cleared her thoughts. There was still work to do here. Her time was almost up, and she needed to know who Sam Sinclair was. In the most basic terms, was he a good guy or a bad guy? Could he be trusted? Would he help her or would he rat her out to Aragon? Those were the questions. But there were no answers in this suite. She stepped out of the closet, jerking her hand back seconds before she touched the light switch.
Her first criminal act was a bust, she realized as she returned to the living room. Worse, she didn’t know where to go from here. She couldn’t approach Sinclair knowing so little about him. But right now, she had to get out of the suite unseen. With the maid acting as lookout, that should be the easiest part of the night.
Voices? Ally crept into the foyer to listen. It sounded as if the maid were talking to someone outside. Ally hoped it was another hotel employee.
“How are you, Mr. Sinclair?” the maid said, speaking loudly enough for Ally to hear her. “I was just going to turn down your bed. I’m afraid we forgot to do that this evening.”
“Thanks,” Sinclair said, “but I’m exhausted.”
“It’s no problem, Mr. Sinclair. Really.” The maid was nearly shouting now, and Ally had already backed out of the foyer.
“No thanks. I’ll take care of it myself.”
Ally’s heart lost a beat when she heard Sinclair’s reply. A second later the doorknob jiggled…then turned.
SAM DETECTED a faint scent the moment he opened the door to his room. Not perfume exactly, but intuition told him it was feminine essence. Light floral tones with a note of something else. Cinnamon? Maybe that determined little brunette who’d been following him for days had finally decided to sneak into his room. He’d left the lights on for her—that was a courtesy. He’d also moved his documents and his laptop computer to a safe place. That was a necessity.
As he slipped his key card into his pocket, it occurred to him that he could flush her out in ways that would probably blow her mind. But she wasn’t a pro, he was certain of that, and there didn’t seem any reason to scare the hell out of her. He’d already done that in the cemetery. Nor would he retrieve the small-frame 9 mm automatic he’d taped under the coffee table. It was there if he needed it.
Sam glanced around the living room as he headed for the bedroom. The lamp on the desk sat a few inches