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“I’ll go with Cain.”
“Cain?”
Right. I haven’t told Taylor about him.
“Archer,” I supply Cain’s last name. “My unofficial partner.”
“Oh.” He raises his eyebrows.
“On the investigation,” I add quickly. “We’re working together.”
“Really?”
I nod. “He’s an ex-soldier who’s now a private investigator. He came with me to Rhode Island, actually. He just left to do some stuff. I should probably call him and…”
I reach for my phone but stop as soon as I have it between my fingers.
“What?” Taylor asks.
“I don’t have his number,” I realize.
I’ve never called him. He just showed up. And I didn’t think to ask for his number. Why didn’t I?
Maybe I would have thought of it if I had seen him on his phone, but I never did. Does he even have one? Surely he does. I mean, everyone has a phone nowadays.
“Do you want me to look it up?” Taylor asks me.
Now my eyebrows go up. Right. He can do that.
I nod. “Please?”
“Give me a minute.”
He starts typing furiously again. I try to look at his screen but stop because I’m just getting dizzy. After a few moments, he stops.
“Well?” I get ready to punch a number into my phone.
Taylor scratches his head. “I can’t find a Cain Archer.”
My eyes grow wide. “What?”
Impossible. Taylor can find anything. If he can’t, it doesn’t exist. And Cain Archer exists. I’m sure of it.
“Are you saying you can’t find his phone number?”
Maybe he just doesn’t have it listed, though that doesn’t make sense. He’s a private investigator. Surely, he must have a number listed somewhere, advertised even, for clients to contact him. That is, unless he uses a referral system. Yes. Maybe that’s it.
“I’m saying I can’t find a Cain Archer. Not in the Social Security System and not in the military archives.”
I touch my chin. That’s odd. Why wouldn’t his name be there?
Wait. Maybe it’s a different name. Maybe Cain is his middle name, or a nickname. Or maybe he has a different last name. He said he had half-brothers. Maybe Archer is the last name of a stepfather. I’m sure there’s a perfectly acceptable reason.
“Do you have any other information?” Taylor asks me.
“No,” I answer. “But…”
Just then, I hear a knock on the door. I open it and smile when I see Cain.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Same greeting. No return smile.
His gaze immediately darts past me to Taylor, who closes his laptop and gets off the bed.
“Hi,” Taylor greets.
Cain says nothing, his gaze scrutinizing.
“This is Taylor,” I introduce.
I stand beside him to let Cain know he’s with me – and also to let Taylor know I’ve got his back so he has nothing to fear.
“Taylor, meet Cain.”
“Hi,” he says again.
Still nothing from Cain. Talk about rude.
I clear my throat. “Taylor is the genius who finds stuff for me. He was the one who found out about Clearweather Cottage.”
Cain nods. “I see.”
Wow. Is that the warmest he can manage?
I place my hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “And he’s just found out something else about Sergio Bianchi. Isn’t that great?”
“What?” Cain asks.
“Sergio’s favorite club,” Taylor answers. “In T – ”
“Toledo,” Cain finishes.
I narrow my eyes at him. He knows? What? Does he have his own Taylor?
“Are you ready?” Cain asks me.
Oh, he wants to go now? Well, that’s fine with me. The clock is ticking, after all.
I put up a finger. “Just give me a few minutes.”
~
I’ve been to a club once before, also as part of an operation. This one seems pretty much the same.
The stench of alcohol and cigarettes in the air. The clink of glasses and bottles. The deafening music. The dim lights. The crowd of men who act like they’re rulers of the world with their scantily clad female trophies. The sweaty dancers on the floor who might as well be having sex with their clothes on. The…
Wait. Are those two actually having sex on the dance floor?
As I glance around, I see another couple in a corner more wrapped up in each other than usual. I spot a man sitting in a chair with a woman kneeling between his legs as well. And the dancer on the stage who’s wearing just a leather corset and a lace thong? She’s just been joined by two men who now have their hands all over her body. Same with the male dancer wearing a harness and boxers.
I swallow. Okay. So this is not the same as that other club.
“Are you alright?” Cain asks me.
“Yes,” I answer.
I’m a grown woman. An FBI agent. And no longer a virgin. I can handle this.
Cain puts his arm around my waist. “Stay close.”
Okay. I wasn’t expecting the arm, but I understand it. We’re in a crowd and it would be easy to lose each other. We want to spend the evening looking for clues, not for each other. Also, I guess it’s smarter that we seem like a couple, considering all the action I’m seeing. Best let them know we’re not looking for any of that from any of them.
