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On the drive back to the hotel, Nash thought about what Jason had said. Nash had never thought of himself as a sensitive guy who believed in long-term relationships either. He had always thought of himself as a cynical guy who believed in nothing. But now he realized that the image he’d carried around for so long wasn’t who he was at all. He was sensitive. So sensitive that he’d been devastated when his mother died. Devastated when Melissa accused him of rape. Devastated when she had committed suicide. Each event chipped away at him until there had almost been nothing left of the person he was. But there was something left of Nash. He was sorry that his mother and Melissa had died, but he was alive. And it was time he start acting like it. It was time to start living.
“You look like you’re having a good day, sir,” the hotel valet said as he held the door while Nash got out.
Nash laughed as he tossed him the keys. “The best.”
But some of his enthusiasm fizzled when he walked into the bedroom of the suite and found a rumpled bed and breakfast dishes but no Eden. He was about to panic when she came hurrying out of the bathroom—unfortunately, completely dressed. Although it shouldn’t take him long to get her out of the jeans and T-shirt. The fantasy was interrupted when he realized she was talking on the phone and sounded panicked.
“What do you mean you can’t do anything until she’s been missing for forty-eight hours? In forty-eight hours, she could be dead!” She sat down on the bed and, holding the phone with her shoulder, pulled on her socks and boots, completely oblivious to the fact that Nash stood in the doorway. “I told you about the guy from the escort service—no, I told you I don’t have the escort service’s name, but you’re the police, for God’s sake. Don’t you know the prostitution rings in town? Fine! I’ll call you back when I get it.”
She hung up and tossed the phone to the bed, then glanced at the doorway. The look of relief on her face made something crack wide open inside of Nash. It opened even wider when she ran to him and flung herself in his arms.
“Oh, Nash, I’m so glad you’re here!”
He pulled her close, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his as much as her obvious delight in seeing him. “So I guess you missed me as much as I missed you.”
She pulled back. “No—I mean, yes, I missed you, but that’s not why I’m so glad to see you. I think Madison’s in trouble, and I need your help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Eden was terrified. Not because Zac had been paying a valet to keep a watch on her—that had merely scared her—but because Madison wasn’t answering her phone. Nor was she at their apartment.
“I told you that something isn’t right,” Eden said to Nash as he followed her into the apartment. “Madison never gets out of bed before noon.” She pulled her phone from her purse. “I’m calling the police again, and this time, I’m going to force them to do something.”
“Wait, Eden.” Nash placed his hand on hers. It was surprising how just the touch of his warm skin made her feel better. “The police aren’t going to do anything unless we have hard evidence. And all we have so far is the fact that Zac was having you watched. That doesn’t mean that he is responsible for Madison’s disappearance.”
“But it makes perfect sense that he would come here to threaten me after Joey the valet told him that I was with you at the hotel. There’s no way he can know that you weren’t paying me, especially when I was driving the Porsche, and he’ll want his cut. And he’ll probably hold Madison until I give it to him.”
“That’s all just a theory,” Nash said. “Since we couldn’t get ahold of Joey, we don’t even know if he called Zac to tell him you were there. When was the last time you saw Madison?”
“Yesterday, around seven. She was here when I left for the hotel.”
“Was the bed made?”
Eden glanced at the bed with its mussed covers. “Yes, which means that she must’ve slept here—at least for a little while.”
Nash nodded. “Does she have any friends in the building? Someone who might’ve invited her for coffee this morning or needed her help?”
With the way Madison made friends, it was possible. Eden tried to push down her fear and think. “The other day, she did mention helping some guy with his groceries. I think she said his name was Rudy, but I don’t know which apartment he lives in.” She turned to the door. “But I can find out. I’ll just knock on everyone’s—”
“Slow down, Eden,” Nash said, and when she turned, he had his cell phone out and was dialing. “Let me just make a phone call.” He lifted the phone to his ear, then after a few seconds, spoke. “Hi, Dan. This is Nash Beaumont. No, I’m not worried about the remodel—it looks like the handyman crew you hired is doing a great job. I called because I need an apartment number. I don’t have the last name, but the first is Rudy.”
Eden tried to figure out how Nash would know someone who kept track of the people in her apartment. And why that man would’ve hired the handyman crew. “How—?” she started, but he held up a finger and stopped her.
“Thanks, Dan. I’ll talk with you next week.” Once he hung up, he looked at Eden. “That was Dan Fillmore. He’s the new manager of your apartment building.”
“But how do you know my new landlord?”
“He’s not your new landlord. He’s only the property manager. I’m your new landlord.” While her mouth dropped, he walked over and held open the door. “But before you start with twenty questions, I think we need to table this discussion until after we find Madison.”
Unfortunately, Eden had never been good at tabling things. As they took the stairs down to the next floor, her mind worked overtime… as did her mouth. “So you bought the building? But why would you do that? I could understand if it was a good investment. But it seems like a money pit to me, especially with all the remodeling you’ve done to my apartment. Unless you’re planning on raising the rent. Are you planning on raising the rent?”
“No. I’m not going to raise the rent.”
“So you just bought some random apartments and started remodeling them because you wanted to?”
He stopped at a door. “It was not random, Eden. And it has nothing to do with making money. You had a leaky faucet, so I called the landlord to get it fixed. When the guy told me to take a hike, I got pissed and bought the building.”
“You bought an entire apartment because you got pissed?”
