She glanced up, her green eyes glinting with worry before she dropped her focus back to her task. “She wasn’t here when I arrived, and I can’t get her on her phone.”
He frowned. “Is it standard MO for her?”
She shrugged, but the motion seemed tense instead of casual.
“Is she still…” He paused, not knowing how to phrase it politely.
Brynn smirked at him. “Fucked up?”
Looking at this refined blonde in her elegant outfit, he’d forgotten where Brynn had come from. She’d never been one to mince words. He nodded.
She rose and returned to the adjoining kitchen, turning her back to him as she opened the freezer. “After the murder, she
really took a turn for the worse, blamed herself. And she was still convinced the asshole you defended was innocent.”
The muscles in his neck bunched. Hank Caldwell was innocent—is innocent. Unfortunately, Reid had failed to prove that to the jury, which was the first in the trifecta of lost cases that had led to his demotion from lead attorney. Now Hank sat rotting away in prison with a life sentence, waiting for Reid to pull a miracle out of his ass for an appeal.
However, he knew better than to preach Hank’s innocence to Brynn and throw a match on that powder keg. The one time he’d approached her during the trial to see if he could interview Kelsey for the defense, Brynn had jumped his shit like he was the devil asking for her soul. She’d wanted him to drop the case entirely, but of course he couldn’t do that. Not when he knew in his gut that Hank wasn’t the guy.
The stark betrayal that had flashed in Brynn’s eyes that day had sliced right through him. He’d seen the switch flip—the look of total dismissal. You no longer exist to me. So if she had any clue he was actively working on Hank’s appeal now, she’d probably shove him out of Kelsey’s third-floor window.
Luckily, Brynn continued on without waiting for his input. “But the last few months, she’s been making some progress. I got her to go to a detox program and a few therapy sessions. And she’s been sober—at least she was the last couple of times I saw her. But tonight, she sounded a little freaked out, paranoid.”
He flexed his fingers, which were quickly stiffening. “Any idea where she could be?”
“Here, this will help with the swelling.” She handed him a plastic baggy full of ice. “I honestly have no clue. It’s not like her to ignore her phone. I was headed over to the club where she works to see if anyone knew anything when that asshole attacked me.”
“Speaking of which, we need to put in a call to the police.” He dug in his pocket, but she waved him off.
“I got it. I saw him up close and personal. I’ll be able to give a better description.” She walked into the tiny living room and pulled out her phone, putting as much distance between the two of them as possible.
Her voice didn’t waver as she relayed the information to the police, but she paced around the room, wearing a track into the already threadbare carpet. Occasionally, she would stop to peek through the blinds of the front window as if to will her sister to appear.
Reid stood and tossed the bag of ice onto the counter, Brynn’s nerves setting him on edge. Why would her sister drag her out here then bail without even calling her back? He eyed the boxes on the dining room table, then flicked a quick glance at Brynn to make sure she was sufficiently absorbed in the conversation. He hooked a finger into one of the boxes and slid it closer so he could peek at the contents.
Papers, envelopes, a small notebook—all shoved in there in no apparent order. He rifled through some of the papers, then picked up the notebook and flipped through a few pages. There were a couple of initials and random phone numbers, one of which was for Cowgirls, the strip club down the street. He set the notebook to the side and rifled through another stack of papers.
As he reached the bottom, he froze, a familiar company name catching his eye. Grant Waters, Inc. To the rest of Dallas—the wealthy vineyard owner and producer of Water’s Edge Wines. But to those in the know—someone completely different. The yellow paper was the carbon copy of a background check form Kelsey had filled out.
A sinking feeling settled in his stomach. Last he’d checked, Kelsey was no farmhand. He set the form aside and grabbed the notebook again, flipping back to the number for Cowgirls. Maybe the strip club would have some information. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number.
“Cowgirls, this is Nina,” a cigarette-roughened voice said over the blaring background music.
“Hey, is Kelsey performing tonight?” he asked.
“Oh, honey, Kiki isn’t here,” she said, smacking her gum loudly. “But if you like blondes with d-cups, Alexis is going on in about half an hour. She’ll get you going as well as Kiki could’ve.”
He sighed in mock disappointment, making sure the girl continued to believe he was a customer. “Is Kel—I mean, Kiki, on vacation or something?”
She laughed. “What is it with that girl? You’re, like, the third call I’ve gotten asking about her. I’m sorry, but she quit a few days ago. Said she got a better-paying gig.”
“Do you know where?”
“Ooh, you got it bad, huh? She didn’t say, but I know it’s not one of the clubs around here. I would’ve heard.”
“All right, Nina. Thanks for your help.”
“No problem, sweet thing.”
He clicked the phone shut and turned back toward the living room. Brynn was leaning on the back edge of the couch watching him, her lips pressed into a grim line. “She’s not there.”
He shook his head. “Quit a few days ago. The girl said Kelsey took another job.”
Brynn’s threw her hands out to her sides. “Why the hell wouldn’t she tell me she’d changed jobs?”
“I may have some idea,” Reid said, glancing at the background form again. “Do you know if Kelsey is into anything kinky?”
She glanced at the table, then back to him, a little crease between her brows. “Well, stripping isn’t exactly run-of-the-mill.”
He shook his head and met her confused gaze. “No, I mean, like the D/s scene.”
Her eyes shifted away and he could almost visualize porcupine quills popping out of her skin. “How the hell would I know that? ‘Do you let a guy use you like a whore?’ is not exactly a question that comes up in sisterly conversation.”
He cringed, the words wrenching his gut. “Is that what you think it was? You think I used you?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “What exactly would you call it, Reid? I bet you weren’t tying up and ordering around that debutante girlfriend of yours—you know, the one you forgot to tell me about.”
She was right. He hadn’t been topping Vanessa. She would’ve sent her father after him with a shotgun if he’d done so much as copped a feel. But he’d had to toe the line—parade around with the girl he was expected to date. He blew out a breath and raked a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t like that.”
“No, I get it. Do the depraved stuff with the chick whose mother is a hooker, do the respectable things with the girl you want everyone to see on your arm. It’s an old story,” she said, sounding tired. “I was just too naive to see what role I was playing in the game.”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t know how I ended up the bad guy in all this. I seem to recall I wasn’t the only one you were playing with.”
She sighed and all the fight seemed to leave her stance. “Look, it doesn’t matter, okay. What’s done is done. I just want to know what all this has to do with my sister.”
He stared at her for a moment, part of him wanting to hash out their past, drag everything out in the open, and deal with it head-on, but the lines of worry in her face stopped him. He crooked a thumb at the boxes. “I looked through some of your sister’s stuff. She filled out a background check form for Grant Waters’ company.”
Her forehead scrunched. “Who the hell is that?”
“He owns two big vineyards outside of town. And he runs The Ranch.”
“Is that another strip club?”
He shook his head, tension taking root in his shoulders. “No, and I’m not sure on the details. But what I do know is that it’s
a BDSM retreat. Elite, exclusive, and if someone wants to disappear for a while—a good place to hide.”
She chewed her lip, as if mulling over the information. “But if it’s so exclusive, how would Kels get in?”
He shrugged. “Your sister’s a beautiful girl who’s not afraid to show her body. My guess is that they probably hired her on as a server or attendant of some kind.”
She crossed the few steps to the counter and grabbed her purse and keys. “Well, then, what are we hanging around for? Let’s go to this stupid place and get her.”
“Brynn.” He grabbed her wrist before she reached the door.
She glanced back over her shoulder, urgency rolling off her. “What’s wrong?”
“I have no idea where this place is. And even if I did, you’re not going to be able to get in without an invitation… or a master.”
All the blood drained from her face. She glanced down at his fingers circling her wrist and jerked her arm free. “What? I can’t—”
“Look, calm down,” he said, frowning down at her. “We can’t do anything tonight, but I know someone who may have a connection there. Let me see if I can get any information—find out if your sister is even there. In the meantime, you can go home and call anyone you can think of—her friends, boyfriends, whoever. Someone has to know where she is.”
Brynn chewed her lip, considering him, then nodded. “Okay. I guess that’s the best we can do tonight.”
He walked her down to her car, keeping an eye on their surroundings to make sure her attacker hadn’t decided to hang around.
She pulled open her car door and slid in, looking up at him with tired eyes. “Thanks for your help. I take back the comment about you not being able to scare off bad guys.”
He smiled. “Thanks, and I don’t mind helping.”
She dug in her purse and pulled out a business card. “Here. My cell is on there. Call me if you find anything out.”
He took the card from her and slipped it into his pocket, then feigned a grimace. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I must’ve left my cell upstairs.”
She moved to climb out of the car. “Oh, well, I can go grab it for you.”
He held up a hand. “No, it’s late, and the sooner you’re out of this neighborhood, the better. Why don’t you just give me your sister’s key and you can leave? I’ll get the key back to you on Monday.”
She paused, evaluating him for a moment, then glanced down the darkened street. “Yeah, okay, but just make sure everything’s locked when you leave.”
She slid the key off her key chain and handed it over. Trusting him.
Guilt flooded him, but he charged forward with his plan anyway. “No worries. I’ll just run in and then lock back up. And
I promise I’ll touch base with you tomorrow if I can find anything out.”
“Thanks.” She pulled her seat belt across her chest. “Good night, Reid.”
“Drive safe, sugar.” He shut her door and waited on the curb, watching her taillights fade around the corner. As soon as he was sure she was far enough away, he jogged back up the stairs and let himself into Kelsey’s apartment, locking the door behind him.
Surveying the room, his eyes honed in on the boxes he hadn’t been able to explore while Brynn was there. The ones labeled Mom’s things. Thinking about what could be in those boxes had made his heart pick up speed. Last week when he’d visited Hank in jail, he’d told Reid that Kelsey had called him—said she may have found something that could help him get an appeal. Reid had planned to contact Kelsey to see what she had come across, but now…