“You want to leave the chef waiting for you or have me assign a detective to question him?”
“I want you to question him and then make him wait for me. Let him get exhausted enough to talk to me if he doesn’t to you.”
“You do know I have the title Chief for a reason, right?”
“So you can tell people you have the title for a reason?” I don’t give him time to reply. “Consider it a compliment. I don’t trust anyone more than you.”
“You trust me?” he asks.
“I know you,” I counter.
“That’s a no.”
“That’s not a no, which is all you ever get from me.”
Apparently, that’s enough for him because he says, “I’ll talk to him but only because the last thing I need is another serial killer in my city. And I can send a patrol car to check on Naomi Wells.”
“I’ll go. I’ll call you when I get there.” I hang up and dial Kane. He doesn’t answer. This time, I call his office. The receptionist, Cindy, who is one of the few people on this planet I find just the right kind of sweet, answers. “Mendez Enterprises. Can I help you?”
“Cindy, it’s Lilah. I need Kane.”
“He’s not in yet.”
My heart thunders in my chest. What the hell is going on?
“He’s not in yet?” I repeat, when I hate it when people repeat what I just said like I didn’t just clearly say it.
“No,” she confirms. “I was expecting him, but he must be running late.”
“Has he called?” I ask.
“No. Is there something wrong?”
“I just need to get him some important information ASAP.”
“I can have him call you,” she offers. “Or I can try to reach him.”
“No. I’ll call him on his cell. Thanks.” I disconnect and there is a stabbing sensation in my chest. He’s okay, I tell myself. Of course, he’s okay. He’s Kane. Who is human. I just reminded us both that he’s human. I text him: I must really love you because I’m worried. I don’t worry. You know I don’t worry. And please, yes please, call me. Or text me. Or have someone let me know that you’re okay.
I dial the airport in the Hamptons. “This is Special Agent Lilah Love. I need to know if Kane Mendez boarded his flight this morning.”
The woman on the other end of the line says, “I’m not sure I can release that information. Hold on.” There is silence and then she’s back. “I’m sorry. I’d need a warrant to give you that information.”
She’s right, of course. She’s following the proper rules, damn her. I hang up and dial Tabitha, the wicked witch, Kane’s secretary in the Hamptons. “Lilah,” she greets, sounding like she has a stick up her ass. She doesn’t like me. I dislike her and her fake boobs even more, probably because she wants to rub them all over Kane. Not that I’m jealous. I’m not. Kane doesn’t want her and I’m fairly sure he has something on her, thus why he trusts her. Just another line item on the list of things I need to know.
“I need to speak to Kane,” I tell her.
“He’s in New York City today,” she replies. “I thought you both were.”
“I need you to locate him now.”
“Well, if you don’t know, I don’t know if I can—”
“Do it,” I bite out, “or I swear I will come there, pull your ass into the station, and lock you up for the rest of your fucking life.”
“You can’t—”
“Try me,” I dare. “Do it now, and if something happens to him before you call me back, Lord help you.”
I hang up and my fingers curl into my palms. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I exit the airport to find Jay standing next to yet another Escalade. Jesus. What is it with that vehicle? Who decided that terrorists and criminals take one look at a black four-door box and quiver in their shoes? Apparently, the greatest snake-oil salesman on planet Earth.
Heading in Jay’s direction, the cold wind whips around me with blistering impact, but I tune it out, with only one thing on my mind: Kane.
I stop close enough to Jay to speak for his ears only, not that anyone else is out in this cold-ass day. “Kane never made it to the office,” I say. “He’s not answering my calls or text messages. Call whoever you have to call inside his security team and make sure he’s safe.”
He curses in Spanish and reaches for his phone, not the reaction I’d hoped for. I’d hoped to be angry because Jay knew something I didn’t. I could live with kicking Kane’s ass. He’d live, too, but just barely. The idea that none of us know where he’s at rattles me. I don’t get rattled.
Hurrying around the vehicle, I climb inside the passenger side of the Escalade, heat blasting. Since I’ll go crazy if I don’t do my job right now, I pull up the addresses I put in my phone last night, namely the one for Naomi Wells. Jay climbs inside the automobile.