Page 33 of Ace

She grunts when she stands, the effort required clear in the lines on her face, but she doesn't complain about pain or getting old, before shuffling right back out the door.

Mr. Yarrow complained that I'd only be in his way, that I risked ending up exactly like Sadie if I stuck my neck out while they were investigating her disappearance, but I can't help but see my opportunity to help. I can probably go places he'd look suspicious just because I'm a woman. As much as it disgusts me, there are certain lines that aren't supposed to be crossed in society.

I'm the fairer sex, the weaker sex, according to some. I'm less of a suspect.

He can use me. I know he can. Besides, staying here and doing nothing is driving me crazy. The man may not want me to put my nose in the middle of his investigation, but if he wanted me to stay out of it, he should've worked harder and faster.

Chapter 15

Ace

I knew before I left her hotel room the other night that I wasn't going to be rid of Cora Preston.

I was alerted half an hour ago that she used a credit card to buy gas halfway between here and Columbia, South Carolina, telling me that she was on her way back here, despite me telling her to stay away.

At this point, I don't know if she can even help herself. She's a fixer, someone who wants to help solve problems, but this isn't something she can provide assistance on. This isn't a non-profit or a fucking dinner party.

This is the trenches, where incredibly bad shit happens at the drop of a dime just because someone had a bad day and they needed someone else to take it out on. She doesn't have the skill set nor the staying power to get involved here. I know I'm going to have to make sure she knows this time just how fucking dangerous this sort of shit can be. It's time the rose-colored glasses are pulled from the woman's face.

I knew she had no sense of self-preservation when she walked up and knocked on the door at Daydreamer's, but watching her stride into the hotel she stayed at last time without bothering to take in the area around her tells me she has no clue just how dangerous the world is.

It doesn't matter that her sister is missing. I'm sure she thinks Sadie's choices in life landed her wherever she maybe, and by not making those unsafe decisions, she's safe. Her wholesome life keeps her out of danger, and the woman couldn't be further from the truth.

She had to have left Columbia mid-afternoon to put her here just after eleven in the evening, and I can see as she thanks the man behind the desk and heads toward the elevator that she's had a full day and is tired from her travels.

Does she not know that men skilled at taking women look for people exactly like her? They want the ones that are easy to pick off. The ones that are distracted and unaware of their surroundings. She's the perfect candidate for an abduction. She's rich, so it increases the chances of a ransom if they wanted to go that direction. Hell, they could make pretty good money off the amount of jewelry she's wearing and parting out that cute little sports car I have no doubt she drove here in. They wouldn't just let her go unscathed though, and I imagine her sheltered little life wouldn't even allow her to picture the horrific things that can happen to a woman in a couple of hours.

Disgust at such hypothetical situations makes my skin crawl as I follow her to the elevator, sliding my arm between the doors before they have a chance to close.

I step inside, my eyes locked on her face, my position so close I can see her cheeks as they start to turn pink.

The way she lifts her chin, as if her body's display of embarrassment isn't painted across her face, is something I find that I like. I enjoy the insolence a little. I like that she's willing to break some rules to find her sister. It tells me that she cares, that she still sees value in Sadie, while some in Sadie's life have already washed their hands of her.

Neither of us says a word on the elevator ride, but I don't count it as a win when she pulls her eyes from mine, staring at the side of the car until it stops on her floor.

I follow her to her room, and surprisingly, she doesn't try to slip inside and close the door in my face.

This is the same hotel she was in last time, making it more proof that she has no idea what she's doing with how easy it was to predict she'd come right back here.

I close the door, trying not to stare at her ass as she steps further into the room, wheeling a very large suitcase behind her. I can't help but wonder if she packed that devastating fucking robe of hers again this time.

"You are nothing but trouble," I mutter.

"Is that right?" she asks, spinning around so fast she catches my eyes lower on her body than they have any right to be. "How about a progress update?"

"I could've easily told you on the phone that we're no closer to finding Sadie than we were when you were here earlier in the week."

"Yet you didn't call."

"Kincaid is your contact. He'll call when we know something."

"I'm paying an awful lot of money for nothing to have been found yet."

"We can't just pull evidence out of thin air," I argue, annoyed at the implication in her tone.

I stalk toward her, irritated that I'm here once again rather than working the actual case.

"And if I pay more, would that make it easier to find my sister?"

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