Page 92 of Stuart Woods' Smolder

He hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud. He shook his head. “No, nothing.”

“You know, he gave me your number because he thought you could help me.”

“He actually told you that?”

She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and showed it to him. It was a note that included Tristan’s name and number. Tristan recognized Joshua’s handwriting.

“When you called me, you said this was about an art theft?”

“Several actually. I believe they are being carried out by the same group. Anything you may know would be a great help.”

He downed the rest of his wine and glanced toward the bar’s entrance to gather his thoughts.

At first, he didn’t notice the man sitting on a chair outside the bar, but then the man shifted his position, drawing Tristan’s attention.

It was Phillip.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Monica said. “When was the first time—”

Tristan shot to his feet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

He scanned for an alternate way out, but there was none. Head down, he walked briskly to the exit, then hurried out of the hotel.

As soon as he was outside, he broke into a run and didn’t glance back until he reached his car.

But before he could open the door, Phillip clamped down on his shoulder and whirled him around. Tristan would have opened his mouth to scream, but Phillip’s fist smashed into his face before a sound could leave his lips.

—

Monica watched Tristan all but sprint from the bar, then she turned to Stone and Dino. “What happened?”

“I’ve seen that look before,” Dino said. “He was spooked.”

“Was it something I said?”

“Everything you said spooked him,” Stone said. “But I don’t think that’s why he left.”

“Neither do I,” Dino said.

“What then?” she asked.

Stone tapped Dino on the arm and stood. “How about we find out?”

“I’m coming, too,” Monica said.

After dropping money on their tables, they exited the bar. Tristan was nowhere in sight.

“You check the exit onto Hollywood Boulevard,” Stone said to Dino. “We’ll take the parking lot.”

They parted ways in the lobby.

When Stone and Monica reached the passenger drop-off area, Stone caught the attention of a valet. “Did a guy just come through here? Late twenties, thin, a few inches shorter than me.”

“Yeah. He ran that way.” The valet nodded toward the street.

“He wasn’t parked here?”

“If he was, he left without his car.”

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