“It’s my story,” Dana said before Wolfe could answer.
Angus leaned over and scratched Roscoe between the ears. “What’syourcase about, Wolfe? I’m done with being left out of it.”
Dana’s eyebrows rose, and she turned toward Wolfe. Would he let the unit help him find Rock at this point?
Wolfe looked at her, then at the doctor, and then at Angus. “Considering how things have changed, I’ll think about it. First, we have a visit to make.”
“Visit?” Dana sat up.
“Yeah. You with me, Force?” Wolfe asked.
Angus studied him and then slowly nodded. “If that’s how you want to go about it, I’m with you.”
Dana’s breath caught. “What things have changed?”
Wolfe’s gaze held a look she couldn’t decipher. “Everything has changed. We’ll discuss it later.”
Chapter Sixteen
Moonlight beamed down, highlighting the homes of the rich and super rich, although clouds were starting to gather and reduce its power. A sense of tension filled the air as the storm drew near.
Wolfe leaned against the side of a tree adjacent to Trentington’s mansion, his gun tucked safely at his waist and his knife at his boot, waiting for the British man to disengage the alarm. “You sure you trust this guy?”
Force nodded. “Yeah. He won’t be as quick as Brigid, but he’ll get the job done.”
Jethro whistled from the darkness.
“Alarm deactivated,” Force said. “This is your op.”
Yeah, it definitely was his op. Wolfe circled the tree and strode down the imported stone driveway to the front door, picking the lock and then twisting the knob. It opened easily, and the night remained silent. Okay. The British dude did know his alarm systems. The guy jogged around the area by the garage, his movements economical.
“Thanks, professor,” Force drawled.
Jethro crouched by a hydrangea bush. “Last time, Force. I left this life behind me.”
Wolfe slipped inside the entryway and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Moonlight streamed in through gauzy curtains, caressing a white leather sofa with matching chairs near the fireplace. The room smelled like a fresh breeze off the ocean. The cleaning crew had done a good job.
He motioned for Force to take the upstairs and Jethro to head downstairs. Then he silently strode down the hallway, past the office, and right through the double doors to what had to be the master bedroom.
Trentington slept on his stomach, one arm flung out, next to a lush blonde.
Wolfe crept toward him, taking out his gun and pressing the barrel to Trentington’s forehead. He’d rather use a knife, but he had to get the man out of there without awakening the woman. He pressed harder.
Trentington jumped, and his eyes opened. Wide.
Wolfe gestured for him to get out of the bed, and he did so, barely moving the comforter. Maybe the man cared about the woman next to him. They walked out of the room, and Wolfe shut the door. “Office,” he whispered.
Trentington, dressed only in gray boxer briefs with a hole in the left butt cheek, walked silently into his office and waited until Wolfe had shut the door. “Your membership is hereby revoked, jackass.” He moved to one of the chairs in the cigar area near another stone fireplace.
Wolfe tucked his gun back into place and reached down for his knife. “You might want to lose the attitude. I’m pretty pissed right now.”
“I can see that.” While Trentington’s arms and hairy chest were muscled, his gut had started going to fat. “Problem?”
“Yeah. My champagne was spiked last night, as was the drink of my guest. You have three seconds to tell me how that happened before I start cutting pieces off you.” Wolfe twirled the knife and made sure it caught the light.
“Drugged?” Trentington’s eyebrows rose. “You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Every instinct in Wolfe yelled that the guy was lying. “I’m gonna have to hurt you, aren’t I?”
