He lowered the paper to his desk and walked closer to Eliott. “I getno hintsabout what I’m walking into?”
Eliott straightened Dash’s tie and brushed away some imaginary lint.“Ididn’t get a hint before he walked in. Why should you?”
“You’re so cruel,” Dash said, fighting a smile.
“And don’t you forget it,” Eliott whispered with a wicked grin.
Dash brushed past Eliott and strode to the conference room. As soon as he opened the door, the older little man inside stopped his pacing and turned to face Dash. As short as he was, his first instinct was omega, but on second thought, Dash sensed beta. There was nothing graceful about him. His appearance was harsh with a sharp, beak-like nose and a thick mustache that looked like ravens’ wings. The overhead light hadn’t been turned on, so only the gray morning outside illuminated him, giving him an even more solemn, somber appearance.
“Finally!I’ve been waiting for nearly half an hour.”
Dash frowned, then tensed. “When I left around eleven last night, I had no appointments this morning,” Dash said, switching his tone to one of cool indifference. “Did I miss your name on my schedule,Mr?—?”
“Felix Crenshaw.As inCrenshawand Mather,” the man snapped. “Your boy out there should’ve called you. I don’t have all day to sit around.”
Dash had heard of the firmandtheir ruthlessness—more Crenshaw, less Mather—but that didn’t intimidate him one bit. First impression? He was facing a bully with an inferiority complex. Wouldn’t be the first, wouldn’t be the last. They were a dime a dozen in the province.
“I had some business to attend to first thing,” Dash fibbed. He casually sat down and swept a hand over to urge the man to sit opposite him. “How may I be of service, Mr.Crenshaw?”
Crenshaw didn’t sit. He stood with his hands on the back of the leather chair, glaring at Dash from a perceived height advantage. “Are you familiar with Jennings Lachlin the Third?”
Dash had never met the man, but he had seen and heard enough to know he was a verified prick.
Wonderful.“I’ve heard of him but never had the pleasure.”
“He’s my client and has need of you, Mr. Keller.”
Birds of a feather…
“Onlyyou. This needs to be handled by you and you alone.Notone of your lackeys.”
“I employ a strong team of professional investigators and bodyguards, I assure you.”
Crenshaw narrowed his eyes at Dash. “We’ve been told you’re the best in the provinces, and Mr. Lachlin requires the best. It’s either you or nothing.”
Did every wealthy alpha read from the same script? He’d heard that line too many times since opening the doors. The best. All they wanted wasthe best.Perhaps he needed to screwup on occasion to avoid men like that in the future. Too bad screwing up wasn’t in his wheelhouse.
“Why don’t you have a seat and explain why he requires my service before I agree to anything.”
Crenshaw sat, glaring at Dash. He leaned down under the table before he slid a single sheet of legal paper Dash’s way. “First, I need you to sign an NDA. We need assurances you won’t discuss what I’m about to tell you.”
Dash sighed before lifting the sheet. It wasn’t his first NDA, either. He hadn’t realized how many he’d be forced to sign to operate his business and was beginning to hate them. A quick perusal showed it was fairly standard. He pulled a pen from inside his suit jacket pocket and signed his name across the bottom line.
Crenshaw snatched it as if Dash would yank it away before he could. It was gone in a flash. “It’s his child, Jaye. Or rather, Jennings Jaye Lachlin the Forth. He’s… missing.”
A billionaire’s missing child should have the Red Guard crawling all over it. “And the Guard isn’t investigating?”
“No. The family wants to keep this out of the news, as I said.”
Dash frowned as he pulled his notepad and scribbled the boy’s name across the first blank page. “How many hours has he been missing?”
“Nearly two weeks.”
Dash’s head whipped up. Something wasn’t right.“His age?”
“Thirty-four.”
Dash eyed the man, slowly exhaling to mask his irritation. “We’re not talking abouta child,then. He’s a grown man.”
