Page 29

“Uncle Duncan, the last camera picked him up turning onto Miller Avenue, and that’s where I lost him. There’s no city surveillance on that street.”

My hand tightens around the edge of the seat. “Can you pick him up somewhere else?”

“I’ve got facial recognition running on every surrounding street, but I think he knows exactly what he’s doing. Miller connects to several side streets without cameras. If he planned his route beforehand, he can move through them without being picked up again.”

Kenji’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. The little shit knew where the cameras stopped.

“Can you find him?”

“Maybe. I’m setting alerts on every camera within a ten-block radius. If he reappears, I’ll get a hit.”

I fucking hate the word maybe, especially when it involves Nash.

“I’ll call if I find him.”

Colton disconnects while Kenji continues down Hargrove. Nash knew exactly where the cameras stopped, but he had no reason to expect me at Obsidian tonight. That route was already in his head before I ever put him in the limousine.

“Kenji, when you found Nash inside, what was he doing?”

“Watching the room. A couple of men approached him, but he spoke to them briefly and sent them away.”

“You’re certain he wasn’t waiting for someone?”

“He was alone, sir, but he wasn’t there to socialize.”

I look back through the window at the streets we’ve been searching. Nash went into Obsidian disguised, knew exactly how to get away without being caught on camera, and wasn’t there looking for a hookup. Whatever he was doing in that club, he expected there might be a reason to disappear afterward, and I have no fucking idea why.

Despite Colton watching the cameras and Kenji searching the surrounding streets, Nash doesn’t reappear. By midnight, I call off the search. If Nash doesn’t want to be found, chasing him through Philadelphia all night isn’t going to change that.

I sleep for shit. Every time I close my eyes, I see baby-blue hair and that smug fucking grin while he wraps my own belt around my ankles. By morning, I’m tired, irritated, and even more determined to figure out what the hell he was doing at Obsidian.

Something is off the moment I walk through the revolving doors of Murphy Enterprises. Conversations stop as I pass, and people who were looking at me suddenly find somewhere else to put their attention. In the elevator, one of the accountants opens his mouth to say something, only for the other to elbow him before he gets a word out. The executive floor is worse. Employees become fascinated with their computer screens as I walk past, and one man nearly walks into a wall trying not to look at me.

Caroline takes one look at me as I approach my office and drops her head, but not before I catch the smile.

“Something you’d like to share, Caroline?”

“No, sir.” Her mouth twitches as she fights another smile.

I narrow my eyes at her before walking into my office. The quarterly reports on my desk get very little attention before I pull up Nash’s background file again. Thirty-one. Born in Atlanta. Lives alone. No criminal record. Nothing that connects him to Obsidian or explains why he walked into that club disguised with an escape route already planned.

I’ve read the file enough times to know there’s nothing useful in it, but I start through it again anyway until a knock sounds at my door.

“Come in.”

Alessia enters first, followed by Kieran. Her expression tells me whatever has everyone downstairs acting strangely has reached my office.

“Are you going through a midlife crisis or something?” Kieran asks.

I stare at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Alessia closes the door and sits without being invited while Kieran remains standing. He gestures vaguely in my direction. “New hobbies. Questionable decisions. Public embarrassment.”

“Would one of you explain what public embarrassment you’re talking about?”

They look at each other, both of them clearly enjoying this far too much.

“Duncan,” Alessia says, using the same tone she once used before informing me that setting a politician’s yacht on fire was an overreaction, “you haven’t seen it, have you?”