The Specialist (Norcross #3) - Anna Hackett Page 0,27
and her skin flushed.
A door opened, and she looked up to see a redhead stride out of another stall.
The woman smiled. “It’s her.”
“What?” Harlow tried to get her brain firing.
A man came out of another stall to join them.
“Hey, you can’t be in here,” Harlow slurred.
The woman pulled something out of her large bag. A red wig that matched the exact shade of her vibrant hair.
She yanked it on Harlow’s head.
“No. Stop it.”
The man wrapped his arms around Harlow. She tried to push him away, but couldn’t move. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and go to sleep. They wrapped her in a black coat.
The woman pulled on a blonde wig, adjusting it in the mirror. “Ready?”
The man holding Harlow nodded, and then half carried her out. They headed into the bar, the man holding her close, like they were a couple.
Rome or Gia would see them. Harlow’s stomach turned over. They’d spot her.
Then before she knew it, they were outside.
Where was Easton? But Harlow could no longer form any words because darkness closed in, and then there was nothing.
Easton strode back into ONE65, frustrated as hell.
Durant had vanished like the rat he was.
Vander’s cell phone pinged. “Ace with info on Durant.” Vander flicked through his screen, his face darkening. “Scum has several charges against him in France for sexual assault and battery.”
“Fuck.” Another asshole to keep away from Harlow. “I want to get this shit fixed, Vander. Find Charles Carlson.”
“I’m on it. Right now, we have too many damn questions with no fucking answers.”
And Easton knew that Vander liked answers. He kept his finger on the pulse of everything happening in San Francisco—legal, and not so legal.
Back inside the bar, Gia and Haven were still sipping drinks under Rome’s watchful gaze.
“Harlow?” Easton asked.
“Ladies’ room,” Rome rumbled.
Gia frowned. “She’s been gone a while.”
“Haven’t seen her come out,” Rome said.
Shit. What if Hugo Durant was still in the bar? Easton strode to the restrooms, Vander and Rome falling in behind him.
He shoved open the door to the ladies’. A middle-aged woman was refreshing her lipstick. “Hey, just because you boys are hot, doesn’t mean you can just barge into the ladies’ room.”
“There a blonde woman in here?” Easton asked.
The woman shrugged. “Just me, darling.”
Easton strode in and checked each stall.
“I’ll check the men’s room.” Rome disappeared.
A hot rush of panic hit Easton. Shit. Where was she?
They met back in the hall. Rome’s face was thunderous. “I’m sorry, Easton, she isn’t here. I’ve no idea how the fuck someone took her. I was watching, and I didn’t see her come out.”
“Security tapes.” Vander swiveled and strode to the bar.
It took a few menacing looks, and a couple of threats from Easton, but the bar manager agreed to let them watch the tapes.
They squashed into a small office in the back of the bar. Saxon joined them, while Rhys stayed with a worried Gia and Haven.
“Shit quality,” Saxon muttered.
They watched the comings and goings of the bar. The quality wasn’t very clear, but there was a camera right outside the entrance to the restrooms.
Easton felt Rome vibrating with rage. The man was damn good at his job, and Easton knew he’d be enraged that someone had gotten Harlow on his watch.
Easton was just worried about Harlow. If anyone hurt her, he’d burn down the city.
“There.” Vander froze the image.
It was a couple. A woman with bright red hair, leaning heavily against a man.
“I saw them go in just before Harlow,” Rome said.
Of course, Rome would have noted everyone’s movements in the bar.
A moment later, the couple left, and then a blonde sauntered out of the restrooms.
But she wasn’t Harlow.
“Wait.” Easton waved a hand. “Rewind.”
Vander froze the image on the couple again.
“She looks unsteady,” Saxon noted. “Had a few too many drinks.”
“Her shoes. Those are Harlow’s shoes.” Easton had watched her put the damn things on. “The redhead is Harlow.”
“Fuck,” Rome exploded. “And the blonde must be the redhead who went in.”
Vander pulled out his phone and thumbed it. “Ace, I’ve got pics of a man and woman I’m sending your way. Looks like they drugged Harlow, then took her out of the bar. I need you to find them.”
Drugged? Easton stared at the image, at the way the woman had stumbled against the man, and the way the man appeared to be holding her upright. His hands balled into fists, his torn knuckles stinging.
Vander stepped in front of him. “I’ll find her.”
“Shit, Vander—”
“We don’t know who’s got her. There are