Reese had tried to talk her into waiting downstairs till they had more information, but he had known from the start the effort would be futile.
“Griff’s my son,” she’d said. “I have to be there.”
Since he’d feel exactly the same if his own son were in danger, he’d grumbled his displeasure and simply nodded.
Suite 1806 loomed ahead. As he walked next to her down what seemed like an endless hallway, the loud, orange-and-pink floral-patterned carpet rubbed on his nerves. No guards outside the door, no one around when they arrived. They moved close enough to the door to listen for noises coming from inside and heard the sound of voices. It didn’t take long to figure out it was just the TV.
No one went in, no one came out. At the warning ding of the elevator doors sliding open, Reese pushed Kenzie up against the wall and kissed her. A man and woman engaged in a little harmless foreplay in the hallway outside their room wasn’t an unusual sight in a casino.
It didn’t bother the older couple walking past, but it bothered the hell out of Reese. He was hard, seriously aroused, and wishing he could drag Kenzie into one of the empty rooms and take her, pound into her until both of them were sated.
Not going to happen. Last night had been an anomaly. Kenzie had been exhausted and desperately in need of sleep. He was glad he’d been able to give her what she needed.
The older couple moved past, turned the corner, and disappeared. No sign of Hawk. Reese knew he was there somewhere but didn’t really expect to see him.
Another sound reached them. Along with the guest elevators, a service elevator at the end of the hall rumbled up and down the tower. The doors slid open and Reese caught the rattle of a food cart moving toward them along the passage.
Kenzie moved before he did, pulling his head down and kissing him, hiding both their faces and their motive. Reese felt an immediate rush of heat. He couldn’t help wondering if Kenzie felt any of the arousal sweeping through him, caught the little sound she made in her throat, and thought that maybe she did.
The cart passed by, pushed by a waiter in black slacks and a short white jacket who disappeared into a room at the end of the hall.
Reluctantly Reese broke the kiss and took Kenzie’s hand. “Come on, baby. There’s something we need to do.” Pulling her along beside him, he stopped for a moment to text Hawk his plan, then continued toward the service elevator.
“What are we doing?” Kenzie asked as the doors slid open and he pulled her inside.
“I know how we can get into the room. But there’s something we need first.”
“What’s that?”
“A waiter’s jacket.” Reese pushed the button for the first floor. “And I know just the place to find one.”
Twenty minutes later, they were back on the eighteenth floor, Reese dressed in the black slacks and a short white jacket he had bought from a waiter for more than the guy’s last paycheck. The pants were a little too short, the jacket a little snug in the shoulders, but it was the best he could do.
His feet were too big for the waiter’s shoes, so he still wore his scuffed leather boots. He prayed no one would notice. His hat and the rest of his clothes were out in the pickup, where he had hastily changed while Hawk kept an eye on the suite.
It was almost noon. Reese gripped the handle of the food cart that rattled along in front of him, covered by a white linen cloth and a couple of domed silver platters. The smell of fried chicken and mashed potatoes drifted up from beneath the lids.
As they approached room 1806, Hawk strode around the corner.
“Go,” Reese said to Kenzie, who hurried toward Hawk down the passage. Hawk pulled her behind him, and the two of them eased back against the wall out of sight. Nobody spoke as Reese pushed the cart up to the door and pressed the buzzer.
The TV still played softly. Good chance no one was in the room, but they had to know for sure. He knocked again. The sound of footsteps padding across the carpet was unexpected, the first evidence of an actual human being inside.
His pulse kicked up.
“Who is it?”
“Room service.”
“You got the wrong room. I didn’t order any food.”
“You sure? I got two orders of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Says here it’s for suite 1806.”
“I told you—I didn’t order it.”
“Yeah, well, if it wasn’t you, I’ll have to take it back. I do that, it’ll just get thrown out. You might as well have it. No charge.”
There was a moment’s hesitation. Then the door opened as far as the end of the security chain, enough for the guy inside to look into the hall. The black slacks and short white waiter’s jacket did the trick. The chain slid off, the door opened, and a short, muscular man with curly black hair stepped back to let him in.
Reese pushed the cart through the door, jamming it open with the wheels as he pulled the pistol beneath his white jacket. “Hands up! Do it now!”
The guy’s hands shot into the air, and Reese moved farther into the room, forcing the guy backward. Behind him, Hawk pushed the cart farther inside and followed, holding the guy at gunpoint while Reese sprinted for the bedroom.
The bedroom door stood open. He panned the room with the pistol in a two-handed grip, checked the bathroom, and returned to the bedroom. The bed was unmade, the covers messy and tossed aside, but the room was empty.
He looked up to see Kenzie running into the bedroom. He holstered his weapon and pulled her into his arms. “He’s not here, honey.”
Her eyes filled. “Are you sure? That man in there—he...he’s one of the kidnappers.”
Reese began to search the bedroom, looking for any sign Griff had been there. A single sock lay half exposed at the foot of the bed.
“Is this Griff’s?” He held up a white athletic sock way too small for a full-grown man. There were red and blue strips around the calf.
“Oh, God, Reese.” Kenzie took the sock and held it against her heart. “Texas Ranger team colors. Griff wore them to bed sometimes.”
Reese looked at Kenzie’s grief-stricken face, and rage burned through him. “Griff isn’t here now, but he was.” He urged her back into the living room, over to where Hawk held the kidnapper at gunpoint.
“He’s one of them,” Kenzie repeated. “He’s the one who hit me.”
The scabbed-over scratches on the side of the man’s face reminded Reese of what he’d done and how hard Kenzie had fought him. Reese clamped down on a wave of fury that threatened to break through his iron control.
“He’s going to wish he’d never touched you.” Moving closer, Reese backhanded the guy across the mouth hard enough to split his lip and send a spray of blood into the air. “Where’s the boy?”