Read Online Prodigal Son by Debra Mullins - Free Book Online

discreet about this.”
    Rafe nodded. “Of course.”
    Bartow’s phone rang. He held up a finger at Rafe as he answered it. “Bartow.”
    As Bartow continued with his phone conversation, Gray stepped closer, that hard-as-nails stare boring into Rafe. The other man spoke softly, but there was no missing the command in his tone. “When you are done interviewing the employees, bring your results to me.”
    Rafe blinked at the ballsy demand. “What?”
    Gray laid a hand on his shoulder, his clasp firm and his gaze relentless. “When you’re done interviewing the employees, bring your results to me.”
    “Like hell.” Rafe shrugged off his grip. “Conduct your own damn interviews.”
    Gray jerked back, shock flickering across his face before he regained control. “I will … that is, I intend to. I thought—” Gray’s eyes narrowed.
    And Rafe felt it, a touch in his mind equivalent to a mental tap on the shoulder. Instinctively, he slammed his senses closed. His heart pounded in his chest. He hadn’t felt anything like that in years, not since childhood.
    Only a glint in Gray’s eyes indicated that he knew anything had happened. Before Rafe could say anything, Gray’s radio squawked. He snatched it up and paced a few steps away. “Gray.”
    Rafe watched him with narrowed eyes. The guy had been spooked, and he was spooked himself. But what had Gray expected, that Rafe would blindly obey the demands of a total stranger?
    Bartow hung up the phone. “My apologies, Mr. Montana.”
    “That’s okay.” Still stunned by the mind tap, Rafe strained to hear Gray’s conversation, but he couldn’t make it out and keep his attention on Bartow at the same time. “You’re a busy man.”
    “I am. So where were we? Ah, yes, you wanted to interview my employees.”
    “I do. I think it will help me pick up Danny’s trail.”
    “I am certain Mr. Gray can arrange something.”
    Gray hooked his radio back onto his belt and came toward the desk. “I have to go. A problem with a guest’s room.”
    “Oh?” Bartow frowned. “I wanted you to sit in on this meeting.”
    “It’s the VIP on twelve, sir.”
    Bartow’s eyes widened. He waved a dismissive hand at Gray. “See to it then, and let me know the outcome.”
    “I will.” Gray looked at Rafe, and it didn’t take any superpowers to see that the guy was on guard now. “Leave your contact information, and I’ll arrange for the interviews.”
    “Okay, thanks.”
    “I’ll get Mr. Montana’s card before he leaves,” Bartow said. “You can get in touch with him later when everything is set up.”
    Gray nodded, then high-tailed it out of the office.
    Bartow indicated a chair, the busy man of minutes ago gone as if he had never existed. “Sit down, Mr. Montana. I’m certain you have more questions.”
    Rafe took a seat and clicked his pen. “I do indeed, Mr. Bartow.”
    *   *   *
    Cara perched on the edge of the sofa in the luxurious suite, crushing the empty coffee cup between her fingers. She should probably be doing something constructive, like itemizing her belongings. Or mopping up the spilled water from the flower vase. Maybe breathing into a paper bag. Something.
    But all she could do was sit there in her suite, broken bric-a-brac strewn all around her, and wait for security.
    Someone had broken in. Some lunatic had gotten into her room and ripped open her luggage. Pawed through her things. Knocked the furnishings over in what looked to be a mad frenzy of searching. But searching for what?
    Or whom?
    What if she hadn’t stayed at Danny’s last night? What if she’d been here? Her fingers started trembling again, and she crushed the cardboard coffee cup into an even smaller mass.
    A knock on the door made her yelp in surprise, and the crushed cup flew out of her hands to land on the floor several feet away. Someone called her name and identified themselves as security—Gray.
    “Come in,” she replied. The door opened and Mr. Gray stepped in, a