Fever (Breathless #2)(18)

Ash’s lips tightened and he sent an inquisitive look in Jace’s direction. “What, exactly, were you wanting from this? Another night? Two? Then what? It’s not like we ever do long-term. I realize this may not have gone the way you wanted, but you have to appreciate the irony of her being the one to walk away. That’s usually what we do. She made it a hell of a lot easier on us.”

Jace’s teeth ground together, his nostrils flaring as red-hot anger whipped up his spine. It took every ounce of control not to lash out at his best friend. He exhaled forcefully and then lifted his gaze to meet Ash’s.

“Yeah. Easier.”

He couldn’t keep the disgust from his tone. Didn’t even care. He turned and stalked back into the bedroom to get dressed. He yanked on his pants and shirt, not bothering to shower or shave. He had no idea how long ago Bethany had left and he wanted to make sure he questioned the staff in the lobby and the doorman.

His mind was already working through his options when he walked back through on his way to the door.

“Jace?” Ash called.

Jace paused and turned to see Ash still standing in the living room, a troubled expression on his face.

“What’s going on, man? You’ve acted differently with her from the moment you saw her at the party. We’ve f**ked a lot of women together but last night you didn’t act like you were down with what we were doing at all.”

“I wasn’t,” Jace said quietly.

“Then why did you do it?”

Jace stared at him a long moment. “Because it’s what I had to do to have her.”

Without waiting for a response, Jace turned and left the room. He got on the elevator and stabbed the button for the lobby and simmered with impatience as he waited for the doors to close.

Yeah, Ash was going to think he’d lost his f**king mind. Maybe he had. He certainly couldn’t explain this . . . He didn’t even know what to call it. Obsession?

He knew it wasn’t simple lust. He’d experienced that plenty of times. Lust was uninvolved. Lust was about sex and sating a need. Physical release with no emotional involvement.

And yet how could he possibly think he had an emotional connection to Bethany when he knew nothing about her?

He stepped off the elevator with purpose. She may have run, but he was damn well going to haul her back.

Half an hour later, he was ready to put his fist through a wall. After questioning every single employee who may have seen her, he’d gotten exactly nowhere. The doorman reported seeing her walk out of the hotel just after dawn. She hadn’t asked for a cab, hadn’t hailed one herself. She’d simply walked away.

Without a f**king coat.

It was half raining, half snowing and it was goddamn cold. And she’d walked out without a coat.

What frustrated him even more was that he wanted to track down the catering service and demand information on Bethany, but it was Sunday, which meant that until Monday, he was screwed.

Chapter seven

Jace got out of his car after telling his driver to circle and wait and then pulled up the collar of his coat to prevent the drizzle from sliding down his neck. He hurried toward the women’s shelter that was sandwiched between an older Catholic church and a soup kitchen on the fringes of the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood.

It would be getting dark soon, a fact that aggravated him, not because of the approaching evening, but because it had taken him all day to gather the information he wanted. And it had taken until now to track her down.

The only information the catering service had on file was her full name and this address. Had Bethany listed another employer as her contact information? He could have called the shelter to get information, but the moment he’d gotten the barest hint of where she might be, he’d left his office and had come straight here.

He ducked inside the door and shook off the rain. An older woman looked up from where she sat at a desk a short distance from the door, alarm in her eyes. He supposed it wasn’t an ordinary occurrence for a man to burst into a women’s shelter, and if his employees were anything to go by, he’d been brooding and moody the entire day so he was sure he didn’t look very friendly.

“Can I help you?” she asked as she hurried forward.

His gaze swept the interior, taking in the smallness, the sparseness of the room—and it was merely a room. Cots filled most of the space. There was a sitting area toward the back, with a dilapidated couch and a few odd chairs situated around a television.

There were maybe ten women in view and he was struck by how subdued they were. They ranged in age from very young to quite old and they all had a tired, hopeless look to their eyes that made his gut seize.

Was this what his Bethany did? Did she volunteer her time here and then work odd jobs when she could for extra money? He felt a surge of pride. He remembered her reaction to the notion that they were somehow paying her for sex. And she hadn’t stuck around when it had to be obvious to her that he and Ash had money. Ash had been right about one thing. It was usually them ending things with women. Never once had they had a woman walk away from them with no expectation for what she could gain monetarily.

Even with his coat on, the inside of the shelter felt chilly to him. His gaze narrowed when he saw that most of the occupants wore more than one layer of clothing. Even the older woman standing in front of him had a jacket and gloves on.

“Why the hell don’t you have the heat on?” he demanded.