Page 129 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

NOLAN

W hen I asked for Caleb’s help finding Greg Dratch, I hoped that the hacker would lead me to Luis Fernando Martinez.

Then the situation had got incredibly complicated. We don’t need Dratch’s help to locate Martinez anymore. Thanks to Bianca, we’ve found him.

But Dratch isn’t totally useless.

Kiera’s sister fell off the grid eight years ago. She was presumed dead; she disappeared with Greg Dratch when she was fifteen. Then, two and a half years ago, she showed up in Cali, wearing designer clothing and expensive jewelry.

There’s a gap. Dratch is going to fill in the missing pieces for us, and when he’s done, we’ll know if Bianca needs rescuing from the arms dealer. Or, if, as Kiera fears, her baby sister genuinely wants nothing to do with her.

Megan Matuki, Caleb’s best analyst, comes through. On Tuesday, she emails us. “Found him,” she writes. “Sorry about the delay.”

Caleb and I read her email in silence. Dratch is going by Greg Denton now. Somehow, the guy’s managed to obtain forged id documents. He moved to Atlantic City three months ago and is working as a blackjack dealer in a casino there.

“He never stays in one place long,” Megan writes. “It’s almost as if he’s hiding from someone.”

Caleb looks up at me when he’s done reading the email. “Sounds like someone’s put a price on his head,” he comments.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Dratch has stolen money from a lot of very bad people. I’m shocked he’s still alive. Then again, cockroaches will survive a nuclear holocaust. People like Dratch always seem to manage to evade consequences.

“Want to drive to Atlantic City tomorrow?”

I glance at my phone. It’s six in the evening. “I don’t want to wait. Let’s borrow Xavier’s helicopter.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. “Champagne last week, and now the chopper. Xavier’s that grateful, is he?”

Layla had been in real danger. Xavier and Rafe are worried sick about her, as they should be. But some wounds are too deep to heal. Layla’s still torn up about her sister’s death. It pushes her to be reckless, to jump heedlessly into danger.

In a very real way, I understand Layla. We’ve found similar ways of dealing with our pain.

I shrug in response to Caleb’s question. “It’s not really my story to tell.”

He laughs. “Curiosity is an occupational hazard. Fair enough. Let’s go talk to Xavier.”

We reach the cheap motel Dratch is holed up in at eight. Caleb goes to talk to the manager, and, after the exchange of some cash, the manager agrees to both rent us the room right next to Dratch as well as disappear for the evening. It’s that kind of place.

We enter the room. The furniture is particle board. The air is saturated with the smell of stale cigarette smoke. The armchair is stained, and the TV remote is chained to the unit. “The guy’s broke.”

“Moving every three months will do that,” Caleb comments. He strips the coverlet off the bed, then sits down on the edge of the mattress. “I saw a special on TV,” he says in response to my questioning look. “The bedspreads are never cleaned, just the sheets, even in really expensive hotels.”

I shake my head. Caleb is full of weird pieces of trivia.

We sit down to wait. At ten, we hear Dratch enter the room next door. Five minutes later, he picks up his phone and orders pizza, a conversation we hear easily through the paper-thin walls.

Excellent.

He starts to take a shower; I can hear the water running. We leave our room. Stay out in the parking lot for a few minutes, just in case he can hear us as well as we can hear him.

Then, we knock at his door. “Pizza,” I yell out.

Dratch opens the door. The instant he yanks it ajar, I kick it in and slam the man against the wall.

This scumbag targeted a fifteen-year-old. “Hello, Greg,” I tell him, keeping the fury out of my voice with an effort. “I have some questions for you.”