Micah grunted. “No. Yes. Sorta.”

“Well hell, make up your mind. Preferably on the way to the job.” Pop thrust an invoice toward Micah. “You’re on your own today and it looks like that’s probably a good thing. Don’t look much like decent company if you ask me.”

Micah bit back the obscenities he wanted to blister the world with and took the paper. With a glance in Fairh’s direction and a quick wave, he started after the others.

In the hallway, Nathan hung back until Micah caught up with him.

“Hey, man, everything okay with you?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

Nathan shrugged, and the two exited the office building into the parking lot.

“Want me to ride along with you?” Nathan offered. “I’ve finished up my job, so I’m pretty free this morning.”

Micah paused at his truck. “I appreciate the offer, but as Pop said, I’m not decent company.”

He glanced down at the invoice. Simple installation. Shouldn’t take but two hours tops, and Nathan would still have time to spend the rest of the day with his girl Julie if he wanted.

“Hey, would you do me a favor and take this job? There’s something I need to do.”

Nathan’s eyebrow went up in surprise. “Uh, well, okay. I can do that.”

“Thanks. I wouldn’t ask, but it’s important.”

Nathan took the piece of paper Micah extended toward him and hesitated. “Everything okay with you?”

“Yeah. Fine. Just something I have to take care of.”

Nathan nodded, folded the sheet and headed toward his truck.

Micah climbed into his own truck and pulled out his cell. It was nice to have friends. Good friends who’d do anything for you and not ask questions. He’d had that kind of friendship with David, and he’d been lucky enough to find it again with the guys he worked with at Malone and Sons.

As he drove out of the parking lot, he hit Damon’s private number on speed dial.

“Where are you?” he asked bluntly when Damon answered.

“I’m heading to my downtown office,” Damon replied. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ll meet you there in half an hour,” Micah said and closed his phone.

He navigated the midmorning traffic and parked outside the downtown high-rise twenty-five minutes later. On the elevator ride to the top floor, he tapped his foot impatiently. Of course Damon would have the best of everything. Best offices, best view, expensive-ass furnishings. And he’d probably be waiting with some refined, high-brow alcohol.

Micah ignored Damon’s secretary and headed into Damon’s office. He gave one polite knock but didn’t wait for a response.

Damon didn’t bother to rise, though just as Micah had predicted, there was a glass filled with amber stuff waiting on the edge of the polished desk. Micah sat but didn’t reach for the drink.

Damon surveyed him calmly and waited. Micah wasn’t used to this uncertainty, to second-guessing his decisions. To the absolute knowledge that he’d royally fucked up.

“Christ,” Micah muttered. “I fucked up, Damon.”

Still, Damon waited, only responding with the lift of one eyebrow.

“I need any info you have on Angelina.”

“I think you know I can’t do that.”

“Let me rephrase. I don’t need personal information. I need to know where I can find her. It’s important. I don’t like the idea of her being in Houston alone, staying God knows where. I let her walk out of my apartment last night, and now I don’t know where to find her. I don’t know if she’s okay, if she needs anything.”

“She seemed well this morning when I saw her,” Damon said.

Micah surged forward. “Where did you see her?”

“She came to see me at The House early.”

“What the hell was she seeing you about?”

Damon just stared back, his expression unreadable.

Micah cursed again. “Okay, so you won’t tell me that. At least tell me where I can find her. Damn it, Damon, I’m worried about her. I just need to make sure she’s taken care of. I owe David that much.”

“Interesting that you feel you owe David but not Angelina herself.”

“Don’t fucking play psychologist with me, man. Pisses me off.”

“Only because I make a valid point,” Damon said in an amused tone.

“Look, she’s David’s little sister. Hannah mothered her.”

“And you?” Damon asked.

“She was David’s sister,” he said as if that explained all things. And didn’t it?

Damon chuckled. “In other words you never saw her, and now suddenly you do.”

“No, the hell I don’t see her,” he answered fiercely.

It was a stone-cold lie, and they both knew it. Micah closed his eyes and shook his head.

“How did she know, Damon? How the hell did she know that I’d respond to her bound and naked, begging for the kiss of the whip?”

“I’d say she knows a lot more about you than you do about her.”

“No shit,” he muttered. “Tell me where I can find her, Damon. You sure as hell wouldn’t let me get away with not telling you something where Serena is concerned.”

Damon scowled, and Micah knew he’d scored a hit.

“Hell,” Damon bit out.

“Tell me,” Micah persisted.

Damon sighed and opened his laptop. “I can only give you whatever she put on her application. Don’t ask for anything else. I won’t give it.”

Micah shrugged. As long as he found her, she could damn well tell him the rest.

After a few moments of clicking, Damon raised his head. “She’s staying at the Starlight Motel. No address given.”

“Never heard of it,” Micah said with a frown as he rose. “Thanks, though. I’ll call 411 to get the address on my way out.”

“Hey, Micah,” Damon said when Micah was almost to the door.

Micah paused and turned around.

“Take it easy. Don’t go in with both barrels blazing, okay?”

Micah gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

Just when he thought he couldn’t get any more pissed off, Micah pulled into the parking lot of the Starlight Motel and stared in disgust at the run-down four-story building. He’d thought the directions were bogus when he entered the seedy, dangerous-looking area. Or at least he’d hoped they were.

He slammed the truck door shut and stalked toward the motel office, noting more than one broken pane on the windows of the rooms. What the hell did she think she was doing staying in a place like this?

The clerk at the desk gave him a bored look when Micah entered.

“Angelina Moyano,” Micah said tersely. “Which room?”

The clerk didn’t so much as blink or attempt to move from his slouched position in his chair.

“Don’t have anyone here by that name.”

“How the hell would you know?” Micah demanded. “You haven’t even looked.”

The clerk raised a paper cup and spit a stream of tobacco into it. “Hotel ain’t full. I’d know if someone by that name was booked in here.”

Micah held his temper in check. Barely. “Curvy Hispanic girl. Long, dark hair. Very pretty. Brown eyes. About this tall.” He held out a hand and indicated a height that came to his shoulder.

“Room 417.”

Micah couldn’t decide whether to be glad the punk had offered up the information so readily, or to reach across the counter, yank him up by his shirt and beat the living hell out of him.

But since Angelina wasn’t spending another minute in this dump, he wouldn’t worry about the potential danger she faced.

Not surprisingly, there was an out-of-service sign on the elevator. Muttering under his breath, he climbed four flights of stairs. Finally at Angelina’s door, he paused and stared at the flimsy frame. A good stiff wind would blow it down.

He knocked and waited, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. Several long seconds passed. He couldn’t fault her for not answering; in fact, if she’d blindly answered the door, he’d have tanned her little ass.

He stepped forward and knocked again. “Angelina, open the door,” he called.