Page 44 of Tangled With You

“What did you remember?” Trevor asked.

“A guy,” Ollie said simply. “She never talked much about whoshe went out with when we were in an off-again phase, but one time we weretalking about Wicked—I think it was touring—and she mentioned that abi-coastal guy she’d gone out with had promised to get them front row seats.But she was back with me, so that wouldn’t happen.” He shrugged. “And then abouteight months later we were on-again, and I saw the souvenir sweatshirt at herplace.”

“She’d gone to New York to see him.”

“Yeah. I found out they’d seen each other several times whenwe were apart. I mentioned him not long ago, actually. She was going toManhattan for some article she was writing, so I asked if she was seeing thatguy.”

“Was she?”

“Nope. Told me she’d shut it down. He wanted to get serious,but she didn’t.”

Trevor nodded slowly. “So maybe he’s the jealous type.”

“That’s what I thought. But she never told me his full name.Just Bobby. But Quince is a god among men and managed to track him down.”

“Robert Ellis Fulton,” Mario said, speaking for Quince whowas in the second vehicle. “Damn solid work, too. Once we had that, I was ableto dig in. We’re heading to his LA house—he’s in Valley Village.”

“With luck,” Leah said, sliding into the conversation, “he’sholding Courtney there and this will be over before it’s begun. A little lessluck, and we’ve got him, then Quince can work his magic to tell us whereCourtney is being held.”

Trevor nodded. Ollie had probably never seen Quince inaction, but he’d had that privilege. He didn’t know if it was MI6 training orsomething else, but Quince was better with a hypodermic and the power ofsuggestion than anyone else he’d run across in his years doing this kind ofwork. “Quince is amazing,” he told Ollie, reaching over to take his hand. “Ifwe have to get into Bobby’s head, he can totally manage that.”

He squeezed Ollie’s fingers, more relieved than he should bewhen Ollie squeezed back, though the gesture seemed a little half-hearted.

Get a grip, he ordered himself. One bad dreamdidn’t mean the world was crumbling beneath him.

“There’s another reason we’re one-hundred percent convincedthis is our guy,” Ollie said, pulling his hand free of Trevor’s as he clenchedhis hands together in what Trevor recognized as a nervous habit.

Trevor frowned, focusing on those hands as trepidationbuilt. “Tell me.”

“Angelina Castor.”

Trevor shook his head. “Should I know that name?”

“No,” Ollie said, then drew a breath. “She’s dead.”

Trevor heard the crack in Ollie’s voice, and knew he wasterrified for Courtney. “She used to date Bobby, and she died two days aftershe broke up with him. Accidental fall from her balcony. Except the balconyrailing came up to her ribcage.”

Trevor reached over, then took Ollie’s hand again. “She’snot Courtney.”

The pain in Ollie’s face when he met Trevor’s eyes was likea gut-punch to the soul. “Isn’t she?”

“We’ll catch him. We’ll get her back. Don’t go worst caseuntil we have to. Stay positive.”

Ollie nodded, then tugged his hand free before rubbing hisface with his palms even as Trevor’s throat went tight.

He felt it, then. That almost-forgotten sensation thatpreceded a panic attack. The way his breath caught in his throat, as ifsomething was blocking his airway. The increased tempo of his pulse. The finebeads of sweat gathering at the back of his neck and on his upper lip.

Stop it.

He ordered himself to relax. To count to ten, then breathein through his nose.

Once, twice, third times a charm.

Ollie turned to him, his brow furrowed. “You okay?”

Trevor waved the words away, then pressed his fingers to histemple. “A little carsick. Nothing to worry about.”

“We’re here,” Brax said, sliding into a spot in a tree-linedneighborhood. “The house with the blue trim.”