Trey cursed. He shot a quick look over his shoulder, but Rebecca wasn’t in hearing range. “Where’s the lens?”
Zane’s stomach clenched. “If I wanted to catch something salacious, I’d aim it where it could see the shower.”
Trey immediately strode to the enclosure. Now that he knew to look, he found it in less than a minute: a thumbnail sized wireless fisheye adhered to the top of one marble wall with waterproof adhesive. Zane had been facing it while Trey fucked him. It would have seen everything.
Hands shaking, he pried open the box he’d found. As he did, the power light winked off.
Trey returned to his side to peer at its innards. “There’s no storage chip in there.”
“No,” Zane agreed tightly. “It’s sending the signal from the lens somewhere else, probably through the house network.”
“It wasn’t Rebecca,” Trey said defensively.
“Fuck’s sake,” Zane snapped, still speaking in a low tone. “I know that. Rebecca wouldn’t do this in a million years.” He set the opened box on a stack of towels, not wanting to touch it. “It had to have been someone on the staff. Getting access is too difficult for strangers.”
“They’ve all been with us for years.”
“All except one,” Zane corrected. “The one employee we didn’t vet as closely as the others because he’s related to Mrs. P—the staff member we trust the most.”
“Owens,” Trey said, hard and flat.
Zane opened his mouth to agree when Rebecca spoke from the door. He didn’t know how long she’d been there, but her pallor said she’d added up the pieces she’d overheard.
“I think I know why. I just remembered where I’ve seen him before.”
Zane and Trey responded at the same time. “You’ve seen him before?”
“Last Monday. At our VIP sneak peek for the Lounge. He, uh, helped that supermodel you said wasn’t your girlfriend out of her limo. I wasn’t paying him much attention. I assumed he was her driver.”
Zane recalled the uncomfortable weekend he’d spent with her. “That wasn’t Missy’s limo, it was ours. I wanted to get shut of her, so I took a taxi from the airport. I told Owens to drop her wherever she liked. He knew who she was. He seemed a little star struck. I thought it was funny.”
“Not so funny now,” Trey said. “Missy would have been in the mood for blood, you having just dumped her. I guess your ex-not-girlfriend and our strapping young driver found mutual interests.”
“That is not good,” Zane said.
“That is very not good,” Trey emphasized. He lifted his hands at Zane’s look. “Sorry. I know you kind of liked her, but that glorified swimsuit hanger is poison. The first time I met her, I knew she was hoping to stash her eggs in your basket.”
Zane hadn’t known Trey disliked her. He’d been aware Missy had ambitions. He simply hadn’t thought they were his problem. He’d been wrong about that. People like her didn’t set up secret surveillance just to watch it themselves. People like her had E! News on speed dial so reporters could “accidentally” catch her on dates. God, he’d been stupid. Owens had probably been spying for her when he walked in on them in the pool, maybe hoping to tell his new famous girlfriend what they’d been up to. And that business with him and Rebecca supposedly needing help assembling the bed . . . Owens had wanted an excuse to get into their secure playroom. Probably Zane ought to be grateful he’d only managed to plant a sex-cam here.
He shook his head to rid it of those thoughts. Every minute they delayed was one too many. “We need to get to Owens before he sends Missy this footage.”
Trey threw him a pair of pants and grabbed one for himself. “I say we need to beat Owens to a pulp, but I’ll settle for shutting down his snooping.”
~
Rebecca wanted to come with them, but Zane backed up Trey’s opinion that she should stay in the house.
“I don’t want you any more involved than you are. Don’t make us waste time arguing. We need to confront Owens now.”
“We won’t do anything stupid,” Trey promised, which he suspected was her main concern.
The chauffeur lived in the apartment above the ivy-veiled garage. If luck was with them, he hadn’t been watching the feed come in and didn’t know what he had. That hope died the moment they saw him behind his lit-up windows. He was hurrying from his dresser to his bed, carrying clothing to a suitcase.
“Shit,” Zane said. “He’s packing. He must have heard us find his equipment.”