by Lisa Hughey
Rissa held her breath, oddly interested in John’s reply.
John tilted his head and considered Jack’s question. He didn’t want to answer too quickly. So he really thought about what Jack was asking. What did he think so far?
“This job has a concrete objective. And if we can find those girls we’ve made a difference.” That was a big if. But one that gave him impetus.
“The scope is smaller than your work in the military, but I can tell you that personally being able to see the impact your actions have is a hell of a rush.” Jack’s entire body radiated seriousness and commitment.
John could envision that. Rissa made a sound from next to him. The hardest thing when he quit being a Marine was his loss of purpose.
And just like Rissa had whispered last night, he wanted a meaningful life.
Had she moved closer?
John chose his next words carefully. Obviously he wasn’t a shoe-in but he hoped that if he proved himself on this op that Jack would make his employment permanent.
“I like the possibility of making a difference almost immediately.”
“Good.” Jack slapped him on the back. “After I get back from my honeymoon we’ll iron out all the minutiae. But consider yourself our newest employee.”
John was stunned.
“But—“
“I know we discussed this as a trial but—” Jack pierced Rissa with a look “—it’s come to my attention that I have way too much on my plate. And since we’re making this collaboration with Adams-Larsen official, our work load is only going to increase. I need people I can trust.”
Beside him Rissa stiffened.
John didn’t think Jack’s words were a dig at her but he didn’t really know Jack that well. After all, he wouldn’t have expected Jack to blindly hire him either.
“You sure you don’t want to wait until we’ve had some success?” John didn’t want Jack to regret his decision.
“I tend to make up my mind quickly,” Jack said. “Comes from being in charge of the family when the old man took off. I make a decision and stick to it.”
Jack had been only fourteen when the manwhore bugged out and left the four kids with Shelley. John couldn’t imagine the pressure Jack had felt to be the man of the house. He’d been a damn kid.
“Right now I’ve got to go. I’ve got Con on this still but whatever help or insight you can provide would be great.” Jack frowned, gave John a very intent, penetrating look. “He’s…dealing with some personal stuff.”
“Okay. We’ll get to work on this right away.”
Jack clapped John on the back and nodded curtly at Rissa. And then his cell rang.
“Bliss, babe.” Jack stopped, held still. His voice softened as he said, “Slow down.”
Rissa could hear her raised voice through the phone.
“Poisoned?!” Jack’s movements were agitated as he raked his right hand through his hair. “Fuck. I’ll be right there.”
“Everything okay?” Rissa had to assume Bliss wasn’t poisoned but something was clearly up.
“Shelley’s problems have escalated.” Jack said grimly, “We think someone tried to poison her. I’ve got to go.”
John nodded. “We’ll deal with this. You can count on us.”
“Good luck,” Rissa said.
Jack beelined for the door, and was gone.
Once Jack left, the room seemed to shrink and her awareness of John ripped to the forefront again. Rissa flashbacked to John and Jack next to each other at the breakfast bar. Jack had a raw power and masculine energy. But John, there was something about him that made her knees go weak.
He exuded a tough, intense vibe that made her want to prod at him and rub up against him all at once. Two such contradictory reactions, extremes, that she was constantly in an unsettled state.
“So what do you want to do?”
“You’re our best resource. You’ve got the investigative experience.” John asked, “What do you suggest?”
Rissa nearly preened. “Let’s review the files first.” But ideas were brewing in her head. Pretexting techniques to gather more information.
They sat side by side at the breakfast bar in the kitchen and poured over the profiles and photos of the Hispanic women from the Backdoor listings.
Rissa studied the photograph in her hand, trying to be objective rather than sick to her stomach, since chances were that this girl had not volunteered to be a prostitute. The shoes she wore might actually be Christian Louboutins. The expensive shoes with their signature red sole typically ran about seven hundred dollars but depending on the shoe could cost several thousand.
And if the tennis bracelet on her wrist and the studs in her ears were real, the cha-ching factor went up again.
The woman’s hair was glossy, highlighted, and her skin was smooth, buffed and polished. She had a mani/pedi in cotton candy pink that perfectly matched her glossy pink lipstick.
Rissa catalogued the details in the photo, sifting through the pieces in her brain. This was no low-budget, shoddy operation. Expensively kept. Groomed. These girls were decked out in high-end designers.
“So what does this mean?” John held up a picture of a woman dressed in a bustier with garters and stockings and little innocent-looking ribbons in strategic places. She’d seen that exact outfit, without the woman licking a dildo, in a La Perla catalogue. The entire outfit retailed for a cool fifteen hundred. “In Call?”
“The client goes to their place.” Rissa explained. “Out call, they come to you.”
John frowned. “Seems dangerous.”
Rissa raised an eyebrow.
“For them,” John countered. “Wouldn’t it make them vulnerable because their clients know where they live?”
“I assume they don’t have a choice.” It would be easier for their handler to control them too if the girls weren’t allowed to leave.
They continued to page through the offerings. The services varied from profile to profile. Threesomes, blow jobs, lap dances, erotic dances, companionship, massage therapists….
“Happy ending,” John blurted. “I’m aware of what that means.”
Rissa flushed. They’d both gotten their happy ending last night. Her gaze furtively slipped to the sofa behind them.
“We can guess what full service is,” John said grimly. “But how are we going to link these girls to Ortega if we pay them directly?”
“You don’t know that we pay them directly,” Rissa shot back. The payment terms were not listed on the information page. “We need Con to trace the links on their page accounts.”
This was turning out to be a more technical job than she’d anticipated. Although these days, everything led to needing tech skills.
But there was one thing they needed to do that was totally old school. Rissa’s stomach soured. “You know we need to show these pictures to Maria.”
John’s mouth flattened. “Yeah. Fuck.”
Her thoughts too. She hated it. Even though Con had facial recognition programs, they needed Maria to see if any of these women stood out.
She must be off the phone with Ava but she hadn’t come out from their bedroom. That was not going to be a fun conversation.
Rissa shuffled through the pictures again and tapped the photos. “Did you notice that all of these women offer In Call services?”
“You think there’s a connection?”
“Maybe not, but why don’t we try to make a few appointments and see what we get?”
Rissa considered the setup. Basically they would be pretexting these women but she didn’t see any way around it, and since they weren’t planning to use this particular operation to prosecute anyone, they should be okay.
“Couple, seeking a third sexual partner for a night.” Wasn’t this awkward? Would it have been any less awkward if they hadn’t had sex? She didn’t know. Probably. Maybe. But even if they hadn’t, she wanted him. Which would have made it awkward as hell.
John snapped his fingers. “You l
ike to watch, rather than participate.”
He doubted her ability. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
“Uh, no. Pretty much thought you’re the trained investigator, if I can keep the woman busy while you ‘watch,’ you can snoop, then we can accumulate more data.” John paused. “But we can always go with girl on girl and I want to watch.”
For a moment she was tempted to argue on general principle but that was stupid and he was right. “No, you got this.”
So John got on the phone. They made their requirements clear upfront and set up several appointments using multiple fake names.
After the third phone call, John very carefully pressed the end-call button on his phone. “The address was the same for every girl. Even the instructions are the same. ‘Doorman will vet you and let you upstairs.’ So we know where they live but not which apartment.”
“So these women are all connected. Now we just have to figure out if they are really connected to Ortega.” Rissa rubbed her palm over the glossy granite countertop.
“Let’s try a few more,” John suggested. “So we have a solid sampling of the profiles that Connor identified.”
After another seven phone calls they had their answer. All but one of the women lived in the same apartment building. “This can’t be coincidence.”
John was ready to jump from his stool and storm the apartment complex. Probably leftover from his days as a Marine. But Rissa knew they needed to be more cautious.
“We still shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” Rissa analyzed the data they did have. All of their “dates” were for tomorrow night. “We don’t want to tip Ortega off.”
But they were all in the same complex. They went online to figure out if the building had any apartment openings that Jack and Con could set up in but they couldn’t find any rental company or management firm listed for the building
“I wonder who owns it?” And why there was no listing. Even exclusive buildings tended to have a way to contact the management company, but there was nothing listed anywhere on the web.
They’d identified nine prostitutes working out of this building. “You’d think the neighbors would complain,” John said.
“And the doorman has to know something is going on.” Rissa tapped her mouth with her index finger.
“Unless the doorman is the pimp.” John and Rissa brainstormed strategies. They needed to be visible and spend some money in the next day to cement their cover story. And they needed to show the profiles to Maria, but there was a particular buzz around the rest of their day. John could feel it. He and Rissa were on the right track. Maybe they’d finally gotten a break.
Maria finally came out of the bedroom around dinner time. Rissa wasn’t looking forward to what they had to do next.
“We need to show you some pictures,” Rissa said softly.
Maria’s face was grim, her pretty mouth was a flat line, and her deep soulful eyes sheened with tears. “Are they dead?”
“What?” John asked. “No. Jesus. Sorry.” He patted her awkwardly.
Wow they were handling this all wrong. Rissa wrapped her arm around Maria’s shoulders. “Not crime scene pictures.”
Maria let out a shuddering breath.
“But they are still going to be difficult to look at,” Rissa said.
“I can handle it.” Maria held out her hand.
Of course she could. This woman could give Rissa lessons in how to handle life. “We think the man who took the girls from Fernandez is running a prostitution ring in Las Vegas.”
“Bastards.” Maria firmed her mouth. “Let me see if I recognize anyone.”
John gave her the profiles. She dropped heavily to the sofa. One hand over her mouth as if to stop angry curses from overflowing, she slowly studied each picture.
“There are some days—” she swallowed “—where I think I was the lucky one.”
Rissa’s breath stopped in her throat, humbled by Maria’s response.
John said gently, “We’ll get them back.”
He shouldn’t promise Maria, but her heart softened at his gruff determination to comfort Maria.
Rissa and John were silent as Maria looked through the pictures. She finally shook her head, her long black hair swaying across her back at the force of the gesture. “No.”
Damn. It had been a long shot.
Of course it couldn’t be that easy. Rissa fought the urge to slump with disappointment. Next to her, John nearly vibrated with the need to punch something.
Maria visibly stiffened her shoulders. “I take it we’re staying here tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s watch some CSI. The bad guy always gets caught in the end.” Maria’s dark eyes took on a determined sparkle. “And Nick Stokes is hot.”
Rissa had the oddest thought that Maria was comforting them.
Chapter 10
John and Rissa took their car to the Bellagio and parked in the casino garage. Dressed the part of a wealthy couple, they sauntered around for a half an hour, dropped a few thousand dollars at a craps table, thanks to the Stone family’s nearly unlimited funds, and then headed for the portico.
They called an Uber, set up under their cover identities, and waited for the car.
Con had confirmed that someone had been investigating the Walkers’ background. They had cancelled all the appointments except one and used their cover to confirm the appointment.
While the odds of someone tracking them at the hotel were low, they slipped into their cover personas, portraying an affectionate couple on a romantic getaway.
They had done recon on the building earlier in the day and scoped out the neighborhood. The elegant four-story apartment building appeared upscale and ritzy on the outside.
Nothing about it indicated that a prostitution ring was operating inside.
They pulled up to the building. The semi-circle covered driveway was adorned with giant pots overflowing with spikes and flowers surrounded by drooping greenery. The pots flanked a pair of large French double doors, and a jute Welcome mat shone under the discreet lighting.
“Thanks, man.” John slid out of the UberBLACK limo, then held out his hand for Rissa. She extended her arm languidly and smoothly placed her hand in his. In a slow exit, her movements eerily similar to a strip tease, one elegant leg touched on the granite circular driveway.
Rissa slid her other leg out the door, her stockings shushed as her legs rubbed against each other, the move sensual and erotic. She stood beside him, the epitome of classiness and grace. Her eyes were hidden by large framed sunglasses. And he couldn’t help but hug her, thankful for the brush of her body against his. She nuzzled his jaw with her nose and whispered, “Cameras at twelve, three, six and nine. We’re on.”
The Uber car drove away.
But John didn’t move yet.
The plan had a few variables that would be difficult to predict, and he wanted to reassure her and himself. John’s hand glided over the bare skin exposed by the lack of material on the back of the sexy dress, until he cupped her neck in his palm and tilted her head back.
She smiled seductively as if there were no one else around, playing her part perfectly. As if they had been lovers for years.
Without even blinking, John lowered his head but her hand came up and she pressed her fingers against his lips. “Don’t mess up my lipstick.” Her smile should be labeled lethal, because he totally believed the promise in her twinkling eyes as she let her gaze wander down his body and settle on his crotch. “Not until later.”
Her husky pledge had his cock beginning to swell.
Anyone watching would believe they were completely engrossed in each other. He nipped at her finger. “Shit, Riss.”
She laughed and hooked her arm through the crook of his, dragging him toward the front door. “Let’s go meet our girl.”
They’d picked the youngest-looking girl who they thought might be connected to Ortega based on Con’s research. The plan was to get her alone, t
ake pics of her, and then coerce her hopefully into talking. They also had the age-progression pictures of Sophia and Graciela. They wanted to see if their mark could identify either one of the girls. That decision was going to have to be made during the operation.
The double doors opened automatically, confirming that someone had indeed been watching their little show. A young Hispanic guy the size of a Hummer sat at the reception desk, dressed in a custom-made suit, expensive, and yet the peek of his holster was visible against a pristine white shirt. Here was the gatekeeper of the building. And the girls?
“Mr. and Mrs. Walker are here to see Anna,” Rissa said haughtily, her head tilted so she was literally looking down her nose at the guy.
But that didn’t seem to fluster him. He nodded at Rissa, his expression not betraying even a hint of annoyance.
“Guillermo will escort you.” So they weren’t allowed to wander by themselves. Interesting.
John reached for his wallet. “Can I….”
“Please sir.” The guy’s palm was the size of a dinner plate as he held it up in the universal stop gesture. “Sign in here.”
He handed John a clipboard with a waiver. Seriously? A freakin’ waiver of responsibility.
Rissa pushed her sunglasses on top of her head to hold her hair back. Hopefully she’d activated the camera and gotten pics of the hulking security guard.
“But I wanted to pay now.” John grinned, his gaze glued to Rissa. “We’ll probably want to leave in a hurry.”
John turned and winked at the guy, who didn’t crack a smile.
The doorman narrowed his gaze. “I’d be happy to hold your wallet for you.”
Before John could answer, the elevator doors slid open and the hulk’s twin stepped out. These guys were jacked. “You need to leave your phones here.”
“What?” They hadn’t been expecting that. John opened his mouth to protest. Stay in character. He assumed most people would have an issue with leaving their phones. “I don’t care for that.”
“No pictures. No filming. No phones.” The guy behind the desk spoke in a hard voice.