Don't Breathe a Word: Includes a bonus novella (Texas Justice Book 2)

by Christie Craig

  “About damn time you answered. Busy getting a massage or something, cowboy?” Charlie huffed on the other end.

  “Or something.” Logan chuckled. “Update me.”

  “Interesting little tidbit about Rachel’s cell mates…they’ve all been released.”

  Logan put the phone on speaker and nodded Rachel over. “They’ve all been released?”

  “Every single one of them, from those who’d been charged with drug possession to prostitution. No bond hearing. No little chitchats in the judge’s chambers. The charges were simply dropped as if they never existed, which means—”

  “They have a guardian angel who happens to be pretty high on the food chain,” Logan finished.

  “Or who has control over someone who is. I’ve been trying to tie the brothel to a property, but it hasn’t been easy. Instead of a name, it’s linked to a line of dummy corporations. I’ll be able to narrow it down eventually, but Carly’s not going to have that kind of time.”

  “But your gut’s whispering a specific name, isn’t it?” Rachel asked.

  “It is,” Charlie admitted. “I don’t have the proof yet, but I’ll go back to my original hair color if Dean Carson isn’t involved in some way. And by some way, I mean with his grimy convict paws all over it.”

  Logan dwelled on Charlie’s hunch. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “He’s the owner of that new casino that opened on the strip, Sinful Players, along with a few others, a handful of nightclubs, and a couple of apartment complexes. And according to Carly’s tax records, she’s not only employed at Sinful Players, but she lives in one of the employee suites.”

  “Is this news to you?” Logan glanced to Rachel’s shocked expression, disappointed that she’d slipped back into her dress.

  Rachel’s brow furrowed. “I knew she changed apartments because of issues with noisy neighbors, but I didn’t know she’d moved into a hotel, or that her public relations position was with one of the casinos.”

  Rachel’s mouth opened and closed before she nibbled on her lower lip, deep in thought. “Carly’s new boyfriend’s name is Dean.”

  Logan didn’t like the sudden change of direction—for all their sakes. “Would you recognize him if you saw a picture?”

  Rachel nodded. “She sent me one of them at some kind of charity event last month.”

  “Charlie?”

  “Already texting you,” Charlie announced.

  Five seconds later, Logan’s cell pinged with the new notification. He brought the image up on the screen and slid it toward Rachel. “Look familiar?”

  “That’s him. I don’t remember Carly ever telling me his last name, but that’s definitely the new boyfriend.”

  Logan’s gut twitched. “So Carly’s new boyfriend isn’t only her landlord and her boss, but probably the owner of the drug brothel.”

  “This entire situation’s getting worse by the second,” Rachel admitted worriedly.

  “Yeah, babe, it is.” Logan grabbed his shorts and tugged them on. “Do me a solid, Charlie, and get a set of wheels delivered to our hotel. And we’re going to need two sets of undercover duds—one for sleuthing and one for a swanky night out.”

  Charlie’s silence spoke volumes.

  “You got something to say, Sparks?”

  “Am I on speakerphone still?”

  Logan locked eyes with Rachel. Her frown dipped lower as she addressed Charlie. “You don’t need to waste your breath. There’s no way I’m staying behind.”

  Charlie’s voice softened. “Hon, I know you’ve come a long way, and Carson may not be Fuentes, but he hasn’t gotten where he is in Vegas’s underground by being a pussycat.”

  “Which is why Logan’s here. We have no idea what kind of shape Carly’s going to be in, and that means that I need to be there too.”

  “Rachel can handle it,” Logan added. He spoke to Charlie, but his eyes never left the woman standing next to him. Rachel stared him dead in the eye, gifting him a small smile of appreciation.

  On the other line of the phone, Charlie sighed. “Fine, but know that your ball sack’s on the line. Penny’s gone downright feral. Any payback against the male persuasion she can dish out, she will.”

  “And what exactly did the male species do now?”

  “Made morning sickness an actual thing.”

  Logan grinned, imagining the fiery redhead on the warpath. “Tell her all payback should be aimed at her husband. He’s the one that helped her create that little dictator in residence.”

  Charlie belted out a laugh. “Don’t think she hasn’t. I’ll email the two of you what I have on the den and the casino, and I’ll keep working on uncovering more links. If Carson owns one hole-in-the-ground business, chances are that he owns a hell of a lot more. Be careful. Let us know if you need anything.”

  “Our night-on-the-town packages?” Logan wanted to make sure the pink-haired operative didn’t forget their undercover gear.

  “Everything will be there within the half hour,” Charlie promised. “And I’m also going to help Stone formulate some kind of backup, because as capable as you are, Dean Carson’s underground network is nothing to sneeze at.”

  “Sounds good, Char, thanks.”

  Charlie disconnected the call. Logan tried wrapping his head around all the information. If Carly really had gotten mixed up with Dean Carson, chances were high that they would need more than two pairs of hands.

  Chapter Six

  After two hours of lying low, Rachel inspected her new and improved hair from left to right, angling her head to look at it from different vantage points. Maybe she’d taken the undercover thing a degree too far, but nothing could be done about it now.

  About seven inches of wavy auburn hair currently lay on top of an empty Sweet Mahogany Clairol box, leaving Rachel with a stylishly shagged and shoulder-length cut. The style lightened her head by a good few pounds, or at least that’s how it felt.

  Adding to the drastic transformation was Charlie’s sleuthing outfit.

  The black leather pants clung to her legs like a second skin, making them look miles longer than reality, and the dark, curve-hugging tank left little to the imagination. If this was the operative’s idea of low-key, Rachel dreaded seeing what she’d chosen for their appearance at Sinful Players.

  “Here’s goes nothing.” Unable to procrastinate any further, Rachel tucked her burner cell into her cleavage and opened the door.

  One step and she collided with a rock-solid chest. She bounced back, off balance and arms flailing. Logan quickly settled her back on her feet—and against him.

  “I realize I’m known for making the ladies swoon, but that has to be a new record. I don’t even think you had the chance to lay eyes on me,” Logan’s deep voice teased.

  “Guess you’re growing more potent.”

  Rachel braved a glance up, and holy hotness. Dressed in a Henley, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark jeans, Logan epitomized masculine perfection. Him in any outfit—cowboy attire, camo, or a glittery ballerina costume—put women aged sixteen years to eighty at risk of drowning in a puddle of their own drool.

  Logan’s gaze traveled down the length of her body, lingering on her legs before traveling back up in a lazy stroll. As his gray eyes darkened, his grip on her hips tightened. “You look fucking incredible, darlin’. I don’t know whether to thank Charlie or strangle her. Keeping my head on straight is going to be one hell of a challenge.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes at the exaggeration. Nothing took Logan’s attention away from a mission, but the compliment still conjured a little stomach flutter.

  “You cut your hair.” Logan tucked a strand of now-dark-brown hair behind her ear. The lock stubbornly bounced back into position along her cheek.

  “Uh. Yeah. I may have gotten a little carried away.” Any concern about her self-imposed new haircut was melted away by the heated look in his eyes. “You like it?”

  His fingers slipped into the shortene
d strands, brushing her cheek in the process. “I love it. I mean, I loved the long locks too, but this suits you. It’s spunky. Edgy.”

  She cocked a dark eyebrow, fighting not to laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called edgy. Maybe before Honduras, but definitely not since.”

  Rachel quieted. But unlike at other times, mentioning her time in captivity didn’t paralyze her. Steady and sure, her heart continued at a slow trot, and each breath eased in and out through her lungs without so much as a quick catch.

  A slow smile spread on Logan’s lips. “Maybe your edginess was in hibernation, waiting until you were ready to take another whirl.”

  Rachel brushed her hand over Logan’s stubbled jaw and into his own freshly trimmed hair. “Or maybe the right person needed to come along and coax it out.”

  “I like the sound of that too.” Logan slowly eased her into a soft kiss.

  Resting her palm on his chest, she melted against him, hating the eventual break in contact. As much as she’d like to stand there and kiss him all night, they were saddled with a time constraint. Two o’clock in the morning didn’t mean much in Sin City, but it could mean everything to Carly.

  “We’re going to have to push pause and continue this later,” Rachel teased, hearing Logan groan.

  “You’re right. Let’s go bring Carly home where she belongs.” Palming the small of her back, he grabbed the bag holding their casino clothes and guided her downstairs to where a black SUV sat out front. He held her door open, his eyes ogling her legs as she slid into the passenger seat. “Remind me never to get on Charlie’s bad side.”

  “Why’s that?” Rachel grinned, already knowing where his mind had gone.

  “Because I hate to think about what she would’ve dressed you in if I had pissed her off.” Logan dropped a kiss on her mouth before coming around to the driver’s side.

  His stride remained easy, but there wasn’t a doubt that he was aware of everything happening around them, from the gathering tourist group on the right side of the sidewalk to the group of twentysomething men about to break out into a scuffle. Everyone at Alpha Security did it—including Charlie. They watched without staring and catalogued everything without writing it down. Having spent so much time at Alpha, even Rachel was more aware of her surroundings.

  Logan pulled their SUV into traffic, jumping out in front of a cab.

  Rachel turned her attention to the street slowly passing them by. They’d gone over their plan a few dozen times, and with each one she’d grown more anxious and formed more questions.

  Logan’s hand slid over her knee.

  “You okay?” He alternated glances between her and the traffic in front of them, concern tilting his mouth into a frown. “I can turn around and drop you off back at the room…do this on my own.”

  “No. I was just thinking.” Rachel’s heart warmed at his concern, and knew that she would’ve felt different about the suggestion a few short days ago. But with Logan it wasn’t about a lack of faith in her abilities or her coping mechanisms. He simply wanted to protect her in general, not because she wasn’t strong enough to deal.

  “About?”

  “I think the reason Carly told me the location of the bag was because she knew she wasn’t going be at the brothel when I got there,” Rachel admitted painfully. “She’d run out of options, and that worries me, Logan. She’d never put someone in danger if she thought there was another choice.”

  Logan nodded, face grim. “I think you’re probably right. But I also think she called you because she knew if anyone could find a way out of a shit-storm, it would be you. We’ll find that damn bag and get whatever’s inside to the proper authorities…and then we’ll bring her home. Trust me?”

  Rachel covered his hand with hers, this time giving him the reassuring squeeze. “I trust you more than anything or anyone.”

  And she did.

  Logan nodded, and his throat worked overtime as he swallowed an unspoken emotion. There wasn’t a single reappearance of his crooked smirk the rest of their drive to the Vegas suburb where the raid had taken place. Twenty minutes later, Logan pulled the SUV to the side of the road, a few houses from the shut-down brothel.

  Wooden planks boarded up the broken windows, and yellow police tape covered the front door. The place would have looked far from inviting even without questionable people loitering around the block.

  Logan’s jaw hardened as he glared at the nondescript brick house. “What the hell were you thinking going into a place like that alone?”

  “It’s really not as bad as it looks,” Rachel lied. The falsehood earned her Logan’s sharp glare. “Okay, so it’s pretty bad.”

  “The raid was a goddamn blessing,” Logan growled.

  “I would’ve wished it happened a few minutes later…like after I’d gotten my hands on Carly’s little black bag. At least then maybe I’d have deserved getting shot at.”

  “No one deserves getting shot at. On second thought, some people do, but you’re definitely not one of them.”

  They climbed out of the SUV and headed down the sidewalk. Off in the distance a dog barked. On the left a light post buzzed and flickered before blinking out.

  Guiding her with a light hand on the elbow, Logan used his other to pull his gun free. “Let’s go around the rear. And stay behind me.”

  The back steps creaked as they climbed onto the rickety porch. Logan yanked the police tape away and leaned his shoulder against the door itself. It gave way easily, and Rachel flicked on her flashlight.

  No one had bothered to clean the place up after the raid. Trash and party remnants littered the floor and counters. A small creature scurried away from her flashlight beam. Rachel tried not thinking about it as she swept the light across the room, finally finding the intake vent along the far wall. “Right there. She said it was the largest vent just outside the kitchen.”

  Rachel dropped to the ground and pulled out the small screwdriver they’d brought with them while Logan watched their backs. It didn’t take much effort. With one screw out, the grate collapsed onto the floor. She aimed the light inside and peered around. “I don’t see anything. It’s just one big hole that goes to the basement.”

  “Feel around the inside of the walls.”

  Rachel threw him a glare. “You want me to blindly stick my hand inside a dark crevice and feel around?”

  Even in the dim light, she saw him grin. “You wanted to come along.”

  Rachel ignored his chuckle and shoved her hand into the dark abyss of the air vent. She felt around, reaching up until her fingers bumped into something soft. She worked at the edges and pulled it free.

  A small wave of relief hit her as she shone the light on a small black bag. She tore into it, pulling out its only content. A flash drive. “Someone took shots at me because of a freaking piece of plastic and metal.”

  “Makes me wonder what’s on that piece of plastic and metal.” Logan helped her get to her feet. “We need to download whatever’s on that drive and send it off to Charlie. Something tells me that whatever it is, Carson’s not going to want too many pairs of eyes on it—especially ones belonging to law enforcement.”

  * * *

  Logan locked his eyes on the woman on the computer screen in front of him and not the one grunting in the back seat of the SUV. At least until a softly muttered curse pulled his attention to the rearview mirror.

  Rachel, visible from the waist up, shifted in the back seat, tugging on the leather pants still trapping her legs. Her perfectly cupped breasts threatened to spill from her bra.

  “Having a problem back there, darlin’? Need an extra pair of hands?” he teased.

  Her eyes found his in the mirror, and her threatening smirk matched his. She gave one sharp final tug and pulled herself free. “Tell Charlie that I love her, but she’s never picking out my clothes ever again. Changing outfits shouldn’t have me breaking out into a sweat.”

  “Did it do the job? Because really, that’s all that matters
at this point.” Charlie’s voice filled the truck. The Alpha operative had been working her technical magic with the information they’d sent her from the flash drive.

  “If their job was chafing me? Then yes. They did it to perfection.”

  Charlie snorted as she worked from the other side of the computer screen. “You didn’t get caught snooping in a crime scene, so they worked.”

  “Sweatpants would’ve worked just as well.”

  “But your legs wouldn’t have looked killer doing it.”

  Logan chuckled, enjoying the banter. “The woman does have a point.”

  Rachel grunted at him before slipping a sleek red dress over her head. A sharp contrast to the black leather, the evening gown encased her body like a soft glove. But the plunging neckline made her bra a no-go. Realizing she had to take it off, Rachel mumbled another string of PG-rated curses.

  “So what do we have, Char?” Logan yanked his attention back to their immediate task.

  “My decryption software is just about done and…” Charlie tapped a few more keys before letting out a long, low whistle. “Bloody hell. If Carson believed you had this, it’s no surprise he’s sent someone to snuff you out.”

  Rachel climbed over the middle console and into the passenger seat. “It’s incriminating?”

  “It’s more than incriminating, and not only to Carson, but to a long list of business associates. He’s kept a running log of transactions between him and a bevy of well-knowns.”

  “You’re talking what? Celebrities or something?”

  “Not just celebrities, but businessmen and high-ranking government officials—local, state, and federal. And if I’m seeing all this correctly, and I am, his charge for keeping them supplied with all the best drugs is favors. Pulled strings. Contacts. Information on this little piece of plastic is enough for the DA to dish out at least two dozen arrest warrants—and that’s a conservative number and only what I can see straight off the top. And let me tell you, some of the people on this list aren’t the type to go down easily. If they get wind of its existence, Carson’s in for a world of hurt.”