by Kat Martin
Jase walked out the door, and Kate turned to see Reese watching her.
“He’s a good man,” Reese said.
“I know.”
Reese checked his Rolex. “We’ll give him enough time to get inside and settled before we arrive.” He had changed out of his business clothes, navy slacks and a blue Oxford shirt, into black cargo pants and a black T-shirt that hugged his body. Like Bran, he had a lean, broad-shouldered build. A semiautomatic pistol rode in a holster clipped to his waist.
He looked nothing like the important businessman he had been that afternoon. This man was tougher, edgier, not a guy you would want to mess with.
“You ready to go?” Reese asked.
Kate had also changed and was dressed in black. She had one last thing to do. Reese’s eyes widened when she walked out of the bedroom with the revolver holstered and clipped to the belt around her waist. She was getting the hang of this detective work. She wasn’t legal yet, but she planned to change that soon, and considering the circumstances, she wasn’t going in unprepared.
She pulled her T-shirt out to cover the weapon. “I’m ready.”
A smile touched the corner of Reese’s mouth. “So I see.”
The two of them walked out of the apartment.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Humid darkness enclosed the land around the building that housed Paradise Massage. Dim light oozed through the windows on the second and third floors. Jase walked straight to the front and used the key card to open the door.
There was no one in the reception area when he walked in, just a small lamp on an end table, burning into the shadows. The hallway leading to the massage rooms was dark. It was quiet except for the sounds of voices and people moving around upstairs.
He headed for the elevator. The plan was for Reese to follow, then park where he could see the Yukon, stay long enough to make sure Jase got out all right.
Jase didn’t like the idea that Kate would be with him, but he didn’t much like the notion of leaving her alone, either. Besides, he knew her well enough to know she was going one way or another. The good news was, he trusted Reese to keep her safe. And Reese was right—Jase needed the backup.
He rode the slow-moving car up to the second floor, and the doors opened into another dark hallway. He walked toward the light and music spilling out of an open doorway just down the hall, and paused in the entrance. The room was furnished with dark green velvet overstuffed sofas and chairs. Hors d’oeuvres trays loaded with meat and cheese covered a table next to a makeshift bar against the wall. Men of mixed nationalities and various employments occupied the furniture, some with scantily clad women perched on their laps.
Naked breasts bounced as the women laughed and strutted their wares. A woman in her forties approached him, silver-streaked dark hair, busty, with a slender figure. She wore more clothes than the others, black leggings and a low-cut black blouse belted with a gold sash and dangling gold earrings. The proverbial madam of the house.
Two large men stood against the wall, one at each end of the room, watching the customers. The woman was the mediator. The men were enforcers.
“Hello, handsome.” She smiled up at him. “I’m Veronica. You must be Tom.”
“That’s right.”
“Rena mentioned you might be joining us tonight. I’m glad you could make it.” Nineties music played. He recognized some of the old songs.
He let his gaze move around the room, taking in the selection of available females. Blondes, redheads, tall, short, buxom, slender, skin tones of every color. Some wore short nightgowns, others wore push-up bras and thong panties.
No thirteen-year-old who looked like the photo he’d received of Callie Spencer. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“Looks like you’ve got something for everyone,” he said.
One of Veronica’s dark eyebrows arched up. “Two-hundred-dollar cover. The rest you can negotiate with the girl of your choice.”
“Sounds fair enough.” He pulled out his wallet and took out two hundred-dollar bills, made sure Veronica saw he only had an extra couple of fifties. Not good to come to a whorehouse loaded with cash or he might get his head bashed in.
Of course, if they figured out who he was, that was still a distinct possibility—and the reason there was no ID in his wallet.
“How about a drink?” Veronica asked.
He nodded. “Jack rocks sounds good.”
He followed her to the bar and she fixed him a drink. Jase sipped as he turned to survey the room once more. He was there for information, not sex. Which made choosing the right girl imperative. Veronica drank from a stemmed martini glass, her shrewd gaze going from him to the women in the silent game of chance she seemed to be mentally playing.
Which woman will he choose?
She beckoned a petite blonde in her thirties. “Come over here, Terri, and meet Tom.” The blonde, who looked as if she had plenty of experience, crossed the room in a silver thong and silver pasties. If you liked ample curves and a double D bosom, Terri was for you.
“Nice to meet you, Terri,” he said. Her hair was short enough he could see she didn’t have the lipstick tattoo. Maybe none of them did, but Terri wasn’t the woman he needed so he’d get another try.
“Who’s the redhead?” he asked as Terri wandered off. The girl was young, early twenties, big blue eyes and a vacant expression, like she wished she were anywhere but there.
“That’s Eve.” When Veronica motioned for her to approach, Eve pushed away from the wall and walked toward him on towering platform heels. Jase noticed her legs were a little shaky. “Eve, meet Tom,” Veronica said.
Her eyes shifted to the floor. “Hello, Tom.” She was new at this game, exactly what he was looking for.
Jase smiled. “Hello, honey. So are you up for a little fun?”
She swallowed, looked up at him. “Sure,” she said, but her fake smile wobbled.
Veronica seemed pleased with the exchange, her eyes wandering over his chest. “Looks like your lucky night, Eve.” She waved over her shoulder as she walked away. “Have fun, you two.”
Eve took his hand, her fingers icy cold, and led him out the door, passing a couple of young guys, seventeen or eighteen, on the way into the party room.
Jase followed Eve down the hall into one of the bedrooms and closed the door.
“You’ll have to wash up first,” she said. “And wear a condom. That’s the rule.” There was a sink and toilet in a minuscule bathroom, condoms stacked next to the faucet handles.
Eve gasped as he reached over and moved aside her long red hair. Surprise hit him at the sight of the lipstick tattoo.
Eve stepped away.
“Take it easy, honey. This really is your lucky night. I’m not here for sex. I just want to talk.”
Panic filtered through her. “If...if you can’t get it up, I can help you. That’s part of my job.”
“Let’s just talk, okay? Why don’t you sit down and get comfortable?”
Eve eased down on the bed, her eyes on his face, looking for any sign he wanted more from her than words.
“How did you get the tattoo?” he asked.
Unconsciously, she reached up and touched her neck, then clasped her hands between her knees. “I—I can’t talk about it. Let’s just do this and get it over with.” She stood up and started to pull down her red satin thong, but Jase caught her arm.
“Easy. All I want is a little conversation. It’ll mean an extra fifty for you.”
She wet her lips. They were painted a pretty rose, not bright red. “Do you know Harlan Burke?” he asked, giving her the name Wally had supplied.
Eve swallowed and glanced toward the door. “He’s the guy in the party room. The one with the slitty eyes and thinning blond hair. The big one’s Marvin Duff.”
“All right, good. That�
��s good. How did you start working here?”
Her gaze went back to the door. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m a...ah...a writer. I’m doing an article on how women wind up in the life.”
She eyed him with suspicion. “You don’t look like a writer.”
That was for sure. “Okay, let’s start with something easier. How long have you been working here?”
She shrugged. “A little over a month.”
“How did you get here?” He sat down in the chair across from the bed.
Eve looked at him and her big blue eyes filled with tears. She had a small pointed chin and a kind of fragile sensuality that matched her willowy frame. “I shouldn’t tell you.”
“Why not? We have to fill up some time or you’re going to get in trouble for not doing your job.”
She nodded. “Okay.” She took a shaky breath. “I was living with this guy out in Prairie View. He was a real prick, you know? He’d get drunk and start hitting me. I wanted to leave but I never did. I started taking pills and pretty soon I was hooked. One night he beat me real bad, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
“So you left.”
She nodded, wiped away the wetness on her cheeks. “I packed a bag and hitched a ride to Houston. It was only a couple of days before I ran out of money. I needed food, drugs. I was living on the street when a couple of men picked me up and brought me here. I’ve been here ever since.”
“You haven’t tried to leave?”
She tipped her head toward the door. “You saw those two guys out there. The first week I was here, they drugged me, knocked me out cold. While I was unconscious, someone put the tattoo on my neck. I belong to them now. That’s another rule.”
“Are there other places like this one?”
She nodded. “A couple, I think.”
“What if I prefer a younger girl? Someone underage?”
“They keep the young girls somewhere else, and they cost a lot more.”
A loud banging sounded on the door the instant before it crashed open. Harlan Burke and Marvin Duff rushed into the room. The stun gun in Duff’s hand hit Jase in the middle of the chest as he shot to his feet. He wavered, tried to push through it. Duff hit him again and he went down like a sack of cement, his head hitting the corner of the dresser. Blood ran down the side of his face, but he couldn’t really feel it.
Eve shot to her feet. “We were only talking!” Fear laced her voice. Another jolt shot through him, zipping along his nerves with agonizing force, and his teeth clenched together.
“That’s the problem, sweetheart,” Duff said calmly. “Your job ain’t to talk—it’s to get the guy’s nuts off.”
She was shaking. She looked at Jase with pity but there was nothing she could do. “How...how did you know what we were doing?”
“You stupid bitch.” Burke laughed. “You see that mirror on the wall? We got customers who like to watch. Plus it’s a good way for us to keep an eye on things.”
Eve made a little sound in her throat. Jase struggled to move, but every muscle was frozen, his whole body locked up tight. His head pounded and his vision blurred. He’d have to wait, find an opportunity.
Burke shoved Eve toward the door. “Get your ass back in there and get to work. And keep your mouth shut.”
“What...what about him?”
“I’ll take care of him,” Duff said.
“Get going!” Burke shoved Eve forward. When she didn’t move fast enough, he grabbed her arm, hauled her around and slapped her, then he pushed her out the door and walked out behind her.
Duff moved closer. The stun gun hit Jase again, and he silently groaned. As he lay on his side on the floor, Duff kicked him in the ribs a couple of times, kicked him in the head, and his brain finally went dark.
He wasn’t sure how long he was out, but he woke up groggy and bleeding and tied to a chair in a storeroom. He hoped like hell Reese wouldn’t wait too long before he called the police.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“I’m not waiting any longer,” Kate said. “He should have been back fifteen minutes ago.”
Reese shifted in the seat behind the wheel of the Rover. “He’s on the job, Kate. Things happen. You’ll make it worse if you blow his cover.”
“Something’s wrong. I know it. He’s in trouble. I’m not waiting.” Kate cracked the door and stepped out of the Rover. At the same time, Reese got out and strode around to her side of the car.
“I believe in following your gut. Let’s go.”
“Should we call the police?”
“Could make things worse. Let’s take a look around first, call if we have to.” Reese started for the building, Kate right beside him, keeping up with the man’s long strides. Sticking to the plan they had formulated on the drive over just in case, they went to the rear entrance. According to Jason, there was a stairwell just inside, easy access to the second floor where he figured the men were being entertained.
They paused at the locked door, and Kate bit her lip as Reese reached into the pocket of his cargo pants, pulled out a pair of expensive leather driving gloves and pulled them on. A set of lock picks appeared out of another pocket, and Reese went to work.
It was only a matter of seconds before the lock turned, Reese opened the door and they stepped inside. So the millionaire businessman was skilled at B&E. The man was full of surprises.
They quietly climbed the back stairs, the sound of laughter and voices getting louder as they neared the second floor. Up ahead, one of the doors began to swing open and they flattened themselves against the wall. A man walked out smiling, zipping his fly as he continued along the hall back toward the elevator at the opposite end.
“How are we going to find him?” Kate whispered.
“We’ll just have to look.” Figuring Jase wasn’t in the room the man had just left, Reese stared opening doors on one side of the hall while Kate opened doors on the other. Just a quick peek to see if Jason was in there.
The occupants were so busy they didn’t seem to notice the brief interruption. Kate wished she could block the images of naked men and women in every conceivable position, but it wasn’t likely.
The din of voices and music was coming from a room not far from the elevator, probably where the men were being entertained. Halfway down the hall, Reese paused to listen, then pulled his pistol. Kate drew her revolver and hurried over to join him.
“Someone’s throwing punches. Let’s take a look.”
Kate eased close enough to hear what was happening on the other side of the door.
“Who the hell are you?” a man’s deep voice demanded. “You can make this easy or hard. Either way, you’re gonna talk.”
Kate’s heart jerked at the sound of a fist driving into flesh. Reese looked at her and mouthed, Three, two, one, turned the knob and shoved open the door.
Reese and Kate both rushed inside what appeared to be a supply room, their pistols pointed at the big, brawny, dark-haired man with his fist drawn back.
“Hands in the air,” Reese commanded without raising his voice. “Move. Now. Over against the wall.” Eyeing the heavy weapon, the man moved cautiously in that direction.
Kate’s gaze locked on Jason, slumped forward in the chair he was tied to. His jaw was bruised, blood trickling from a cut on the side of his head.
Reese handed her his Swiss Army knife. Kate steadied her grip and cut the plastic zip ties binding his wrists and ankles. His head came up. His eyes found hers, and they swam with some unreadable emotion. He seemed to collect himself and took a shuddering breath. His shoulders straightened as he pushed to his feet.
“Damned glad to see you two,” he said weakly. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “You call the cops?”
“Not yet,” Reese said.
“Anyone see you come in?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good. Let’s get some answers before we leave.” He staggered, straightened, walked to the beefy man and pulled something out of the guy’s pocket.
“Let’s see if we’ve got any juice left.” It was a stun gun, Kate saw, the way they must have taken Jase down.
He jammed it into the side of the beefy man’s neck. A strangled scream turned into a series of jerky muscle spasms that sent the man sprawling on the floor, gasping for breath like a fish on dry land.
“Still works just fine, eh, Marvin?” Jase walked over to a stack of linens in the storeroom where Reese had tossed the weapons he had taken. Jase picked up his little .380.
While Marvin was still half dazed, Jase dragged him into the same chair he had been tied to and pressed the gun against the side of the man’s head.
“Where are they keeping the rest of the women?” he asked.
“Fuck you.”
Jase ratcheted back the slide on the pistol and returned it to the side of Marvin’s head. A few feet away, Reese casually aimed his gun at the man in the chair. “Where are they?”
“Go ahead and shoot me. I ain’t talking.”
“You’ve got three seconds. Three... Two...” The gun pressed more solidly into flesh and bone.
“Okay, okay, take it easy. It’s just business, you know? They got a couple more parlors like this one. Men got needs, and everybody’s gotta make a living.”
“Give me the names.”
Marvin ground his jaw. “I don’t know. They keep everything separate. I just work here, do what they tell me and collect my pay.”
“What about the trucks?”
He seemed surprised Jase knew. “A couple of times a week, they load the women into the back of a big rig and haul them out to service their customers. Older women, druggies, girls what don’t behave. Got it divided into cribs in the back. Everybody wins.”
Not everybody, Kate thought. Not girls like Chrissy or the dead girl in San Antonio. She prayed Callie Spencer wasn’t a victim.