“You got greedy.”
“Yes, I suppose I did.”
“Then we’re not so different after all.” Blake smiled.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Amber said. “I think you need to go now. I need to get some sleep.”
“Yeah, me too. But look on the bright side. If I hadn’t found those pics and blackmailed you, they’d still be posted without your knowledge. Someone would have recognized you eventually. Every cowpoke west of the Mississippi spends a night at Rachel’s. It’s kind of our birthright.”
He had a point, but she wasn’t quite ready to accept it yet. What he had done to her still hurt like hell.
“Good night,” she said.
He left quietly.
* * *
Harper slept fitfully, a certain blonde invading his dreams whenever he drifted off. He woke up each time in a cold sweat with a raging erection.
Why couldn’t he shake her?
Her reaction last night had been downright rage. She thought—no, she knew—she was clean.
He couldn’t ever really know the truth. He had to choose to believe her. He had to have faith in his heart that she would not lie about this.
When his alarm went off at seven a.m., he felt like he’d spent the night in a torture chamber—physically and emotionally exhausted and in pain.
He was still lying in bed when his cell phone buzzed at seven thirty on the dot. Larry.
“What’s the word, Lar?”
“I don’t know a whole lot yet. I won’t be able to do any thorough investigation until I come down there, but here’s what I was able to uncover overnight. I was able to hack into their mainframe and the first security level. Still don’t have access to the real good stuff. I can tell you that Rachel’s definitely does some shady business on the side, including the web site you told me about. They’ve also done some smuggling. Some of their women are illegals who do more than just dance, if you get my drift.”
Harper got the drift all right. “Are they in league with Donetto?”
“Not from what I can tell. In fact, it doesn’t look like Donetto even knows what they’re up to. If he did, he’d want his piece for sure.”
Hmm. Good. Harper could use that.
“The manager, Leon, seems to be innocent. I couldn’t find him associated with any of the underground dealings. The woman, Marta, is originally from Austria. She’s not a U.S. citizen, but she’s here legally and has a green card.”
“When did she come over?”
“About ten years ago. She married a cowboy but they divorced two years later. Might have been a marriage of convenience, who knows? But it was never questioned. After her marriage failed, she found work at Rachel’s.”
“Can we tie her to the shady stuff?”
“Not yet. She does pose for other sites, though. I’ll e-mail you the URLs.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“You want some advice?” Larry asked.
“Sure. What the hell.”
“Bring the cops in on this. These people are most likely dangerous.”
“You just said Donetto’s not involved.”
“I said from what I can tell, he’s not involved. Paul Donetto’s not the only dangerous man in San Antonio.”
Harper threw the comforter off and sat up in bed. “Point taken. Thanks, Lar.”
“I won’t be able to get out there for a few days. I’ve got stuff going on.”
“Yeah, I know. I understand. Keep doing what you’re doing. If you find anything new, give me a call.”
“Will do.”
Harper clicked off his phone, rose, and started the shower.
Amber’s image popped into his mind. Amber’s platinum hair falling in soft waves over her milky shoulders. Amber’s full red lips, swollen from his kisses. Amber’s hard nipples, pink and wanting, her skin silky smooth under his tongue.
Amber’s wetness on his fingers, sweet and tangy as he brought them to his mouth.
He sighed and turned the faucet to cold.
Chapter Nineteen
Friday night. They hadn’t accomplished much during the day, though Amber’s mother’s house was now spotless. If they could sober the woman up, maybe she’d get on with her life.
Amber didn’t hold out much hope for that. She did say she wanted to get her mother some help, though, so Harper had arranged a visit to a mental health and substance abuse facility. Amber was convinced her mother was mentally ill.
Amber was back at the hotel now, while Harper and Blake sat out back of Rachel’s in a rental car watching the employees’ entrance. Amber claimed the night she’d blacked out had been a Friday. It was a long shot, but maybe Marta and whoever else was involved might try the same thing tonight.
Blake sat in the passenger seat, snoring. Harper checked his watch. Three a.m. The club closed at two thirty. So far, only two girls had emerged from the building.
Blake let out a snort. Harper rolled his eyes. Blake wasn’t such a bad guy, but Harper would never forgive him for what he’d done to Amber. He’d turned that poor woman’s life upside down. She hadn’t deserved that, no matter how many mistakes she’d made.
Course, Blake had made his own mistakes. Blackmailing someone to try to cover his own ass was cowardly. Blake had told him he’d apologized to Amber last night. Oddly, Amber hadn’t thrown him out. While she hadn’t been exactly forgiving, she did seem to understand how he’d let things get out of hand. She understood about greed sometimes taking over.
Harper shook his head. He’d never wanted for anything in his life. What must it have been like for Amber, growing up with Karen in that rundown neighborhood? Getting kicked out at sixteen?
And Blake? He knew nothing of Blake’s childhood.
Sometimes, Harper took it all for granted. He tried not to but couldn’t help himself on occasion. What did he know about greed? If he wanted something, he went out and got it. Money was not an issue. If it had been, might he have made some of the choices Blake and Amber had?
The fact that he wasn’t sure gnawed at him. One thing, though, had become clear as day. He hadn’t been fair to Amber.
The door opened and two women emerged. He punched Blake’s arm. “Wake up. A couple are coming out.”
Blake opened his eyes and let out a huge yawn. “Yeah? Where?”
“By the door, genius.”
Nope. Turned out to be nothing. Marta wasn’t there.
“What time is it?” Blake asked.
“Three fifteen.”
“They should all be out by now, shouldn’t they?”
“You’d think. But”—Harper grabbed the steering wheel—“maybe we can’t get them for drugging and photographing the girls. But I bet there’s money exchanging hands in there for sex. I’d bet you anything.”
“You’re probably right, but what exactly can we do about it?”
“We can call the cops.”
Blake let out a chuckle. “Are you kiddin’? The cops must know. This has been going on forever. They probably close their eyes to it.”
Shit. Blake was no doubt right. If only San Antonio had a young, hot-headed detective with a conscience bigger than himself. Harper would look into that tomorrow.
The two women drove away together. Probably roommates, like Amber and Laura had been.
“This isn’t working,” Harper said. “I guess we should just go on back to the hotel and attempt to get a little sleep.”
“Thank God,” Blake said.
Harper turned on the engine. As he prepared to back out, the sliver of light from the doorway caught his eye. Wouldn’t hurt to see what was what. He cut the engine.
“Now what?” Blake said.
“Check it out.”
Out stepped Marta with three girls. They were laughing and walking arm in arm. They ambled to a black minivan and got in.
“Bingo,” Harper said. “Looks like we’re back in business.”
“What’re we gonna do? Follow them?”
“That’s
exactly what we’re going to do.”
“Christ, I’m exhausted.”
“So am I. Quit your bitching.”
“Is all this really worth the twenty grand you paid Donetto?”
Harper shook his head. What was with this guy sometimes? “Think about what you just said.”
“Sorry. You’re right. I owe you big time.”
“That’s right. Let’s get going. You know the area, so I need you to keep an eye on that van. I need to stay far enough back so they don’t know we’re following. If we lose sight, you need to figure out which way they went based on your knowledge of the area.”
“And what if I’m wrong?”
“Don’t be wrong.”
Harper pulled out and followed the black van. He kept a safe distance behind it and didn’t lose sight.
Half an hour later, they pulled up in the parking lot of some expensive-looking townhomes.
“Damn,” Blake said. “Drugging women and taking photos obviously pays pretty well.”
“This is the porn industry,” Harper said. “You saw Lance’s digs. He certainly didn’t make that kind of dough doing anything upstanding. That guy’s as slimy as they come.”
“I gotta admit, he’s even creepier than his brother.”
“Why do you hang out with him if you think he’s a creep?”
“We worked on the same ranch, before he started doing his computer work. All us hands hung out on our nights off. Bernie’s a good guy, just creepy looking. He can’t help that.”
Harper shook his head. “Of course. No such thing as eating right and working out.”
He didn’t give a damn who Blake Buchanan counted as his friends. All he wanted was to get to the bottom of this mess and get the hell out of Dodge. He’d had about all he could take of this fair city.
The foursome entered number three hundred. About a minute later, a large man appeared out of the shadows and entered as well. He could have been the bouncer—Amber said his name was Oscar—from Rachel’s, but Harper wasn’t sure in the dark. He didn’t use a key, so Marta must have left the door unlocked. Harper hoped the man hadn’t turned the deadbolt. If he had, they’d have to find another way in.
He turned to Blake. “You know anything about breaking and entering?”
“Hell, no. I’m not a criminal. You know my story. Got mixed up with some bad people. I’ve never broken and entered in my life.”
“Shit.”
“So you want me to be a criminal?”
“If you were, the knowledge would come in handy right about now.”
“Sorry I can’t oblige.”
Harper sighed and pulled out some rubber gloves from the glove compartment.
“Hey, a glove compartment with gloves,” Blake said. “Ingenious.”
“Ha-ha. Funny.” He took two gloves out of the box and handed them to Blake. “Put these on. We sure as hell don’t want our fingerprints anywhere around here.”
They both donned the disposable gloves. Harper unlatched his car door, his heart pounding. “Let’s go.”
Blake nodded. They crept stealthily toward the door of the townhome. Harper tried the door. Locked, just as he’d feared.
Well, at least they weren’t stupid criminals. Would’ve made their jobs a lot easier though.
“Let’s go around to the back,” Harper said.
They walked around the row of homes to the back door of the unit in question. Also locked. They looked down the basement window well, but the window was covered.
Damn.
They’d been doing this for so long, Harper had hoped they’d gotten careless. No such luck. Course if they’d gotten careless, chances are they wouldn’t still be getting away with it. Amber’s photos had been taken almost three years ago according to her, and still they were using the same MO.
“I was just thinking,” Blake whispered.
“About what?”
“Bernie’s gonna get into a hell of a lot of trouble with his brother for giving me that information about the site. Course he isn’t the brightest bulb.”
“I’d say he’s not,” Harper said. “But neither is Lance for giving the stuff to Bernie.”
“True enough. Lance may be a whiz with computers, but he’s got no sense when it comes to anything else.”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“How long do you think it’ll take these thugs to find out Lance took down Amber’s photos? They’ll go to him, he’ll produce that paper you wrote up, and they’ll know something’s up.”
“And?”
“Maybe they’ll take the site down themselves.”
“Are you crazy? They won’t take the site down. They’ll off Lance. Maybe Bernie too. And they’ll come after us.” Harper’s pulse raced. His words were true.
Blake let out long sigh. “It was just a thought. Since it doesn’t look like we’re getting in here tonight.”
“I guess we should give it up,” Harper agreed. “This place is as secure as Fort Knox.” His heart fell. He’d really wanted to get something on these guys. Not for Amber, of course. They’d already gotten her photos taken down. But for all the other innocent girls.
His conscience nagged at him. For Amber. You know it’s for Amber. She was the one who didn’t want to leave the other girls exploited. He’d treated her unfairly. He had a lot to make up for.
Course it didn’t matter anyway. They’d accomplished nothing.
Well, not nothing, actually. They knew the address. Likely the girls never remembered exactly where they’d been as well as not remembering what went on.
“You’re right. Let’s get back to the car,” Blake said.
They walked to the car and got in. Harper discarded his gloves and grabbed a notepad and pen from the glove compartment. “This is number three hundred. What’s this complex called?”
“We’re in Peaceful Pines. It’s an expensive upscale retirement community.”
Harper jerked his neck around until it hurt. “A retirement community? Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
“I meant to, but we got off topic talking about how well the porn industry pays. I forgot.”
“Nothing like hiding in plain sight. No one would look for a porn ring in a retirement community. They must have soundproofed the place. But how in hell did Marta get into a retirement community?”
“Duh,” Blake said. “Through an elderly relative or friend. Or with fake IDs. It’d be pretty easy.”
Harper nodded. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
He scribbled the name of the community on his pad, shaking his head. A retirement community. Ingenious. He shoved the pad and pen back into the glove compartment and started the ignition.
As he put the car in gear, a knock on the window startled him.
He turned to face the nose of a gun—attached to a giant bear of a man.
* * *
Amber shot up in bed.
She’d had a horrible nightmare. Harper was in trouble. Huge thugs were chasing him, firing shots from long handled shotguns. He ran, huffing and puffing, sweat pouring from his brow into his eyes.
Damn! Why had he and Blake gone out investigating tonight?
She looked at the clock on her nightstand. Four a.m. Surely they were back by now, right?
She called Harper’s cell number. No answer. Blake. Again no answer.
She got out of bed, wrapped herself in a robe, grabbed her key card, and walked across the hall to Harper’s room and knocked.
No answer.
Blake’s room.
Still no answer.
Goddamn them!
She went back to her room and paced across the floor for several minutes, her heart racing. What to do, what to do? She couldn’t go out looking for them. She had no idea where to start.
Oh, yes, she did. Rachel’s.
She’d start at Rachel’s.
Who knew? Maybe they were still there staking out the place. The place had closed to the public an hou
r and a half ago, but who knew what else was going on?
She hurriedly dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and flip-flops, ran a comb through her hair, grabbed her purse, and ran to the elevator.
Adrenaline pumped through her. All cognitive thought ceased except for two words in bold black letters that thumped in her head in time with her heartbeat.
Find Harper.
Chapter Twenty
“Get out of the car now or I’ll blow this lock off and drag you out myself,” the man said.
Harper’s heart lurched, and for a moment he thought he was going to throw up. He took a deep breath and exhaled.
“Shit,” Blake said. “What do we do?”
“We get out,” Harper said, his hands shaking.
Blake was fumbling with his cell phone.
“I said get the fuck out!” The gun banged on the window again.
Harper left his cell phone in the car—they’d no doubt take it from him anyway—and slowly exited the vehicle. The man frisked them both, took their wallets and Blake’s cell phone.
“Move it,” the man said. He marched them to the front door of the unit they’d been watching. He produced a key and opened the door. “Get inside.”
“I guess we found a way to get in after all,” Blake whispered.
“Jesus, shut up!” Harper hissed.
His bowels gurgled and his stomach clenched. Every nerve in his body was on edge. He walked into the townhome. The main floor was dark as midnight. What was going on? Could they have been wrong?
The gunman led them to a door and opened it. Steps to a basement appeared. “Go on down.” He nudged Harper with the gun.
Harper nearly lost his footing and tumbled down the staircase. He caught himself in time and shakily walked down the steps. Blake’s breath was hot on the back of his neck.
At the bottom of the stairs stood a closed door.
“Open it,” the man said.
Harper turned the knob.
Inside was a huge room decorated in early American sleaze. He recognized the red satin bed sheets Amber had been photographed on. That was the vanilla area, obviously. On the other side of the room was a stockade, whips and chains, suspension hangers from the ceiling. Every torture device he could imagine, and some he couldn’t have imagined in his worst nightmares.
Treasuring Amber: The Temptation Saga: Book Five Page 14