Blood & Lace

by Trinity Scott

  Gage stared into the darkness, picturing the many scenarios that could play out the next morning.

  None of them were anything he wanted Chloe near. He also understood why she wouldn’t want to sit and wait for answers alone.

  “That’d be fine. If you want to go to Brian’s, I’ll take you to his place in the morning. Get some rest, Chloe.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Her voice sounded so small in the darkness. Gage knew he wasn’t the only one playing out all the possible scenarios in his head.

  He wanted to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. That raiding Red Light would produce the answers they needed. But he honestly wasn’t sure it would and he refused to lie to her.

  “Good night, sweet girl.”

  “ ’Night, Gage. Thank you for . . . everything.”

  He leaned in and kissed her mouth. “You don’t owe me a thank-you, Chloe. You don’t owe me anything.”

  She lifted her face so that her eyes were level with his.

  “No one believed me. No one would help me. You did. You still are. You’ve risked a lot for me. For Eden. You’ve gone outside the lines and I know exactly what it could cost you. And so do you. But you did it anyway. So yes, I do.”

  He kissed her again before running his fingers through her still-damp hair.

  “I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

  26

  Alyson Davis knew her roommate’s incessant insistence that she rehearse her scenes with her would come in handy one day.

  She smiled warmly at the skeezy producer across from her while he interviewed her.

  “And just how did you hear about us, Grace?”

  “Guy in a coffee shop where I was applying for a job. I think his name was Brian something.”

  “Really?” Alexander Ulrich raked a hand through his ink-black hair. “I’m surprised. Brian Wells?”

  “I think so. Something like that.”

  Today it was on her to find out what happened to Chloe’s sister, or at least to gather evidence to determine if anyone at Red Light was involved in her disappearance.

  No pressure.

  “That’s good to hear,” Ulrich said, flipping through the fabricated modeling portfolio she’d brought along. “Looks like you’ve worked quite a bit in LA.” He scanned her employment history, which she’d created with the help of Karen Kingston at Provocative Inc. “Any particular reason you’re looking for additional employment?”

  “Well, modeling jobs fluctuate. You know how it is. I either get a dozen calls at once or absolutely nothing. I’m looking for something steady that pays quickly and doesn’t involve getting naked on a pole. My mom has some health issues and we don’t have insurance. The bills are piling up. So I’m desperate.”

  Just as she knew it would be, desperate was the magic word. Ulrich’s eyes lit up like fireworks.

  “Well . . . I can’t guarantee no nudity will be involved. Is that a problem for you, Miss—” he paused to look down at her résumé. “Atwood?”

  “No, sir,” she said, feigning a shyness she’d never possessed. “The truth is, I’ve had a live webcam in my bedroom before. I like being watched.” She let some truth slip into her contrived story. “But being behind the computer screen is different. I’m whoever I say I am in that world. Now real-live spectators, right there in my face? Judging me? I don’t know if that will ever be something I want to pursue.”

  Ulrich nodded as if he understood. “Okay, then. Well, how about you leave your résumé and headshots here with me? Take this paperwork and fill it out and return it.” He handed her a few forms that she barely glanced at. “Then we can set up an audition for—”

  “Um, I was hoping I could audition today.” He couldn’t kick her out yet. She needed alone time with his computer. And access to his keys, which were currently sitting on the edge of his desk closest to him.

  His eyes lifted to the clock on the wall. “I have a meeting in less than an hour. We’d have to make it quick.”

  She didn’t necessarily believe in God, but she prayed to a higher power that this guy didn’t plan to try and fuck her as part of the audition. If he did, she’d have to go with plan B: knock him unconscious with a heavy object and steal his hard drive.

  “I can do quick,” she offered eagerly. “Can you give me a few minutes alone in here? I can record my audition for you in private, then you can watch it after I leave. If you like what you see, then hire me. If you don’t, I won’t hold my breath for a phone call.”

  Ulrich grinned and she thanked the powers that be. He liked her bold spontaneity. She could tell.

  He glanced at his watch as if he hadn’t just looked at the clock. “I can give you twenty uninterrupted minutes, Miss Atwood. Then I’ll be back and I’ll need to prepare for my meeting. Will that work?”

  She stood and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes sir. Thank you for the opportunity.” She reached out and shook his hand.

  Ulrich’s sweaty palm grasped hers and he eyed her hungrily. “You seem very sweet, Grace. I hope we don’t corrupt you too much here at Red Light.”

  She pursed her lips together in a sexy pout and pretended he didn’t make her skin crawl all over itself. “Maybe a little corrupting would be a good thing.”

  His answering expression made her queasy, but the dude wore skinny jeans and a scarf and it wasn’t even cold out. No matter what Gage said, she agreed with Elaina. He was a dirtbag for sure, but a murderer? No.

  She’d passed plenty of guys on her way in who looked like they’d broken a few necks with their bare hands though. And she wouldn’t put it past the slimeball to have them do his bidding.

  Once he was gone, Alyson plugged her USB drive into his computer and began running her self-made program, Ghost.

  Within a few short minutes she was able to access Ulrich’s hard drive, email, and encrypted files. A keystroke-recording virus would also run and she’d be able to trace his every move on her personal computer after she left. She glanced at the data she’d accessed. His Internet search history alone was pretty repulsive, but his emails were worse.

  Way worse.

  Pictures. Prices.

  The sales of women being negotiated like a cattle trade. Varying rates for each actress, hourly, nightly, for undisclosed amounts of time.

  She did a quick search for both Caroline Isla and Eden Sterling.

  It took entirely too long for them to come up in sent and received messages, but when they did, Alyson could hardly believe her eyes.

  Eden Sterling wasn’t a regular employee at Red Light Productions.

  She was working undercover with the local police department—specifically with a Detective Callahan, trying to find out what happened to Caroline and bring Ulrich down for human trafficking.

  The worst part?

  Ulrich knew.

  27

  That morning, while Alyson was at Red Light, Holt McCain had gotten intel on Adrianna Dunn.

  She was alive and well. An aspiring actress, she’d auditioned at Red Light, gotten hired, filmed one webcast, and then decided to move back to her hometown in Nebraska with her parents.

  On a brief phone call with Elaina, she’d said a guy with a camera who worked for Red Light had freaked her out. Both Gage and Chloe mentioned the smarmy photographer they’d questioned, and said they could imagine how shady the other photographers Alex Ulrich had hired must be.

  Adrianna being alive had given Chloe renewed hope that her sister was also alive. Holt could see it all over her face. He almost wished he hadn’t told her. Because Alyson Davis put a significant dent in that shiny new hope.

  “Eden was working with Callahan,” Alyson announced, much to everyone’s surprise. “I’m almost positive. I found several calls to his direct number from her phone. She was asking questions about Caroline, trying to establish a time line for her friend’s disappearance. She was basically playing detective when Ulrich offered her a job. I think she went to Callahan after she’d
been hired. Made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.” She paused to look meaningfully at Chloe. “I think she took the job to try to get an inside look at what happened to Caroline. Ulrich found bugs planted in his office and cell phone. They were traced back to the LAPD. He has a few dirty cops in his pocket. And some vigilantes working security. When his security guy texted to ask how they got there, Ulrich’s only response was ‘Nosy little pussycat put them there.’ ” Her features tensed. “In his messages about Eden he calls her ‘kitten.’ ”

  Everyone in the room could hear Chloe’s sharp intake of breath.

  Since Alyson wasn’t eager to announce her involvement to the FBI, they met at Elaina’s hotel room. Apparently, Miss Fancy Pants had a suite. Personally, he’d gotten a single king bed basic room at the Holiday Inn Express off the highway. Elaina had opted for a suite at the Hilton. Because of course she had. He half expected all her framed degrees to be hanging on the walls. She seemed like the type who might carry them on the road.

  Or maybe he was just intimidated by her. He eyed her from across the round wooden table.

  He tried his damnedest not to let her affect him, but the first time he’d laid eyes on her she was questioning a suspected drug dealer like a seasoned veteran with brass balls. Over thirty years old, she had a PhD from Johns Hopkins and a body even more perfect than the ones on the muscle cars he liked to restore in his spare time.

  “That’s motive,” Gage said, mostly to Elaina. “He suspected she was spying on him. Now she’s missing. Think I could get a warrant for those storage lockers?”

  Elaina sighed. “If he’d named her specifically, maybe. But using a nickname leaves too much gray area.”

  “There’s more,” Alyson continued.

  Everyone looked at her eagerly. Holt could sense that Chloe was about to jump off the couch she was sitting on and shake the life out of the girl if she didn’t move this along.

  “Caroline and Eden aren’t the first women to go missing from Red Light.” She paused and glanced at Gage. “They aren’t even the second and third or fifth or sixth.”

  “How many,” Gage prompted, closing his eyes while waiting for a response. “How many women?”

  “Nineteen, counting the two of them,” Alyson said quietly.

  Holt whistled softly under his breath without even meaning to. “Jesus.”

  Chloe’s eyes were wide, filled to the brim with shock and pain.

  “How the hell have they managed to stay under the radar this long?” Elaina scrolled through something on her phone that he guessed were her notes on Red Light.

  “Easy,” Alyson said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “It’s the Dark Net, and they deal in girls who don’t want to be found. Addicts, runaways, prostitutes, women with abusive boyfriends and/or shitty lives they’re trying to escape.” She lowered herself onto the couch beside Chloe, as if the weight of it all was weighing her down. “From what I’ve worked out so far, it starts out with him pushing them to put on private shows for ‘clients,’ then promising them large sums of money if they live-stream it. That creates a demand for that particular girl. Then he offers them even larger amounts to be a plaything for whoever the highest bidder is. The truly sick part is, he’s barely even cutting them in. They get fifteen percent—he’s pocketing the rest. Sometimes they come back and do it again, sometimes they quit, and sometimes they’re never heard from again. He has a special section on his site for it called ‘Hostel.’ ”

  “W-was Eden in this section?” Chloe barely managed to get the question out audibly.

  “No.” Alyson met the other woman’s pleading stare. “But Caroline was.”

  Her computer made a dinging sound and she clicked her keyboard several times. “He just added Grace Atwood to the Hostel selection page.”

  The silence settled like a black doom cloud over the room.

  Elaina was the first to speak. “Can you access this section without them knowing now that you know where to look?”

  Alyson nodded. “I think so.”

  “Do it,” Elaina commanded, already punching buttons on her phone. “Send me the link and the info and I’ll get the warrant.”

  Holt was on his feet the minute she finished speaking, knowing the second they had the warrant he was going in to “rescue” Alyson and cause a diversion so Gage and his SWAT team could bust in and raid the place.

  “Include the storage units in the warrant,” Gage reminded her. “And the second office property downtown.”

  Elaina nodded. “Already did,” she answered without looking up from her phone.

  Holt grinned.

  Gage still underestimated Elaina Keats sometimes.

  Holt had once. He never would again.

  28

  Chloe paced the hardwood floor at Brian’s quaint craftsman-style house until she was nearly sure she’d worn a path into it. With Gage and the others all gone to bust Ulrich, she felt restless and alone.

  Gage had texted. They had the warrant. Aly was going to finish her first day on the job and the raid would be complete by dinnertime.

  Soon, Chloe. You’ll have answers soon.

  “Your man is good at his job, Chloe. Relax.” Brian smiled warmly up at her. “I know it’s hard knowing how close he could be to finding Eden and not being able to be there. I’m struggling myself. How about I make us some tea?”

  Instead of arguing that Gage wasn’t exactly “her man,” she forced a small smile and nodded. “Sure. Thanks, Brian.”

  He stood and made his way to the kitchen. She was grateful that he’d stayed behind, because alone she’d be climbing the walls. But in a way, she wished she was alone and free to freak out in private. Brian was sweet, but a little aloof at times. He didn’t seem nearly on edge as she felt . . . more like excited.

  The funny thing was, as close as he’d obviously grown to Eden, Brian wasn’t her type at all. Eden liked edgier, more complicated guys—raw, in-your-face creative types, not sweet and stable and dependable like Brian. Before all of this, Brian was more Chloe’s type. The type Eden would’ve found boring. Now here she was falling for the gritty badass and Eden had a sweater-vest-wearing boyfriend.

  Chloe prayed they’d get to laugh about the switch one day.

  Brian returned with her tea and she sipped it slowly. The warmth was comforting. She was staring into the swirling dark liquid, practically entranced by it when Brian began speaking gently.

  “I had plans for us,” he began. “Me and Eden. So many plans. Places I wanted to show her. Take her. I’d even bought plane tickets to Bora Bora. I was planning to propose on the beach. She loved the beach.” His voice was heavy. So heavy. As heavy as Chloe’s eyelids were beginning to feel.

  “Really? I thought you said you hadn’t been dating long?”

  He shrugged. “When you know, you just know. Eden was it for me. She was the perfect woman I’d been searching for my whole life.”

  “I’m so sorry, Brian.” She wanted to lean against him for both comfort and because she was exhausted. “We had plans too. She had a long list of places she wanted us to eat at in LA, museums to visit, and we were supposed to take a drive up the coast. I miss her so much.”

  “I know you do, Chloe.” He patted her back gently. “You’ll see her soon.”

  She closed her eyes and he took her teacup gently from her hand. “You really think so?”

  She barely registered the sound of the empty glass teacup connecting with the wooden coffee table.

  “Oh, I know so.”

  29

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Agent Pierce,” Detective Callahan greeted him. He opened the door wider and Gage stepped through.

  “Call me Gage, Frank.”

  The detective’s graying eyebrows lifted. He folded his arms to rest atop the slight paunch that hung over his pants.

  “Okay, Gage. Didn’t realize we were on a first-name basis.”

  Gage propped on the man’s desk instead of in the chair he offered. “Didn’t
you? Because usually people fucking call me by my first name, Frank.”

  The bushy caterpillar eyebrows lifted again. “Excuse me?”

  “Far as I can tell, there’s no excuse for you.” Gage shook his head. “Give me one reason not to report your ass to IAB.”

  “Listen, you little—”

  “No, you listen, Francis. And listen good.” Gage stood, gathering all his six feet two inches and baring down on the detective, who was probably barely five foot ten with boots on. “I looked into the Caroline Isla case.”

  “And?”

  “Pull it up.” Gage nodded toward the desktop computer and waited a beat. “Now.”

  Callahan frowned. “I don’t report to you or take orders from you, Fed. So if that’s all, you can be going now.”

  “Pull it up or I call IAB the second I leave here. I bet they’ll think it’s mighty interesting who reported her missing.”

  Callahan grumbled, muttering a string of incoherent curses under his breath, but he pulled the file up on his computer. “What’s your point, pretty boy?”

  Gage scanned it then pointed to her name. “Eden Sterling reported her missing, then went missing herself, and you fucking blew her twin sister off. You blew me off. Which, in turn, is equivalent to blowing the federal government off. That’s a lot of blowing, Francis. Go to Catholic school, did you?” Gage already knew the answer from accessing the detective’s personnel file.

  The man stared intently at him for several long seconds. At first, his walls remained up, and Gage was fairly certain they’d get nowhere. But then Callahan glanced at a picture on his desk and his eyes softened.

  “I have a daughter. I . . . I wanted to put the bastards under. But I needed help.” He raked both of his hands roughly through his graying hair. “I had her under control until I didn’t. She got hired and came to me. She was supposed to wear a wire. But she was nervous, said they had her undress down to her underwear for an audition and could again. So she reported in weekly. Then biweekly. Then she stopped altogether, and the next thing I know the spitting image of her is telling me she’s missing too. We got a dozen missing girls linked to that place. But the owner seems to have an endless bank account when it comes to getting the funds to his own ass. When someone came in offering to snoop around, I couldn’t turn it down.”