Tough Justice Series Box Set, Parts 1-8

by Carla Cassidy

  Maybe Nick had landed already. She dragged the phone closer and swept her finger across the screen to unlock it. A text appeared—but it wasn’t from Nick.

  Sorry I missed you at the Hot Spot, Eve. How about Chelsea Place at 11 for a real hot spot?

  She choked on her food and gulped back some water, her eyes watering, the text blurring in front of her. What the hell was this? The last time she’d gotten an anonymous text for Eve, she’d found her sister. What would she find this time?

  Chelsea? Hadn’t Victoria and Xander gone to a club in Chelsea today to check out a lead on Anna? Was someone tracking the movements of the entire team? Or had Anna’s kidnappers called in a phony lead to get someone from the team out to this club today?

  She checked the time. She had just over an hour to coordinate something at Chelsea Place.

  Within minutes, she got everyone on a conference call—everyone except Nick.

  She related the contents of the text. “Is that where you and Xander went today, Victoria? Chelsea Place?”

  “That’s it. What kind of game is this?”

  “I’ve been to that club before.” Ty whistled. “It was packed. This could be a nightmare.”

  Everything was a nightmare. Lara closed her eyes. “What happened out there today, Victoria? Xander just said it was a dead end.”

  Xander answered. “It was. One of Anna’s flyers had been posted outside the club. We met with the owner, who said a customer from the night before thought he’d seen her there.”

  “But the owner had no information on this customer, and the guy wouldn’t give the owner his name,” Victoria added. “It was a whole bunch of nothing.”

  Mei spoke up. “It’s just like last time, an invitation to a club for Eve.”

  “Do you have any more long-lost relatives working as bartenders, Lara?” Xander asked.

  “Very funny. Did you and Victoria notice anything about this club when you were there? Close proximity to anything else related to the case?”

  “Nothing, but had we known someone was going to send Eve a text for a rendezvous there, I would’ve paid more attention.”

  “I can run some cross-checks on the computer.” Cass’s voice sounded high-pitched, strained, and Lara worried that the stress of the case was getting to be too much for her.

  Too much for all of them.

  “Get going on that now, Cass.” Victoria released a small sigh. “Xander and I are going to have to stay out of sight in case the owner is there and recognizes us. We’ll take up positions outside the club.”

  “Since you and Xander won’t be available for inside the club and Nick is in Chicago, do you want me to be a club patron along with Mei and Ty?”

  “That would be great, Cass, but work your magic before you get there and let us know if Chelsea Place has any connections to anything or anyone else.”

  “Girls’ night out at the club for me and Cass.” Mei clicked her tongue. “That means you’re on your own tonight, Ty.”

  “I can handle that. Is Lara going on her own?”

  Lara sucked in a breath. “I think that’s best. Who knows? Maybe the kidnappers will hand me some information about Anna.”

  Ty continued. “You’d better look the part, ladies. It’s a club to see and be seen.”

  “Great. I don’t have anything in my closet that anyone wants to see.”

  “You know, Cass,” Xander jumped in like an eager puppy dog, “you could probably wear a pair of skinny jeans and some high heels. From what I saw of the place this morning, that’ll work.”

  Lara rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the fashion tips, Xander. We’ll be fine. Converge around eleven?”

  “Xander and I will be in the van down the street. Everyone be careful. Keep your eyes open for a woman and man who meet the kidnappers’ description or a tall blonde, a black SUV—you know the drill. And Lara?”

  “Yeah, Victoria?”

  “You be extra careful.”

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, Lara put the finishing touches on her smoky eye makeup and slipped into a pair of high heels. Standing in front of the mirror, she smoothed her hands across the thighs of her black leather pants. She hadn’t worn these in ages.

  She said hello to Jerry, the doorman, before stepping out into the breezy night. She slung her purse, which contained her weapon, across her body as Jerry got her a taxi. Leaning forward, she gave the driver the address of the club.

  Her phone buzzed once on the way over—Cass with no leads on the club, except for Victoria and Xander’s visit earlier in the day. This could be just another game, a fake-out to send the team on a wild-goose chase.

  Lara had found her sister on the other end of the invitation last time. What did her tormentor have in store for her this time? And who was her tormentor?

  She had no doubt Moretti could be pulling strings from the inside. His tentacles had the ability to reach far and wide, secreting poison wherever they touched down.

  The taxi swerved, made a sharp U-turn and pulled up to the curb. “I hope you have a reservation or somethin’. This place is jammed.”

  A line of people snaked down the sidewalk in various styles of dress, from sloppy jeans to cocktail dresses. Cass would have no problem fitting in—if she could get in.

  “I’ll be fine.” After all, didn’t she have an invitation?

  She stepped out onto the curb and adjusted her purse. If the bouncer was checking bags, she’d have some explaining to do. She had no intention of waiting in this line, so she sashayed up to the front, her high heels tapping on the sidewalk.

  A man in a black V-neck T-shirt with tattooed arms crossed over his steroid-inflated chest eyed her over a pair of dark sunglasses.

  Hell, she’d infiltrated Moretti’s organization, so getting into a hip nightclub should be a piece of cake. She nodded to the gatekeeper and pointed past his shoulder. “I need to get inside. My friends are already waiting for me.”

  “No can do, sweetheart. We’re almost at capacity, and nobody else gets in unless someone else leaves. That is, unless you’re on the list.”

  “The list?” The hair on the back of her neck quivered. She was invited to this club, wasn’t she? And her host seemed to be very thorough.

  “Why didn’t you say so? Sure I’m on the list. Like I said—friends inside.”

  The bouncer reached into his back pocket and whipped out a piece of white notebook paper, folded into quarters. He shook it out. “Name?”

  Lara licked her lips, her pulse thrumming in her throat. She’d be willing to bet the bank on this one. “Eve.”

  Running a thick finger down the page, he murmured. “Eve, Eve. Eve what?”

  “Eve Johannsen.”

  He flicked the paper with his fingers. “You’re in, Eve.”

  A shot of pain flashed behind her eye sockets, and she pressed two fingers against her left temple. What was she supposed to do next? Maybe Anna would be waiting inside. Maybe not.

  “Are ya movin’, sweetheart? Because I got a line of people waiting to take your place.”

  “I’m not your sweetheart.” She squeezed past his bulked-up frame through the door and almost tripped over a hostess stand in a dark, enclosed area. The music from downstairs reverberated in her chest, despite the black, padded door leading to the staircase.

  The pretty hostess with silver nose and eyebrow rings smiled. “That’s twenty-five bucks.”

  “To get into the club?” Lara reached for the zipper on her purse, avoiding the outside pocket concealing her weapon. At least Mr. Roid Rage out there hadn’t checked her bag.

  “And that’s a special tonight.”

  Lara grimaced as she pulled out two tens and a five. God, she hated smug places like this.

  “Thank you.” The hostess pinched the bills between her fingers tipped with black polish.

  Placing a hand against the door, Lara turned. “Does that twenty-five bucks include a drink?”

  “No.”

  Lar
a bumped her hip against the door, and the music and chatter from the club engulfed her. How the hell was she supposed to talk to anyone? And how would the rest of the team get in? She doubted her host for the evening had left invitations for the others.

  Did the Black Stamp Serial Killer want her in here on her own? She stopped midway down the stairs and leaned against the wall as she texted the group. With quick replies, Ty, Mei and Cass all indicated they were stuck in line. Did Victoria want them to use their FBI credentials to get into the exclusive club?

  Victoria texted one word back—wait.

  Lara tucked her phone back inside her purse and descended the rest of the stairs to the club. A beaded curtain met her at the bottom, and she pushed it aside, the clacking of the beads swallowed up by the thumping bass of the techno music the DJ was spinning.

  Licking her lips, she shouldered her way into the room. An assortment of colognes and perfumes and the sweet smell of weed assaulted her senses, making her nose twitch and her eyes water.

  The DEA could probably manage a decent bust here if someone was selling.

  Her gaze scanned the bobbing and undulating bodies in the club as her muscles tensed. What or whom was she supposed to be looking for?

  Someone jostled her, and she jerked around, her hand hovering at the zippered compartment where her gun nestled.

  A dark-haired man with tattoos snaking up his right arm in a sleeve pointed to the dance floor. “Do you wanna dance?”

  She took a long look up and down his body. “Ain’t gonna happen.”

  He shrugged and moved on.

  Lara circled the dance floor, ducking and weaving between people who didn’t need to be on the dance floor to move to the beat of the relentless bass. This was one chaotic scene, so different from the bar where Meghan worked.

  Since she couldn’t hear if her phone buzzed in the cacophony of the club, she pulled it out of her purse to check messages. She needed more eyes in here if she hoped to discover anything.

  She tapped her phone to wake it up, and an icy drop of fear trickled down her spine as she focused on the text from the anonymous source. Holding the phone close to her face, she read the message.

  Have a drink from one Eve to another.

  Her head shot up. From one Eve to another? She stood on her tiptoes to get a look at the bar. It curved to the right of the DJ, and three bartenders, two women and one man, scurried behind it, filling drink orders and taking money. Was one of those women an Eve?

  Then her eyes tracked away from the bar and darted among the four corners of the room and along the catwalk on three sides where people crammed together, looking down at the dancers. How did the texter know she didn’t already have a drink? Was he here? Watching? Waiting?

  Pointless to respond to the anonymous text, so she sent a message to the group instead and filled them in on the latest development. Ty, Mei and Cass were still stuck outside in the line, and Victoria ordered them to approach the bouncer on the sly with their badges.

  Victoria ended with, Get in there and help Lara.

  Did she need help or did the Eve at the bar need help? Or was this a different kind of setup?

  Clutching her purse to her chest, Lara made her way across the room with her heart pounding out the same rhythm as the music. She sidled up to the bar and tried to get the blonde female’s attention.

  Finally, the bartender slapped a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of her. “Whaddya want?”

  Lara gripped the edge of the bar and hunched forward. “Are you Eve?”

  “What?”

  “Are you Eve? Is your name Eve?”

  The woman jerked her thumb to the right at the other female bartender, filling two mugs of beer from a tap.

  A slow dread crept through Lara’s veins. Everything had been a setup. The people responsible for kidnapping Anna had found a bar with an Eve bartending, had sent the team on a false lead to that bar and had now lured her here.

  That Eve was in danger—just like all the others who’d shared her name.

  “Do you want something or not?”

  Lara shook her head and peeled away from the bar. She shuffled to the other end, her head bent over her phone where she furiously texted the group that they had a possible target. She shimmied between a few people to reach the edge of the bar, her mouth dry. Now she really did need a drink.

  She waved her hand, snapped her fingers and even called out, but the bartender, Eve, ignored her.

  Lara hoisted herself halfway on top of the bar and swiped her hand at Eve’s arm as she walked by.

  “Hey!” Eve swung around, rubbing her arm, her black hair with the purple streak falling over one eye. “You think that’s going to get you a drink faster?”

  “I don’t want a drink. You need to listen to me.” Lara cupped her badge in her hand and flashed it. “Is your name Eve? The other bartender told me your name was Eve.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Can we move down there?” Lara pointed to the end of the bar.

  “Hang on.” Eve squeezed and dropped a lime into a tall, clear drink and shoved it toward a woman who was on her phone.

  Lara took a close look at the woman. Anyone on a phone could be involved. Then a man joined her and took a sip from the clear drink as the woman swatted at his arm.

  Releasing a pent-up breath, Lara stepped back from the bar to get to the end. She kept her eyes on Eve the entire time. Fewer people mingled on this side, and she met Eve as the bar curved around.

  Eve wiped her hands on a towel tucked into the short apron around her waist. “What’s this all about? I have to get back to work. We’re busy tonight.”

  “Eve, your life is in danger. You need to leave right now.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?” Her heavily lined eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t have time to explain.” Lara leaned forward and curled her fingers around Eve’s wrist. “Come with me now, and we can protect you.”

  “Get off of me.” Eve jerked her arm out of Lara’s grasp and stumbled backward. “Are you psycho or something?”

  Lara swiveled her head over her shoulder. Where was the rest of the team? She turned back to Eve. “Please. I can explain later. You’re not safe here.”

  Eve hadn’t righted herself after tripping, and now she slumped against the counter behind her, covering her eyes with one hand, her chin to her chest.

  “What’s wrong?” Lara stiffened, her shoulders aching from the tension vibrating through her body.

  Eve raised her head and parted her lips, but no words came out—just spittle.

  Lara rounded the corner of the bar and flipped up the arm across the entrance. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

  She grabbed the woman, running her hands up and down her arms—no blood, but her palms met clammy, cool flesh. She squeezed her shoulders. “Eve! Eve, what’s wrong?”

  Eve lifted her head as if it weighed a ton, and Lara gasped as the spittle at the corner of her mouth had turned to foam.

  Lara put one arm around Eve’s shoulders while she reached for her phone with the other hand.

  Just as she curled her fingers around the phone, somebody in the club yelled, “Fire!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The club erupted in panic and chaos. Smoke billowed into the room, as people screamed and clambered for the stairs leading up and out of the club. Flames licked at the catwalk, and the sprinkler system activated, showering everyone with water, but the weak spray failed to stop the progress of the fire.

  Lara, her arm still hooked around an unresponsive Eve, let out a sigh of relief when Ty came into view, fighting against the surging crowd.

  He yelled, “Lara, the place is in flames. We need to get out.”

  As he drew closer, his eyes widened. “Did she get trampled?”

  “I think she’s been poisoned. She just collapsed.”

  “Poisoned? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Ty, it
’s Eve. This is Eve.”

  Ty swore and took Eve into his arms. He felt the pulse at her throat. “Doesn’t look good, Lara, but we’ll get her out of here.” He hoisted her over one shoulder. “Hang on to my belt loop, Lara. The smoke is getting heavy down here.”

  Coughing, she asked, “Is there another exit? All of these people are not getting up those stairs.”

  Ty adjusted Eve’s body. “Someone said there was an emergency exit under the staircase.”

  “If I ever saw an emergency, this is it.” Lara nudged Ty forward, and they joined a stream of people heading for the stairs. She had to hope Ty knew the whereabouts of Mei and Cass, and that they were safe.

  Safe? She touched Eve’s hair swinging against Ty’s back. Who was safe with Moretti’s cohorts, or even Moretti wannabes, on the loose terrorizing people because of their names?

  They joined a press of people beneath the staircase, and a cool, welcome breeze caressed Lara’s cheek. Thank God. She glanced over her shoulders at the fire that raged close to the bar now. The music, which had lent an eerie background to the evacuation, had finally stopped. The fire had probably melted all the DJ’s equipment.

  Sirens blared outside, and the sound of firefighters shouting orders as people stumbled from the building seemed to calm the evacuees still inside.

  At last they broke through to the alley, and Lara gulped in lungfuls of the cool air. “Let’s get Eve to a paramedic. Did Mei and Cass ever make it inside the club?”

  “They were behind me, but when we smelled the smoke, I told them to get everyone out of the building.”

  Ambulances lined the street out front, and Ty carried Eve to the first one. “She needs assistance now.”

  “Smoke inhalation?” The EMT helped Ty place Eve onto a stretcher.

  “Poison.” Lara crouched beside the gurney, her fingers pressed to Eve’s throat. “She passed out in the club right before the fire alarm went off.”

  The EMT zipped his lip on the questions, even though his eyebrows had shot up as he got to work on Eve.

  When another EMT joined them, Ty showed him his badge and explained that they were working an undercover operation at the club and that the young woman was involved.