"You don't have to go to all that trouble."
"Shush," he said firmly, touching his hand to her forehead. "You feel warm. You're probably getting a fever."
"I do feel a bit clammy. I have things to tell you. Important things."
"Tell me in a minute."
Moving to the dresser he found a long pink nightie, and as he carried it back to her, he noticed it was almost threadbare.
"Kat, is this the right one?"
"It is, and I know it's a hundred years old, but I love it. It's silk, and it's warm and soft and comfy. It cost me a fortune when I bought it."
"Looks like you got your money's worth!"
"And then some. It's probably got a week's worth of wear left, and I don't know what I'll do when it falls apart."
"Which it looks as if it will very soon," he chuckled, "but if it makes you you feel good, that's what matters. I won't tell anyone you're sleeping in rags. What's this very important news you have?"
"Ernie Williams, or Jason Dean, whichever you prefer. He was a whiz kid, a prodigy. He was recruited out of college by Genotone Pharmaceuticals, and he sure didn't look like he does now. He was a total geek. You'd never recognize him."
"Kat, that's incredible. He must be one of the guys actually producing the stuff."
"Exactly."
"Have you told Johnny about this?"
"No, I just found out and...ooh...sorry...I'm going to..."
She was interrupted by a violent sneeze, and darting into her bathroom Marco retrieved a box of tissues.
"I'll let them know," he said carrying it back to her. "You stay put. No more anything except rest. I'll be back with your tea in a minute, then I'll zip down the hill and get you that soup and the other stuff you need."
"I'm bummed. I was really looking forward to the action tonight."
"I know, and I'm sorry, but bugs don't care about our plans."
As he headed into the kitchen and finished making a mug of tea with a big dollop of honey, though he was sorry Kat was sick, he wasn't sorry she'd be safely at home during the raids. He knew he'd have to get used to the woman he loved being in harm's way, it came with the territory, but he wasn't there yet.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Curtis Jones, one of HH's men, walked nervously through the front door of the mansion. He had been tasked with keeping tabs on Marco D'Angelo, the new head of the Kratos Kings, and he had failed. Twice. The first time had been the night before. HH wasn't aware of that cockup, and Curtis wasn't about to tell him.
The night before he'd been posted outside Marco's house. The lights had been on, but not once had Curtis seen a silhouette of anyone walk behind a curtain. It didn't seem right, so he'd crept down the side of the small home and peered inside. It was the bedroom. The bedside lamp was burning but there was no sign of life. He'd moved to the back door and looked into the kitchen. Spotless, no dishes out, no sign of anyone having had dinner, and that's when he'd realized he'd been had.
Right around six o'clock, when he'd seen Marco leave the tavern and climb on his bike, Curtis was determined not to let him out of his sight, but when he'd followed him to the Harley Davidson dealership, the man he'd thought was Marco had pulled off his helmet to reveal a head of bright red hair. Curtis had felt his heart sink. He was in serious shit. Now worried sick and walking through the gleaming living room, past the caterers and staff that were setting up for that evening's party, he entered the library. Though he'd never met HH in person, the library was where he made his reports and received his orders, and when he'd called in with the bad news, he'd been summoned.
"So, Curtis, what the hell happened?" the deep voice demanded. "How did you lose sight of Marco D'Angelo?"
"He pulled a switch on me."
"Explain."
"Someone dressed in his gear climbed on his bike and took off. I thought it was him so I followed. I raced back to the tavern but he'd gone."
"What did you expect? Of course he was gone you fucking moron. I assume Clarence is still watching the tavern?"
"Yes, HH. In case Marco comes back."
"Your orders weren't just to keep in view at all times, but to bring him up here tonight after the bar closed. Did you forget that?"
"No, sir," Curtis said, totally unnerved. "I'm hoping he just went somewhere for dinner and he'll go back there."
"He won't, but since you're so fucking incompetent I'll have to give him a reason to come here."
"I'm sorry. I, uh, I let you down."
"And you're worried I'm going to punish you for fucking up?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Obviously I have to do something. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, sir."
"You'll clean the playroom now, and I mean sanitize everything. By the time you've finished there, the red room will need attention. It's six-thirty. Go down there at nine-thirty. There are some idiot dealers who need taking care of, so you'll need the heavy plastic bags and tape, and plenty of the cleaning solution. You're dismissed."
As Curtis left the library he felt sick to his stomach. The heavy plastic bags meant there'd be body parts. Cleaning the red room was a gruesome chore, but things could have been worse, and he decided HH must have been in a good mood to have let him off the hook so easily. He regretted ever getting involved with the wealthy, high-end dealers. The money was outrageously good, but there was no way out, and every morning when he woke up, he wondered if the day ahead would be his last.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It was almost time for the raids to start. The party was in full swing, and Steve's men had covertly surrounded the mansion. The five agents who were inside had reported they'd seen only weed in the main areas of the house, but believed the harder drugs were being offered behind closed doors away from the party.
A short distance from Kat's place, Johnny's men were perched on the hillside across the street from the home housing the prostitutes. Before they had taken up their positions, Johnny, accompanied by a female agent who was replacing Kat, had knocked on the neighbors' doors and warned them that there'd be some law enforcement activity and to stay in their homes. The last thing they needed was someone calling the police because of suspicious activity on the hillside, or a local resident running out on to the street during the raid to see what all the noise was about.
Marco was still with Kat and about to leave. He'd waited as long as he could.
"I still think I should be there. I'd just sit up on the hill and watch," she complained between her sniffles. "It's not fair."
"No, it's not fair, but you're all stuffed up with a sore throat and a fever. Besides, your sneezes alone would warn those oversized thugs we were about to bust down the door."
The silly comment made her smile, but only for a moment.
"I hate that I won't be there with you," she said solemnly. "You'd better come back in one piece or I'll be really ticked off."
"I will, I promise, and if I wait much longer Johnny will have my head and I'll give the DEA a bad name."
"I'll bet you'll find a shitload of drugs in that house."
"Probably, almost as many as you have," he grinned, looking at the collection of cold relief medications sitting on her nightstand.
"You brought back the entire pharmacy."
"Pretty much, now get some rest," he said softly, switching out the bedside lamp. "I'll be back before you know it."
She watched him leave the room, then closing her eyes she snuggled under the covers. She felt like crap, and though she told herself she needed to rest, she was sure she wouldn't be able to sleep until Marco returned with all the news, but an unexpected yawn swept her up, and she found herself drifting into a doze.
When she heard the sound of her front door, she was sure she'd only been drifting for a few minutes. Had she slept that deeply? Groggily opening her eyes she waited for him to enter her bedroom, and when he didn't materialize, she sat up, blew her nose, then slipped from the bed and wandered out into the living room.
"Well, well, it's my lucky night. I was beginning to think you'd slipped away without my man noticing. Hello, Kat."
"Jason? What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in?"
"That's not a very nice welcome. You'll have to do much better than that!"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The raid on the mansion was in full swing. The gun-toting agents had burst through the doors and quickly taken control. The guests were being questioned one-by-one, drugs were being uncovered in small rooms around the house, and the laboratory under the guest house had been discovered, but Steve was having no luck finding the infamous chamber of horrors.
Oblivious to the commotion in the house, Curtis was in the middle of his grisly chore. He had two dismembered bodies stuffed into six trash bags, but there had been so much blood he'd run out of supplies. He was only allowed to use a specially-made cleaning solution to sterilize the room, and he had none left. He'd also used up the many towels and sponges he'd brought with him. The rubber suit covering his clothes was splattered in blood, but taking it off and putting it back on was nightmare, and the thick gloves were literally dripping. He grunted and cursed. He had to finish, and he could only do that if he returned to the supply closet behind the kitchen.
"Shit, shit, shit," he grumbled as he walked to the stairs. "I'm going to be here all fucking night."
By the time he'd peeled off the ungainly overalls he was sweating from the effort, and gazing at his hands he could see the removal of the suit and gloves had left blood all over his hands. With nothing to wipe them on except his clean clothes, he tried rubbing them against the vinyl covered walls, but that only succeeded in spreading the mess further.
"Fuck it. I'll wash them in the powder room," he grunted. "No-one will even notice me."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Standing next to the curved staircase, Steve was on his cell phone. Marco had called in to report on the successful raid of the hooker hostel. The two beefy bodyguards had dropped their weapons and given up without a fight, and the girls were relieved and grateful. Most of them had been there against their will and had been living in terror.
"What about you?" Marco asked urgently. "What about HH? Did you find him? Did you find the lab?"
"The lab, yep, it was in the basement of the guest house, but there was no-one there. We also found a communications room behind the library, a helluva setup. The tech boys are still scratching their heads."
"But what about HH?"
"As you know we don't have a description of him, and it's going to take some time to sort out who everyone is. There are a bunch of people already demanding to talk to their lawyers and threatening to sue. It's amazing who's here, Marco. You'd be shocked."
"I don't care about them, I want to find HH. What about the torture room?"
"Haven't found that yet...wait...the wall behind me is literally opening up."
"The wall behind you? What do you mean, opening up?"
"The stairs. The solid wall under the stairs, there's a door. Holy shit. Hey, you, don't move."
"Steve? What's going on?"
"I'm staring at a guy with blood all over his hands. I'll call you back."
"Yeah, do that. Johnny and his guys are still cleaning up here, but I'm going home to Kat."
Ending the call, Steve studied the shocked face of the man who was being read his rights and cuffed.
"What's your name?" Steve asked gruffly.
"Curtis Jones."
"Hello, Curtis, I'm Special Agent Cartwright. The drug trafficking, and all the other shit that goes on in this house, it's over, and everyone involved is going down. You can go down hard, or you can help us. You've got five seconds to make up your mind. One--two--"
"Yeah, no sweat, no sweat. Make me a deal and I'll tell you whatever you wanna know."
"What's down there?"
"Uh, that's the Red Room, and I don't mean cos there's blood everywhere, though there usually is. That's just what it's called."
"Blood?"
"At the moment, lots of it, and you'll find body parts in bags, but I didn't kill anyone. I've never killed anyone. That's all HH and his gang, and that's the room where they shoot them, and also where they make people spill their guts...sorry, bad choice of words."
"Where's HH?"
"I dunno."
"What does he look like?"
"I have no idea, I swear, no idea. No-one ever sees him. He talks through the walls."
"Get him outta here," Steve said, frustrated and worried that the infamous HH was going to be much harder to find than he'd thought, "and tape off that entrance. I'll get a forensics unit down there."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Standing in the frame of her bedroom door, Kat was trying to clear her muddled head. She was looking at Jason Dean! How was that possible? Was she hallucinating? Over the counter cold remedies didn't make you hallucinate, did they? Rubbing her hands over her face she looked again. It was definitely Jason Dean standing just a few feet in front of the sliding glass doors
"I asked you a question in the tavern yesterday," he said, slowly walking towards her. "Do you remember?"
"What?"
"In the tavern at the memorial. I asked you why I wasn't sleeping with you."
"Jason, you have no business being here," she said tersely, then coughed several times. "You need to leave."
"I'll be leaving very soon and you'll be coming with me, but back to the question."
"Piss off. I'm sick, or hadn't you noticed?"
"Sick? What a shame. Don't worry. You won't stay sick for very long."
"What are you talking about?"
"You'll be dead."
Abruptly Kat was wide awake. Though her throat hurt and she achy, her mind was sharp and clear. She was in trouble, but she'd been presented with an extraordinary opportunity. Obviously he had no idea the glass mansion and the hooker hostel were swarming with DEA and FBI agents. If she could keep him talking she might be able to get some information out of him, and hopefully Marco would return. She had to stay completely calm, and she had to control the conversation. Though she was sick, she was sure she could do it. Controlling conversations was one skill at which she excelled.
"Cat got your tongue?" he demanded, then started laughing at his joke. "Cat got your tongue, get it?"
"That's not funny, and if you're here to rape me go ahead," she muttered, moving to the couch and flopping down. "I'm too sick and doped up on cold remedies to care. I'm on birth control so I won't get pregnant, and there are condoms in the drawer by the bedside, which you might want to use because I've got genital warts."
"Such a smart ass."
"Fuck me unprotected at your peril, I don't give a shit. Like I said, I'm drugged up, but that's probably the only way you get laid, right? Getting girls wasted? Wait! What am I saying? You're a famous actor so you probably get all the pussy you want. A different story than when you were nerdy Ernie Williams, right? I'll bet Ernie never got any. I'll bet Ernie was a pimply, geeky loser."
She'd studied him as she'd spoken. At the first mention of Ernie Williams, she had seen alarm in his eyes, and her churlish comments had made him cringe.
"You've got me confused with--"
"With nobody," she spat, cutting him off. "Ernie Williams, child prodigy and pharmacist extraordinaire, but then you handed a ton of money to some Beverly Hills plastic surgeon. That must have been challenging for the good doctor, and ouch, so much work!"
"Who the hell are you?" he growled. "There's no fuckin' way you could have found that out. I paid a fuckin' fortune to have Ernie buried."
"Nothing can be completely erased. Don't you know that? Huh, some genius you are."
"Oh, baby, I was gonna have some fun with you, but now I think I'll just kill you and let Marco find your body. You know what? I've never fucked a dead bitch. Maybe I'll make you my first."
"Marco won't find me," she replied without batting an eye. "We just had a huge fight. He won't be back."
&nb
sp; "Wow, you really are stupid. Thanks for that. Now I can play with you all night."
"How did you know I was here? How did you get in?"
"I watched you get your ass spanked in front of Kratos," he sneered. "Made me wanna whip you myself, so I made it my business to find out where you live, then I had some keys made. Downstairs isn't bad, but up here? Not good. Why the hell are you in this dump?"
"How did you see what happened to me in the office?" she asked, wondering if he'd seen it live on the nanny cam or had watched a video.
"I had a camera planted in the office," he said proudly. "I knew what was going on all the time, but seeing you, oh, Kat, when Marco smacked your naked backside, that was something special. You may be a bitch, and you may be an idiot, but you've got a gorgeous ass."
"Yeah, I know. I've been told that plenty of times."
"Before I shoot you, or maybe slice your throat," he said with a maniacal grin, pulling a switchblade from his pocket, "I wanna know about this big empty house. I'm thinkin' I'll buy it. It'd be a good place to stash some girls."
"None of your goddamned business!"
"Damn, you've got moxie. Most girls...shit...most men, would be blubberin' and beggin' by now."
"What's with your accent? You sound like a hick, then you don't."
"Vocal coaching. Sometimes I slip."
"You've come a long way," she said slowly.
Suddenly, a wild thought bounced through her head. Was Jason Dean HH? Should she throw it out there?
"A long way?" he murmured. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"From geeky Ernie Williams, to Jason Dean, to HH, Hollywood drug lord. Not too shabby."
"Whaaaaat? How the hell...?"
"How much have you made? Hundreds of millions? Where are you hiding all that cash. Wait, let me guess, in the tropical jungle around your house. Is that why all that landscaping is there? Makes sense. Green, right?"
Motorcycle Master: Bad Boy Angel (Alpha Male Master Series Book 1) Page 19
