The Deception

by Kat Martin

  * * *

  Music throbbed somewhere in the rooms below. It was late, dark outside the window. The men had moved Callie that morning, blindfolded her, tied her hands in front of her and shoved her into the back of a van.

  The ride had been long, hot and exhausting. When the van doors finally slid open, she felt weak and disoriented, her stomach rolling with nausea as they half dragged, half carried her across the alley into a freight elevator and took her to a room up several floors.

  She was in a bedroom, nicer than where she was being kept before, with plush dark blue carpet, a queen-size bed and a private bathroom.

  But the door was locked, and though there was a window, it was three stories to the ground, too far to jump. She thought about doing it, though. Maybe dying would be better than what they had planned for her.

  Curled up against the headboard, her legs tucked beneath her, Callie shivered in the air-conditioning. She was wearing a thin white cotton nightgown, no panties. Her small breasts protruded like tiny buttons against the fabric. She felt vulnerable in a way she never had before. She had never been more afraid, not even when they had first taken her.

  So far the men had left her alone, but she knew that was going to change. She had heard them talking. The man who had bought her would come for her tomorrow night. Whoever he was, he was rich. They spoke about him like he was a god. He would be guest of honor at a lavish party, one of the men said.

  Afterward, he would take her away with him, take her anywhere he wanted, do anything to her he wanted.

  Her throat tightened and tears burned her eyes. The police hadn’t found her, and now she wasn’t even in Houston anymore. Did her mother miss her? Was she frightened for her daughter?

  A shudder rippled through her. She would almost be glad when it was over. When the man had come and taken her away. At least she would know what she was facing. Maybe she could find a way to fight him. Maybe she could even find a way to escape.

  Callie wished she could make herself believe it.

  She felt like crying but no tears came. Crying wouldn’t save her. It was too late for tears.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Jase’s burner phone rang at ten the next morning as he sat at the breakfast table. Reese’s housekeeper kept the kitchen well stocked, so Kate had volunteered to make breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. The delicious smells made his mouth water.

  “Maddox,” he answered as he pressed the phone against his ear.

  “What the fuck, Hawk? Tell me you aren’t hunting Rafael De Santos.”

  Jason smiled at FBI Special Agent Mark Kingsley’s greeting. “I’m not hunting De Santos. I’m hunting Los Besos and about half a dozen other entities I haven’t got a handle on yet. De Santos is somehow involved.”

  “Los Besos? You think De Santos is connected to Los Besos?”

  “I’m surprised you don’t know. The guy’s in it up to his ears. We just need to prove it.”

  “Dammit, man. You’ve got to stay out of this. We’ve been working this operation for months. We’re just beginning to make progress. You get in the middle, you’re liable to blow the whole damn thing.”

  “Just hear me out, all right? That’s all I ask.”

  Kingsley sighed into the phone. “Fine. Where do you want to meet?”

  “How about the Mesquite Diner? Where we met before.”

  “Not good. I don’t want anything connecting back to that operation. How about the Dolphin Café next to the aquarium?”

  “All right, that’ll work.” Not too far from Reese’s fancy new condo in the Design District and the Blue Bayou on Elm, the area where Kingsley was probably renting a temporary apartment. “What time?”

  “I can be there at noon.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “What about the woman you were with last night? She in this, too?”

  “Her name’s Kate Gallagher and unfortunately, yes. She’s in it till it’s over. Kate comes with me.”

  “I’m sticking my neck out on this, Maddox. I hope you know that.”

  “Yeah, well, so am I. See you at noon.”

  When the call ended, Kate set his breakfast in front of him, and his stomach growled. The aroma of bacon and eggs drifted up as she set the other plate on the table across from him and sat down.

  “FBI?” she asked, picking up her fork.

  He nodded. “Kingsley, yeah. We’re meeting him at noon.”

  “I can’t wait to hear what he has to say.”

  Jase dug into his eggs, which tasted delicious. “I’m pretty sure Kingsley’s thinking the same damn thing.”

  * * *

  Special Agent Mark Kingsley was lean, hard and handsome. With his shoulder-length black hair, olive complexion and carved features, Kate thought he looked more like a drug dealer than an FBI agent. Which was probably the point.

  He slid into the booth across from them and ordered a cup of coffee, same as she and Jase had already done. He didn’t speak until the aging waitress delivered it a few minutes later.

  “You want to go first or shall I?” Jase asked.

  Kingsley stretched his long legs out in front of him and leaned back in the booth. “Definitely you first.”

  “Fine. But I expect the same courtesy.”

  Kingsley just nodded. Kate sat quietly as Jase filled the agent in on the case they had been working since her sister’s murder, which took a considerable amount of time.

  Kingsley turned his attention to Kate. “So you hired Maddox to help you find your sister’s killer.”

  “That’s right. Since then we’ve been working together. We found a second victim in San Antonio, both women marked with the same lipstick tattoo.”

  “Los Besos,” Jase said.

  “The kiss of death,” Kingsley added.

  “One of the victims was bludgeoned to death,” Jase said. “The other strangled. Both where killed with a baton or club of some kind, possibly the same weapon utilized in two different ways.”

  Kingsley’s gaze sharpened. He took a sip of coffee, giving himself some time. “Go on.”

  “There are three massage parlors in Houston where the women are being held. Paradise Massage is one of them. We’re hoping to come up with the names of the other two fairly soon.”

  Kingsley straightened in his seat, beginning to look impressed. “What’s Los Besos got to do with Rafael De Santos?”

  “He’s taking payoffs from them, a cash delivery every week. We’re trying to find out who he’s working for.”

  “If he’s involved with Los Besos, he’s top of the pecking order,” Kingsley said. “The guy running the show. But we think he’s trying to move even higher, get into the big leagues.”

  “You wouldn’t be talking about Maximillian Schram and Arthur Wiedel? Their names keep popping up, wealthy real estate developers.”

  Kingsley groaned. “Briton, Inc. That’s our target. We know Schram and Wiedel are heavily involved in drugs and organized crime. Haven’t run across a connection to trafficking.”

  “My sister, Christina, was a sixteen-year-old runaway when she was picked up two years ago and taken somewhere in Houston. We believe she was drugged, beaten and prostituted against her will until she finally escaped. One of them tracked her down in Dallas and murdered her. I want that man brought to justice.” She felt Jase’s hand settle on her thigh, comforting her with his touch.

  He looked over at Kingsley. “All right, your turn.”

  “I’ve got a couple of things you might be interested in. First, something big is going down at the club tonight. I’m not sure what it is, but De Santos is pulling out all the stops. Private party in his quarters, sparing no expense.”

  “Lucky for us, we’re invited.”

  “Christ,” Kingsley grumbled. “I should have known.”

  “What else?�
� Jase asked.

  “There’s this guy. They call him Batman. He’s mean, enjoys his work. He’s De Santos’s top enforcer. He’ll be there tonight.”

  Kate’s shoulders tensed. “What’s his name?”

  “Emanuel Vargas.”

  “I want him dead.”

  “Easy, darlin’. You can’t just go in there and kill the guy,” Jase said.

  “He murdered my sister. At the very least, he needs to spend the rest of his life in prison.”

  Kingsley’s dark eyes pinned her. “Listen to me, Kate. This is FBI business. You need to leave justice to the law.”

  “My sister is dead.”

  “I know what that feels like.” Kingsley looked at Jason. “Hawk does, too. Let the FBI handle it.”

  Kate made no comment.

  “We have to show at the party tonight or De Santos might get suspicious,” Jase said. “He’s likely hoping to build a business relationship, probably looking for a way to expand into Atlanta. I told him we’d be there.”

  “I don’t like it,” Kingsley said.

  “Yeah, well, neither do I, but it’s too late now.”

  Kingsley swore softly. Defeated, he blew out a deep breath. “All right, I guess that’s how it’s going to be.” He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and slid it over to Jason. “I’d appreciate if you’d pass any info to Agent Troy Wister. That’s his number.”

  Calling Agent Kingsley while he was undercover would put his life in danger. Even so, Jase slid the paper back to him.

  “No can do,” Jase said. “I guess I forgot to mention we got a dirty cop in Houston. I’m not sure how far it reaches. Now that I think about it, I also didn’t mention that whoever’s running Los Besos put a hit out on Kate and me.”

  “Jesus.” Kingsley sat back in the booth. He rubbed a hand over his face, his gaze going from Jason to Kate. “So I guess we’d better end this before one of you gets hurt.”

  “I’d appreciate it,” Jase said.

  Kingsley reached for the folded slip of paper, turned it over and wrote another name and number on the back. “You know this guy. He’s heading up the investigation. He worked with one of the detectives in your office a while back when he was head of the terrorism task force. You got a problem, call him.”

  Jase took the paper and showed it to Kate. Special Agent in Charge, Quinn Taggart. Jase nodded. “Taggart’s a good man.”

  “That’s his private number.” Kingsley stood up. “Let’s see what happens tonight and I’ll call you tomorrow.” He tossed money down for their check and his own. “Be careful.”

  “You, too,” Jase said.

  Turning, the agent walked out of the café.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon when Kate heard the ring of Jase’s disposable.

  “It’s Tabby.” He put the call on speaker. “What have you got, Tab?”

  Kate hurried across the living room so she could hear.

  “I got the name and location of the other two massage parlors in Houston. One’s in a building owned by Atrias Corp. The other property is leased from Winman. Both of those entities are connected in some form or another to Briton.”

  Jase flashed a look at Kate. “What are the names?” he asked.

  “One’s the Garden of Eden. The other is the Pleasure Dome...you know, like Mad Max?”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Jase said. “Text me the addresses.”

  “Will do.”

  “Thank you, Tabby,” Kate said.

  “Give ’em hell, Kate.” Tabby hung up the phone.

  Kate’s heart was beating a little faster when the addresses came through a few minutes later, both on the outskirts of Houston, along with phone numbers and websites. Kate pulled up the websites on her laptop. Daytime operation 10-6 p.m. Evenings by appointment.

  She checked Google Maps to see what the exterior of the massage parlors looked like, found both buildings were low-rises. One was in a seedy neighborhood, a run-down structure in need of repair. The other was well maintained, even nicely landscaped, but there were iron bars on the second- and third-floor windows.

  Thinking of the women inside, pity welled in Kate’s heart.

  Jase pointed to the website that looked like a jail. “Garden of Eden. That’s got to be where they keep their prime, high-grade merchandise—the underage girls.”

  “We have to get them out of there,” Kate said, trying not to imagine what the girls were suffering.

  “We can call Agent Taggart and give him the info, but it’s going to set everything in motion. There won’t be any turning back. I want this over as much as you do, but we can’t afford to strike too soon.”

  “You’re right,” Kate said. “If we do that, we could end up being the ones who pay—maybe the girls, too. I think we should wait and see what happens tonight.”

  Jase nodded. “De Santos has something special planned. Let’s find out what it is.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Kate wore the black-trimmed pink crepe dress with the short flirty skirt. The halter top left her back bare, and of course she wore her black, super-high, Jimmy Choo heels.

  Jason wore the black suit he’d had on last night with a collared, sapphire-blue silk shirt open at the throat. The color accented his eyes. The man could rock a suit, that was for sure.

  The club was booming by the time they got there. A big dark-skinned bouncer whose name tag read Axel recognized them from the night before. “Names?”

  “Devlin and Cordell.”

  He checked them off the guest list. “Follow me.” Axel led them through the crowd to the back of the club where De Santo’s private elevator waited.

  “No firearms.” Axel didn’t bother to ask if Jase had a gun with him, just lifted the lid of the inlaid wooden box next to the elevator. “You can pick up your piece when you leave.”

  Jase flicked open his jacket and pulled his Kimber out of the holster clipped to his belt. He was Brock Devlin tonight, brash enough to carry whatever weapon he wanted. He set the pistol inside the box, and the bouncer closed the lid, turned and pushed the elevator button. Axel ushered them into a mirrored car that swept them up to De Santo’s third floor residence.

  Kate stepped out of the elevator into an elegant, sophisticated living room with gray-and-white marble floors, and contemporary crystal chandeliers suspended from twelve-foot white molded ceilings. Huge silver-framed mirrors hung on the walls, reflecting the white silk furnishings and draperies, even a marble fountain.

  De Santos had spent some major bucks on his extravagant apartment. Their host appeared to greet them in a designer tuxedo with black satin lapels. He walked gracefully toward them. “Mr. Devlin and Ms. Cordell. Welcome to my home.”

  Jason smiled. “Brock and Kitty will do.”

  “Of course. And I am Rafi.”

  “Your home is beautiful, Rafi,” Kate said. “You have excellent taste in interior design.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps later you will allow me to show you around.”

  Kate smiled. She didn’t look at Jason. She knew the exact set of his jaw, the tight frown she would see marring his forehead. “I would enjoy that very much.”

  “Looks like you went all out,” Jase said, managing to be polite. “What’s the occasion, Rafi?”

  “A few special friends are in town. I wanted to make certain they had a good time.”

  A waiter in a short white jacket offered a silver tray filled with champagne flutes. Kate took one of the long-stemmed glasses.

  “It’s a ’98 Dom Perignon,” De Santos said. “A favorite of mine.”

  Kate took a sip and smiled. “Wonderful. Nothing better than good French champagne.”

  De Santos turned to Jason. “Single malt, if I recall.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I keep something special for m
y friends.” De Santos led them over to the bar and walked around behind it, selected a particular bottle of scotch and poured a hefty portion into a Baccarat crystal snifter. “Eighteen-year-old Dalmore. I think you’ll like it.”

  Jase took the snifter, swirled and inhaled. He took a sip and nodded. “Very nice.”

  “I’ll be busy this evening with my guests, but I thought perhaps we could speak sometime tomorrow about a business proposition I have in mind.”

  Jase nodded. “I’m intrigued. Late afternoon would work.”

  “Three o’clock, then. In my office.” He turned to Kate. “If I can find a moment to break free, I’ll give you that tour.”

  “I’ll look forward to it,” Kate said.

  De Santos made a slight bow and melted into the crowd.

  Kate linked her arm with Jason’s. “Let’s wander a little.” She hadn’t been to an extravagant cocktail party since she and Andrew had broken up, but she hadn’t forgotten the rituals. She was in her element here, which Jase seemed to understand.

  “Lead the way,” he said.

  They ambled from room to room, each one equally extravagant, done in variations of the white-and-silver theme in the huge, high-ceilinged living room. The residence, which mirrored the footprint of the first floor, had to be at least ten thousand square feet.

  They stopped at one of the several buffet tables to sample the gourmet dishes: lobster en croute, blackened shrimp, oysters on the half shell, filet mignon, stuffed capon, endless salads and luscious desserts.

  Not all of the apartment was open to the party, Kate noticed. A bearded security guard in a black tuxedo stood in the middle of the corridor to an extensive wing, legs splayed, arms behind his back in a parade-rest position. No Admittance seemed to be stamped on his forehead.

  “Wonder what goes on in there.” Kate’s gaze went down the long hallway.

  “Be interesting to know.”

  “Whatever it is, I don’t think we’re invited.”