The Deception

by Kat Martin

  Jase eyed the guard. “Maybe not. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  We’ll have to wait and see? Unease swirled in her stomach. Surely Jason wouldn’t break into De Santos’s private quarters? On the other hand, they needed information. Maybe they could find it.

  They wove their way through the elegantly dressed throng, spotted a couple of famous rappers; a woman Kate recognized as currently starring in the Dallas Broadway production of Phantom of the Opera at the Music Hall at Fair Park. There were fashion models and even a movie star, though Kate couldn’t remember the woman’s name.

  All evening, she had been watching for Special Agent Kingsley, but she didn’t notice him until they went out to the terrace, where Kingsley was making drinks behind one of the portable bars.

  Jason urged her in that direction, stopped right in front of him. “How about a refill?” he asked the agent, pointing to his heavy crystal snifter.

  Kingsley’s dark gaze zeroed in on him. “That the scotch the boss keeps for special guests?”

  “That’s the one,” Jase said. They barely made eye contact. Kate thought it was more than possible De Santos had cameras all over the residence, watching his guests’ every move.

  Kingsley refilled her champagne flute. “Enjoy your evening,” he said as he moved on to another guest. They stayed on the terrace awhile, soaking up the warm night air, then headed back inside.

  “Apparently De Santos is the man of the hour,” Jase said, noticing the Morning News press badge on a woman snapping photos of celebrities for the society page.

  “Look over there.” Kate took a sip of champagne. “The guy with the bodyguards? That’s Denny Reyburg, the social media magnate.”

  “In the flesh,” Jase said.

  And there was plenty of it. Denny was at least sixty pounds overweight. Not quite six feet tall, dark hair pulled back in a man bun, Denny had a pudgy face and a bad case of acne.

  He’d invented a new social media platform called Grouper. Instead of a bird, the symbol was a giant fish whose mouth opened and closed. It had made Denny Reyburg a household name and a billionaire at least two times over.

  “The tabloids aren’t kind to him,” Kate said. “They say he’s a spoiled brat who’s never grown up. Supposedly, he throws tantrums when he doesn’t get his way, has a brutal temper and treats his employees like dirt.”

  “I guess if you have enough money, you can do whatever you want.”

  Kate watched De Santos walk up to Reyburg, and the two of them spoke briefly. A third man joined them, dark suit, hard-faced, short black hair combed straight back. He said something to De Santos, and the two of them walked away.

  Reyburg, followed by his two powerful bodyguards, one with a shaved head, the other with earrings in both ears, headed for the wing that had been blocked off to the rest of the guests. The guard let them pass, and the men disappeared down the corridor.

  “I wonder what’s going on?” Kate murmured.

  Jase took a drink of his scotch, his eyes on the corridor where the guard was back in position. “I don’t know, but I’ve never liked being left out.”

  Kate’s eyes widened. “You aren’t thinking we should crash their private party?”

  “Probably ought to at least check it out.”

  Check it out? This was getting worse by the minute.

  Kate took a steadying breath as Jason lead her back outside, into the warm night air. The apartment wrapped in a U-shape around the terrace. Glass doors led into the residence on both sides—including the side that was forbidden.

  They wandered casually among the guests. Jase led her out of sight behind a row of tall, potted cypress not far from the bar. From there, they could reach one of the glass doors without being seen.

  She hoped.

  Her heart was pounding, hammering away as he went to work with a tiny multipurpose pocketknife, and a few seconds later, the glass door swung open.

  “After you, darlin’.” Pleased with himself, Jase hauled her back inside the apartment.

  * * *

  It was happening tonight! Callie had heard them talking. Tonight the man was coming for her!

  Earlier Mrs. Barclay, the older woman who had been in charge of her since she had been brought to this place, had come to her room to get her ready.

  Callie had protested and tried to fight, but another woman had come to help, and she and Mrs. Barclay had held her down and forced her to swallow a mouthful of pills. Callie had been stripped, bathed and dressed in a clean white cotton nightgown, her auburn hair parted in the middle and tied with pink ribbons on each side of her face. She looked like a little girl.

  Callie’s throat ached with unshed tears. She felt light-headed and dizzy, her mouth cotton-dry. I want to go home, she thought. I just want to go home.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall. The lock turned, the door swung open. It was Mrs. Barclay standing next to a man in a black suit.

  “Time to go,” Mrs. Barclay said.

  “No...please... I want to go home.” But the words came out slurred, and her legs wobbled.

  “Do as you’re told,” the woman said. “The man you belong to now isn’t going to put up with your nonsense. You understand me? You will do exactly what he tells you.” Mrs. Barclay nodded to the man in the suit, and he moved forward.

  He took hold of Callie’s arm and started pulling her toward the door. When she struggled and tried to get away, Mrs. Barclay slapped her across the face.

  “Stop that right this minute. If you don’t, I’m going to give you a shot of something a lot stronger than the pills. Either way, you’re going to do what I tell you. It’s up to you.”

  Her head was already spinning, her muscles as limp as noodles. She didn’t want any more drugs. When the man drew her forward, this time she didn’t resist. What was the use, anyway?

  With a sob in her throat, Callie let them lead her out of the room.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  “Looks like we’re in one of the guest rooms in this wing of the residence,” Jase said as he glanced at their surroundings. He hadn’t planned to take things this far, hated putting Kate in even worse danger, but they had to find a way to stop Los Besos and time was running out. “Come on.”

  Leading Kate toward the door on the opposite side of the room, he cracked it open and checked to see what was happening out in the hall.

  A flash of movement coming in their direction caught his eye, and he eased the door almost completely closed. He could hear the sound of footsteps, waited until the group passed, then cracked the door enough to see three figures disappearing down the hall.

  An older woman with silver-streaked black hair, a guy in a suit and a young girl in a nightgown. The man had a solid grip on the girl’s arm as he tugged her along.

  No way, Jase thought as recognition struck. But Detective Castillo had sent photos of Callie Spencer, the teenage girl who had disappeared in Houston. With her long, fiery auburn hair and fine features, there could be no mistake.

  “What’s going on?” Kate whispered, coming up beside him.

  “You remember the missing girl in Houston, Callie Spencer?”

  “Of course.”

  “She’s here. Looks like they’ve got her drugged up pretty good. She was having trouble walking.”

  “Oh, my God. Where did they take her?”

  He checked the door again, saw the group disappear around a corner out of sight. “Let’s find out.”

  Stepping into the passage, he waited for Kate and quietly closed the door. Kate took off her high heels and carried them as they made their way along the hall. When they reached the corner, Jase stopped and they flattened themselves against the wall.

  He waited several seconds, then glanced around the corner, saw a door swing open to what appeared to be a library lined with shelves of books. Denny Reyburg lou
nged in an overstuffed chair, Callie Spencer standing right beside him. Another man was there, the man with the black, slicked-back hair who’d been talking to De Santos.

  The older woman and the man who had brought the girl turned and started to leave the library, and Jase urged Kate back the way they had come. Disappearing behind the first door, they waited in another of the guest rooms as the man and woman retreated down the hall.

  “That was close,” Kate breathed.

  “Too close,” Jase agreed.

  “What about Callie? We can’t just leave her.”

  Jase pulled out his cell phone and hit the contact number he’d plugged in for FBI Special Agent in Charge Quinn Taggart.

  The agent, sounding half asleep, finally answered the phone. “Taggart.”

  “Taggart, it’s Jason Maddox. Kingsley gave me your number.”

  “Yeah, Mark said you’d managed to get yourself involved in FBI business. It’s late. What’s going on?”

  “I’m with Kate Gallagher at the Blue Bayou. Callie Spencer, the girl who recently went missing in Houston, she’s here—in De Santo’s private apartment. She’s in trouble.”

  Taggart took a moment to refresh his memory. “I remember the case. You sure it’s her?”

  “It’s her.”

  “Kingsley brought me up to speed on De Santos’s connection to Los Besos. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to show our hand so soon, but I guess this leaves us no choice. I’ll call in local resources. Stand down and we’ll take it from here.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Jase said, and ended the call. But he wasn’t letting that little girl disappear into the hands of Los Besos or Rafael De Santos or anyone else.

  He heard movement in the hallway, cracked the door and saw Denny Reyburg coming out of the library, tugging Callie along in his wake. She was barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Both Reyburg’s bodyguards were with him, one in front, one behind, guiding him and the girl toward an elevator at the far end of the hall.

  “He’s taking her downstairs,” Kate said. “That elevator must open into the alley.”

  “He’ll have a car waiting. They’ll be gone before the FBI can get here.”

  Kate started forward, but Jase caught her arm. “Let me handle this, Kate, please.”

  “I can help. We don’t have time to argue. Let’s go.”

  Since she was right, he bit back a curse and both of them ran for the exit stairs next to the elevator.

  Jase jerked open the door, which set off the alarm and pissed him off. He hit the stairs at a run, Kate’s heels flew out of her hand, and she pounded down the stairs right beside him. The alarm went silent when the door closed behind them, but the damage was done.

  They didn’t slow down until they reached the exit to the alley, where both of them slid to a halt. Jase cracked open the door to see a big white stretch limousine idling in front of a black Cadillac Escalade whose engine was also running. A chauffeur in a bill cap sat behind the wheel of the limo. The privacy partition was up, and all three-hundred-plus pounds of Denny Reyburg sprawled in the rear seat of the car.

  The passenger door stood open. The bodyguard with the shaved head leaned in, trying to load the girl inside while the guy with the earrings waited a few feet away.

  “Hurry up and get her in here,” Reyburg demanded. “I have plans for her tonight.”

  “Callie!” Kate pushed past Jase and bolted into the alley. He swore as she launched herself at the bald-headed bodyguard. Jase grabbed the guy with the earrings, spun him around, slammed a fist into his face and drove another into his stomach.

  The guy fell back a couple of steps and yanked a big semiauto out of the shoulder holster beneath his black jacket. Jase kicked the gun out of his hand and sent it flying, threw a series of left-right combos that knocked the guard staggering backward.

  Trying to wrestle Callie free, Kate fought like a tiger, but the bodyguard knocked her down and Reyburg pulled the girl into the back of the limo. He managed to slam the door and the vehicle lurched forward. Gravel spun beneath the tires as the limo roared off down the alley.

  Jase dodged a blow, linked his hands behind his opponent’s neck and pulled his head down, jerked a knee up into his face. Bone crunched, the guy went down hard, and Jase ran for Kate.

  She was on the ground, the bodyguard’s gun pointed dead center in the middle of her forehead. Jase’s insides did a slow, tight roll, and he charged, slamming into the bodyguard, taking both of them down, the pistol sliding a few feet out of reach.

  The bodyguard ended up on top, got in a couple of solid punches. Jase looked up to see Kate pressing the guy’s own pistol against the side of his head.

  “Get off him!” she demanded, holding the gun in a two-handed grip.

  “Take it easy, lady. I was just doing my job.”

  “Bullshit! She’s only a little girl!”

  Jase rolled to his feet and picked up the other guy’s pistol, a Browning 9 mil. Taillights flashed as the limo pulled around a corner and disappeared out of sight.

  “We gotta go!” He tucked the pistol into the waistband of his slacks, but Kate was already running for the black Escalade idling in the alley, jumping into the passenger seat and pulling on her seat belt.

  Jase slid in behind the wheel and slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator. Tires spun and the Escalade leaped ahead in pursuit. He buckled his seat belt, pulled out his cell phone and tossed it to Kate as the SUV slid around a corner and picked up speed.

  “Taggart’s number’s in my contacts. Fill him in and give him our location.” He prayed the taillights he was following were the right ones and just kept driving, slowly gaining on the other vehicle.

  Kate made the call and Jase heard sirens behind him, but he didn’t let off the gas. If the limo got away, the girl could end up dead—or worse. A guy with Reyburg’s money rarely went to jail.

  “There!” Kate pointed at the entrance to an underground garage, and Jase saw the limo taillights disappear into its depths. Kate spoke to Taggart while Jase made the turn, slowing to follow the limo, which had stopped in the garage up ahead.

  The SUV slid to a halt, and Jase and Kate both shot out of the car. They rushed to the limo, and Jase pulled open the rear passenger door.

  The limousine was empty.

  * * *

  Kate frantically scanned the garage, but there was no sign of Denny Reyburg or Callie Spencer.

  Jase grabbed the limo driver by the back of the neck and hauled him out of the car. “Where are they?”

  “I don’t... I don’t know.”

  Jase squeezed the driver’s neck and shoved him down on his knees. “Where. Are. They?”

  “She’s just a little girl,” Kate pleaded. “Tell us where he took her.”

  “I—I don’t know, I swear. He’s...he’s got a place somewhere in the building, but I don’t know where it is.”

  Jase squeezed the driver’s neck until he started wheezing. “Try again.”

  “Okay...okay! Reyburg’s got a place in the basement. He takes the girls down there. That’s all I know.”

  Jase shoved the driver away, and he and Kate both ran for the elevator. Kate pushed the button for the lower floor, then spotted the stairs. “There!” She grabbed Jase’s arm and they raced in that direction.

  They came out in an area filled with equipment: pipes and furnaces, water lines, air-conditioning ducts, refrigeration units.

  Kate looked at Jason. “Surely he wouldn’t bring girls down here...would he?”

  “If he does, he’s got a lair, someplace he feels safe.”

  She nodded. “Then let’s find it.”

  “Keep your gun handy,” Jase said, and her fingers tightened on the big semiauto she had picked up in the alley.

  Jase took off one way while Kate took off the other. Circling around,
she made her way between rows of equipment, the noise made by the machines concealing the sound of her footsteps. Her bare feet were raw, the bottoms cut and bleeding. No time to worry about it now.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was still searching.

  “Nothing,” Jase said when they came back together.

  “We can’t give up.”

  He nodded, and they took off again in two new directions. The basement of the high-rise was huge. If Reyburg had a place down there, it could be anywhere.

  Kate began to move deeper into the center of the building. As she ducked behind an air duct, she spotted what looked like a big white storage tank with a door cut into one side, and remembered reading Denny’s father had been in the underground storage tank business.

  Reyburg was standing in front of it and so was Callie Spencer. The hard-faced man from the party stood behind the girl, a wooden club across Callie’s throat, held in both hands, prepared to deliver a crushing blow—the way he had used the weapon to kill before.

  Emanuel Vargas.

  “The boss sent me here to solve your problem,” Vargas said. “You need to leave—now. You can’t be found with an underage girl. I’m going to take care of this for you.”

  “Get away from her,” Denny demanded. “She’s mine!”

  “You want to go to prison, Mr. Reyburg? When things settle down, De Santos will get you another girl. Get out of here. Let me handle this.”

  Callie whimpered. Her eyes were huge, her face bone white.

  “I don’t want another girl,” Denny argued. “I want this one. She’s pure. I’ve never been the first before.”

  “You’re a fool, Reyburg. Get out before it’s too late.”

  Kate glanced around. No Jason. No police. She was Callie’s only chance. Her heart felt close to exploding in her chest. It was now or never. She took a calming breath and stepped out from behind the air-conditioning duct, the gun gripped in both hands.

  “It’s already too late.” She sighted down the barrel and fired, aiming the shot as close to Vargas as she dared without hitting Callie. The bat dropped out of his hands as he dove for cover, and the girl collapsed to the ground.